#that’ll cover my bases right

[staybeautifulmp3]

are there any like iconic bisexual harvey suitstv fics i should know about? i’m new to the suits tv and i checked bisexual harvey specter on ao3 but nothing came of it does anyone have any recs i’ll read literally anything

[barefoothighlander]

Hi luv! Can you please do some headcanons of ghost having a civilian wife who is an absolute RAY of sunshine, but he keeps the fact that he’s married a secret even from 141. And when they do find out they’re just like??? How??? She’s like so cute???

yes ugh, soft!ghost has my heart, he'd be such a cutie obsessed with his wife, I love this, also obsessed with gossipy Soap and Gaz, they'd be so invested in Ghost's life

warnings: none just fluff

You and Simon had been married 3 years, meeting 5 years ago while he was on leave back home and you were visiting family

You bumped into him on accident after losing all sense of direction on a back street.

He was intrigued because most people are frightened by his outward appearance, but you just smiled at him apologizing profusely.

He had awkwardly asked for your number and you gave it to him, going on a few dates before he fell madly in love with you. Completely enamoured with your smile and personality, always giggling and happy, a stark contrast to how he usually was.

You made him see things in a softer light, constantly dragging him to farmer’s markets and gardens, he followed your every whim, just happy to spend time with you.

He had proposed a year after the two of you became official, deciding he couldn’t go another day without being married to you.

A week after the proposal he had to deploy, it broke his heart to leave you but it made him even more eager to come back to you.

You knew most of what his job consisted of, he spared you the more gory parts as they always made you squeamish. The two of you making it a rule to keep your relationship secret, even from the rest of the team.

After you married he made a point of calling you every day from base just to check in, even though he’d see you right as soon as he got home.

On a particularly difficult mission, Simon had gotten hit in the head, his helmet knocked off and thrown to the dirt, a small piece of paper falling out.

Soap rushed over to him to make sure he was okay, noticing the small paper and grabbing at it as Simon reached to tear it from his hands. It was a photo of you, hair messy from the wind, skin glowing from the sun outside, bright smile plastered on your face as you smiled at your husband behind the camera.

“Lt have’ya a lass,” Soap asked, dodging Ghost’s attempts to retrieve the photo. “Tell me and I’ll give it back”. Sick of Soaps games Ghost submits. “She’s my wife”

Word spread quickly through the team on behalf of Soap’s loudmouth, all the men rushing to question Ghost about his secret relationship.

“No shot you married her, she’s so.. Cute? Smiley? And you’re so” Gaz is cut off by Simon’s dark stare.

All the men pestered Ghost about meeting you as he continued to decline, Price offering a simple ‘congratulations son’

One day you came to base to drop off some gear that Simon forgot at home, immediately greeted by Soap. “No way” he says, stepping towards you with open arms, pulling you into a hug. You hug him back confused. “Sorry, have we met” “No but I’ve heard a lot about you lass”

Simon rushes out of the base practically tearing Soap off you, giving him a warning with a quiet stare as you tug on his jacket, reaching on your toes to lift his mask slightly, planting a kiss to his lips and smiling before handing him the bag of gear which he takes before running a hand softly over your back.

“This is so strange” Soap responds taken aback by the sight of you two, one tall and brooding, face covered by a skull mask and the other a practical ray of sunshine, wearing a long flowing dress that leaves the top of your chest open to the breeze.

“I will say, you’re much prettier in person, the picture doesn’t do justice” “That’ll do” Simon warns as you giggle.

Against Simon’s wishes you invite the team over for a dinner, the weather was too nice to not eat outside as you got to meet each member, learning more about them than Simon would ever tell you.

“I’m sorry it just makes no sense,” Gaz says as you quirk an eyebrow in question. “I just mean you’re so nice, and the Lieutenant is so daunting” you laugh, “trust me, he’s not so scary with the mask off,” He bows his head in embarrassment as you break down his strict facade.

“So what do you two even do? Gasp does Lt cuddle?” Soap asks almost giggling, Simon swears that he could kill Johnny right there. You spare a glance at your husband before meekly nodding in Soap’s direction as he and Gaz are taken in a fit of laughter, you shrug your shoulders in a silent sorry to Simon.

The team made it a tradition to now show up at your home at least once a week to have dinner and some drinks, or just play some board games, intent on getting to know you better, almost punishing Ghost for keeping you a secret.

Cleaning up dinner Simon slides behind you wrapping you in a hug, a small show of affection he had been holding off on while the team was in view. “You’re telling them too much” As he kisses the base of your neck, you turn your body to him, “It’s nice to get to know them, I like seeing you around your friends” he scoffs as the term, then thinks about it shit maybe we are friends.

The time spent after at work Simon was constantly pestered about when he’d make Price and Soap uncles while Gaz had proclaimed himself as your future child’s fairy godmother.

Simon grew tired of the constant interrogation but felt like a weight was off his chest finally being able to be open about your relationship, though he’d never let the team hear the pet names you call him in private, nor would he let them in on the more tender moments of your time spent together.

The team always telling him that he was nicer when you visited or called him, always nagging to see pictures of the two of you (there were barely any, maybe one where he didn't have his mask on but it was kept secure in the house), and wanting to know when you'd visit.

Ghost was relieved that the team was so nice to you, he'd kill them for even saying a bad word, but he wasn't surprised given your ability to get along with almost everyone, always stopping to say good morning to people on the streets.

They teased him for days after you dropped him off some lunch one time, he had acted angry but he loved the domesticity of your lives, he loved seeing you in his office, a bright figure in such a beige world, he couldn't help the smile that crept on his face at the mere thought of you.

So the two of you welcomed the team into your lives, enjoying the company after living rather solitary. Spilling secrets with Soap and Gaz as Price and Simon looked on, Price with a small smirk on his face, happy that Simon finally found the love he deserved, while Simon sat unamused at Soap's jokes.

[verinarin]

✧･ﾟ:* ~ 𝙫𝙚𝙞𝙣 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙞𝙣𝙜; 𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙫𝙞𝙚𝙬

fluff; she likes to touch, he likes to see her touch.

a/n : starting now every fic of mine that has his view on it means the fic is in his pov

She likes to touch.

She would let her fingers traverse through any surfaces she could find, whether it’s soft or cold she doesn’t mind. Her fingers seem to have a mind of its own.

I find it cute that she has this unquenchable curiosity, it’s oddly charming. Another thing I'd like to add is that she adores touching me. Well, I can’t really say what she finds so interesting about an old guy like me, my skin ain’t soft or anything.

It’s full of scars, it’s rough, coarse. Hell, my arm even glows, ain’t that creepy for a pretty girl ?

But she adores it like a kid holding her favorite toy, keeping it close and never letting it go. Once she sets her eyes on something, she’ll get it. Aghh perhaps that’s my fault for spoiling her too much, but how can I not ?

Maybe I’m a fool to let her boss around me, but then again I don’t mind it.

Not even a bit.

“Hey lady, can ya stop tickling my biceps ?” I sigh, looking at my arm that’s currently resting on her lap. It looks ridiculously big against her thighs. I couldn’t see her expression properly, I was too struck by her eyelashes, has it always been that long ?

My head leans forward right beside her face so I could see her better. From the bridge of her nose to her pouty lips painted by the pink rouge that I bought her yesterday, “Husshh I’m doing something important here !” she shushes me, the audacity of this brat.

I couldn’t help but chuckle as I let her finger trace my veins, is she counting my heartbeat or something ? I can’t tell. She starts from my wrist to the farthest part of my arm that’s not covered by the sleeve. I rolled my sleeves earlier since it was annoying but I didn’t know my arm would be a plaything for the girl.

“Care to tell me what is this important thing ?” I ask, now her hands grip my biceps, perhaps squeeze is a better word to describe it.

Is she massaging my arm ?

“You know how you could read the future based on your palm,” she explains as she lifts my biceps towards me, well she struggles at it.

I lift my biceps for her to entertain her explanation,“Yeah ?”

“I’m doing it but to your veins instead,” that’s a cute excuse.

“So miss fortune teller, what do my veins say to you ?” I laugh as I tilt her chin up to look at me, never noticing how pretty her lips are.

Ahhh I’m gettin distracted.

“It said that we should eat steak for dinner,” she smiles, that’s a smile men would go to war for.

Including me naturally.

“Is that so ?” I ask, not noticing that my lips curve into a smirk.

“Yes, if it’s not for dinner then there’s an unlucky event that’ll happen in the foreseeable future,” she continues, I mean she wouldn’t have to do make up this little stunt. Hell, any desire that comes out of that pretty mouth is like a mission to fulfill for me.

“Well, I can’t have that now can I ? steak it is then,” I let out a small chuckle, before leaning closer to her. I brushed her hair back to press a small kiss on her forehead, then her face turned as red as a strawberry.

Real cute.

[meechlamajor]

juju watkins

JUJU WATKINS AS YOUR GIRLFRIEND: HEADCANONS

Your relationship dynamic:

Juju loves to annoy you for fun, in little ways that still make you laugh. Once you both were laying in bed cuddling together. She had her head in your neck when all of a sudden she bit the cartilage of your ear.

The warm feeling of her breath made you squirm but you couldn’t help but laugh at how random that was.

“I don’t know, it was just looking at me and begging for me to bite it.

There’s a whole lot of love between you two, and things like this is just one of the ways that Juju preferred to show it.

You’re both extremely competitive!

You’d both just finished dinner when Juju got up to throw your takeout boxes away.

“Babe,” you chimed. “How much do you want to bet that I can throw this into the trash from right here?” You stood neat the tv and the trash can was a good six feet away.

“$20,” Juju said instantly. “That’s really nothing so this should be easy for you.”

You crumpled the box into somewhat of a ball, regretting it when the stick sauce got on your hands. You released it and it was head straight for the trash can when Juju stepped in front of it and swatted the box-ball to the floor.

You kissed your teeth and placed your hands on your hips. “Judea! That’s not fair!”

“Hey,” she shrugged. “Should’ve covered all of your bases first. I didn’t say I wasn’t gonna step in.”

Juju threw away the rest of the trash, a pout evident on your face. But, Juju hated when you did. Sometimes the referred to you as “The Brat” (in the most endearing way possible).

So, you decided to knuckle up (not literally guys).

You huffed, “go get changed. I wanna play HORSE.”

“Right now?” Juju glanced at the clock, it reading 7:30.

“Babe, this is not the latest time you’ve been in the gym. Hurry up, or I’ll tell everyone I took your ankles and you cried after!”

You love sharing new experiences with one another.

You and Juju are the couple that actually hates being bored. You love to occupy yourselves in some way that’ll stimulate the mind, and what better way to do that than trying new things?

You’ve done pottery, zip lining, sky diving, white water rafting, a poetry class, paint and sip, you guys do those little mining kits for fun together, and Juju’s favorite: ATV riding.

You’re each other’s rock when times get tough.

There have been a number of times when Juju has called on you to make her feel better or just hold her. There’s nothing like knowing that Juju (a.k.a. your person) will come through for you at the drop of a hat. Whenever Juju holds you, she strokes your hair and runs her hand down your back, noticing that it calms you.

You put on a united front and keep your disagreements private.

You both hate the idea of people having an idea of what arguments or disagreements look like between you two primarily because of Juju’s position in the public eye. People gave their opinions on her all the time, and she couldn’t control those, but she could control what she gave people to talk about in terms of your relationship. You’re private, but not a secret.

In fact, Juju loved to show you off. She could take candid photos of you all day, and she would post them on her story because “the world needs to see how beautiful you are, my love.”

You’re the early bird!

Even though Juju often has to get up for early morning practices, you often get up before her to get a start on the day. You’ll make breakfast and be ready to head out for the day by the time her eyes open.

The both of you share clothes.

Juju finds it so sexy when you wear something that belongs to her. Nobody else has to know it’s her clothes, it’s just the fact that you got it from her and 99% of the time she thought the item looked better on you.

AUTHOR’S NOTE!

juju is literally my wife lolziesssss! content about her is lacking REAL BAD but it’s ok we’ll fix that 🥰

nsfw part two? 👀

[suenoji]

a penny for my thoughts? abby anderson and that’s it

contains: blackfem!reader, established relationships, pwop, penetrative sex, abby uses a strap, daddy kink? (never, just a… term…), pet names (mama, baby), choking, it’s short and sweet

abby anderson is plaguing every bit of my mind. mmm — i decided to rewatch tlou2 only to see abby. ‘nnnnnn now i’m thinking of her preparing to leave jackson. she’s frantic,, almost. three weeks of separation makes her dream and yearn for you. she hasn’t even left yet. you’re two steps away from her, under the covers of the bed. naked, afro a mess. your foreheads slick with sweat, and if you move the wrong way, your whole body feels numb. your thighs stick together; she’s making it her goal to engrave her touches into you so they last the duration of her excursion. so when you think about her you have fresh material that’ll keep your panties wet. it pays to slowly enjoy the moments that don’t occur as often, and abby’s taking her time with you tonight.

she exasperatedly sits on the bed and falls back, discarding the plans isaac gave her, the papers scatter — a mere reflection of her thoughts. she can’t focus on plans and cleaning her guns, she’s too busy focusing on the mess you made on the strap. you’re still perked up and teasing her while she lays in bed. you stalk her movements, swift like a cat. if you had a tail it’d be up in the air swaying side to side. her eyes fixate on your upside down form as you hover a few inches above her, boobs resting on her hair “think i want some more abs, from the side this time.” you bat your lashes and make the mistake of rising up to your knees. she giggles, “easy, cowgirl-“ as you fall over with a soft thud to the sheets, stomach jerking, your clit’s still thumping, pussy still throbbing eliciting a soft whine. you feel the shape of her still fucking deep inside of you. that’s the condition she fucks you in to every time, but tonight just feels different. it’s a trance she wants to stay stuck in, it’s sticky and sweet, sweeter than honey — it’s you. sex with you makes life seem so simple. stress dissipates, orders are meaningless. the thought of leaving looms over her head. a dark, gray, spatial cloud follows her every step, stress and worry boom faintly in her ears. she feels her stomach twisting.

leaving Jackson sucks so bad. when she leaves, you make her feel bad about it too— as if it was her decision to leave you to romance clikers and all those other demons. juxtaposed to, innocent, pretty, light hearted, her pretty angel — you! she’s thinking about the moments you two have shared since she stepped into the room this evening.

your moans have been on rewind. she thinks about how she’s made had you cum over and over again on her fingers, on her tongue, on her dick. soft, and opaque, pink with a soft white substance coating its base and the black straps of it as she dug it so deep inside of you curating that mess.

“‘’m cummin’ ’” you’d mumbled, thighs quivering shut, “keep em open, mama, you look so pretty ‘n daddy won’t be back for a while, so let her enjoy it.” she still can’t believe she said that crazy shit.

