#that’s all the thoughts I have right now I’m afraid- my brain is a little fried rn! but I hope you enjoy nonetheless

[ladykailitha]

Of Butterflies and Backstrokes Part 5

Hey guys!! Things are finally starting to move in this story, I'm not sure how much longer we have, but I just started Eddie's training, so whooo!!

In this we have Eddie being dumb, fixing it, and then apologizing properly! He can be taught!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

~

Robin smacked the back of Steve’s head as she walked past. “No staring. It’s creepy!”

Steve ducked his head and blushed. He had been caught staring so many times today that, yeah, it was starting to be a little creepy now. But in all fairness, Eddie was staring right back. A thought that sent Steve spiraling. But like in a ‘oh shit, that’s hot!’ way.

Which he really, really needed to tamp down on, because yes, the guy was eighteen, but like barely.

“You should just go talk to him,” Robin encouraged gently. Because for all her teasing, she knew how important it was for Steve to talk to him about his swimming.

Steve nodded. He had time until his next class. He took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. He walked up to Eddie and flashed him his patented Harrington smile.

“Hey, you’re Eddie, right?” he said warmly. “Robin tells me you like to swim on Saturdays, yeah?”

Eddie blinked at him for a moment. “Um, hi. Yup! That’s me. My mom used to call me her little fish.”

Steve grinned. He liked that. He wished his mom had taken that kind of interest in his swimming. “I saw you swimming when I was helping Joyce set up for the party last weekend and you were really good! Did you compete in high school?”

“Nah,” Eddie said with a shrug. “I wanted to, but I couldn’t get someone to take me that early in the morning so I stopped. Competed in middle school, though. I was decent enough, I guess.”

Steve was shocked. To have to stop just when you hit your stride must have been quite the blow.

“That fucking sucks, man,” Steve said with a grimace. He scratched his cheek thoughtfully. “You ever think about competing on the national level? Because I really think you could.”

Eddie rolled his eyes with a scoff. “Yeah, right. I couldn’t afford the coach let alone all the traveling I’d have to do to make it to meets. I’m going to have to pass on that one.”

“There’s actually a program here for people who can’t afford it,” Steve hedged. “Robin used it when we both first started out.” He was fighting back the urge to start biting his nails.

Eddie’s eyes narrowed and Steve gulped. “Is that so?” He nodded. “Well ain’t that nice. Still not interested.”

Steve wished the floor would swallow him or that pool would suddenly flood or that he’d get a brain aneurysm and die, right there on the spot. He pursed his lips together and nodded with his whole upper body. He turned on his heel and walked away.

When he was about to the other side of the pool, Eddie called out, “Who would even want to coach me?”

Steve turned around with a grin. “I would.” Then he spun on his toes and walked out of the pool area to the cool fresh air of the hallway.

~

Once Steve was out of the pool area and into the hall, he had a full on panic attack. He sank to the floor and held his head in his hands. Why the fuck did he offer to coach Eddie? He didn’t know Eddie, he was afraid of deep water, and he hadn’t even talked to Joyce yet.

It was a real mess now, but the words just forced themselves from him and now he wants to gobble them back up. Well maybe they’ll just avoid each other from now on. They had done a pretty good job up to this point, they could just continue as normal and forget all about how Steve made a fool of his himself.

Then slowly he began to come out of his panic attack to the sounds of soft words and the gentle rubbing of his wrists with their thumbs. His breathing evened, his heart rate dropped, and his eyes fluttered open.

The eyes looking back at him were warm chocolate brown and deeply concerned. The angel in front of him said something but Steve couldn’t hear. Then all at once all the sounds came rushing back into the hall. And suddenly there were more people in the hall with him than he thought. In addition to Eddie who was the one holding his hands, Robin and Joyce were there too.

“I think he’s coming around,” Joyce said gently as Steve’s eyes focused on her. “Hey, there, Steve. Are you okay now?”

Steve gulped, nodding. He was feeling better. In fact he didn’t have a pounding headache like he usually had after an episode. “My head doesn’t hurt.” He looked over at Robin in confusion. “Why doesn’t it hurt?”

“Uh...” Eddie said hesitantly. “I might have something to do with that. I used some calming techniques my friend’s dad showed me.”

Steve turned to him, mouth open in awe. “Oh. Thank you.” He didn’t know what to do with that because technically it was his conversation with Eddie which caused the panic attack in the first place. But maybe that’s why Eddie helped, because he knew he’d caused it. That was a nice thought, Steve supposed.

Eddie smiled and stood back up. “I have to get back to work. You take care of yourself, okay Stevie?”

Steve nodded and Eddie slapped his hands on his knees, standing up. He muttered goodbye to the two women and then wandered off.

As Robin helped him to his feet, she said dryly, “I take it the conversation didn’t go well.”

