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refiwrites · 1 year

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leon's arms in death island im just- fuck me im nothing but a whore for this man- PRETTY MUCH SELF INDULGENT AGAIN

18+ NSFW AHEAD!! MINORS DNI! p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it) afab! reader, prone bone, slight choking? because i wanna get choked by Leon's arm as he— i need to be spayed

let me know if i missed anything!

You don't know how you ended up in this position, but you were too far gone as your eyes rolled back into your skull as you laid face down on the bed, your thighs pressed together as Leon's figure hovered over you from behind, leaning down to give you a few kisses on your bare shoulder as his cock slid in and out of you at a steady rhythm.

"L-Leon fuck..." You whine out as the feeling of him stretching you out and filling you up with every thrust has you seeing stars and squirming underneath him.

"Hm, sweetheart?" Leon grunts as his eyes closed shut, brows furrowing as the feeling of you squeezing down on him makes his hips stutter in their movements.

"M-more.." You whimper out as you gripped the sheets. You could hear Leon let out a breathless chuckle as he leaned down again, his chest pressing up against your back making you shiver.

"Can't get enough of my cock, can't you?" He teased, his voice growing huskier as he presses himself up further into you.

You couldn't even answer as you just let out a mess of words and a moan as you tried to find the words but Leon was just fucking you so good.

"Mhrmm.. Y-yes o-oh god... P-please you feel so good..." You whine out as his cock dragged in and out of your walls, brushing against that certain spot everytime.

He breathes out heavily and you could just about feel the smirk in his voice. "You ready?"

"Haah..? A-ah oh fuck!"

Leon didn't even wait for your answer as his thrusts suddenly got faster, his hands gripping your hips to keep you in place as your body was jolting forward. Your moans got louder as the sounds of him absolutely ramming into you filled your ears along with his grunts and moans.

"That's- that's right, you wanted this, didn't you? Fuck... Taking it so well for me..." He spoke lowly, mouth slightly parted as he continued his pace.

You nodded earnestly, biting onto the pillow below you so you could muffle your screams of pleasure.

Leon's brows furrowed as he looks down at you, watching you bite the pillow as he shakes his head with a breathless laugh.

"Oh no you won't hide those sounds of yours from me, sweetheart.." He says as he leaned in further, his arm wrapping around your neck as he lifts you up a little, making you gasp.

"Yeah no- let me hear you.." He whispered as his face hovered above yours as he tilted his head to the side, leaning in and kissing the side of your head as he continued to pound against you.

"A-ahh Leon! God- fuck yes yes yes..." You rambled on and Leon's eyes widened in amusement as he recovers and smirks, his arm still around your neck but in a gentle manner.

You clenched on him as his arm gave you a little squeeze, the veins in his arm being visible in your peripheral vision as you see it flex a little.

"Oh fuck.. You like having my arm around you like this?" Leon commented and it feels like his pride just sky rocketed.

"You're squeezing me in too tight, sweetheart." Leon breathes out as his thrusts still picked up its pace as the room was filled with moans and the sounds of skin slapping.

"F-fuck.." He swore under his breath.

You couldn't even think straight anymore as your brain buzzed in pleasure as Leon kept his arm around your neck, you looked up at him with half-liddded eyes and your mouth parted, a slight heat to your cheeks.

"That's it... Such- fuck.. Such a pretty face, hm?" He looks down at you with the same smirk as you moaned out.

"You're all mine sweetheart, I'll make sure you know that after- shit.. you feel so good.. After I'm done with you." Leon breathes out.

All you could do was moan in agreement.

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morallyinept · 7 months

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Frankie's Way - A Francisco Morales One Shot

Summary: When Santi turns up at Fish's door with a lofty proposal, you can't help but see red at the thought of losing your man again. My version of a possible TF2 opener.

Word Count: 3.5k

Pairing: Frankie Morales x F!Reader (No physical description of reader, it's you, bub.)

Scoville Smut Rating: 🌶🌶🌶 "You tell me I'm doing well, and then, you try to kill me."

Check out my Scoville Smut Ratings here.

Explicit: Oral (F receiving) because Frankie is king/ fingering. Some mild violence towards the end. Nothing heavy.

NSFW. MINORS DNI! OVER 18’s ONLY. YOU ARE SOLELY RESPONSIBLE FOR WHAT YOU READ. ☝🏻Don’t come at me - you’ve been plenty warned.

Authors Note: So, listen. I got to thinking, based off of this ramble about the TF2 news yesterday, and in typical Jett fashion, my brain conjured up a scene in where Santi arrives to rope Frankie into the mission, when I was trying to get some shut eye last night. And I couldn't not write it down.

You can also thank @missredherring for this, because I couldn't stop thinking about her added scene with Frankie's missus' part in it too.

There's some mild Spanish. I've not included any translations because there's not a lot, and it's easy enough to Google.

Enjoy! 🖤

MASTERLIST

"She's finally asleep..." Frankie says to you, his voice low and gravelly, as he pulls the door gently behind him.

He rubs his palms listlessly and hovers by the door like a Rottweiler ready to take up a solid position to be on guard there all night. And he would, but you won't allow him to. The separation will be good for him.

"She'll be fine. C'mon, Papi." You tug him by the arm gently as he glances back at the small crack, listening for any snuffle or gurgle that his daughter would make. The fraught, yet forlorn look on his face tugs at your heartstrings, but you're resolute in dragging him to the kitchen.

It's been a long, arduous process; getting him to put her down in the crib to sleep. More often than not, you've pushed the door open, wondering why he's not in bed with you, to see him on the chair with Gigi asleep on his chest and him dozing off with an uncomfortable crick in his neck that would make him grumpy the next day.

But you miss your man; the absence of him lately in more ways than one. And Gigi needs to learn to sleep without the cradle of her father's protective arms.

It's early in the evening, the sky marred by the onslaught of rain that's been pittering for most of the day, and after some dinner, for which he has a second helping, you and Frankie are curled up on the couch with some modern western love story on in the background about a cowboy and a sheriff.

But you're not paying attention to it. No. Frankie's soft, pliable body is on top of yours gently nipping indented tracks in your neck.

Your fingers scooch down around the hem of his shirt and stroke the soft paunch there that seems more pudgy these days.

You pinch it and he groans with a smile. "Didn't know Gigi had another sibling on the way." You tease and he nips harder on your skin making your toes curls deliciously.

"No te burles de mi, querida." Frankie's hands come up and rub your stomach. He pulls up your shirt and plants kisses on the skin now ribboned with faint stretch marks. "Maybe you need another one putting in here."

"No. We're tying a knot in it until she's at least three." You giggle and he chuckles with a breathy grizzle back.

You knock the damn cap off of his head, dragging him closer to you by the curls around his ears. His lips find yours and you breathe out, a gentle sigh wafting into his mouth.

It's been too fucking long. And Frankie's been a rock. He's stepped up, even when you had your doubts, your concerns.

Even when he went off on his wild goose chase to wherever the fuck it was he went with the boys, leaving you knocked up with swollen ankles and a constantly aching back, and returned even more worse for wear than he was before he left.