“‘mmabbs , we’re not done yet right?.” you whine in her ear and she shoots up. every organ in her body ignites with lust. every nerve ticks with impatience. her fingers itch. situational lust, every situation where you have her like this. when you beg and insist for her to do as she pleases. your voice cups her ears and whisper endless affirmations. it’s dreamy.

she’s thinking of how you look when she grips your throat. your little pleas, dry; high pitched. your throat’ll vibrate, your eyes’ll roll to the back of your head and your precious fingers’ll grip onto her arms. they move up to feel the muscles, the ridges and dips of her skin. your pussy gets sloppier the harder she chokes you. pinned down to the matress so you can’t get away. it’s a fun feeling. you feel how hot she is, your lips so soft, saccharine. they fall into a frown, you want her take up all your space, you want her to fill you up. you’re hearing, vision, and mind feel fuzzy. it all feels like a dream, but dreams never feel this real.

“look at me, baby.” she lightly smacks your cheeks. the palm of her hand lightly plays at your cheeks till your eyes crack open. your turn your head to look back at abby as she taps you deeply from the side. “i am.” you whine. tears prick at the corner of your eyes and your legs tremble the harder abby’s thrust pick up. she picks up your right leg and grinds her hips up into you. your fingers dig into the blue velvet blanket she laid you on. the squelching gets louder and louder. she fucks you till your mouth drops open and whiny profanities wisp out. “it feels good, right there?” she asks, kissing your cheeks as one deep sigh rolls out of your mouth. she’s pounding that one soot over and over, you’re creamin’ all on her shit now. “you’re making a mess, does it feel that good?” she teases and nips your neck.

“yes…nghh— right there.” you drool it out and your legs spasm for the nth time. you slowly cum on her dick. grinding until you lost all feelings in your hip. she’s pop it out and tap it against your ass. “good girl. you should feel real tired, you gonna let me do some work now?” she rolls over and pins you with her body. “only of we can do it till bed time when you finish.” abby giggles, your concept of bed time doesn’t reflect hers, “mhm? and what’s your definition of “bedtime”?”

[sintiva]

— abby anderson!

abby has been plaguing every bit of my mind. mmm — i decided to rewatch tlou2 only to see abby.

‘nnnnnn now i’m thinking of her preparing to leave jackson. she’s frantic,, almost. three weeks of separation makes her dream and yearn for you. she hasn’t even left yet. you’re two steps away from her, under the covers of the bed. naked, afro a mess. your forehead’s slick with sweat, and if you move the wrong way, your whole body feels numb. your thighs stick together; she’s making it her goal to engrave her touches into you so they last the duration of her excursion. so when you think about her you have fresh material that’ll keep your panties wet. it pays to slowly enjoy the moments that don’t occur as often, and abby’s taking her time with you this evening.

she exasperatedly sits on the bed and falls back, discarding the plans isaac gave her, the papers scatter — a mere reflection of her thoughts. she can’t focus on plans and cleaning her guns, she’s too busy focusing on the mess you made on the strap. you’re still perked up and teasing her while she lays in bed. you stalk her movements, swift like a cat. if you had a tail it’d be up in the air swaying side to side. her eyes fixate on your upside down form as you hover a few inches above her, boobs resting on her hair “‘think i want some more abs, but from the side this time.” you bat your lashes and make the mistake of rising up to your knees. she giggles, “easy, cowgirl-“ as you fall over with a soft thud to the sheets, stomach jerking, your clit’s still thumping, pussy still throbbing eliciting a soft whine. you feel the shape of her still fucking deep inside of you. that’s the condition she fucks you in to every time, but tonight just feels different. it’s a trance she wants to stay stuck in, it’s sticky and sweet, sweeter than honey — it’s you. sex with you makes life seem so simple. stress dissipates, orders are meaningless. the thought of leaving looms over her head. a dark, gray, spatial cloud follows her every step, stress and worry boom faintly in her ears like a storm. she feels her stomach twisting.

leaving Jackson sucks so bad. when she leaves, you make her feel bad about it too— as if it was her decision to leave you to go and romance clikers and all those other demons. juxtaposed to, innocent, pretty, light hearted, her pretty angel — you! she’s thinking about the moments you two have shared since she stepped into the room this evening.

your moans have been on rewind. she thinks about how she’s made had you cum over and over again on her fingers, on her tongue, on her dick. soft, and opaque, pink with a soft white substance coating its base and the black straps of it as she dug it so deep inside of you curating that mess.

“‘’m cummin’ ’” you’d mumbled, thighs quivering shut, “keep em open, mama, you look so pretty ‘n daddy won’t be back for a while, so let her enjoy it.” she still can’t believe she said that crazy shit.

“‘mmabbs , we’re not done yet right?.” you whine in her ear and she shoots up. every organ in her body ignites with lust. every nerve ticks with impatience. her fingers itch. situational lust, every situation where you have her like this. when you beg and insist for her to do as she pleases. your voice cups her ears and whisper endless affirmations. it’s dreamy. it all feels like a dream, but this is very much real.

she’s thinking of how you look when she grips your throat. your little pleas, dry; high pitched. your throat’ll vibrate, your eyes’ll roll to the back of your head and your precious fingers’ll grip onto her arms. they move up to feel the muscles, the ridges and dips of her skin. your pussy gets sloppier the harder she chokes you. pinned down to the matress so you can’t get away. it’s a fun feeling. you feel how hot she is against your body. when your lips meet yours their so soft, saccharine. they fall into a frown, you want her take up all your space, you want her to fill you up. you’re hearing, vision, and mind feel have fallen victim to a delicate haze.

“look at me, baby.” she lightly smacks your cheeks. the palm of her hand lightly plays at your cheeks till your eyes crack open. your turn your head to look back at her as she taps you deeply from the side. “i am.” you whine. tears prick at the corner of your eyes and your legs tremble the harder abby’s thrust pick up. she picks up your right leg and grinds her hips up into you. your fingers dig into the blue velvet blanket she laid you on. the squelching gets louder and louder. she fucks you till your mouth drops open and whiny profanities wisp out. “you want it like this, mama?” she asks, kissing your cheeks as one deep sigh rolls out of your mouth. she’s pounding into that one spot over and over, “mmhm, jus’ like that.”, you’re creamin’ all on her shit now. you’re fingers dig into her skin, and it take so much out of her to fuck you how you need it. you like it rough, you never say that, but the sounds your pussy makes tells everything. “you’re making a mess, does it feel that good?” she teases and nips your neck. she sucks on the back of your neck until dark red marks decorate her beautiful brown canvas.

“yes…nghh— right there.” you drool it out and your legs spasm for the nth time. you slowly cum on her dick. grinding until you lost all feelings in your hip. she’d pop it out and tap it against your ass. “good girl. you should feel real tired, you gonna let me do some work now?” she rolls over and pins you with her body. “only of we can do it till bed time when you finish.” abby giggles, your concept of bed time doesn’t reflect hers, “yeah? and what’s your definition of “bedtime”?”

[thatrandomwriter]

Alibi

Stu Macher x Reader

warnings: cursing, making out, suggestive language

summary: Stu visits reader after the deaths of Casey and Steve so that, unbeknownst to her she can be his alibi. ((in this story, Stu is not dating Tatum))

I flipped off the bathroom light after brushing my teeth, sending the house into darkness, the only light coming from the crack under my bedroom door. Once inside, I shut the door behind me, moving to flop down onto my bed, more than ready to curl up with a book before going to sleep. But I never made it that far.

Arms grabbed me from behind - someone had sprung from my closet. I struggled, doing my best to wriggle free, but to no avail. Whoever it was was strong; they had me pinned tightly against their chest, despite my squirming. It was only when they let out a laugh that I realised that I knew exactly who the perpetrator was.

“Fuck me, Stu,” My hand was clutched over my chest as I fought to catch my breath, adrenaline still surging through me. In my panic, I had somehow failed to immediately recognise that it was my idiot boyfriend’s idea of a joke.

“Gladly,” he was still laughing, arms not leaving my body as he yanked me onto the bed, flipping me so that we were face to face.

“The fuck was that for?” I demanded. He was grinning down at me, the intensity of his gaze making my face feel hot.

“Thought it would be fun - I was right, you’re sexy when you’re scared,” he licked his lips. I felt like a deer caught in headlights - or in front of a hunting rifle. Prey, that he had caught, and was now deciding what to do with.

“You’re such an ass,” I replied, covering my vulnerability with an insult. It only made him grin wider as he leaned towards me, face centimetres away from mine before he stopped. His nose dipped further to brush mine. He was waiting for me to abandon my annoyance and kiss him, tempting me with soft lips that hovered just above mine. Normally, Stu did not possess the patience to be a tease. As soon as he got the chance, he was all over me, hands never leaving my body, kissing every inch that he could reach. My breath hitched as I thought about it, and I knew that this stand-off would not last long.

“Come on, baby, don’t be mad at me,” his voice was pleading, he almost whined, “I was just playing a game with you, I wanted to make you jump, is all,”

He couldn’t resist making the first move entirely, planting an open-mouthed kiss on my neck. It sent tingles through my body. He was winning and we both knew it - I couldn’t even pretend to stay mad at him for much longer.

“Do you promise you aren’t gonna do it again?” I at least had to put on a show of disapproval before caving in.

“I’ll cross my heart and hope to die, if that’s what it takes. Or scouts honour. Or pinkie swear!” He shifted his weight to lean only on one arm, grabbing my hand with his free one to link our pinkies, “I hereby swear never to scare you again,” he kissed my hand, locking in the promise.

“I guess that’ll do,” I said, allowing myself to smile at him. It was sweet, even if he was joking. He opened his mouth to reply, but I didn’t let him speak, leaning up to close the distance between us with a kiss. He hummed in delight, kissing me back deeply, tongue sliding against my bottom lip in a way that made me gasp. He took this opportunity to slide his tongue into my mouth, grazing it against my own. I reached up to grip his short hair in my hand, tugging on it in the way I knew he liked, communicating to him exactly how good he was making me feel. My legs hooked around his waist, pulling his body flush against mine, so that I could feel every inch of him pressing against me, his clothes and my thin pyjamas the only barrier between us.

“You feel so good, baby,” Stu groaned, right next to my ear. He kissed his way down to the base of my neck, where his teeth found traction, biting down hard and pulling soft skin between them. I inhaled sharply, my body unsure whether to wince or to moan. He bit down harder, and I let out a yelp.

“Careful - my parents are gonna hear us,” I said. Stu grinned, entirely unbothered by the notion.

“Maybe you should try and be a bit quieter then, sweetheart. Cuz you know I can’t help myself, not when I know you’ll make noises like that,” He nipped at my neck again, as if to prove his point, slightly gentler this time. I knew that a bruise would bloom there tomorrow. It would likely be dark enough for my skills at using concealer to be bested, even though I had a lot of practise with Stu around. I wouldn’t have been surprised if that was his goal, marking me in a way that was sure to be seen by everybody. As if the fact that we were glued at the hip was not sign enough that we belonged to each-other.

“Just try and be careful, please?”

He groaned, rolling his eyes dramatically as if this was a great personal inconvenience. “Fine, but only if you come over to mine this Saturday - my parents are out again, so we’ll be nice and alone, and you can make as much noise as you need to,” He wiggled his eyebrows in an exaggerated, suggestive manner at me, and I couldn’t help but giggle.

“You have a deal,” I said.

“Yes!” He replied, triumphant. I was sure that, had he not been suspending his weight above me with his arms, he would have pumped his fist in the air. Probably more than once. He was still grinning as he leant back down to resume kissing me. I reached up a hand to cup his face, feeling the dimple of his cheek and the line of his jaw as his lips slid against mine in lingering kisses that made me desperate for more. I caught my hand in his sweater, making a fist in the fabric as one of his hands traced a line from my chest to my waist, before settling on the small of my back to press my torso against his, pulling us somehow closer together, our bodies aligned. He was warm, and I could smell his soap, fresh and aromatic. My sheets still smelt like him from his previous visit. Our tongues met as we kissed, making him shudder against me. I was breathless when he pulled away to kiss along my jaw, chest rising and falling rapidly. I couldn’t take the separation, directing his face back to mine so that I could kiss him again and again and again.

Fun as this surprise visit was, Saturday could not come soon enough.

[ilguna]

☼ trick question pt1 (Finnick Odair) ☼

summary; Finnick admitted you were his celebrity crush in his last interview, this year, he has something to reveal.

warnings; swearing

wc; 1.9k

part two

–

“Ladies and gentlemen, tonight we have the up and coming model from California joining us today!” Caesar Flickerman shouts with a wide grin on his face, hand extended out in the direction of Finnick, “Finnick Odair!”

Finnick takes the steps one at a time, being careful as to not let his dress shoes get caught on the carpet. He’s watched Caesar’s show plenty of times before, and he’s seen plenty of other people make the mistake of dragging their feet. All it takes is the top of the brand new shoe and you’ll trip.

Finnick smiles brightly, waving at the live audience. There’s only one stray whistle that comes from an audience member in the back. From what he remembers from the last time he was on the show, there shouldn’t be any loud noises in order to prevent the sensitive microphones from blowing. The fan should be let off easily.

“Welcome back!” Caesar says, Finnick extends his hand.

“It’s great to be back, Caesar.” They shake hands, and then Finnick settles on the couch, “I thought that the last time I was here would be the only time.”

“Why’s that?”

Finnick makes a face, “I didn’t think I’d be popular enough.”

“Well, congratulations on being popular.” He laughs, sitting in his chair, crossing a leg, “We have a lot to talk about.”

“Oh great.” Finnick muses, “We should get started then.”

“Yes, I wanna ask you about your latest experience with fashion. You’ve been doing a lot of shows recently, especially with the fashion designer Cinna.” Caesar becomes more serious, “What’s it like working with him?”

Finnick nods, “Cinna’s brilliant, really. I’m lucky to wear more of his tame ideas, rather than the bright and shiny ones.”

“Yes, because we all know how Cashmere and Gloss feel about them!” He laughs, “I do have a question, since you work very closely with other models. How is the young Katniss Everdeen? Is she adjusting well? I heard that the flammable piece was almost a break for her.”

“I can’t say, exactly. I wasn’t present for the conversation between her and Cinna. I did hear from their contract manager that she was looking into other stylists if they couldn’t accommodate her.” Finnick tilts his head, “Since she is—as you said—young, she’s very careful about how she approaches revealing her body.”

“That’s right, those contracts can be very demanding.” Caesar agrees, “I remember you telling me that it almost cost you your job to ask for different clothes.”