He barked out a laugh causing Joyce to look back and forth between them in confusion. So Steve put her out of her misery. “I was telling him that he was good enough of a swimmer to compete, but I think he thought I was mocking him or something, because he kinda blew me off.”

He rubbed his temples for a moment before adding. “I even offered to coach him.”

Joyce blinked at him for a moment. “You offered what now?”

When he looked up both Robin and Joyce were looking at him with large, wide eyes and slack jaws. “Yeah, that’s kinda what started the panic attack if I’m honest. I know I am like the worst person for the job with all my...” he waved his hand helplessly. Then he snapped his fingers. “Issues. Anyway. It was nice of him to help me out after all that.”

“Dingus...” Robin said with a heavy sigh. “What were you going to do if he accepted?”

Steve grimaced and ducked his head. “Have you help me?” He looked up at her through his eyelashes and batted them, pouting.

Robin pushed his shoulder. “Disgusting!” Then she gave him a huge hug and kiss on the cheek. “Of course I’d help you.”

“I think it would be perfect,” Joyce blurted out. They both turned and looked at her. “This place could use the publicity if I’m honest. There are other pools in Indy that have been bringing in the bigger names. So if Eddie accepts and starts training under five time gold medal champion Steve Harrington...”

“Then this place could start bringing in the big names again,” Robin said. “Not to say that Steve isn’t a big name of his own,” she added when Steve’s face twisted into something like offense.

Steve shook his head. “Which isn’t going to happen because he said no.”

Joyce and Robin sighed. There was that. But they knew they shouldn’t go trying to pressure Eddie into it. Plus, despite how good he was there was no telling he’d be on par or better than his younger peers.

Steve and Robin left Joyce standing there, pondering her dilemma.

~

Eddie chewed on the inside of his cheek thoughtfully. He was grateful that the technique worked, but he was pretty sure that he had caused the attack in the first place. Which was... not good. He could have handled the offer to have him trained to compete a little better. Steve was paying him a compliment and he threw it back in his face as charity. He didn’t need charity not from no one.

There was no two ways about it. He was going to have to apologize. Which was never his strong suit. But he’d do it. He just wasn’t going to take Steve up on his offer. He would see about staying on here as paid help because then he could still have access to his beloved pool.

It took him a couple of days but finally their schedules matched up and Eddie was on his break and Steve had time between classes again.

“Um, hey,” he said timidly, sauntering up to Steve. “I just wanted to apologize for being a bitch on Monday. I was rude and that wasn’t fair.”

A slow smile spread out over Steve’s face. “Thanks. I did just spring it on you without an preamble, so...”

Eddie laughed. “Yeah, there was that. But it still was mean and I should have been nicer.”

“Well, you made up for it by helping me with the panic attack afterwards,” Steve said. “I’d say that makes us even.”

“A panic attack I’m pretty sure I caused.”

Steve winced, confirming the worst of Eddie’s suspicion on that one. Steve rubbed his chin thoughtful. “I’ll tell you what, if you teach Robin and Joyce that technique you used to pull me out of my panic attack, then we’ll be even.”

Eddie smiled that sweet closed mouth smile that melted Steve’s insides when he saw it. “Sure thing I can do that. On Saturday before the crew swim. I’ll teach them both.”

Steve’s shoulders relaxed. That was going to be so useful, having multiple people know how to get him out of an attack would make it easier for him to go out in public. Something that was very limited after the incident in Beijing.

“That’ll be great, thanks.”

“You should come too,” Eddie suggested. “I know you don’t like being in the pool, but you could come hang out and have a little fun for a change.”

Steve gasped dramatically. “What do you mean? Isn’t teaching beginning classes meant to be fun?”

Eddie’s eyes went wide. It took him two seconds long than it should have to realize that Steve was joking him. He pushed Steve’s shoulder playfully.

“At least with us,” he teased, “we won’t try and drown you, deliberately or otherwise.”

Steve tilted his head to side and looked at him in confusion. Where the urge to bite those cheeks came from, Eddie will deny knowing until his last breath. “I saw that snotty teenaged little shit try to pull you into the pool. That’s fucked up at hell.”

Steve’s smile was blinding. “Fair enough. I like getting to sleep in on Saturdays, but we’ll see.”

Eddie grinned back. “I never used to get up this early for school. But ya know, keeping out of jail is pretty inspiring.”

“I could see that, yeah,” Steve agreed. “It was the one downside being on the swim team in high school.”

“You went to a regular high school?” Eddie asked tilting his head. “I would have thought after getting fifth in your first Olympics you would have gone to a special school for kids that are huge in sports or whatever?”

Steve blinked at him for a moment. “Do they have schools like that?”

“They do for like actors and shit,” Eddie said with a shrug. “So I assumed they would have something similar for the jocks.”

Steve laughed. “Yeah, no. That would have been preferable.” He shook his head. “But no, it’s much more cut throat that than that. Pretty much, schools try and poach students from other schools to make the best sports teams.”

Eddie’s eyebrows shot up. “Wait, really?”