You were worried that he'd sink again, that he'd slip from your fingers into a pile of the cloudy, white stuff, but surprisingly he hadn't let go of his sobriety. He hadn't. He'd held onto that milestone coin he kept in his pocket, pulling out to squeeze it in his fist when things got dark.

And things were dark for a while.

He came back, different. Withdrawn. With secrets and a fellow man down. He never told you what happened exactly on that trip. What happened to Tom. Didn't want to talk about it. And you didn't poke the bear.

At Redfly's funeral he and the boys seemed... strained. Distant. No more fight nights and beers after watching Benny clobber faces in the ring. No more barbecues and football at Will's place. Santi was missing from the service. And Frankie never brought it up.

Instead, he threw himself into finishing the crib and painting little ducklings on the walls in the nursery, which weren't really ducks, more so fuzzy chicklets in golden yellow acrylic puffs. Dabbed lopsided on the wall by a man who was far from a skilled artist, but you loved them nonetheless.

He went to work relentlessly; unlimited overtime in a small chop shop in town, fixing up used engine parts and bringing home money that despite the long hours, still didn't seem like it lasted very long.

You'd cut back. No more manicures. No more expensive brands, opting for the cheaper ones on the bargain shelves in the grocery store. No more bar nights and Frankie was home with you almost constantly.

And yet, you'd never been so far apart.

Waking in the night when Gigi would kick your stomach like running a touchdown, his side of the bed was empty. Cold. You'd find him sat in the overgrown garden, which he kept meaning to mow, with a warm, flat beer staring out at the sky, only moving to walk you back to bed. Or on the couch asleep with the luminescence of the TV casting shadows over his worn face.

Frankie was ageing in front of you, faster than you it appeared, and you longed to carry some of that load that he was so insistent he manage by himself.

It made you question everything. Long nights spent alone, even though his ghost was there in the house ruminating with you somewhere, you had never felt more alone.

Clutching the globe of your bulging stomach, you wondered if it would be better to just walk away. Anything was better than this.

But it all changed when Gigi was born.

Frankie was there puffing through the breaths with you as you screamed into his face that this was all his fault. The pain, oh God the pain was... worth it. When she came out, it was like something in Frankie pulled back and peeled open to reveal bruised flesh.

He held that tiny, gooey bundle in his arms and cried. Cried harder than you have ever seen a grown man weep. You're convinced he was letting something else go too that day. And you're glad he did.

Since then, he hadn't put her down. As far as father's go, he's the best. He'd been the one to feed her during the night so you could sleep some more. The one to change her diapers so you could eat the banana pancakes he'd made for you. He pushed the pram down the aisles at the grocery store cooing at her, and grabbing a stuffed animal each time that he said she would love.

Even though you couldn't really afford it. Even though the pile at the end of her crib was bigger than the Matterhorn and threatened to crush her in its ply softness. But seeing them bond over a stupid, six-dollar stuffed giraffe made you smile.

He doted, stepped up. He seemed like Frankie again.

But yet there was still an ache between you. Needs and wants for Frankie to put his hands over you again; to put his mouth on you the way he used to. You needed him. God, you fucking wanted him after watching how he always was with Gigi. That paternal instinct of his making you crazy and now, you were determined to have him. It had been too fucking long.

If Gigi woke and cried you were determined to just let her work through it herself. You needed your man to hold you, to tell you he still loved you. To make you come for him as he held you down by the wrists and pumped you full of that love.

"Hermosa," Frankie whined as your hand slipped down to the obvious bulge straining against his denim and squeezed gently. You'd missed the weight of him, how he would pack out your throat as he fucked it. Your mouth salivated, remembering the taste of him.

Gasping into you, his kisses became heated, desperate.

Frankie drew back, those big browns regarding you as you fingered through his greying scruff that was wild and patchy. His curls more wayward and unruly. His tan skin a little more plump around his cheeks and eyes. God, he was fucking beautiful.

Kissing the tips of your fingers delicately and sucking your thumb into his mouth, you became aware of his hands undoing your jeans. He tugged gently, pulling your panties with them all the way down your legs as he slid them off. Oh, thank God.

His eyes dropped to your centre, to that seam that glistened and called to him. He'd missed it. Yearned for it, but each time the wave of lust came, the tiredness crushed it out of him. He can't remember the last time he came. Even knocking one out in the shower seemed like a distant memory he couldn't recall.

He licked his lips, lowering himself down further on the couch, groaning as the swell of him brushed against the cushions and made his hips jerk into them.

He eyed you as he kissed up your thighs gently, delicately. His large hands on them and splaying you apart further. Your cunt lips unsticking from each other, opening as wide as he wanted you.

"Fuck, you're so wet for me already," Frankie husked. He ran his nose up the side of your inner thigh and revelled in your quaking. Your hands twisted inside of his crown, snaking through his hair, and tugging at it.

"Frankie," you whined as he drew close again, his breath cooling your heat. "Need you..." you murmured, contorting in your agony.

"I know, baby. I've missed this pussy so much."

Another kiss on your thigh. One more just above your clit and you feel it then; the graze of his fuzzy chin and whine out - a little too loudly.

Frankie smirks then immediately stills; listening out for Gigi.

"She's asleep." You remind him and he nods, accepting it, albeit reluctantly.

"Use this." He tosses a cushion up towards you and you press it to your mouth anyway. You groan out into its marshmallow fibres as he licks a fat stripe with a flat tongue all the way up your pussy.

Your thighs buck and tremble and his hands flatten them still. He breathes out as he runs his tongue around his mouth, savouring the taste of you. Remembering.

He pulls you apart, spreading your lips to reveal your drenched hole and engorged clit.

"Mmm," he strangles a groan. He suckles on it gently, swirling his tongue around and around and your squeals into the cushion are ragged and howling.

"Fuck!" He hears you gasp as he suctions his lips around your bud and sucks on it deeply.

His tongue traverses the hilt of it, the spongy flesh so tasty and sugary in his mouth. He licks down, flicking up and catching your clit, then dipping at the very entrance to your hole where he teases out more of your slick to swallow and circles around again on that bundle of nerves. Driving you utterly fucking crazy as he feasts between your legs like a man starved. And he has been, starved of you.

Your back is arching, your thighs are shaking as the puffs of warm air from Frankie's nostrils on your mound become scorching. He dives in fully; tongue sliding down into your hole, nose pressed to your clit and hums in satisfaction as he fucks it.

"F-Frankie!" You're biting at the cushion now, tearing it apart with razor teeth as your orgasm peeks it head out from around the hill. Hello, old friend. Thrashing and gasping for air that doesn't quite fill your lungs. That tightness in your belly; that heavy feeling of dread and worry, seems to melt away as he sucks it all out of you.

You've needed this, this release. This comfort and reassurance from him; this confirmation of desire that he still wants you, still finds you sexy now that your body has changed from childbirth. Fuck, you've needed it for so long and now that he's finally giving it to you, it's too much.

You feel the glittered heat of the sun burn your face, blinding you. Your body feels floaty; your eyes heavy as they roll back into your skull and you fully let go.