“I’m very lucky that I have wonderful friends that would take the fall for me like that, even if the outfits aren’t designed for their body types.” Finnick nods, “As unfortunate as it is for the stylists to have their clothes stretched, it’s not worth a model's discomfort. I did explicitly say that I wasn’t comfortable exposing my body.”

Caesar nods, “Would you have worn that second flame piece if Cinna had asked you?”

Finnick lets out a laugh, “Well, Peeta and I are two different sizes. It surely would’ve been uncomfortable to wear. However, if he had told me that he couldn’t do it, I would’ve tried to make it work.”

“Peeta and Katniss are very lucky to know you.”

“I’m lucky to know them.”

Caesar tilts his head, “While we’re on the topic, I heard that you and Johanna Mason are working on your own line.”

Finnick tries to hide his smile. He’s been asked about it in every interview under the sun lately. They don’t know what the line is, and neither him nor Johanna are planning to release it to the public just yet. They’re working on a beauty line that’ll cover most of the bases. Finnick wants to cover skincare, and Johanna wants natural dyes for hair so it’s less damaging, since she changes her hair color often.

“We’re working on something, yes.”

Caesar raises his eyebrows, “Are you open to discussing any detail about it?”

“It won’t surprise the public when it does come out. That’s all I’ll be saying as of right now. Johanna likes to keep her projects secret, and I’m not trying to get on her bad side.” Finnick laughs, Caesar joins in.

“That’s fair, okay.” There’s a mischievous smile that crosses Caesar’s face, “Do you remember the last time you were here and I asked you about your celebrity crush?”

Finnick lets out an audible sigh, he can feel the heat returning to his face. He doesn’t know how Caesar has such a way with words, but he managed to get Finnick to admit who he likes in front of a live audience. Which then proceeded to trend on Twitter, and then further get the attention of the girl that he’s liked for a while now.

“Don’t remind me.”

“I will be, actually.” Caesar laughs, “Remind me, who is it?”

“Do we have to do this, Caesar?” Finnick chuckles, but complys, “Her name is (Y/n) (L/n).”

“And what is she known for?”

It’s a good thing that Finnick knows where he’s going with this, “For those of you at home and in the audience that don’t know who (Y/n) is, she’s an actress. Show them what she looks like, Caesar.”

He laughs, and the screen behind him changes to be a picture of you from the red carpet a month ago for a premiere. There’s a pretty smile on your face and your body is halfway turned to give them the illusion that you were going to walk away, but it was just a pose that most do.

Caesar clears his throat, “Everyone, (Y/n) plays a number of characters across tv shows and movies alike. She has a liking for the darker themes, and she leans towards apocalyptic and dystopian movies the most, and shows that have repeating criminal activity that centers around the character.”

Finnick nods, rubbing his neck, “She normally plays the gruesome characters and she does it beautifully, alright?”

There’s a few laughs, Caesar raises his eyebrows, “What about her do you like, Finnick? Be more specific.”

Finnick rolls his eyes, “I said that she captivates me every time she’s on screen. She’s a wonderful actress and I find myself being pulled in with the story.”

“But only for her, right?” Caesar teases, “Not for someone as handsome as Beetee Latier?”

“I’m sure Beetee is also an amazing actor, but we’re talking about (Y/n).”

“That we are. I saw a number of tweets of hers from the last time you were here.” Caesar laughs, as the screen behind him changes to be the screenshots they took of the interaction.

Finnick shakes his head, “Don’t do this.”

“We’re doing this. Ladies and gentlemen, it seems to me that (Y/n) had a lot to say.” Caesar flicks through the screenshots. It’s mostly of you replying to other people talking about the interview that took place last year. The slideshow quickens, “A lot. But from what my crew gathered, she was very flattered.”

“Very. What can I say? I’m a flattering man.” Finnick smiles.

“So flattering that you somehow managed to get her phone number.” Caesar raises his eyebrows, “Can I tell them?”

Finnick motions, “Well you’ve basically told them already.”

Caesar turns suddenly, slapping his hands on his thighs, “Finnick and (Y/n) became official. I want everyone to give a big welcome to (Y/n)!”

You peek your head out from behind the curtain with a scrunched nose. You follow Finnick’s directions from earlier, warning you about tripping on the carpet, especially in these heels. You’re sure to lift your feet and walk carefully. Caesar and Finnick are now on their feet.

You hug Caesar slightly, give a wave to the audience, and then turn to Finnick. He knows that he can’t touch your face, he’s got in the bad habit of doing it lately, and it’s been hard to break him out of it. You wish it wasn’t that easy to ruin your makeup, but there’s not much you can do.

You press a kiss to Finnick’s lips, and pull away giggling when the audience cheers louder. Finnick sits, and watches you carefully as you tuck the dress under you, turning your legs to the side so that your knees almost touch Finnick’s legs. The worst part about wearing a dress is sitting down.

Finnick takes your hand, squeezing it tightly.

“(Y/n), I believe this is the first time we’re meeting.” Caesar says.

“With the exception of backstage, I’d say so too.” You laugh, they do too.

“Tell me, what was it like meeting Finnick for the first time in person?”

You tilt your head, “He’s a gentleman through and through. I could’ve asked for the world on that first date and it was clear to me that he would’ve found a way to do it.”

“And you didn’t ask for the world?”

“I decided to save that for the second date.”

“What was it like hearing that Finnick had a crush on you?”

You make a face, “Weird, if I’m honest. He’s a celebrity in the modeling world. I’m a celebrity in the acting world. It’s almost as if we shouldn’t collide, and yet we’re still here. You can see weird couples all across the Capitol, it’s really something else.”

“That’s very true.” Caesar agrees, “Someone told me that you were trying to get Finnick into acting.”

“Yes, I am.” You give a look to Finnick. He’s already shaking his head, “He thinks I’m lying when I say that he has potential. I think he could be phenomenal outside of modeling if he wanted to. If he decided that he didn’t like acting, modeling will still be there for him.”

“You think that Cinna would allow him to come back?” Caesar asks curiously.

“I’ve talked to Cinna on a couple of occasions. He’s a very understanding man, and he would do a lot for his models, including letting them come back from a break. For a lot of other companies, it’s a one-and-done sort of deal. Finnick’s fortunate that he has Cinna.”

“What do you think about acting, Finnick?”

“The idea’s growing on me, I’ll admit.” Finnick smiles, “I don’t think I’ll feel comfortable doing it if (Y/n) isn’t beside me to help, but it’s hard getting a job beside her because they’re looking for a certain level of expertise.”

“And that’s true, but a lot of actors and actresses get weird roles all the time. I’m a good example of that. I was told when I first joined the industry that I’d never get the gory roles, and now those are all I get.”

“Out of spite, I presume?”

“Partially.” You laugh, “But also because I set my mind to it. That’s why I believe Finnick can do it too.”

Finnick softly smiles at you, “I love your confidence in me, but I’m not feeling the same way.”

You shake your head at Finnick.

“Well, I think it’s about time we took a break.” Caesar says, you and Finnick nod. Caesar turns to face the camera, “When we come back, we’ll discuss (Y/n)’s brief experience with modeling and why she chose not to go on. I’ll see you in a few minutes.”

[theorphicangel]

Ahhhhh congrats my dearest Angel!!! I'm so happy for you 💖 can I request for 'you got me flowers?' and 'your heart is beating so fast right now.' from the fluff prompts? Thank you and I love everything that you do <3

— Rei <3 @levi-supreme

hiii rei tysm for sending in an ask for my event ahhh! also I’m sorry this is like five months late…but I hope you like it nonetheless mwah mwah ❤️

You’ve had many bad days at work. Not an overwhelming amount, but you’ve experienced a few that’s made you want to curl up in bed for the rest of your life and not want to interact with a single human being ever again.

You’re not really sure what sin you’ve committed recently for the universe to have it out for you as soon as you woke up this morning. But you think it was bad enough to have you on your knees begging for mercy by the end of the day.

Bitter coffee, burnt toast and an annoying stain on your work clothes is the limit that you could cope with. Unexpected rain without your emergency umbrella, having to refill your car suddenly and a mountain of paperwork to deal with, is enough to definitely set your nerves on edge. But dealing with that one bitchy coworker, as well as constant complaints and backhanded compliments about your work from your manager was enough to set your emotions astray.

The worst of it all was forgetting your lunch that you took the time to prep the night before. You let out a groan, your palms covering your face in complete surrender. You’ve just had enough of this day already.

Just before you rose from your office chair to go grab an emergency lunch from the deli down the street, your phone vibrated with a text message. With a sigh, you had immediately planned not to respond at all but that was before you saw that it was from Levi.

Leviiiiiiiii <333: [sent 12:36pm]

- You left your lunch in the fridge.

That reminder was enough for your anger to rebubble on the surface again, despite that not being Levi’s intention.

You: [sent 12:37pm]

- I figured that out thanks.

It wasn’t like you to respond that way at all but given that you’ve been rushing around on your feet all morning without a single break and had been given a mountain pile of paperwork, you figure that there would be no one on earth who would be the happiest right now.

Leviiiiiiiii <333: [sent 12:37pm]

- Are you alright?

That question alone was enough to have your eyes watering. You hesitate in your reply, biting down on your bottom lip as you look at the screen, your thumbs frozen over the keyboard.

Should you be honest or lie about it?

But who would you be kidding? This is Levi after all. A man who knows you inside out, who can tell your mood based on the amount of emojis you send when you text.

You: [sent at 12:40pm]

- No, I’m not. Work is so shitty right now. I want to go home.

It doesn’t take long for him to reply; one of the many, many reasons as to why you love this man so much. Reading his text, your heart practically swells at his words.

Leviiiiiiiii <333: [sent 12:41pm]

- Want me to pick you up? Or drop off your lunch?

Instead of tears, your lips tilt into a smile. God, you’re so happy that you’re married to him.

You: Sent at 12:41pm]

- No, no it’s fine, I have a shit ton of work to do and if I don’t get it done today it’ll just pile on for next week and that’ll stress me out even more.

Your thumbs click send before typing out another text.

- Also, I’ll grab lunch at the deli xx :)

Leviiiiiiiii <333: [sent 12:42pm]

- If you’re sure?

You reinforce that you are with a message of simple thumbs up emoji.

Leviiiiiiiii <333: [sent 12:42pm]

- Take out and movie tonight?

You: [sent 12:43pm]

- I would love that. :)))))

You reply, a real smile now stretching across your lips. This immediately brightens up your mood and gives you something to look forward to. With a positive outlook, you stand to get your lunch. Only five more hours of this shit and you’ll be free.

You can do this.

–

Home.

You quite like the way it sounds.

Home. It’s your safe place. A place where you can truly let go and be who you are without judgment or stress surrounding you constantly.

Your shoulders droop as you come to stand in front of your apartment door, your key in hand, positioned over the lock. Inserting the key, you twist. and when you hear a click, simultaneously push the door open.

“I’m home.” You announce breathlessly, not hesitating in slipping out of your shoes.

The sound of slippers shuffling on the oak hardwood floor grows louder as Levi approaches you. The first thing that catches your eye as he rounds the corner is a bouquet of your favorite flowers in his hand.

Your face lights up immediately, an inaudible gasp leaving your mouth. “You got me flowers?” And if you thought your heart bursted earlier today at his actions you were sure that it had completely gone to ruins by now.

A light blush reaches Levi’s cheeks and stretches all the way to the tips of his ear. “Ye-yeah.” he coughs a little shyly. “I was passing by the florist and I saw them on display.”

Your lips pout in complete affection for him as you take the flowers into your hands. “You really didn’t have to.”

He merely shrugs.“You were having a bad day, it’s the least–

Levi doesn’t get the chance to finish off his sentence as you randomly wrap your arms around him, your head landing on his chest. You take him by surprise at your sudden energy and he stumbles back a few steps before regaining his balance.

You squeeze him tightly, eyes watering as you mumble your thanks, “I really don’t deserve you y’know?”

You hear Levi tut and feel his hand pat your head softly. “Don’t be stupid.”

“It’s true. “ you say. “I do not deserve you, Levi Ackerman.”

“Don’t get over sentimental about it, brat.”

“Your heart begs to differ.“ you point at his chest. “Your heart is beating so fast right now.”

“No it’s not.”

“I can hear–”

Levi pulls you away from his chest, clearly embarrassed. You miss the pink tinge on his cheeks deepen in shade as he turns around. “Go shower, you stink.”

“Awh, don’t be embarrassed, Le’. I really love them. Thank you.”

He says nothing more and trails off to the kitchen, the sound of his slippers smacking against the hardware floor again. You chuckle to yourself as you head towards your bedroom.

–

Today was a bad day.

Was.

It was until you were stuck with your lover on the couch, forcing him to watch your favorite soppy rom-com to cheer you up. Boxes of unfinished takeout lay on the coffee table ahead of you, a temptation to save them for tomorrow’s leftover.

Tilting your head, you turn to face him, a soft smile across your lips.

“What?” Levi grumbles. “Don’t look at me like that, I hate this movie.”

“But you watch with me everytime.”

“Yeah, because you get all soppy and cry at the ending.”

“So you act as my emotional support?”

He rolls his eyes. “Yeah, something like that.”

You let out a chuckle at his words, completely unaware that he was serious. Little did you know that he held a pack of tissues in his left hand, that would magically appear to you as soon as the credits would roll on the screen and tears would roll down your face.

“I love you, Levi.” you say, resting your head on his chest.

Once again, you heard his heart rate increase. Yet this time you won’t mention it, sparing him from embarrassment.

“Unfortunately, I love you too.”

“Hey, don’t be mean!”

angel’s 500 event masterlist.

[lonesome-witching]

You Rule

Thank you for the prompt from @1-800-eat-shit and the tweet it was based off. I had some struggles writing this one but one of my friends said it was good so blame her if you hate it.

You can send prompts or read the previous ones I wrote.

“And another one bites the dust.” Robin pulled up her whiteboard and added another tally under the words ‘you suck’ that she had written with care. 

“Yeah, yeah.” Steve crossed his arms over his chest. “Easy for you to laugh about it. You don’t know the struggles of picking up girls.” 

Robin raised her eyebrows with a smile on her face. “Did your fragile male ego get bruised by the fact you suck?” 

“That’s it! If you know so much about flirting why don’t you do it? Next customer is all yours.” Steve grabbed his hat and threw it on the floor. 

“Maybe I don’t want to flirt with anybody.” 

“Okay, if you get the next customer’s phone number, I’ll close up for a week.” 

“Deal.” 

“But if you don’t, you get rid of that stupid whiteboard and you stop making fun of me for the rest of the summer.” Steve retrieved his hat from the floor and held it to his chest with a smirk on his face. 

“Fine.” Robin sighed as she switched places with her coworker. 