His hand reaches up to clasp yours. Thick, calloused fingers interlocking tightly with yours. You squeeze back as he rubs his thumb over the hilt of your knuckles. It's okay, baby.

It's him. The reassurance that you've desperately needed for so long. You've needed Frankie. You've needed his mouth, his tongue, his cock. His love. It's enough to make your eyes water. It's okay.

You blink and tears fall as Frankie still tongues your orgasm out of you and into his wanting mouth. He lets go of your hand and charges back to your clit, watching it for a second as it pulses of its own accord. He knows it's so sensitive right now so he licks it gently. A little flick. A little kiss. A soft little blow of his breath. But your body jolts like you've been Tasered. Crushed by a tidal wave.

He slips two fingers inside you; you feel them fill you and stretch you. He curls them in just the right way and already it's unbearable.

"You've got another one," he says nodding when you shake your head. "Give it to me. Eres tan jodidamente, hermosa."

His chin is sticky, shiny. A string of your slick caught in his scruff that shimmers in the TV light like a diamond.

Your reach for him, bring it to your tongue and lick it up. You taste so good from Frankie's moustache. His tongue darts into your mouth as you whimper. His fingers fucking deep and against that spot that makes your back arch and your cunt clench around him.

He steadies you with his other hand against your lower back, pulling you closer, deeper onto his fingers.

You want him. You want him inside of you, filling you up with another baby. Want him fucking the shit out of you and peppering your face with those feral growls when he comes.

You nip on his bottom lip, sucking it between your teeth as you gasp and tense. Your thighs shudder, your hands fist in his plaid collar. Your forehead crushes into his as you gush over his fingers sliding harder in and out of you. "That's it, like that. So fucking hot." He croons.

He pushes them in deeper, harder against your spot and you lose your shit entirely. He kisses you to silence your scream. Swallowing down muffled chokes of his name. Of your pleasure. Of your undying love for your Catfish.

He pulls out those shiny digits gently; thumb caressing your clit as you jolt and shake from the overstimulation. You giggle and he smiles at you, and it's like flying too close to the sun.

You can only watch, destroyed and without a functioning brain, as he brings them to his mouth and sucks them clean; humming in satisfaction as he tastes you again.

You're about to reach for his painfully hard cock; free it from his jeans when a loud knock on the door makes you both jump back to reality.

"Who t'fuck is that?" Frankie hisses, jumping up. He reaches for his cap on the floor as you reach for your jeans, a flush warming your cheeks.

The knock comes again, louder this time and the panic in Frankie's eyes swarm at you.

"They'll fucking wake the baby!" He growls, storming out the lounge and towards the front door. You smile at his protectiveness. Gigi's a lucky girl.

He wipes at his mouth, his chin frantically. The slick of your cunt like oil in his facial hair that won't dilute. He can smell you all over his face and his cock knows it too by the way it throbs.

Frankie yanks the front door open, ready to clock the son of a bitch hammering on it, but is stunned into inaction as Santi stands before him, drenched, on the other side.

"Hermano." Santi says, a small, but wary smile on the crack of his lips.

Frankie's frozen momentarily, but then yields as he steps out into the rain-soaked porch barefooted and envelopes Santi in his arms. Santi hugs him back, fists clasped together around his compañero's broad back as they both laugh in some jarred disbelief.

"Demasiado tiempo, hermano," Frankie sighs.

Your smile dissipates when you hear a familiar voice seeping in through the hall. No. He wouldn't dare. No fucking way.

"Shit. Look at you." Santi says, knocking Frankie's chin playfully as he blushes.

Frankie turns to invite him in, but Santi's stopped by your fist colliding with his jaw.

"You motherfucker!" You screech at him.

The thud against his face stuns Santi for a moment. Benny taught you how to throw a decent right hook well, it seems.

"Whoa!" Frankie holds you back; thick arms around your waist as he lifts you off the ground as you scramble fiercely like Scrappy-Doo. You're yelling and cursing obscenities; jumbled Spanish words that don't make any sense. Frankie shushes you, but you don't care if Gigi wakes. No. You just want to kill Santi as you battle through the red mist.

"Easy, baby. Easy." Frankie reassures you.

"You've got some fucking nerve." You bite to Santi when Frankie puts you down finally as you still.

Santi rubs at his jaw and nods. "I'm sorry, cariño." Those tired and weary brown eyes of his bore into you sincerely, and you feel your shoulders release some of the wrangled tension, albeit unwillingly.

You want to hate him. Make him suffer for dragging Frankie away on whatever stupid fucking mission it was that made him come back withdrawn and empty. That made you almost lose him. You want to loathe Santi for always showing up and throwing chaos into Frankie's life when he finds some bearing.

You want to, you really want to, but you can't. Because Frankie loves him, and you do too, despite yourself.

"Asshole." You sneer to him, folding your arms.

"I missed you too." Santi smiles lightly.

The three of you stand there, in the rain, unmoving. Mute. Just stunned by Santi on the porch. He adjusts his heavy backpack on his shoulder, rainwater dripping from his eyelashes.

Frankie speaks first. "You're back then?"

Santi shakes his head. "No. Not permanently."

"So, this is a social call, is it?" You question shivering as the damp takes up root in your shirt.

"I need you, Fish." Santi begins and you immediately shake your head. You know what that means. Whenever Santiago 'Pope' Garcia needs something it's always an offer that comes with a heavy price.

"No." You confirm vehemently. "No."

"Baby." Frankie stiffens his voice, hissing.

It quells you as you shake your head viciously. "I'm not losing you again." You say to him.

"You never will." Frankie assures. He turns to Santi. "What do you need?" He asks, his chin cocking towards his oldest friend; his fellow comrade. The man that both he, and you, know that Frankie will do anything for.

Santi fishes in his pocket and pulls out some crumpled bit of paper. Placed inside Frankie's palm, he reads a couple of sets of numbers.

"Co-ordinates?"

Santi nods. "Will and his numbers, man."

"Is this for real?" Frankie asks. "Don't be making this shit up, not after-"

"It's real." Santi confirms.

"Fuck." Frankie breathes through the catch in his throat.

He's dreamt of this. Conjured up his own plans for a mission on how he could possibly birth this into fruition. He'd do it right. No fuck ups. A hard out if he needed to.

But he always came up empty because he had no fucking clue where it was exactly they'd left all that dirty money. Wrestling constantly with his own regret. His own stupidity; his own morals at agreeing to give his share of the money they had brought back to Tom's family. It was the right thing to do. A small consolation to those girls without a daddy anymore. Yeah.

But a part of him still hated himself on the daily for it. Hated how he couldn't make life better for you. Hated how you both had to struggle and just get by on his paltry income doing something he loathed now, not flying anymore, when his hands had held millions in them once.

Frankie takes off his cap and runs his hand through his hair and plonks it back on and sighs. You watch as Frankie retreats to the step and sits himself down on it with a wet thud.

"What is it?" You question. Frankie looks up at you, eyes molten and reluctant. But he can't keep this from you anymore.

"We're going to get it. We need you." Santi presses.

"We? You sweettalked Benny and Will already?" Frankie confirms nodding. Of course he had.

"All of us have to go back. Together." Santi confirms. "Need my best pilot."