She tapped her fingers on the counter staring at the people that passed the ice cream parlor. Most of the teens were rushing to catch the matinee showing of whatever movie was playing and the few that didn’t simply didn’t pay Scoops Ahoy any attention. 

An old man shuffled toward the entrance and Robin worried he’d come up to her and ask for a waffle cone with one scoop of mint chocolate chip. Was the bet still on if it was a retired man that couldn’t walk properly anymore? What if it was Erica and her goons? They came over nearly every day and today she hadn’t seen them yet. 

The old man turned left right in front of the entrance and Robin exhaled in pure relief. Relief that was short lived when, from somewhere behind him, Nancy Wheeler walked into Scoops Ahoy with big steps. Fuck! Fuck! Shit! Fuck! 

She might be a total priss but she was also one of the prettiest girls in all of Hawkins. Scratch that, THE prettiest girl in all of Hawkins. And she was about to flirt with her. 

“Hi, can I get a waffle cone with a scoop of strawberry ice cream, please?” Nancy’s eyes were focused on the display of tastes, her finger pointing towards the bright pink ice cream. 

In a normal world Robin would simply nod and comply. She’d hand over the cone and wish for their fingertips to brush against each other as Nancy grabbed the treat. But this wasn’t a normal situation. She knew Steve was standing somewhere near the partition that separated him from this trainwreck and he must be snickering. 

“Of course, gorgeous. Anything else? Sprinkles, maybe?” Robin tried not to look at Nancy as she spoke, instead opting to focus on her ice cream scooper and the waffle cones that stood on the counter. 

“Oh uhm, no.” Nancy stammered out. When Robin looked up she saw a soft shade of pink covering her cheeks. Shit, was she making her uncomfortable. “No, I’m good.” Nancy added with a soft frown on her face. 

“Are you sure?” Robin asked, she was bent halfway into the display, her scoop in hand. 

“Huh?” Nancy replied. 

“You know what, I’m gonna give you some free sprinkles. How about that?” 

“Sure.” 

Robin poured a generous amount of rainbow sprinkles on the ice cream. “There you go.” This time she purposefully touched Nancy’s hand as she handed over the ice cream and her heart nearly beat out of her chest. “That’ll be 1.25. And perhaps your number… You know, for the sprinkles.” 

She must be as red as a tomato at this point. There was no way that prissy, perfect Nancy Wheeler would give her number. No way in hell. 

“How about I pay for the sprinkles and don’t give you my number?” Nancy searched through her purse, one hand gripped the cone. 

That sounded about right. “Oh, you are breaking my heart here, Nance.” Robin tried to play it off. She tried to not let the comment affect her as much as it did. She tapped the changes into the register, regretted it and tried to erase them. The register refused to do what she asked and she started hitting the side of it. 

“Fuck!” She shouted, startling Nancy. “No, sorry. The register just won’t… 1.25, please.” 

“And the sprinkles?” Nancy asked. 

“Those are on me, as promised.” Robin bit her bottom lip. “And I’m really sorry if I made you uncomfortable or anything. That wasn’t my intention.” 

“You didn’t.” Nancy shook her head with a tightlipped smile. 

“Good.” 

“Great.” Nancy replied before closing her eyes. She slid the money over the counter, her fingers pressing it as if she was afraid it would be blown away by her own breathing. 

Robin tried to pry the money from under Nancy’s hand but ended up simply brushing her fingers against Nancy’s. “Excuse me.” She nearly whispered, causing Nancy to pull her hand back as if it was on fire. 

“Sorry.” 

“No problem. Would you like a receipt?” 

“Yes, that sounds lovely.” 

“Lovely?” Robin asked with a smile, trying to get the damned machine to print the receipt. Was it out of paper again?

“What did I say?” Nancy asked, almost sounding panicked. The ice cream in her hand was starting to melt and a bright pink drop fell onto her skin. 

“You said that it sounds lovely.” Robin’s eyes followed the drop of melted ice cream as it descended even further and collided with the counter. 

“Oh, yes. It does. It’s just that… I have a boyfriend.” 

“I don’t know what that has to do with this.” 

“Of course it has something to do with this. Because you are asking me these questions and I want to say yes but I have a boyfriend.” 

“I only asked if you wanted your receipt.” As if the machine had been waiting for its cue, it finally started printing with a buzzing noise. 

“Oh.” Nancy’s own attention drawn to register, her cheeks bright red. 

“Is there something else you want to say yes to, Miss Wheeler?” Robin leaned halfway over the counter, as close to Nancy as she could get. 

“No, of course not. You’ve just been… You called me gorgeous and you asked for my number and you are…” She looked around, making sure there was no one who could hear them before whispering: “You’re flirting with me.” 

“Am I now?” Robin placed her hand in the melted ice cream and scrunched up her face at the feeling. 

“Aren’t you?” Nancy pulled back slightly. Maybe she was about to run away? Fuck, Robin couldn’t have that. 

“No, I am! Definitely am. I was flirting for sure. I don’t just call anybody gorgeous and I definitely don’t give them free sprinkles. And… and your ice cream is melting.” 

“Oh.” Nancy looked at the half melted scoop of frozen strawberry delight, which was the official name of the flavor, and quickly licked at it. Her tongue coming out bright pink. 

“Fuck.” Robin sighed as she couldn’t help but look. 

Nancy’s lips turned into a smirk when she heard the word being uttered. “Is there something else you want to ask me, Miss Buckley?” 

“I would try for your number again but you have a boyfriend.” 

Nancy frowned. “Actually I don’t. I don’t know why I said that.” 

“So, can I perhaps, just maybe, have your phone number?” Robin asked, her eyes not meeting Nancy’s, her voice wavering with insecurity. 

“Hold this.” Nancy pushed the cone back in Robin’s hands and grabbed a pen out of her bag. She scribbled a set of numbers on the back of her receipt. “I might end up breaking your heart, Robin.” 

“I highly doubt that.”

[paladin-of-nerd-fandom65]

Valentine’s Day, A Flying Graysons One-Shot

The following is a sort of one shot that’s just decided to come up to me on this lovely Valentine’s Day which seems appropriate enough. I don’t feel there’s really much a plot present, this is just some family based fluff for funsies sake.

It’s dedicated to my good friends @confusedhummingbird @spider-jaysart @lightdusk96 @camo-wolf @theredheaded-stuff @sbd-laytall @starlightbelle @adalineozie @discowingneckline @celaenaeiln @sillymanwithocs @mothnem and many more.

If you can leave a like, but especially reblogs and replies to this one, it’ll be greatly appreciated. I will address any to all constructive criticism and comments.

With that out of the way, on with the show….

Two pairs of feet, one clad in slippers and the other small one without anything on, very lightly padded on the carpeting of the trailer right outside the main master bedroom. Within said bedroom, was lying the third member of their troop, their little performing, their small family; she was peacefully snoring underneath the blankets draped over her, her two feet, bare with the red nail polished toes pointing upwards, mostly perfectly still, and most peculiarly a cardboard ID tag like one can find in the most morbid of places hanging off her right big toe, poking out of one end while her dark red unbraided hair was uncovered at the other. The two figures outside the room, a father and his 9 year old son, are quite prepared for such a day like this. It’s not every single day when people close to each other, like their small little family, can give each other heart shaped gifts or any other sort with that message that carries within them. The message being of “You are a person that’s always there for my heart and I cherishe you in the unique way we do”.

With Dick Grayson’s hands carefully holding the wooden dinner tray, packed with a plate covered up by the microwave bowl and besides it some utensils, napkins underneath them, and a plastic glass filled to the top with orange juice, he can jump in excitement internally as doing so for reals can risk accidentally spill that carefully prepared breakfast his father John and him have spent the better part of this earlier morning making. John though can see the excitement in his son’s bright blue eyes, the eyes of his mother, which cannot help but make him sport a gentle smile on his face as he tends lightly ruffles his son’s jet black hair, his own, to calm him a bit.

As John carefully peaks inside the bedroom with his sleeping wife, he realizes it’s time to finally carry out this little ritual he had been planning since earlier in the week. The peaceful sight of his beloved Mary ‘dead’ asleep must unfortunately come an end sooner or later. That breakfast isn’t gonna stay warm forever and she can sleep in maybe later afterwards, given it was a day off for everybody at the Circus. As such, with a tiny gesture for Dick to keep quiet until John gives him the all clear, he steps into the bedroom by himself, gently as to not wake Mary up that rudely, at least not with such loud noise.

After making soft footfalls on his slippers to the bed itself, John briefly explores a particular question; how should he wake Mary up? He can try lightly shaking her shoulder, though he can recall the many times he tried, she’d simply roll onto her side and still sleep. Stroking a free hand on her hair is another certain option though not without its own drawback of potentially Mary just further pulling up her blanket to further cover herself and resume her deep sleep. Then there’s the tried and true method of opening the blinds to their bedroom.

No, no. That’ll be rude as John can muse as both Dick and him have went through on some nights. Now that one is off of the table. Which leaves really only one option. An option, John would usually save for more very special occasions including anniversaries and Mary’s birthday. But since given everything that Dick and him had prepared for this very day, might as well go for it, which he does slowly making his way to Mary’s two bare feet poking out of the blankets with that tag around her toe.

As for explaining the mere presence of a tag meant for the recently deceased which can be found in the medical examiner’s offices and mortuaries worldwide being found here in this mere simple trailer bedroom, Mary having her father’s side of her family a majority of cousins, uncles and aunties being a friendly macabre collection of medical examiner, morticians and even the occasional grave digger would do wonders for her own sense of humor. After all, what better proof of someone being ‘Dead Asleep’ than the tags often associated with the most sincerely dead. The fact Mary writes down so many details on her tag from her date of birth, location and ‘cause’ being ‘Tending to a Son Motherly-Induced Exhaustion’ makes John chuckle very lightly underneath his breath. After all, she calls out in her motherly ways Dick and his antics, risks and quirkiness in public yet here she is with a Medical Examiner’s ID tag which came from her modest collection of tags from macabre souvenir shops across the world in a dead sleep. But John ain’t got no time for such playful calling out his beloved’s hypocrisy, he’s got to instead playfully wake her up from her breakfast.

As such, with firm yet gentle grip on the tag in his hand, John very lightly moves it not off her toe but back and forth, making the string on Mary’s toe brush up on the stem and space between it and the index toe. Soon enough, John hears the exact reaction he was hoping for as Mary began to giggle from that light brushing of the string, rather loudly. At least now John has a confirmation for his hypothesis on where Dick got such a sensitivity in his feet from. After slightly going faster and continuing for another five minutes, Mary sits upright, the blanket falling off her beautiful face and laughing up a bit. His work done, John lets the tag go, still attached to the toe while Mary catches her breath.

Once she’s finally relaxed and to her almost immediately surprise, John delivers a loving kiss to her lips, which Mary responds by fully committing to it. The two look into each other’s eyes right after finishing said kiss. Somethings like age and experience changed between them over the years but that one spark, a spark of trust, a spark of respect, a spark of love was present in their eyes and they two cannot help but admire so much, as had the years before.

Finally after a minute, Mary breaks the silence between them “I’ll admit, John, that was probably the best way to wake up to today” she says with an all too bright and gentle smile that can melt the heart of any cold roustabout. John’s heart melted almost instantly with delivering another kiss this time to his wife’s cheek.

“At least that’s something we can agree on”, John agrees with a sort of proudness and joy in his voice. It was then Mary spots a certain brush of black hair hiding behind their bedroom door. The owner of that hair giggles in excitement, his time had come.

With that, Dick lightly kicks the door open, doing a small sideways flip on both sides and finally some backwards walking before finally arriving at the bed next to his parents, tray of food perfectly intact. Such a gesture earns a hearty laugh from John align with a hair ruffle and from Mary a big side hug.

“Hey, gotta bring some flare and style into getting you from breakfast, Mom” Dick says as he puts the tray down on Mary’s laps with an absolute confident and probably to an extent a show off ish tone to him. But at least he has some right in being a show off. Finally though, that tray on her and the microwave anti-splatter bowl covering her meal, Mary takes her chance to lift said bowl off.

Even though it seems way too early for it, Mary cannot help but get slightly watery in her eyes for what was in the plate; a stack of three blueberry hotcakes, covered with maple syrup and blue cake frosting, said frosting spelling out ‘Happy Valentine’s Day! From John and Dick’ then to the sides of them, a clump of appetizing potato hashbrowns and finally a modest serving of Vanilla Greek Yogurt. Clearly, their little early waking up this beautiful morning had proved being what exactly she can enjoy. It’s a surprise sure but a pleasant one.

A sentiment she shares as while careful not to spill her food, Mary reaches over to give her two boys the biggest hug and kisses to them imaginable. A big hug the two in turn give back to her without any words needed. John and Dick look at each other with bright smiles and big wink of their eyes.

Mission accomplished. Now, time to actually eat the food since for the kitchen itself…..let’s just say they both know what Mary would have them being cleaning up for most of their day off.

[the0retically]

The Suckening #7 The Pulse of the City:

Just my thoughts, spoilers below :)

- Cumpire lore let’s go?????

- GOD THE INTRO EVERY TIME JUST SLAPS I LOVE IT

- “If you don’t call me the suckener, I’ll…KILL YOU!” Charlie pleaseeee

- Oh god the pheasant and the old people, I forgot about them

- “I think he feels guilty for not feeling guilty” shilo you’re so interesting

- “Oh? Still covered in blood” “are you just trying to make things worse?”

- Shilo please be safe, this officer isn’t good get out of there!!!! Prince Edward as the savior???? WHAT???? NO NO NO NO

- HE COLLAPSES?? Feigns unconsciousness???? Shilo please you’re alone with a follower of Edward twilight

- God fuck Edward twilight

- OH! The officer contacted Deacon though! That’s good

- DEACON ARE YOU PART OF EDWARDS THING??? NOOOO

- Deacon semi papa of shilo!! Wooo!!!!

- Arthur!!!!!!! Dude you don’t even know where the twins are uh oh

- But hey Arthur is able to follow the tracks of the bus!!

- Spirits touch????? Arthur????

- Ooooh the audio coming in from the fight is so well done

- HAHAHA ARTHUR PLEASE!!!!! “He’s pretty stoic but he looks horrified by what was said”

- They really just keep bullying Grizz to use spirits touch on the pheasant pleaseee

- “Something is Wrong with this pheasant, it’s not you, but something is Wrong”

- Oh god he takes the pheasant with him

- “I’m coming for you baby boy. Sorry about the other baby boy, but you’re in a sewer and I’m scared of sewers.” GRIZZ OH MY GOD

- “It’s all in a bad state deputy, but just close your eyes.” Deacon please do not hurt Shilo, he trusts you

- Arthur and Grefgore night in!

- Oh no, Grefgore please be ok

- “Hi…..my boy” “hi my boy! :D” oh I love them

- Grefgore don’t leave!!!!!!! The sun is about to rise!!