Frankie snickers, his shoulders rising and falling as he absorbs it, works through the possibilities. The successes. The simplicities. The mourning of leaving you alone again. Of leaving Gigi. Even for just one night seems unbearable.

You stand there, toes numbing out to the cold and wet as Frankie looks up at you earnestly.

He speaks to Santi, but looks at you. Eyes locked on yours. "I've got the baby now. I have to come back. We can't fuck this up."

You start to sink a little. But Frankie's eyes confirm to you that whatever this is, it's worth the risk.

Santi nods too. "In and out. No-one knows it's there but us."

You shake your head slowly, but Frankie nods once at you. It's okay, baby. We're gonna be okay.

Frankie turns to Santi and stands. "Whatever plan you have, scrap it. We're doing this my fucking way or not at all. You hear me?"

MASTERLIST

Gah! I am excited at the prospect of a Frankie part 2 in a possible TF2! Hope you enjoyed this! Re-blogs & comments fuel me. Ta muchly! 🖤

#frankie morales fanfic #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales smut #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal #francisco catfish morales #francisco morales #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales #frankie morales fluff #frankie morales x you #jett's writing #jett's pedro boys #jett has spoken #triple frontier boys #triple frontier fic #triple frontier fanfic #triple frontier frankie

391 notes · View notes

spiderfunkz · 6 months

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hi!

okokokok, what about the reader completely friend-zoning peter.

like peter is completely infatuated with nad tells her that he really likes her, but the reader's like "aww i like you a lot too! your like a brother to me"

basically the reader is oblivious to the fact that peter parker has a massive crush on them. :)

no pressure obviously but i just think that would be rly cute,

luv ya!

-victoria

✧.* STUCK BY THE GLUE.

— summary : peter was confessing his love to you, though you didn't quite get the message.

— word count : 0,6k

— warnings : all fluff, oblivious!reader, teasing, friends to lovers, cheesy confessions, a kiss, happy ending because i'm soooooooo nice😝😝😛😛😛

a/n : i did gn!reader btw i hope thats ok!!!! some of the confession stuff are inspired by beabadoobee lyrics.

"what about.. number 13?" you ask.

you and peter have just finished a long week of tests. which means you now have to bombard peter with thousands of questions about his answers.

"uh, i answered b. i think." he replies, unpacking the books from his bag.

you blink, you were pretty sure you answered d. and knowing peter answered b, you were pretty sure you got that one wrong.

"do you think mr. anderson will still give me a point? because a 'd' is basically a 'b' but backwards." you explain.

"maybe, mr. anderson will probably give you a pity point." he replies, still unpacking the books from his bag. you were sitting on the edge of his bed, "i don't think mr. anderson is capable of feeling pity for anyone."

"don't think about it too much. i think you did good on your tests. i mean, you did have the best tutor." he smiles — "oh yeah! how could i forget, jimmy neutron is my tutor."

"okay. rude." he puts his hand on his chest, letting out a dramatic gasp. "what? you have brown hair, you make weird gadgets, and you're abnormally smart." you shrug.

"that's bullying."

"is calling people smart bullying now?"

"when you say it, yes. you're lucky i love you." he sits next to you.

you smile at the L word. though you were 100% sure he meant it platonically. that's what friends do, right?

"you're not gonna say it back?" he pouts.

you laugh, jokingly. but peter didn't.

"oh don't take it to heart, pete."

"can i tell you something?" his heart was racing, "yeah, of course. are you okay?" he seemed tense all of the sudden.

"there's no other way of saying this really. but i like you. a lot." he pauses, "i have never known someone quite like you. you're so pretty it actually hurts." he stutters. a lot.

"i'm having trouble finding the words for this, yet the words to describe you aren't so hard to find. you're like a fresh breath of air. like a shot of espresso. like a cold wind on a hot summer day. you're like a ribbon, laced around a braid." he rambles, "and i really, really like you."

you can't even process whatever he just said. you're not sure how to respond to any of that.

but for whatever reason, your brain can only come up with one response.

"aw, peter. i like you a lot too!

you're like a brother to me."

and with that peter's face looked like a ghost. he just poured his entire heart only for you to completely friend-zone him.

"is something wrong?" you ask.

"you did not just pull that card on me."

"what card?"

peter sighs, covering his face with his hand in utter embarrassment.

"oh." you realize. "let's just forget everything i just said. anyways, what did you get for number 16?" peter changes the topic.

"peter-"

"or maybe number 15? i heard gwen say that was the hardest question."

"peter!"

"or number 3? have you asked me about number 3 yet? i can explain number 3 to you."

he won't listen, so you shut him up,

by kissing him.

now, you aren't doing this because you feel bad. but you truly do have feelings for peter. you don't know why it took peter to finally confess to you for you to realize. but you do. you really do.

"now can you please just listen."

peter's cheeks were bright red, he nodded.

"i really like you too peter and gosh, i wish i realized sooner." you were struggling to find the right words to continue, just like peter did a few minutes ago.

"i like you. i like your messy brown hair, i like your weird gadgets and when you ramble about them, i like how caring you are and how patient you are all the time with me."

"and i love you too."

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sugar-omi · 7 months

Note

Imagine mc giving birth to their baby. You know, Cove is probably panicking, Baxter pretending he's okay but at some point faints and our brave Derek letting mc crush his hand with theirs lol

And also I've seen a clip of a dude who just witnessed his wife deliver their baby and, with a face full of horror, he told her, "I am SO sorry, I won't do that again. " 🤣😭

I'm just imagining one of the boys saying something like that, in my head it's so funny

omg i almost missed this!!! im so glad you brought this up bc i love thinking abt how the boys are during delivery, especially cove omg (im sorry this is such a ramble... but also not sorry bc my brain worms are dancing in happiness at these thoughts)

cove:

even though you've had months to prepare for this and cliff n kyra has given cove lots of advice, paired with a lot of "don't freak out!" (sometimes followed by something freaky that happens during pregnancy or labor...)

he's prepared for this though. as prepared as an anxious first time dad can be. i mightta said this before, but whether you have him in the room the whole time or just to come cut the cord and hold the baby, is up to you.

if you have him in the room he'll let you hold his hand and he'll be holding yours back (he doesn't notice the pain of your grip for the longest...)

he definitely does what you mentioned and apologizes for putting you thru this LOL

after you give birth, he will do everything... he'll change diapers, put them down for naps, burp, wash, everything... because after that he needs to even the balance (if it was up to him, you'd never lift a finger after that, especially if you have multiple kids via birth)

HE'S ALSO OVERLY PREPARED

delivery bag? more like BAGS. mans has double of everything, he's PETRIFIED

also he runs to any place you want and buys you food while you're in labor if it's really long

and he stays with you up until its go time, then if you want him to wait outside he will

also he faints... or at least gets weak

if you have a c-section he's alrdy freaked out bc... omg they're taking a knife to you thats scary shit

but just natural birth? he's doubly freaked out because your body can do THAT??? you're literally pushing out a whole baby and he is awed but losing his shit honestly

would be babbling praises and encouragements (both for you and himself) n you can tell him to shut up its okay bc he's gonna laugh in the end anyway, but he'll probably end up going quiet bc he's trying not to be distracting and he probably saw something he wasn't prepared for 😬

probably starts crying the closer your baby gets to being out the womb, n after they're fully out and here he's bawling and just realized it but also he's trying to comfort n check on you first so you end up laughing bc he's fretting over you as if he isnt flooding the room

baxter:

mans is NOT CALM

tries to look calm, but he just looks constipated and he looks tired honestly

he's been losing sleep this whole pregnancy bc he's afraid of being a bad father, but he's so excited and ends up staying up at night talking to your belly so he just can't win

surprisingly dropped the collared shirts and slacks

mans is stuck in t-shirts and sweatpants or jeans

his hair is a mess too

omg he's napping when you go into labor

he jumps up, mismatched socks (either he's wearing an ankle cat print sock and a knee high sock, or he's wearing one sock. its bad n i think him wearing one sock is better (worse for him but hes fineeee))

the nurses love him bc he's running in and out bringing you food and runs back to get anything he or you forgot or might need

another over packer

honestly they're all over packers who are we kidding

this is where is wedding planner job comes in handy

has backups and plan b's for everything

and even though everything is right he brings extra just to feel better

won't be in the room if you want that ofc, but he psychs himself up to be in there

he's really scared n nervous, more-so than cove actually. but he wants to support you and if you want him in there, he's there. even if you reassure him he doesn't have to be there, he wants to be

he has to sit down while he's there, his leg is shaking and he's torn between watching whatevers going on over there and watching your face for any signs which.. doesnt really make sense since labor isnt like going to the waterpark but he has a kind heart <33

spends so much time looking at the baby... cove does too but baxter spends double that time

watches the nurses and doctors like a hawk whenever they mess w the baby

will curl up next to your bed and thanks you so much for giving him such a beautiful life, this is all stuff he never thought he'd have and he's so happy

derek:

he's actually the calmest one

he has 2 siblings and even though he was young when they were born, he has lots of experience with babies and he prepared

isn't that bad of an over packer actually, just extra baby stuff and some of the best snacks

but he'll still surprise you with your favorite food or takeout

he will do anything for you during labor, remind him to just sit down and hold your hand n stfu, thats what nurses n doctors are for n he really can't help much atp, its all up to you and the nurses+doc

holds your hand even though you might be hurting him. will just wince thru it or convince you to switch hands

will keep giving encouragement and either times it perfectly so he doesn't get on your nerves or you have to kindly ask him to shut up bc you're not playing ball, it isnt helping!!!!

also pulls a cove and does a lot of the work around the house and with the baby bc that was tough work, labor and carrying the baby? you deserve it!!!

ends up talking n holding the baby a lot, is probably a little scared since theyre so little and just holds their hand or looks at them

you sometimes wake up to him mumbling stuff to the baby, abt how happy he is, how he's going to take care of you both, how much he loves them...

carries everything outta the hospital by himself (by everything he means your hand and the baby, his family is probably dragging your stuff to the car bc they're here to help n make your life a million times easier and its literally a sleepover with nico around)

anyway. i need more dad!derek hc's now, specifically uncle nico and jorge, bc that is such a big brain thought

now this applies to all the boys honestly, i didnt even think abt it until now

but he helps you walk to the bathroom and put on all the pads n underwear n stuff if you need it

i remember seeing a youtube short where the woman said her fiance or husband helped her walk to the bathroom, spray her coochie w the water spray bottle, and with the underwear stuff

so don't worry about how you look or if it's icky because you're all sore and/or stitched up or anything like that because he's not paying attention, he just wants to help you in any way possible

#olba #cove holden #baxter ward #derek suarez #cove holden x reader #derek suarez x reader #baxter ward x reader

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vaguely-concerned · 7 months

Text

Stray Gods Character Design Thoughts

In order we're going Pan, Apollo, Persephone, Eros, Aphrodite and a little bit of Venus! Disclaimer that I have no professional experience in character design at all, so these are only my vibes-based ramblings and observations purely for fun and because my brain simply won't shut up about this game haha. Also I will freely admit Pan probably gets the most attention in this because of who I am as a person and where my heart truly lies at the end of the day lol

PAN

Ok, first of all I have so many questions and they all delight me. This guy is the god of the wild places ("Where else would I be, but among the trees and the wild things?"), he lives in a magical garden on top of an office building... and he’s walking around everywhere in an expensive three piece tailored suit (when Freddie accuses him of being a sleaze in a cheap suit he protests mildly that his suit is anything but cheap haha). The cut of it is really carefully thought out and planned, but the bold colours under the grey coat and (studied I am sure) careless details like the tie also make it fun and playful. Which is pleasingly coherent with the general theme of his character in the writing too and I adore it.

This is not the point, I know, but I’m wondering how he makes that work just like. Practically now. Has Athena fixed up Olympus with in-house laundry service? And other sentences I did not expect to type out today lol. Ah well he’s wily I’m sure he has his ways.

I can't heap enough praise on it, this design is SUCH an interesting and elegant marriage of the immediately recognizable satyr features and thus animal symbolism with all its added pagan weight in a post-Christianity setting, and the sort of ‘man of wealth and taste’ imagery of the devil at the crossroads they clearly want to evoke, especially in his first scene. And partially through his mannerism there’s also an added element of like… eccentric but surprisingly competent college professor — just look at the way he carries himself whenever he isn’t putting on the charm or when he’s being guarded and self-contained. That little hands resting on his back pose exudes ‘nerd’ so deeply to me haha. (Incredibly fuckable nerd, to be sure, but still!)

you don't fool me buddy I know what you are. I know all the trouble you went to to get a book.

His body language shifts very quickly between wild playful expressiveness and a sort of nonchalant urbane detachment that borders on coldness sometimes, and it fascinates me. Especially since that more refined unavailable side seems to be something he’s deliberately cultivated, to some extent. When Grace calls him out on how boring it sounds to just let yourself go numb and distant to survive, he doesn’t deny that at all, only saying that at least it’s been quite effective.

Putting the rest under a cut to save people's dashes! I may, as they say, have gotten a tiny bit carried away.

Physically he’s not very imposing — he’s only a little taller than Grace, and the shortest of all of the love interests, which I find somehow very charming and also plays into him being more of a guile-based character. “Seeing as I am neither big nor truly bad, it behooves me to be wary of those who are both” indeed!

I’m fairly sure he’s the character wearing the most layers. Even his hands are mostly covered by gloves. He partially covers up his eyes with the tinted glasses — interesting, as one of the features that most give his real nature away with their sidewise pupils, and the lenses are tinted purple as the complimentary colour to yellow, so it downplays just how bright they are. All together it’s very much a ‘well, he’s certainly got to be in there somewhere’ sort of vibe at times. (Since he also seems to care about his clothes quite a bit — he complains about scuffing his pants during the climb in the Medusa mission if you go the lockpick route — I have drawn the conclusion that getting him out of all of that must take quite a bit of time, no matter how much practice he’s probably put in over the years of meeting 'delicious people' lol)

It’s a design that manages to give, at the same time: animal-featured ancient god, deal with the devil, teacher, overtones of con man if you’re inclined to be Freddie-levels of uncharitable lol, eccentric rich weird uncle… there’s a lot going on here and somehow it all works haha. He isn’t wearing any jewelry at all unless you count the glasses, which now that I’m looking at the rest of the character designs in this game is actually fairly rare among them!