- Arthur???? You’re leaving?

- And hi to deacon?? Arthur?? 👀👀

- I love Grefgore he’s so fun. He’s just the most himbo someone can be

- What are they doing with the demons and the fangs?? This is So Strange

- “What are you wearing? Demon clothes?” “I’m naked, I wake up naked” “Oh God” HAH OH NO EMIZEL

- “Do you want to kill him? Cause that’ll kill him. ‘Nice cock man’ and you kick his head off” oh my god??

- Oh god Charlie this is a horrible image, “a twisted fashion studio” oh god, Charlie please this is horrifying

- “Their very demeanor scratches my brain” Grizz I’m with you but also Vex is terrifying

- “Do you want to be the guy on the table Grizz?” Oh no, ok but pop off Grizz good voice acting

- “I will be your mommy :)” oh god

- Charlie, Charlie please this now a for sure a horror campaign

- My eyes are just wide, WHAT ARE THEY CONSTRUCTING HUH???????

- Charlie is too good at being a deranged villain

- “He has had no reason to look for you, yeah, yeah he’s in his work right now” my stomach just fell, why is that so scary

- Like goodness Props to Charlie the suckening has me way more scared than bitb ever did, like I love and adore bitb so much and there were moments where I was terrified but there’s something about this that is so haunting. I can just see it in my head so clearly and it’s so freaky

- They never expect Emizel to come back!!

- Oh god but please emizel don’t die again already

- Love how Grizz is just simping for Vex because me too

- “They’re two dogs in me and they’re fucking” WILLIAM WISP IS THAT YOU??

- God I love how Grizz and bizly and just speaking as the ghouls during this fight Charlie is just like “…what?? What are you even saying right now”

- Emizel please just get out of there they’re both already your enemy you don’t need one to hate you more because then they’re going to target Your twin so PLEASE JUST LEAVE

- They’re just singing the climb now oh my god iconic

- Emizel just lying to Viv about how he’s a real boy and doesn’t burn in the sun “but we saw you burn” “it was an illusion, I’m a magician”

- “Vex have you-“ “YES I KNOW!” I love them, they’re fun

- “And you turn around away from her” emizel oh my god

- “You cannot use your twin name and not mean it” honestly based

- I ALMOST SPAT MY WATER OUT OH MY GOD “your name is shameashmai”

- “I’m not letting you guys do this again” “no I’m having all the fun in the world right now”

- DOES EMIZEL LOSE HIS RIBS???? OH GOD

- VEX IS FLESH AND VIV IS BONES????? HAUNTING SO SO SCARY

- “Enjoy the ribs, I’m gonna head out” “what do you mean you’re gonna head out??”

- “Can I prepare an action to kill myself?” “He hasn’t taken his glasses off yet so we’re still ok!” “It’s just me as a dm thinking about splitting the dice pool for movement and killing yourself” I’ve never laughed this hard holy shit “as soon as I see this thing I want to run and kill myself”

- “Bizly give me the scariest animal you can think of” “….peacock, no” “FUCK OFF!”

- PLEASE HE JUST KILLED HIMSELF IN FRONT OF THEM OH MY GOD?? AND HES BEEN NAKED THIS WHOLE TIME

- “One of mine or one of yours” sooooo Viv and Vex have some stake in the fangs and the demons, but what does that mean??

- SHILO TIME! Please be ok

- Why is shilo healed and ok, this isn’t real it can’t be, Charlie is too smiley right now, he sounds way too happy

- Fucking Edward twilight oh my god why is he like this

- THEYRE BLOOD BONDED????? OH NO I cannot believe this

- Grizz is just loving this encounter

- Why is this so sexual I hate this, Edward twilight please stop why are you crawling up the sheets to shilo???? This is so—I cannot

- Deacon! You’re here!

- God why is Edward like this, Charlie really just locks in as him it’s insane

- Oh god shilo has to tell Edward about emizel oh no

- Shilo tripped no!!

- The wallpaper is Edward in the phone oh my god

- I do love shilo and deacon’s relationship though, he seems to genuinely care for shilo and I just love them

- Back with Viv and Vex! Oh god

- Ok thank god he’s just leaving

- “William wisp mode” emizel cosplaying as William is so funny like Grizz called it, that’s exactly what he looks like

- GREFGORE FOUND SHILO!!!!!!!! AWWWWWW LETS GOOOOOO

- HE FOUND EMIZEL TOO!!

- I love Grefgore so much

- Arthur just left them? Ok the boys gotta find him

- What is happening to emizel and shilo? Why do they have pain? WHAT?? It’s the Edward twilight smoulder??? Huh??? Charlie WHAT?

- SOMETHING TWISTED IN LA?? What did Edward do?

- A full day good god

- Arthur’s just on a plane omg

- ITS AFFECTING ARTHUR TOO???

- Absolute bat shit episode I loved it

[ccrites]

it's a compliment, I swear (part 2)

Part 1 here

CW: sorta noncon kissing? vague mention of torture, no actual descriptions

johnny's a creep and an asshole but he's your creep and asshole.

anyway hope you enjoy!

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There’s something even more odd, being recognized– no, receiving some recognition for what you do.

Yet you hate the feeling that all eyes are on you.

Shouldn’t have bitten off more than you could chew. And Soap is a lot to chew.

His recovery takes long, longer than you’d thought. You can’t bring yourself to visit immediately. In the moment, something had happened, you reckon, you wouldn’t call it attachment, but it was definitely something possibly unhealthy.

(You’ll swear up and down that you’d been too busy, but something pulls at your core, an invisible string tied to him.)

(Testing you, you think.)

He asks for you to visit at the infirmary, when you’re back from another mission with the rest of the crew. You’re covered in dust, grime, and sweat, but no blood.

Can’t have a repeat of last time.

The wicked smile is back on his fucking face when you pull the curtain away from his bed. He’s looked worse for wear, sure, but it’s almost infuriating to see him, tan skin all wrapped up in bandages around the midsection, covered in yellowing bruises and other cuts you’d missed in the heat of the action.

He looks almost… pretty.

You hate him.

“Why are you not wearing the gown,” you frown, pulling the sheets from under his arms to cover the expanse of his naked skin, “It’s like you’re asking to catch a cold, Sergeant.”

“Psht, I’m hot enough ta keep warm,” he scoffs, rolling his eyes and bringing his arms back up and over again. “Feel for yerself.” You try to bat them away, gently, but he does that thing again. 

That thing where he’s too fast for an injured man and grabs your forearm roughly, bringing it up to his forehead. The back of your hand touches his skin. 

“You’ve got a fever,” you comment, too quick to have actually assessed anything. He’s barely warm, but it’s the only way out you can think of, right now. You pull back, but he holds on tight. “I’ll tell Lidia on my way out to bring you some paracetamol, for now–”

“No, bonnie–” 

“I’ll push for antibiotics if you run hotter, maybe an infection–”

“There’s no need for tha’” he grumbles, letting his hold grow limp. “All I’ll ask for is a get well kiss, that’ll heal me right up,” he adds, a hopeful tilt in his voice.

“Why?” You narrow your eyes.

“A kiss from my savior. ‘S romantic, don’t ya’ think?”

There are a million ways to argue with that logic. That you hadn’t done anything but basic first aid, that you couldn’t have done more with the material at your disposal, not when he’d done the first thing not to do when facing a stab wound…

Something screams inside you, no, don’t you dare, this is not healthy.

Yet you can’t say no. Not when the feel of his tongue on your palm burns electric and sears through your memory. Not when the feel of his organs, soft and fragile and squishy as you’d stuffed the gaping wound in his abdomen contrasts with the feel of the same abdomen that your hand rests lightly on, breathing regularly under your touch, hard muscles and defined shapes, all rippling scars and sculpted strength.

Not when he looks at you like you’re his sun, his moon, and all his life.

Gosh, maybe you just need to get laid.

His blue eyes look sincere, and maybe you’d dreamed the crazed look before, maybe you’d been right, it had all been a pigment of your imagination, a by-product of adrenaline and desperation to do what’s right.

What’s the harm in a small kiss, not on the lips? There’s no hierarchy to be worried about, no prying eyes to see you. It’s not like he’s your patient, not exactly (based on technicalities alone, but that’s a fallacy you’re not ready to exploit just yet), so maybe you can just–

You lean over, gingerly avoiding placing any weight on his body while your other hand brushes his grown out hair out of his face, debating whether to place a gentle kiss on his cheek, or his forehead.

He makes the choice for you when he leans up with much more strength than he should and pulls you in for a violent, teeth-clashing, lips-brusing kiss, swallowing your gasp of surprise like it was the elixir of life.

You shift your hand up, trying to push back, trying desperately to figure out where to push him away from without hurting him, but he seems indifferent to your protests, both of his palms now wrapped around your jaw and neck, suckling and biting at your lips with the desperation of a starving man.

The more you pull back, the more he redoubles his efforts, and at some point, you fear that the position he’s contorted in can’t be good for his wound, so you let him pull you down, relax in his hold, and he lets out a pleased hum, the mockery of a kiss (dear God, your lips will be bruised after this) softening into something almost not painful.

For a second, you almost enjoy it.

You pull back at the first opportunity, gasping for air. His chest heaves, breathing deeply, grinning and looking like a predator satisfied with having caught his prey.

Speaking of…

“Your–”

He brings his fingers up to his mouth, swiping two across his teeth, then inspecting them with an air of feigned indifference. They’re tinged red, like-

You take a step back, out of his reach again, and cover your mouth as you swipe your tongue between your lower lip and your teeth. It stings. 

Motherfucker.

He hums. You glare back, and there he is again, licking between his fingers, eyes closed, clearly enjoying it. A mock déjà vu, a glacial stone sinking in your stomach. You hate that you instantly wish it were your fingers he’s licking. Something else, he’d be licking-

“Y’taste as wonderful as I’d imagined, bonnie.”

You’d never thought it would be so satisfying to hit a downed man, but the resounding slap in the silence of the infirmary, and the sound of his own shocked gasp make your chest hum with immense pride, just for a split-second.

Right before the realization of hitting a Sergeant hits you right back.

His palm cups his cheek, out of shock or pain, you don’t know. You spin on your heels and are out of the room before you can find out.

You don’t see the twisted smirk pull at his lips.

Maybe it’s guilt, maybe it’s madness.

You hate that something changes, almost as soon as he’s out of medical.

Thinking back, you almost preferred it when you were being ignored. Anything was better than this.

The lingering glances, which, weirdly, you never caught unless he wanted you to see him looking at you. A perfectly normal camaraderie, in appearance at least; people outside of your teammates suddenly congratulating you for your new position, while said teammates never kept you out of arm’s reach. But never closer.

Well, except for him.

Always standing close, closer than comfortable, brushing shoulders, ignoring the discomfort, pushing past boundaries like they’re made to be crossed. Always when the glances fade away, when no one’s there to see him. To see you. Barely normal by the time the Captain adresses him.

It all feels like a test.

The walk to the heli, on a hot summer afternoon on a dusty base somewhere in the middle of nowhere, feels like you’re the cattle being brought to slaughter. 

Yet people wish you luck, friendly fist bumps being handed out as you grab onto a handle and hoist yourself up, (ignoring the “helping hand” on your ass), the rumble of the engine not loud enough to cover your thoughts. Your hands hold the headrest in front of you to keep them from shaking, almost tight enough to pierce through the leather cover as the bird lifts up. Everyone sits in their place in meticulous order, ready at a second’s notice to jump into action, a heavy tension over your heads as the minutes tick down. His palm holds your knee steady, as he bounces his. Fucking asshole. It almost makes you dizzy.

This mission had been delayed enough. Soap’s healed nicely, pushed to be let in on the action, and the Captain wasn’t one to keep him out of it. Not like you could argue, not when success was so close, that everyone could taste its sweetness.

It should be enough to keep you from getting distracted, yet it’s not.

Machines dressed as men. There’s no hesitation, no mercy. They plow through bodies like they’re nothing, and closing behind them feels useless, but you follow through. The background noise of shouts and wheezing bullets is just that, background noise. As long as no one’s getting downed on your side of the fight, it’s not your problem.

Until it is.

It’s not been easy, having to actively direct your sympathy towards only a subset of people, towards only one side. But it’s your job. Violence needs healing, a safety net to fall back on, pushing back the tactical retreat until it is absolutely necessary, and going through with it all till the very last moment.

It hardly feels necessary when the opponent is a man dressed in boxers and a dirtied shirt, a thinning crown of hair tousled from being ambushed in his sleep. 

Violence hardly feels needed with such a power imbalance, four men armed to the teeth around him keeping you out of sight momentarily, yet the satisfaction of seeing the enemy pay for the countless innocent lives he’d taken overshadows necessity.

Soap’s the one that throws the first punch, (with the same hand he’d held so softly on your back– stop that) and you catch yourself flinching when the impact tears the man’s face along a barely healed scar.

Thrashed ‘is face up. Almost ‘ad ‘im.

It’s raw, and angry, and personal. Price makes demands, calmly asks for answers, and Soap gets to let loose. Ghost and Gaz calmly stand to the side, let them go at it. It’s what makes you realize you’d never been a part of this. Never wanted to.

Violence in numbers is so easily discarded, so easily overseen. A still warm body, cooling face down in a random street, an emotionless face oozing with blood out of a bullet hole, body slumped against a wall, all practically normal occurrences.

This… torture. You’re not cut for this. Pain for the sake of pain, uncaring if an answer is hissed back, only striking harder when the man spits red-tinged saliva at Price’s feet.

“Need a breather?”

Ghost is silent, appearing next to you out of nowhere, and it makes you flinch.

“What?” you breathe out, unaware you’d been holding your breath. The air smells distinctly of iron when you try to force your lungs to inhale again.

Ghost shifts on his feet and you look up. His hands are crossed on his chest, the bulk of him blocking the light, a menacing shadow overseeing all. The whites of his eyes twinkle in challenge as he flicks his gaze back to the scene in front of you.

Was this the test?

A sickening crunch and a howl of pain cuts through the ringing in your ears. You hear someone bark a laugh in response and catch yourself gritting your teeth to keep from hissing in empathy. You shouldn't be having any, no, not for the man responsible for one of your teammate’s almost-death. You see Soap’s focus, a stone-cold determination on his face as sweat pearls on his forehead.

And yet…

“I’m fine,” you whisper, but it’s still too loud. Heads turn, Price frowns.

You shouldn’t be here.

The balding man – one of the target’s lackeys – starts laughing. It’s maniacal, crazed from the pain and the blood running down his face. He spits out words, you don’t understand any of them, you were never meant to deal with these types of situations, but when you recognize an insult, then two, followed by the word female dog – was this man trying to call you a bitch? – Soap whips out a knife, holding it flush against the man’s throat. His Adam’s apple bobs and the blood from his face mixes with sweat as it runs down his neck.

“Sergeant, stand down!” Price orders.

“Fucking arsehole doesn’t get to speak to her like that!” Soap growls in the man’s ear, pulling him by the hair to expose his throat. The knife shines in the dim light, and your vision gets blurry.

Not important.

Not worth it.

Price walks calmly around the chair the man is bound to. He touches two fingers to the side of the blade, and Soap wordlessly obeys, pulling back with a silent huff. The Captain’s hand replaces Soap’s, maneuvering the man’s head like he’s inspecting an animal. A symbiosis between leader and subordinate. Predator and prey.

Cattle.

Slaughter.

“If he wants to speak in colorful words, he can address’em to her directly. Face to face, eh?”

The defiance in the man’s eyes is clear. Disdain. Hate. This should be easy.

You can’t.

“I don’t do harm like that,” you respond to Price, immediately regretting the words when his eyebrows shoot up, disappearing behind his hat, “Sir.” you add hastily.

The four men look at each other in a silent conversation you don’t want to be a part of. Then Price pushes the man’s head to the side with such force, the chair tips. He flails, powerless as he is. Price steps out of the room, Gaz in tow, and you get sick to your stomach.

This is the test.

You want to throw up.

“We can do this one of two ways, lass,” Soap says, grunting as he lifts the chair up. You notice the puddle of blood where the man’s head had hit the floor, and notice how his thin hair sticks to his cheek. Ghost walks to stand in front of the door, and there it is.

You’re trapped.

This isn’t about the torture, or the mission. This isn’t even about some sort of revenge.

It’s about dancing around whatever it is that Soap wants from you.

(Maybe it is revenge.)

(Maybe you should’ve let him bleed to death, the bastard.)

“I can let you do the talking, and have my fun with this rotten arse-face,” Soap continues, bending to tighten the restraints, making the man hiss again, “or you can be the one to settle your differences, while we do a small Q and A session between men, how d’ya say?” he grins darkly, squatting behind the man. Having three pairs of eyes trained on you doesn’t help untie the knot in your throat.

You swallow shakily, and can’t help but look toward the door, hoping for some kind of reassurance, but it doesn’t come.

“I can talk.”

Soap sighs, making a show of rising to his feet slowly, and the man starts pleading, ignored by everyone but you. “I’m a bit disappointed, I’ll say. Was hoping to see you make the bastard bleed. Tear’im to pieces.”

Ghost shifts. “Need him alive, Johnny. Price’s got a message to pass.”

“Sure thing, L.T.” Soap grins again, taking the knife out of its sheath and twisting it between his fingers. “Shall we begin?”

It takes the better part of an hour to get enough intel from the man. Each hit, each cut, each pull, each strike harder than the last. You repeated Price’s questions, and despite Soap’s (Johnny’s?) encouraging smiles – he was covered in blood too, every impact spraying more red on his clothes, (there was nothing encouraging about– fucking hell–)  you got all the info you needed.

Soap sighs, pleased, and approaches you. You’d never managed to step away from the scene, a rough shove from Ghost putting you back into the action every time. The man whimpers as Soap steps over his broken foot, pulling you close. 

You’re out of it. You’re unsure when you’d started distancing yourself from what was being done in front of your very eyes, disassociating like it would remove the guilt you’ll be certain to feel once you’ll try to sleep next. Numbness should feel safe, yet it’s started to feel like drowning.

He pulls your chin up with bloodied fingers, brushing hair away from your face with clean knuckles.

Butcher.

Lamb.

He presses his lips softly to your forehead. “Y’did well, sweetheart.” 

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[sirowsky]

--Meeting Expectations--

Alright, we're off! Today's the big day and this is the first of the six stories that I'll be posting. I won't beg and plead for people to reblog or comment, but I really would appreciate it, as this is my attempt to celebrate myself, on this one crappy day of the year.

This is the one story that's based on a prompt, by the fabulous @bilibiche You asked for Whiskey, and that's what you got!

Rating: Mature Warnings: Not much, but perhaps a little self-doubt and self-image issues? Jack "Whiskey" Daniels x female reader, established relationship. Word Count: 580 Author’s Masterlist

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   “Oh, come on now, doll. You look positively scrumptious,” Jack drawls as his eyes shamelessly roam over your features.

   He looks hungry enough to mean it, but you’re still unsure about the dress. It’s a damned celebrity wedding, there’s gonna be paparazzi in every bush, and professional photographers inside both the church and the venue.    Looking good to the man who still thinks you’re gorgeous even when you’re wearing worn old sweats and you’re covered in dirt from tending to the horses and haven’t brushed your hair in a week, isn’t filling you with confidence at all.

   “I don’t wanna look edible, I wanna look respectable and elegant,” you shoot back, but that just prompts him to rise to his feet, approaching you with pure honey diluting the already smooth chocolate of his eyes.

   “Sweetheart, if looking only the way that the rest of the world expects you to look is what matters to you, then by all means, go change.    But I, for one, would much rather see you look like you, and be comfortable all night, than torture yourself in clothes that’ll make you feel disconnected and shallow.”

   Crap. He always knows exactly what to say to break down your defences.    And of course, he’s right as well. You are thinking only of not embarrassing yourself in front of the world press and hundreds of influential rich people, not about what you actually want or feel good about.

   The dress that you’re wearing is quite tough. Deep green with sections of creamy white and green leather, discreet contrast stitching in bright yellow and small lace detailing here and there, also in green.    When you’d tried it on at the store, it had felt so right on you, perfect for your figure and your personality, and when you’d taken it out earlier that morning while you were trying to decide what to wear, it had instantly spoken to you.

   You have other dresses, simpler and with cleaner lines, almost business-like in their restraint, as well as real red-carpet pieces that would certainly not be sneered at even by the most high-browed snob.    But those aren’t appropriate for a wedding, and they’re also just… not you.    You sigh heavily and step over to the far side of the closet where your shoes are stacked.

   “Don’t you dare pick heels, now, sugar,” he warns, knowing how much you hate wearing high heels, since you spend your days in boots or sneakers while working outside.

   You pick a pair of flat white ballerina style shoes, slip them on and then stare poignantly at your husband for a verdict, to which he simply smiles and nods his agreement from where he’s standing at the foot-end of the king-sized bed.

   “Perfect. We’re gonna be the hottest couple at the wedding,” he purrs, and you can’t help but smile.

   “Well, you’re certainly hot enough,” you hum, eyeing him up and down appreciatively, to which he proudly puffs up his chest.

   “Only next to you, darlin’. Only ever next to you.”

   “Oh, aren’t you full of praise today,” you say while playfully bumping your hip against his as you pass him on your way to the bedroom door.

   It makes him huff a laugh and before you know it, he’s caught up to you and has his hands on your waist, whispering in your ear, now with honey in his voice too.

   “What else is there to say? I just love you that much.”

THE END

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Thank you for reading and helping me celebrate! I wish you a wonderful day <3

Tagging a few people who I think might wanna read these stories: @startrekkingaroundasgard @deadhumourist @tintinn16 @suttonspuds @tanzthompson @shsoba05 @f0rever15elf @justnat15 @lowlights @dornish-queen @radiowallet @spishsstuff @harriedandharassed @i-love-movies @tiffanypooh @chaoticfestninja @insomniamamma

[therealdisneyfan2319]

One Special Night | Wanda Maximoff

Summary: A blizzard leaves you and a stranger stranded on Thanksgiving

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Male Reader

Warnings: Language, angsty fluff? fluffy angst?, death

Word Count: 6.9K

Masterlist

A/N: This was requested by @joewatt111 on Wattpad.  It’s based on the movie One Special Night starring Julie Andrews and James Garner (it’s one of my favorite Christmas movies!)  

So sorry for the delay in getting requests out.  I’ve been struggling through some writer’s block ever since I finished writing “Can’t Help Falling In Love.”  But I’m working through it and I’m hoping to get caught up before the holidays.  

Thanksgiving, 5:03 PM

“Any plans for Thanksgiving, Doc?”

“Oh you know, the usual,” you replied.  “Get togethers with family you don’t really like, avoiding conversations that’ll spark arguments, and eating too many casseroles of who knows what.”  You didn’t really like Thanksgiving.  It held too many memories you’d rather forget: the years of being shuffled from house to house to spend time with your divorced parents, the subsequent arguments that you’d hear between your drunk father and sobbing mother as you buried your head under the covers in a feeble attempt to drown out the screams, endless holiday dinners ruined by shifts in the emergency room treating deep fryer burn victims, people slicing their hands while attempting to carve a turkey, and sprains, bumps, and bruises from people slipping on ice or grease, and, of course, the one Thanksgiving where your fiance dumped you before the heavy cream could even be whipped.  Needless to say it wasn’t your favorite day of the year.  So instead of subjecting yourself to the horrors of dinner conversation, you volunteered to work the holiday, collect the overtime, and treat yourself to your favorite Chinese takeout and watch whatever football game was on.  Most people didn’t understand your disinterest in the holiday, so you fibbed and said you had plans.  It’s not like anyone would figure it out anyways.

“But that’s the fun isn’t it?  It only comes around once a year,” the tech posed.

You shook your head as you pulled on your coat.  “Yeah, fun.  There are lots of things you can classify as fun.  I’m not sure this is one of them.”  Slamming your locker shut, you grabbed your bag and headed for the door of the locker room.

“I don’t think it’s that bad,” the younger man responded.  “But anyways, get home safe, Doc.  The news was saying that we’re supposed to get one heluva of a storm today.”

“All the more reason to not go out,” you winked.  You pushed the door open and trudged down the hall, backpack slung over one shoulder as you ambled down the corridor and towards the main entrance of the hospital.

“Dr. L/N?” you heard a voice call from behind you as you passed the emergency room’s front desk.  You turned around to see who the voice belonged to and found Janelle, your intern, running towards you.

“Yeah?” you answered, cocking an eyebrow.

“You forgot to sign off on the papers for Mrs. Levin.”  She handed you a clipboard with a pen clipped to it.  You took it from her, scribbled on the appropriate line, and handed it back to her without much thought to what you were doing.  “Thank you, doctor.  And Happy Thanksgiving.”

“Yeah, same,” you responded.  All you could think about after your ten hour shift was your steamed dumplings and lo mein, not some last-minute paperwork.  But as you passed by the desk again something out of the corner of your eye caught your attention.

“You’ve got to be kidding me, right?  What do you mean there’s no tow trucks available?” You saw a fiery redhead who was red in more than just her hair.  She was leaning up against the front desk, yelling into her cellphone, a backpack sitting by her side.  You watched as she rolled her eyes at whatever response she was receiving.  “Well fine, I’ll just call a cab if you-what do you MEAN they aren’t running the cabs?  How the hell am I supposed to get home?”

You eavesdropped on her conversation as you walked by, trying to make sure it wasn’t apparent that you were listening in.“Please, isn’t there something you can do?  I’ve been at the hospital with my father all day and I need to get home.”  You could hear the desperation in her voice as she pleaded with the voice on the other end.  You felt bad for the stranger, but it wasn’t your responsibility to make sure she got home.  You had no obligation whatsoever to be her taxi driver.  But as you neared the door you felt a nagging in the pit of your stomach telling you to do something.

No, don’t get involved, you told yourself.  You don’t want to do this.  But you felt yourself turning around before you got to the front door, your legs carrying yourself over to the frustrated woman who had been placed on hold by the towing company.

“Excuse me,” you interrupted.  She ignored you as she continued to tap her foot impatiently as she waited to be taken off hold.  “Excuse me,” you tried again.  Still nothing.  She looked even more impatient as you attempted to interrupt her again.  “Hey!” you yelled a tad more aggressively than you’d anticipated.  She shot daggers through you as she glared into your soul.

“What?” she snapped, pulling the phone down to her chest.

“Do you want a ride?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Do you want a ride home?  Look, the weather is shitty, it’ll be difficult trying to find a cab, and good luck trying to find an uber on Thanksgiving.  I’ve got a truck with all wheel drive, I can get you back to wherever you need to be.”  You had no idea why you were offering this complete stranger a ride back to wherever she came from.  Maybe it was the spirit of the season warming your heart.  “It’s okay, I’m a doctor here,” you added quickly, flashing your ID.

She looked at you with a combination of relief and apprehension.  You were a complete stranger offering her a ride in the middle of a snowstorm out of the emergency room.  “You’re offering me a ride?” she asked.

“Yeah.”

“Wow, okay then,” she said, hanging up her phone and grabbing her backpack.  She followed you down the hallway.  You could see the blizzard raging outside illuminated by the parking lot floodlights.  It was going to be a challenge to drive in these conditions.

“It’s that one,” you said, pointing to the red truck parked down near the end of the lot.  You zipped your coat up a little higher as you struggled across the uncleared sidewalk, grabbing your keys and unlocking the door so the two of you could hop right in.You pulled off your snow covered hat as soon as you sat in the driver’s seat after cleaning off the front of your car.  The redhead was on her phone furiously texting someone.  “Where do you live?” you asked.

“159 Collard Road,” she replied without looking up from her phone.  You groaned to yourself; it was the completely opposite side of town, basically out in the sticks.  It took you twenty minutes to drive out that way in good weather so you knew you were in for a long drive.

“Alright.  Let me know when we’re getting close.”  You started the car and looked over your shoulder as you carefully backed out of your spot.  The radio kicked on, your favorite local Y/F/M station coming on as you turned left out of the parking lot.

“Y/F/M?” she scoffed, shooting you a look.“Is there a problem?” you asked.  You should’ve left her at the hospital.“No, it’s your car, you control the radio.”“And what do you prefer?”  You couldn’t hide the sarcasm oozing from your voice.

“Y/L/F/M.”  You nodded, gripping onto the wheel tightly.  There was no way in hell you were going to change the station for her, so you decided to turn it off.  The two of you sat in silence as you continued to drive.  The roads were absolutely awful.  You were used to driving in nasty weather, but this was particularly bad.  It was night, too, and you were having to drive without using your brights because of the reflection of the snow.  

Halfway there, you thought to yourself.  Just a little while longer and I can go back home.  Why am I even doing this in the first pl-

Your internal musings were interrupted by a patch of black ice.  The truck fishtailed into the oncoming lane as you pumped the brakes.  Hard as you tried to correct the slippage, you ended up overcorrecting and swerving the other way right into a snowbank on the side of the road.

5:48 PM

“What the hell was that?” the redhead shouted.  You threw the truck in reverse and tried to back out of the bank but it was no use: you were stuck.