His eyes really are incredibly bright when uh naked as it were, though. I like the implication that he is aware of this and actually goes out of his way to downplay it, even when he’d normally be wearing glamour anywhere it would strictly matter for it to show. Between that, the meaningful zoom in on him at the Underworld when Apollo says that all the Idols can be themselves there even if they don’t look human, Pan claiming he’s been distrusted and side-eyed by the others basically since the beginning and seeming kind of frustrated and hurt about it, in his deflecting way, and the implication of a hierarchy among the Idols at least under Athena’s leadership in this stained glass painting (notably all the visibly non-human Idols/hangers on are at the bottom, and Hecate, Asterion and especially Medusa are the characters most affected and confined by the oppressive status quo Athena upholds)...

this one! sing it with me now EVERYBODY LEAVES THIS PLACE ALIVEEE ok we can move on

you know, some possible Subtext and Implications going on here, I’d say. (It is only potential subtext and implication, though, so, you know, take my extrapolations here with a grain of salt!) He certainly doesn’t do himself many favors with the persona he’s built up in regards to being trusted and included either, but his status as a little bit of an outsider does seem to precede that so I feel like it’s more of a response than the main cause. Along the same lines he gets much more testy about the Green route of ‘I Can Teach You’ than he does about you just not choosing him in the Red one, he takes that pretty gracefully. So it is the being deliberately kept on the outside and openly distrusted and dismissed that gets to him. (To be clear I don't think openly distrusting a strange guy showing up in your living room like that is at all unreasonable either haha I just think the nuances of his response are enlightening as to where he's really coming from)

this one isn't even to illustrate anything it's just because I love him so much and think he's pretty I'll be real with you all

Anyway I just keep thinking about how incredibly tender it would be if sometimes, when they’re in private, Grace takes his glasses off to see his eyes better and he lets her. That shakes something deep in my soul apparently. That fucks me up but like in a good way.

APOLLO

- Apollo’s style of dress leaves his navel helpfully exposed for the copious amounts of depressed gazing he habitually subjects it to. (I say this not entirely without affection.)

a crumpled tissue of a man

In keeping with his incredibly emo mode, there’s very little colour involved and he doesn’t take much care to present anything with care (look at the state of that shirt and tell me if Apollo has picked up an iron in the last forty years), BUT interestingly he’s not entirely open and unadorned, he does wear that network of jewelry across his chest and neck. Which I think is to show that the old Apollo is not entirely gone (“There he is, god of the sun”), even if he has been a sack stuffed with sad for a long time now. I wonder how many of these things are leftover preferences from being only Lucas — presumably the tattoos at least are from before he fished Apollo up from the sea? If I’m reading the vibes right on that, the blue of the tattoos and the gold of the sun… thingy he wears with the jewelry are the main splashes of colour in his design aside from his hair, and they’re both ‘leftovers’ from both his previous lives, surfer bro and solar deity recently fallen on hard times. Physically he would be tall and imposing, parodically built, except that he carries himself with all the confidence and panache of a damp depressed dishrag.

Also I can’t believe this guy is walking around everywhere in sandals. Apollo makes sad flip-flop sounds wherever he goes, including when he steps up during ‘The Trial’. That’s so amazingly pathetic (affectionate).

We can see from the photo with him and Calliope that he wasn’t always quite this much of a mess. Once, he did his shirt up a whole maybe four buttons and wore something that wasn’t beige!

Intellectually I acknowledge that it's a design meant to provide fanservice, even though I personally could not consider this guy in a sexual or romantic light if you gave me a thousand years to build up to it. (I've said it before but if he's anything to me, he is the incredibly fail father figure continually letting me down in tiny ways I never had.) Godspeed to the Apollo-enjoyers out there, though, Summerfall gave him those abs and that poor little meow meow energy just for you and it's your right to enjoy that

- Pan and Apollo also bring out some really interesting contrasts both as characters and designs when you hold them up against each other:

Once you scratch the surface a tiny bit Pan clearly has just as much self-loathing as Apollo (“If Athena had taken me up on my offer, the Idols would have been better off” uh. Okay buddy we’re gonna have to process that one together later what do you say), but where Apollo is completely helplessly open in his misery at all times, you need to unbutton Pan at least three layers until you get a honest or straightforward emotion out of him and I think that’s amazingly carried through into their visual designs. It's Good Visual Storytelling Brent

PERSEPHONE

- I’m fairly sure the colour of Persephone’s suit is supposed to evoke pomegranate seeds. See and judge for yourself I suppose:

She also has details on her coat that depict foliage and growing plants, but colour-wise they and the rest of the detailing is in the blue-green that symbolizes the Underworld and so death. Her jewelry is gold, which — and I’m about to do some reaching here, I’ll be big enough to own — could play in with Hades being the god of riches as well as of the dead/the underworld. Probably it’s because it works well with the colour scheme, but I’m going to pretend that it’s because even if she didn’t get the throne she did get that motherfucker’s hoard when she killed him <3 Love that for her. Her jewelry is more rose gold than Apollo’s yellow gold, too. Watch me go for even more of a reach: between the necklace and the watch, those round discs of gold remind me of the coins put on the eyes of the dead but like you know repurposed since she doesn't need them to pay the Ferryman. I never promised I'd be reasonable in this did I.

The short hair works real well for the butch vibe and looks amazing no notes, but I think it’s also a deliberate way to differentiate herself from her younger self — when speaking of Demeter’s death, she says that moment was also the final death of that young her, ‘that girl with the long hair who loved her gardens’. Clearly the Idols do a lot of reinventing themselves over the ages in more and less conscious ways.

She has a tattoo of what looks to be foliage and a skull across her left chest and arm. I really like that idea of her having the testament to both sides of her — goddess of spring, queen of the underworld — directly on her skin, under two layers of clothes that each represent those aspects. The one on her arm looks like stalks of grain tied together to resemble the bones of the hand/forearm, maybe? which is metal as fuck, needless to say.

She is TALL and scary and the staging always plays that up, Grace tends to look up at her like O.O. I love how sharp she is too.

Also she is incredibly hot but you don’t need me to tell you that you all have eyes I assume.

EROS, APHRODITE and VENUS:

- I love literally everything about Eros’ design except his hair. Not even the concept of the haircut and colours or anything, just the way it’s rendered. It looks like one strange flat cap I can’t quite make understandable in three dimensional space as hair in my head lol. Other than that it’s a banging design though, the delicate see-through material over the leather BDSM harness is genius. Choosing this form of sensuality and attractiveness for him to embody -- one that is so deeply queercoded -- also works super well. The warmth and vulnerability of his body language on top of it is *chef's kiss*. just. please define his hair a bit more and it's perfect haha.