“Black ice.  We’re stuck.  Damn it!” You slammed on the steering wheel, angry at yourself for getting distracted.  It was not a good situation: you were stranded in a snowbank in the middle of nowhere on Thanksgiving night in a blizzard with a complete stranger who was getting angrier at you by the second.

“Great,” she sighed, pulling out her phone.  “No service.”  She slammed the phone on her bag, visibly frustrated at the situation as well.

You pulled out your phone, hoping you might be able to call your insurance company to come tow you out.  Much to your dismay you didn’t have a signal.  “Damnit,” you whispered.

“I literally just said there’s no service,” she huffed.  

“Alright then, do you have a better idea?  Because that’s all I’ve got.”

“I’m going to go look for help.  There’s a gas station about two miles away from here.”  She pushed the door open into the bank, the wind howling against the door as snow blew inside.  

“Are you kidding?  You’ll freeze to death out there.  It’s pitch black, we are in the middle of nowhere, and you want to go outside?!”  She must be crazy, that’s the only explanation you could think of.  

“And what’s the alternative then, stay here all night?” she snapped back. “Yes!  We stay here, run the heater periodically, and wait until either the snow stops or it’s daylight and then we should be able to either get out of here or get someone to come tow us out!” You were exasperated.  Sure, spending all night cooped up in your truck with this crazy woman wasn’t the way you wanted to spend Thanksgiving, but it was better than becoming a human popsicle on this stretch of country backroad.

“Right, mmhmm, good idea there, doc.  You stay here and do that, I’ll go and look for a way home.”  She jumped down from the truck, sinking into the deep drift.  You watched as she pulled one leg from the drift, trudging her way back to the road.  You groaned, frustrated at the fact this woman was about to wander about in the middle of the night and that you were probably going to have to follow her against your better judgment.

“Hey wait!  Wait a minute!” You unbuckled your seatbelt, sighing as you opened the door.  Wind whipped against your face as snow fell through the air.  It was an absolutely miserable night made worse by your miserable disposition.  The stranger looked back at you.  Her small figure looked even smaller as she hugged her coat against her chest.  The snow was falling hard enough that it was difficult to make her out against her phone’s flashlight.  

“Are you coming?” she shouted.“Only because I’m not going to let you wander around the woods in the middle of the night.”  The wind was rushing against your ears, freezing your words as they left your mouth.

“I don’t need you to protect me if that’s what you’re thinking.”  The look on her face, from what you could see, was one of disgust.

“Oh, I don’t care about protecting you.  I’m only here to-” Before you could get your next thought out you found yourself flat on your face in the snow.  The cold seeped through your clothes and chilled you to the bone.  As you pushed yourself up and sputtered the powder out of your mouth, you heard a slight giggle coming from ahead of you.  You looked up to see the redhead turning away from you.  “Is there something you want to share with the rest of the class?” the sarcasm dripped from your mouth.

“Not at the moment, but I’ll let you know.” Her hidden glance revealed a smirk forming over her lips as she pressed on, not letting you see how amused she was by your current predicament.

Groaning, you attempted to jog through the knee deep drift to keep up with her.  She had made her way over to the side of the road and was walking in what she hoped was the direction of the gas station.  You fought the blizzard every step of the way, trudging through molasses as your eyes strained to follow the dim light.  Your frustration built in your chest, causing one singular thought to race through your mind:

If we make it through this alive, I’m going to kill her.

6:11 PM

“Look, a mailbox!” The flashlight illuminated a snow-covered mailbox a few feet ahead of you.

“Let’s go ask for help.”  The storm had intensified dramatically in the short time the two of you had been walking.  The biting wind nipped at your red hands and ears.  In that time you made a mental note to never leave home without a hat and gloves again.  You scoured the area in front of you for a sign of a driveway, but any indication of one had been blocked by thigh-high drifts.

You watched the redhead struggle to carve a path through the snow only to befall the same fate you had earlier when you left your truck.  As she face-planted into the mound in front of her, you let out a small chuckle.  It was a sight to see: she flapped and struggled her way up like a goose in a most ungraceful fashion.  A part of you thought you should make sure she was okay.  “Are you okay?” you asked as you managed to push yourself over the drift.

“I’m perfectly capable, thank you.”  She flipped her scarf around her neck as she pushed herself to her feet in the ankle deep snow that covered the long driveway.  “I’m sure you are,” you mumbled under your breath.  You followed her straight into the snow-covered woods, spotting what looked to be a small cabin nestled beneath a group of tall pine trees.

“It doesn’t look like anyone’s home,” she said.  

“I’ll go take a look,” you shrugged as you eyed the enclosed porch.

“Wait!”  You turned to see the woman clutching at her chest.  “My necklace!  I have to go back and find it!”

“You can come back after the spring thaw and look for it then.  There’s no way you’ll find it now.”  You couldn’t believe the ignorance of this woman…first getting out of your warm truck and now this.  You turned back, reaching for the rickety screen door.

“It was a gift from my dad.  I have to have it!”  She walked like a goblin, crouching in an unflattering position as she combed the ground for a glimmer of the silver chain.

“Well I’m sure he can buy you another one.  Come on, I’m going inside.”

She stood quickly, tilting her head as she stared at you angrily.  “He’s dying,” she stated matter-of-factly.  You fidgeted in place as she stared at you, eyes boring into your soul as she huffed by.  Her frustration played out as she rattled the knob on the front door, slamming it down in dismay as it refused to open.  “It’s locked.”

Your eyes wandered around the small room, scanning the dark corners for something to break you in.  A pile of bricks caught your attention.  You picked one up, feeling its cold weight in your hand as you turned toward the door.  “Stand back,” you told her, pushing her back with your free arm.

“Oh you’ve got to be kidding me.  You’re going to-”

Crash!  The window cracked as glass tinkled to the floor.  You reached in, feeling your way down the door to unlock it and push it open.  “After you,” you bowed mockingly, extending your hand.  She rolled her eyes, pulling off her hat as she stepped inside the dark foyer.

You felt up the wall for a light switch, flicking it on but the room remained dark.  “Power’s out.  Storm must’ve knocked it out.”  A sharp crack and a small flicker of light lit up the table in front of you.  The stranger found a pair of candles on the sole kitchen table.  Her face was illuminated by their dim glow as you watched her emerald eyes take in her new surroundings.

“There’s a fireplace right there.  I think I saw a pile of logs outside the cabin.  Why don’t you go get some and I’ll look for more candles?”  She rubbed her hands together over the small flame.

You managed to find some snow covered cords stacked against the side of the cabin and subsequently slipped on the ice covering the gravel drive.  Rubbing the bruise on your hip, you regathered the logs and cursed the woman inside as you stumbled through the door.  You were hit with an immediate warmth upon entering, the smell of smoke and crackling of fire creating an indelible sense of home.  The redhead was crouched by the fireplace, a metal poker in her hand.  You cocked your head at her quizzically.  “How’d you get that started?”  Grinning smugly she reached to the side to reveal a cabinet loaded with logs.  “A heads up would’ve been nice.”

“What, and deny you the chance to prove your manhood?”

“Touché,” you nodded as you set the wood down.  As you removed your sopping outerwear, you took a moment to take in your new surroundings.  The cabin was small, only one main room.  On one side was a small kitchen complete with an oven, sink, and refrigerator.  A round table sat in the middle of the room, a chair placed on opposite sides.  There was a sofa directly in front of the fireplace.  Two end tables sat on either side, and a coffee table sat directly in front.  There were two doors on either side of the fireplace: one led to the bedroom and the other to the bathroom.  A chill ran down your spine as you blew into your hands.  “Alrighty then, how about I try to find something to eat?  You should go see if they have any clothes for you to borrow, you’re absolutely soaked.  Maybe jump in the shower, too”

“Right, a cold shower and a stranger’s clothes.  That’s the way I want to spend my Thanksgiving,” she rolled her eyes at your remark.

“It’s gas, the water should be hot.”  

“Really?” Her eyes widened at the revelation.

“Mmhmm,” you nodded.  “And if we’re going to be sleeping together tonight, I should probably introduce myself.  I’m Y/N.”

“Wanda,” she replied as she opened the bathroom door.

“Did you ever watch the movie Psycho?” you posed. 

“Yeah.  Why?”

“No reason,” you grinned.  The door slammed shut.

7:20 PM

“Hi,” a quiet voice said.  It was Wanda.  She was wrapped in a fluffy red plaid housecoat, her damp hair hanging limply behind her.  “What’d you find?”

“You’re in luck.  They happened to have half a box of spaghetti and a jar of sauce in the cupboard.”  You weren’t a cook by any stretch of the imagination, but pasta was manageable.  “And there’s a bottle of wine on the table.”

“And you managed to set the table.  I’m impressed,” she joked as she observed your feeble attempt at making the sparse setting look nice.

“I am a man of many talents.”  You carried the pot over to your table, spooning some pasta onto both of your plates as Wanda sat down.  

“Well, it is edible.  Barely,” Wanda informed you as she took a bite.  “Please tell me you have someone else who cooks for you because otherwise this is just sad.”

“I eat out a lot,” you laughed.  “That’s the whole reason I became a doctor…it’s easier than trying to learn how to cook.”

“So you work in the emergency room then?” She took a sip of the red wine she had poured for the two of you.  You nodded, your mouth full of the overcooked spaghetti.

“Yeah.  It’s crazy, but you’re always on your toes.  That’s why I like it.  You’ll never have the same day twice.  There’s always something new, you’re constantly calling on everything you learned in med school, and I like the adrenaline rush.”  She looked at you curiously.  You couldn’t tell what exactly she was thinking or what she wanted to say.  

“I don’t ever want to spend time in an emergency room again.  I don’t know how you can do it day after day.”  Her voice softened as her head dropped down to stare at the pasta she spun on her fork.  

“You were in there with your dad, right?”

She sniffled, rubbing her nose with the sleeve of her housecoat.  “Yeah.  He’s got cancer.  Stage four.  I’ve been taking care of him for the last few weeks.  But today he had a stroke.  So they admitted him and told me that he doesn’t have much time left.  The doctor said she’d be surprised if he made it through tonight.  So I was trying to get home to get him the picture of our family that sits by his bed, but my car wouldn’t start.  I tried to get a tow truck but all of them were busy with the storm.”

You felt your heart sink.  “I’m sorry,” you murmured.  

“I just don’t know what I’m going to do when he goes,” she sighed.  “He’s all I have left.  My mom died ten years ago and my brother was killed in a car accident last spring.  I quit my job and gave up my apartment to move out here to take care of him.  When he’s gone…” Her eyes filled with tears as she trailed off, staring across the room to the window on the other side.  “Sorry,  I don’t even know why I’m telling you any of this.”  She shook her head, immediately redirecting her attention to her dinner.

“No, it’s okay.  It sucks, cancer sucks, and I’m sorry that this is what you’re dealing with right now.  I see it every day and it doesn’t get easier, believe me.”  Images of your worst trauma cases flashed through your mind.  You physically recoiled at the gruesome scenes.  “Look, I promise that once we get out of this mess I will get you back to that hospital as fast as I can so you can be with him, okay?  And I’ll make sure to come up and check in on him, too.”  You reached out to grab her hand.  Her skin was soft and warm.  You felt your heart skip a beat as you grasped it, which surprised you.  A soft smile spread over her face as she felt your hand in hers.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

10:43 PM

“And that is check, I believe,” Wanda boasted as her rook took your knight.

“Again?!  Are you kidding me?  What the hell, Wanda?”  You threw your hands in the air.  This was the fourth game she was beating you at.  You weren’t a chess champion by any means but Wanda was on a completely different level.

“It’s just check, Y/N.  You can still win,” she giggled.  

“Yeah, right.  Why don’t I just hand the game to you now and we’ll call it a night?” 

“Oh you’re no fun,” she pouted, putting away the pieces.  After dinner, she had found the cabinet where the owners hid their collection of board games.  The two of you had finally settled on chess.  It was one of her favorite games.  Her father had taught it to her and her brother, who you learned was named Pietro, when they were kids.  She had played on the chess team in high school, which you thought made her a bigger nerd than you and your middle school quiz bowl team.

“I know, I’m a party pooper.”  You stood up and yawned, stretching your stiff limbs.  “I don’t know about you but I’m ready for bed.  You go take the bedroom, I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“No, I’ll take the couch, it’s okay.”

“Wanda, I’m a doctor.  I’ve slept on countless gurneys and on-call beds before.  I’m used to it.  Take the bed.”  She didn’t move, curling herself into a tighter ball where she sat instead.

“Fine.  Give me a minute.  I’m just resting my eyes,” she mumbled.  She shut her eyes as she crossed her arms and snuggled into the back of the couch.  You chuckled, pulling the blanket off your lap and placing it over her.  As she drifted off to sleep her light snores echoed through the small room.  You positioned yourself on the other side of the couch, watching as her breathing slowed and her face relaxed.  Hopefully sleep would be kind to her, relieving her of the horrible reality she would face in the waking world.

Friday, 7:03 AM

You woke to the peculiar sensation of being squeezed.  Looking down, you noticed that Wanda had made her way to your side of the couch and had wrapped her arms around your chest, resting her head in the crook of your shoulder.  The sight startled you at first, but you quickly found it endearing.  You were holding her with one arm wrapped around her.  Your other hand was running your fingers through her soft red hair, teasing each strand as you traversed its length.  Her eyes fluttered open at the tickling sensation, which quickly turned into a look of horror.

“Oh god I’m sorry.”  She recoiled as soon as she released the compromising position she was in.

“It’s okay, I don’t mind,” you reassured.  The truth was you really hadn’t minded it.  You liked the feeling of comfort her body provided as it wrapped around yours.  

She sat back on her knees, looking out the window.  “Looks like the storm stopped,” she noted as the sun streaked through the window.

“I’ll try calling a tow truck again, see if they can get us out of here.”

An hour later the two of you were in the cab of a tow truck headed back into town.  You’d left a note and some money for the owners to explain why you broke into their apartment and ate their food.  Once you got your truck back, you dropped Wanda off at the hospital before driving back to your apartment to grab a quick shower before heading back for your own shift.  While holidays were normally busy in the ER, you were hoping that today might be relatively quiet.  It wasn’t so much about not having to rush from bay to bay dealing with patients as much as it was being able to slip away to check on Wanda and her father.  Your palms began to sweat as you gripped the steering wheel, pulse quickening at the thought of seeing Wanda later in the day.  You shook your head to clear the images of the redhead from your mind.  After all, you were only concerned about how her father was doing, right?    

6:22 PM

You collapsed onto a gurney in the trauma bay, groaning as you rubbed your throbbing temples.  All you wanted was a beer and the chance to rip your shoes off.  You hadn’t stopped moving since you stepped foot in the hospital almost ten hours ago, even forgoing your lunch to help the ortho attending reset an elderly lady’s dislocated hip.  It was also the first time all day you’d allowed your mind to wander back onto the woman who was in the forefront of your mind.  Glancing at your phone, you panicked slightly as you jumped off the gurney and raced to the elevator.  Your heart was pounding with anticipation as you pushed the down arrow.  You bounced your knee up and down in the agonizing moments it took for the elevator to pull up to your floor.  When the doors opened you rushed in and pressed the button for the ICU.

“Come on, come on,” you muttered, slamming the button as fast as you could.  The doors didn’t close quick enough for your liking, and you spent the entire ride pacing around.  You were on a tear down the hall as soon as the doors opened, vaguely remembering a conversation you and Wanda had earlier in the day about the room her father was in.  You mumbled numbers to yourself as you jogged down the hall until you found the right one a few yards ahead of you.  Slowing down to a walk, you tugged on the lapels of your white coat and attempted to smooth out your scrubs before you turned into the room.

It was empty.

Your heart sank as you realized what it meant: he was gone and Wanda was all alone.  The cold emptiness of the room enveloped you, creeping into your very soul as an overwhelming sense of sorrow invaded your heart.  You felt a lump in your throat as you thought of her alone, trying to pick up the pieces of her life.  You threw your hands in your pocket, shuffling out of the room as you wondered how helpless she must feel.  All you wanted to do was find her and hold her until she realized that you weren’t going to let her world end.  But you had no idea where she even was.  Besides, why would she want to see you at the worst moment of her life?

Sunday, 11:19 AM

Taking a bite out of your bagel, you thumbed through the pages of the local Sunday Times.  You scoured the headlines for the one you were looking for: obituaries.  It had already been two days since Wanda’s father had passed, more than enough time to write a simple summary of his life.  More than once you’d wondered whether or not you should drive to her father’s house to check in on her, but your nerves got the better of you.  As you sipped your coffee, your eyes settled on the word you’d been looking for: Wanda.  You quickly skimmed the obit, looking for the information you wanted.

There will be no services as per the deceased’s wishes.

You sighed, throwing the paper down.  The funeral would’ve been the perfect excuse for you to check in on her.  Your stomach churned with  feeling that you should’ve been there for her that day.  You paced around the room furiously, mind racing a thousand miles a minute with different ideas, excuses to see her and make sure she was okay.  But the more you thought about it, the more you realized that the only real option you had was to go and see her.

2:49 PM

Carrying a bouquet of flowers in one hand and a bag of Chinese takeout in the other, you shifted your weight from one foot to the other as you stood outside the front door.  The way your stomach twisted up in knots surprised you.  You could stay completely calm in the most stressful of work situations, but the thought of facing her again made you want to run away screaming.  The deep breaths you took did little to quell the churning feeling growing inside you as you raised a shaky hand to knock on the frosted window.

The moments between you rapping on the door and Wanda answering felt like eternity.  Time came to a screeching halt as your mind raced through different what if scenarios.  The bag started to slip from your grasp as your palms moistened with anticipation.  It was far too late to turn around by now.

The door opened slightly at first, a single eye peering out from the crack.  You gave a halfhearted smile as you saw the outline of Wanda’s face in the dark room.  Her eye widened as she realized it was you, opening the door fully as she stared at you in amazement.

“Y/N?” she asked incredulously.  In a moment her world turned upside down again.  A small part of her hoped that you would show up at the hospital before her father died and she was hurt when you hadn’t.  

“Hey,” you said weakly.  When she opened the door fully you saw how much of a mess she was.  Her eyes were sunken and hollow, highlighted by deep bags.  Her hair was falling out of a messy bun on top of her head.  She wore pajama pants and an oversized hoodie, both of them wrinkled by hours spent curled on the couch.  “I, umm…can I come in?”  She nodded as she stepped back to give you space to come in.

Wanda shut the door behind you as you stepped in, slipping off your sneakers and placing them off to the side.  The house was chaotic.  Boxes and garbage bags were piled all around, the remnants of a life complete tossed carelessly inside.  Unopened cards were scattered around the table between drying bouquets of flowers.  Dirty pots and plates were stacked high in the sink while a half-empty pizza box sat on the counter.  

“What are you doing here?” Her meek voice broke your train of thought.  The redhead stood before you, looking like a shell of the woman she was three days ago.

“Well, for starters I brought Chinese food to make up for that pitiful Thanksgiving dinner I made the other night,” you stated while holding up the bag.  “Orange chicken, steamed dumplings, and veggie fried rice.”  Wanda stared at the bag.  You couldn’t read the vacant expression on her face that made her very soul look hollow.  “And I wanted to express my condolences about your father.” 

A spark brightened her eyes as you handed her the flowers.  She grabbed them from your outstretched hands, holding them tenderly and examining them carefully as if she’d never seen something so beautiful before.  She inhaled deeply, basking in their sweet scent as she pulled them to her chest.  “Thank you,” she murmured.  She didn’t make eye contact with you as she spoke.  

“Do you want to eat?” She nodded.  “I’ll go grab some bowls.”

“No it’s okay.  I’ve got it.  Why don’t you go sit in the living room?”  

You wandered your way through the darkened house, the living room illuminated by the glow of the TV.  You cleared some papers from the couch, stacking them off on the coffee table as Wanda rejoined you with two bowls and two sodas.  The two of you sat in silence as you watched her scoop some rice into her bowl with her chopsticks.  Her eyes were glued to the television as you ate.  You sensed she wanted to avoid conversation as the energy of the room shifted.  She became cold and withdrawn, oblivious to the world outside of the flickering screen.  But you didn’t want to interrupt her.  If she wanted to drown her grief in old sitcom reruns then so be it.

You watched The Dick Van Dyke Show for a couple hours, her occasionally chuckles interrupting the program.  As much as you wanted to talk you didn’t mind just existing in the same room as her.  It was comfortable and familiar.  But after five or so episodes, Wanda was the one to break the silence.

“I hoped you’d come up to see him before he died.”

You sat in stunned silence, unsure of how to respond to her confession.  Friday night was still eating away at you, the fact you hadn’t been able to make it up to the ICU in time.

“I tried to.  I saw patients for over ten hours straight that day and I didn’t have the chance to sneak away all day”  It felt like a pathetic excuse, but it was the truth.  

“I understand.”  She turned her head away from you slightly.  It did nothing to hide her sniffles as she started to cry again.

“But the first chance I had I ran up there as fast as I could.  He was already gone by then.”

Wanda turned back to you, her face streaked with fresh tears.  “I waited all day for you, you know?  I kept hoping and praying that maybe, just maybe, you’d show up.  It was stupid of me to think this random guy I just met would show up for my dying dad.  Because you didn’t show up so now on top of being sad that my dad just died I’m upset that a complete stranger wasn’t there, too.”  She wiped her face with her sleeve as she choked out her words through strangled sobs.

“Oh Wanda,” you sighed.  “Come here.”  You opened your arms and reached out for her.  She crawled into your chest as you pulled her close, her chest heaving as she sobbed into your shirt.  You wrapped your arms tightly around her.  Her cries were muffled against your body.  You traced your fingers up and down her back as you held her, rocking ever so slightly back and forth in an attempt to soothe her.  All you wanted to do was take her pain away.  It was odd how much you found yourself caring for this stranger.  In that moment she was the most important thing in your life. That terrified you.  “I’ve got you,” you soothed, drawing your hand up her back and pulling her head closer to her chest, as if your enveloping touch would heal her wounds.

“I miss him so much,” she gasped between sobs.  

“I know.”  

“They’re all gone.  My entire family is gone and I don’t know what to do,” she sniffled.  She was living her own worst nightmare, completely alone for the rest of her life.  No parents to bring a boyfriend home to, no brother to help take care of aging parents, no core group to celebrate the small things with.  She had friends, of course, but that didn’t erase the trauma of losing one’s entire family at such a young age.

You wracked your brain trying to find the right thing to say.  Wanda was deep in the throes of grief and you wanted to help steady her.  But what could you say?  You’d never lost a parent before.  “Wanda I- '' You swallowed the lump in your throat, leaning your head down to rest next to hers.  The world stood still as your heart pounded in your ears.  “You’re not alone,” you whispered in her ear.

She pulled away from you, her bloodshot eyes widening as she studied your face.  They darted back and forth searching for anything that might reveal the hidden secret of your words.  

“The truth is I don’t want to leave,” you sighed.  “I can’t stop thinking about Friday and I’m so, so sorry I wasn’t there for you.  I wanted to come see you sooner, but I didn’t think you’d want to see me.”

“Why would you think I wouldn’t want to see you?”  She grabbed your face and pulled you in until your lips were millimeters apart.

“I don’t know.  I guess I kept trying to tell myself that you didn’t want to see me so I could convince myself that I didn’t want to see you,” you admitted.  It was hard to swallow your pride in front of her, but you couldn’t deny how she’d absolutely captivated you in the short time you’d known each other.  “I’m sorry, Wanda.  I should’ve been there sooner.”

No sooner had the words left your mouth did Wanda close the gap between the two of you.  The tender brush of her lips against yours was absolute bliss.  They were soft as you kissed her back, losing yourself in the remnants of her cherry chapstick.  You felt your heart pounding as her hands started to tangle in your hair, causing you to smile against her lips.  You felt her smile back when you hugged her closer to you.

She was the one to break away from the kiss first.  You watched as her face lit up for the first time all day.  All of her worries had seemingly melted away.  “And here I was thinking that what happened between us was just one special night,” she smiled.  It made your heart skip a beat.

“As much as I enjoyed it, Wanda, I could do without the whole getting stranded in a blizzard thing again,” you joked.  Wanda giggled as she rubbed the back of your neck, her touch sending shivers up your spine.

“Why don’t you stay tonight so we can try again?” she teased.“Are you sure?”  You brushed your thumb over her chin as you looked at her with concern.

“Please.  Stay with me.”

You sighed as you looked into her eyes.  They were pleading with you to stay.  Your brain was telling you that staying might not be the best idea, but your heart wouldn’t let you leave.  You had to stay with her: there was no other option.  So you wrapped her close again, pulling her close enough that she could feel the way she made your heart pound against the confines of your chest.  “Okay, I’ll stay,” you murmured against her head, giving her a quick peck as the two of you sat on the couch.  “We’ll get you through this, I promise.”  

[somatheking]

Seven Nights At Soma's

In which in a sci-fi AU, you're the new communications officer at the Beach, one of Hatter's luxury space cruises. As part of your training, every day you receive tapes from an old employee explaining the ins and outs of the ship. However, it's not long until things start to sound... off.

Disclaimer: I mention several canon AiB characters in this, but rest assured that they aren't based on anyone's portrayal of them, only on my own interpretation.

Day 1: Slate 1 - 15/09/2023

Good morning! Or good evening, or good night. I’m not sure when you’re hearing this tape but I hope you decided to listen to it first thing after you woke up, mainly because it’s gonna help you get through the day. 

First off, let me give you the obligatory greeting (I’m reading this from a card I’ve got right here, so don’t mind me if I sound too weird): 

Welcome to the Beach! Combining classic elegance and cutting-edge innovation, our space cruises offer the latest in comfort, gastronomy, innovation, entertainment and onboard experience. Our new and improved spaceships are also pushing the boundaries of sustainable tourism, by employing robotic assistants as personnel so as to focus on environmental well-being and minimising waste… 

Sorry, sorry, I had to cut that short because I’m starting to laugh. Assistants, more like ASS-istants, am I right? Haha, yeah, it’s a funny word.

Anyways, yeah, I’m supposed to give you a rundown on your new job, although it isn’t precisely new, is it? Hatter told me he was thinking of filling the vacancy with someone who already worked here, but since I’m the vacancy, I’m not sure whether he ended up doing that or he simply hired someone new. Still, I figured you’d need some help, so I made you these tapes. Seven, one per day, which would cover the amount of time we need to get out of the Milky Way and into another galaxy, and after that you’ll literally be on your own. Well, I’ve only just recorded the one, so maybe I’m here saying it’s gonna be seven but it ends up being three, I don’t know. I guess we’ll see! Man, I’m more excited about this than you probably are, haha. 

As I told you before, I’m the guy you’re replacing. I was actually the ship doctor, but the previous communications officer left, so I had to replace him. Doing both jobs and only getting paid for one, which is pretty rough, but hey, we gotta do what we gotta do. You know how in the Barbie movie, Ken’s job was ‘beach’? Well, mine is doctor and comms officer, haha. I was actually friends with the guy that left, and I imagine I must’ve spent so much time hanging out with him that Hatter thought some knowledge passed on to me. I have to say, this ship mostly runs itself, so I didn’t have much trouble. And you won’t either!

Anyways, yeah, let’s talk about the elephant in the room and get it over with. You’re on a cruise where the vast majority of personnel are robots. It’s more efficient that way; as I said in the presentation, ‘environmental well-being and minimising waste’. There’s so many I’m not even sure I know all their names, but to be honest, they’re not gonna bother you much. So, how about instead we run over some of the people you’ll be working with?

First off, since you’re a comms officer, you’ll sadly have to keep in touch with Chishiya, who’s in charge of logistics. He’s, excuse my French, a huge ass bitch. Yeah, that’ll make more sense when you meet him, but mark my words, you’re gonna hate the guy. I did, so it makes sense that you will too. I don’t wanna keep talking about him, so let’s move on.

Oh, these aren't employees but I figure you could say hello to them since they're pretty nice. Arisu and Usagi are this couple who've been together for what seems like forever and they're so cute. You can feel the love radiating from them, it's like they were made for each other. They are so, so sweet; talking to them always brightened up my day. Sometimes I got claustrophobic here, and when that happened I usually went to them to cheer up. They… I don't know, this might sound stupid, but they reminded me that there's more things to life other than a job. 

You also have Kuina, who is an absolute sweetheart. She’s head of security, but she’s always super willing to help out if you need anything and she isn’t busy. Fortunately for her, this is a pretty tranquil ship; problems rarely arise here, at least the violent types. There hasn’t been any fights breaking out in… months? Probably even longer, yeah. Between you and me, I think the passengers are scared of doing something illegal in the presence of robots. They think they’re gonna bug out or something and accidentally kill them. Boy, Five Nights At Freddy’s really did a number on you all, huh? But yeah, Kuina. She trains once every three days, which means you'll get to see her. I recommend you go talk to her, but be careful not to bother her while she's training! Talking to her impacted me a lot, made me consider a lot of things about my life, plus, she’s very welcoming and one of the best people here. A literal ray of sunshine. 

Oh, God, it sounds like I have a crush, doesn’t it? Haha, no, no, it’s not like that. Well… no, not really. Now you’ve got me flustered, though. I guess I’m ending the tape here, then. I’ll see you tomorrow!