- I'm not sure I have that much to say about Aphrodite’s design except that of course she is beauty she is grace etc., it takes a lot of thought to make such a simple design shine and by god did they do it she’s so stunning. Also interesting how her dark blues and greens with cool/silvery details contrast with Venus’ warm reds and pinks and… brass? Idk I don’t really understand jewelry haha. All warmth and soft romanticism, anyway, it looks nice. (Side note but I love Venus’ rose tattoo.) Eros and Venus have much more matching colour schemes and they both bring those islands of warmth standing around Aphrodite in her shimmering ocean coolness. (Which of course is something she has to deliberately put on before going into public these days, and is unselfconsciously glamorous in the way of an old timey Hollywood starlet, as the blue route of 'The Ritual' lampshades)

:') *whisper* everybody...

Venus is wearing pearls, which is pleasing considering her connection to Aphrodite (and the backgrounds of the 'Lost in a Moment' variant of 'The Ritual')! and both of her and Aphrodite's outfits go for a shoulderless look to great effect.

ETA: When the camera is close on Aphrodite you can actually see that she has dark circles under her eyes, only partially covered by the makeup :'( I didn't notice that before I played through 'The Ritual' on a bigger screen today

All in all I just want to acknowledge what a fantastic job the character designers at Summerfall Studios have done! There are some really fresh new takes on these mythological figures here, and it makes so much sense within the world the game presents without resorting to well-worn and tired iconography, I really do admire it greatly.

#stray gods #stray gods pan #stray gods apollo #stray gods persephone #stray gods eros #stray gods aphrodite #sorry about the varying quality of the screenshots I have done my best lmao #if there's anywhere you can get the sprites in high resolution I couldn't find it so uh well be gentle lol #it's SO hard to track down scenes where you see them all in full figure and decent clarity #stray gods meta #meta #i don't even know if this is coherent anymore but it IS out of my head which is what I needed it to be haha I am free!! for now

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bokettochild · 6 months

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Hello, Ketto

I have had two of your concepts/ideas pinging around my brain in a manner vaguely reminiscent of the logo screensavers. So I’m asking a question in the hopes that vibes will solidify into actual plot bunny or that maybe brain will be satisfied and let it go for a bit.

Chain and birth order dynamics:

Wind and Twilight are oldest siblings

Time and Hyrule are baby siblings

Where do the others fall? Is Sky the weird combination of “whatever he needs to be” since he’s a ward of the academy/Gaepora?

Is Legend an oldest, middle, youngest or only?

I’ve read 😅 way too many versions of people’s backstories to remember.

So, funny story! I actually was exploring this concept in a fic that has been giving me troubles since I sat down to write it T-T

I wanted to write a fic about Wind big-brothering the chain into taking care of themselves but the boy rambles and I feared it would become tedious to read. Unfortunately, that's why I never post any of the stories I write about or from Wind or Wild's perspectives; they won't shut up and I can't make them speak more concisely.

Long story short though! Wind was going to sort of dig into the temperament and behavior of each hero and started to go "clearly a middle child, that one's a youngest, good golly Time you are 100% obviously the baby of your family" to himself. It felt sort of weird when writing it, but it also seems to have potential now that I've reread it.

I classify Twilight, Warriors, and Wind as Eldest children, Time and Hyrule as Youngest kids, and Legend and Wild fall into the middle-sibling category (I'll expound on that in the story if you all would like me to write it again). Wind classifies Four as a single-child (the irony) who is still adapting to having siblings out of nowhere, and is utterly innocent of how accurately he's assessed the smithy.

As for his methods of forcing them to take care of themselves, I have a snippet of one of my many drafts below if you want

“From now on, if you say or do anything self-deprecating or otherwise diminishing to your value as a person, which yes, includes throwing yourself into the way of a weapon to save someone who’s got it handled,” back comes the stern voice, just for Wild, who only cocks a brow back at Wind in a challenge (yeah, middle or eldest sibling for the champion, one of those), “then you have to add a rupee to the jar.”

The vet scowls at him- an expression that is more mature, but not too very far from Aryll’s pouts when he scolds her. “And why should we go along with that? You’re not the boss of us, Wind, we’re adults.”

The sailor crosses his arms, staring over at the vet sternly. “Because if we do this, then Hyrule’s not allowed to call himself lesser than the rest of us.”

The vet’s ears twitch forwards, treacherously curious.

“Because if we do this, Wild isn’t allowed to throw himself in danger.”

Twilight and Time both sigh in relief (they all do, but those two are the most noticeable).

“Because if you all go along with this, Warriors isn’t allowed to hide his problems in a bottle.”

The captain thinks he is sly, but Wind knows, and it appears the man hadn’t expected that as his gaze darts away shamefully. Time looks even more relieved though; both he and Wind have been watching since the war, they know.

“Because Legend doesn’t get to refuse help when he’s in enough pain to cry.”

Hyrule is the one pricking up this time.

“Because Twilight won’t be allowed to take on everyone’s problems and bottle up his own.”

Wild’s turn to sigh in relief, to glance at his mentor in worry as Twilight avoids his gaze.

“And Four can’t bottle everything up and yell at himself in the woods instead of talking to someone about his problems rather than the air.”

Unlike the others, the smithy actually just looks insulted, but while the shortest hero does open his mouth to protest, he closes it a moment later with a hiss of frustration, crossing his arms. Yeah, single child. He isn’t used to other people calling him out unless they are leaders like Time or adults like his grandfather.

Wind isn’t done though. “And Sky?” Crystal eyes meet his, curious and a bit confused. “This means you don’t get to agonize over whatever nonsense has been eating you and not get help. It’s making you depressed and your sleeping habits are reflecting that.”

People who sleep a lot are usually only ill, injured, or depressed in Wind’s experience, and while he knows there are such things as sleeping disorders, he’s snitched some of Four’s books and none of them mention anything that matches whatever is up with Sky. Depression though.... Tetra had slept a whole lot when she’d been trying to come to grips with her self-image and identity after their adventure, and the constant exhaustion through that time is a close match for Sky’s own behavior.

“Alright.” It’s Warriors who speaks, stepping up to take the lead and meeting Wind’s eye with a nod. “I won’t lie, I don’t like the idea of all of you fussing over me, but if this means the rest of you will be getting help, which yes, Wind, I do mean you too, then I’m game.”

The sailor chuckles. This isn’t a roll your eyes and huff in annoyance moment, this is a peacemaker moment. They are negotiating with the others, he needs to set an example and be mature. “I was planning on including myself, Wars. If I need help, I’ll ask, but if one of you thinks I’m failing to take care of myself you can call me on it, and if the others agree I’ll pay up just the same as you will.”

And that seems to do it. There’s some debate about it of course, Legend and Wild putting up the most fight about it (them being the worst at self-care as he’s seen) but eventually all cave at the promise of their brothers actually taking care of themselves, which is what Wind was counting on.

Rules are set of course, by Twilight’s insistence. “We can’t just punish each other for whatever we want, there needs to be ground rules and boundaries, even if they’re just a loose framework to reference.” The rancher insists.

That goes uncontested, so Warriors pulls out one of his notebooks and Legend one of his pens and, because Wild’s handwriting is the best, they all gather around the Champion and consider rules together.

In the end, they have nine.

Rule 1: Self-deprecating comments regarding skills, the worth of a person and/or the validity of their life will result in a 20 rupee fine and extensive cuddles

Rule 2: Blatant self-neglect (i.e. refusing to eat, refusing to sleep, not tending injuries or allowing help with injuries, lack of bathing/basic hygiene etc.) will result in both a 15 rupee fine and someone helping to ensure basic needs are met

Rule 3: Self-injury and/or allowance of injury through purposeful carelessness in battle or throwing of self in the way of danger will result in a 20 rupee fine and a long talk

Rule 4: Joking comments regarding a lack of self-worth will result in a 5 rupee fine

Rule 5: Ask for help.

Rule 6: The group must be in agreement regarding fines and consequences whenever an offence is made (with the exception of the accused)

Rule 7: All money in the ‘care jar’ will go towards the group and will not be kept by any one person

Rule 8: If someone believes they have not been judged fairly in regards to punishment they will be allowed to contest their sentence and defend themself without interruption or correction (all comments/questions will be saved for the end of the explanation)

Rule 9: If someone hits a depressive state, punishment will be with-held and will be instead replaced with discussion in order to not further aggravate the deteriorated mental state

The last one is something Wild adds himself, but no one contests it; it’s a good one. Personally, Wind thinks it’s a good list in general, and he knows the others agree. Legend and Wild specifically look relieved when he suggests the eighth rule, which makes sense. He knows those two don’t have a great record with being allowed to speak up for themselves in certain regards. The champion has only hinted at being made to be silent, but they all know about the vet’s criminal record and how it resulted from misunderstandings he was never allowed to clear.

Once done, the list is carefully pasted to what Hyrule has aptly titled the ‘care jar’ and the thing is slipped back into Wind’s bag for the night, waiting (hopefully for a long while yet) to be pulled out for the first offence.

#lu wind #ketto's writing misadventures #big brother wind #this is like a year old #apologies #linked universe #linkeduniverse #asks and answers

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miss-madness67 · 6 months

Text

The Law Firm (Sam one-shot)

Prompt: You start a new internship and your boss is kinda hot.

If I were to be even more nervous than I am right now, I would probably be shaking like a leaf. My hands are sweaty as I approach clumsily the entrance of the building. The first time I came here, was two weeks ago, when I had the interview for the internship position. If it wasn't for my nearly neat résumé, I might have not gotten the job. I tend to ramble a lot when I'm nervous, and it clearly was showing on the day of the interview.

This is the moment I've been waiting for throughout my whole career; when I get to put into practice my knowledge about the law. Even if it means starting as an intern pouring coffee for my boss. Whom I have yet to meet. In the interview, they told me that I’d be working under one of the senior lawyers to learn and observe. Then, if I do a good job, they might consider promoting me to a junior lawyer. I am really excited about the things to come. Perhaps too much because as I climb up the steps of the building in a hurry, I almost fall over. A steady hand in my arm stabilizes me enough to gather my bearings.

“Oh, thank you, I'm sorry.” I don't know what I'm apologizing for.

“No problem,” I finish dusting off my pants and look up to the voice’s owner that saved me from embarrassment.

My face lights up a deep shade of pink at the gorgeous man who stares at me. He's quite tall, possibly the tallest of the people around us. His hair is long, shaggy, and brown. His eyes are warm and inviting. This man is possibly the most handsome one I've encountered in my whole life. When I come to the realization of this fact, I notice that he is still holding my arm and, as well as me, he’s scrutinizing my appearance.

With a light chuckle, he lets go of me. “We wouldn't want you falling to the ground, would we?” He points at the coffee I hold in my hand. Luckily, it didn’t spill.

“No, of course not.”

For a sweet moment, none of us say anything. Normally, I would thank him again and leave, but there’s something pulling me to make this interaction last longer. So I introduce myself with the most confidence I can muster. He seems to like my approach because he smiles brightly at me.

“I'm Sam Winchester.” The name tries to wake something deep in my brain, but my overly restless self cannot comprehend what it is.

“Nice to meet you! Are you new here?” I don't know what prompts me to ask such a question, maybe it's a desire not to be the only one starting today in a new environment.

He scratches the back of his neck awkwardly, but he doesn't seem to be in a hurry to go inside.

“Well, you could say that.”

“Great!” I beam at him. “That way I won't be the only one.”

He can hear the relief in my voice. “Come on, I'm sure it won't be that bad.”

I nod enthusiastically, “I know, but I always get super nervous on my first day.”

Sam smiles sympathetically. There’s something akin to hesitancy when he says: “I’m sure your boss won’t be so hard on you.”

I shrug, “I haven’t met them, but I heard they’re fairly young. Well, at least my supervisor is, I had a meeting with the big boss the other day, Bobby. He seems like a good man.”

He chuckles. “Oh, yeah, Bobby’s great… as for your supervisor, don’t worry, I’m sure he won’t be too hard on you.”

“Well, I certainly hope so. If you haven't noticed, I tend to make a fool of myself easily.” I want to add something else, there's this little voice in the back of my head that is pressuring me to ask Sam Winchester out, even though I just met him. Maybe because he's handsome, or because he seems to be kind-hearted, but I cannot shut up my thoughts. Normally, I wouldn't flirt with him after just one meeting. This isn’t a normal day, and nerves affect me almost the same way alcohol does; they give me a false sense of security and make me say things that I probably shouldn't. “So, since we’re both new, why don't we meet up for lunch?”

His eyes widen comically, but before he can answer, a voice coming from afar calls his name: “Ah, Sam!” It’s a young man wearing a pristine black suit, and he’s walking toward us. I've seen him before, I think his name is Brady. He was the one who led me into Bobby's office for the interview. “Oh, I see you met the new intern. Hi there, how are you liking it so far?”

“Hello,” I greet, “I haven't gone inside yet.” I discreetly check my watch to see that it's still early. “Sam was kind enough to help me when I almost tripped.”

“I see,” Brady nods, “Sam, huh?” The question isn’t directed towards me because he's looking at the tall man. Sam gives him a warning glance. I cannot comprehend what is happening until Brady speaks again. “Well, it's good you’ve already met your supervisor. He was promoted just yesterday. Honestly, it saves me the trouble of making introductions.”

His words render me speechless. What the fuck did he just say? Did I just flirt with my supervisor? Which is basically having the hots for my boss. Sam looks at me with an apologetic glance. I cannot meet his eyes. Brady mustn’t notice the silence his comment created because he continues: “I'm gonna head inside, see you later!”

His happy pace doesn’t falter one bit. I'm considering that maybe he was aware of what his statement would do.

“I apologize for my previous behavior… I didn't mean-”

Sam doesn't let me continue, “you didn't?” He ponders for a moment. “That's a shame, we would've had a nice time.” I can tell by the way his eyes shine and his mouth forms a gentle smile that he is not teasing me, but actually means what he's saying. “Why don’t you come by my office at 2 p.m. and then we can go grab some lunch?”

He doesn't leave room for opinions because he turns around and walks inside the building without another word. What just happened? Do I have a date with my boss? I guess this first day isn't as crappy as I thought it would be.

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