“Yep!” Steve said beaming at him. He looked up at the clock on the wall. “Look, my next class is about to start. So I really should get going. Especially with Joyce’s son in the class, I don’t want to be late.”

“Why is he starting so late?” Eddie asked. “I would have thought with Joyce being in charge of the rec center and his older brother literally being a trainer too, he would have been in the tots class.”

Steve nodded. “She didn’t get the manager position until five years ago and Will was afraid of the water by then. So they just waited until he was ready.”

“So he’s ready now?” Eddie asked curiously.

“Mhmm,” Steve hummed. “All his friends are going to be in the class with him, so he ready to hop in the pool with them.”

Eddie smiled. “That’s cute.”

That surprised a huff of laughter out him. “Sure is. But don’t tell him that. He’s at the age where cute is akin to baby and well...”

“He’s too old for that?” Eddie finished.

“Yeah.”

“I feel that,” Eddie agreed. “Have fun in your class, and remember you can always make it look like an accident.”

Steve laughed out right at that and waved goodbye. Eddie watched him go feeling better about the whole panic attack thing. Now all he had to do was make sure it never happened again. Or at least not by his own big fucking mouth.

~

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[fowlblue]

In an Avatar AU what elements do you think the Fowl family would bend?

I lean towards fire for both of the Artemises (is there a proper plural for Artemis?) due to how ambitious they can be but the potential for if Senior was a water bender does sound interesting. Not quite sure what the rest would be besides Butler being an earth bender

Hmm…

I personally like the Fowls generally being a waterbending family, for two reasons- 1. they aren’t explosive individuals, they’re generally very methodical, and 2. I feel like firebending is the ‘obvious choice’ for ‘villains’, and it’s just a little too easy to me. I feel it just suits Tim and Angeline more to be waterbenders (+ with Tim being a waterbender you can have some truly delicious angst with him struggling to bend after nearly drowning when the Fowl Star sank).

Though I personally like Artemis not being able to bend at all, focusing instead on using technology where bending is usually employed. It sets him apart, illustrates his genius… and I just like the idea of him tinkering with things.

Both Butler and Juliet would be earthbenders, though I could see Butler bending steel far better than regular earth, and Juliet bending earth easier than steel (perhaps even primarily crystals?)

The People would likely be all sorts of benders, I think. All of the elements would be useful in Haven.

[nereidprinc3ss]

baby fever

in which reader and spencer discuss having a baby while at work

fluff warnings/tags: fem/AFAB!reader, bau!reader, BOYFRIEND!SPENCER or husband if u so desire, discussions of pregnancy/having a baby (obviously), reader wants a baby, so does spencer a/n: god i need him so badly. should i write follow up smut?? mwahaha evil emoji......

The coffee finished brewing minutes ago, but you’re still standing by the pot, watching Anderson’s daughter toddling around the bullpen on chubby legs. She’s not very adept at walking, but her spirit is indomitable—every time she tips a little too far forward, she catches herself and gets right back up. It’s not like she’s doing anything particularly impressive or even interesting, but you can’t take your eyes off her. Every movement makes your heart twinge, every giggle or curious quirk of her head is so adorable it physically hurts in your chest. 

From your peripheral vision you see Spencer approaching, bearing his own empty mug, but not even he can draw your attention away from the adorable little pixie and her tutu and her pigtails. 

“That is the cutest kid I have ever seen in my life,” you whisper to Spencer, hoping the quiet tone of your voice will help hide how much you feel like cooing and squealing. 

He smiles to himself as he pours his coffee. 

“That’s Rosie. Have you said hi yet?” 

“I’m afraid if I talk to her I’ll try to keep her.” 

“She is pretty adorable.” 

You turn to him as he leans next to you on the counter, sipping his coffee casually. 

“Adorable? Spencer. Puppies are adorable. You’re not understanding the magnitude of what I mean right now. I can’t explain to you how much adorable doesn’t cut it. I’m not kidding about the child abduction thing.” 

HIs eyes slide around the room as he chuckles into his mug. 

“Let’s maybe not joke about kidnapping a child in FBI headquarters.” 

“I’m not joking,” you hiss. “I feel like I’m going insane. I just—” 

At the last second you stop yourself, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth. 

“You just what?” Spencer asks, adjusting the hem of your shirt with his free hand. You glance down, watching the care he takes in the tiniest detail that you wouldn’t have given a second thought to. 

“Is something wrong with my shirt?” 

His eyes flick up to yours, hazel tinted with mild surprise. 

“No. It just was sliding up your waist a little bit.” As he says it, his knuckles brush the bare skin of your torso. You suppress a shiver, studying his profile once he pulls his hand away and goes for another sip. 

“Can we have one?” 

Your inopportune timing results in coffee dribbling down Spencer’s chin as he quickly attempts to wipe it away, wide eyes torn between you and trying to assess the mess he’s made. 

“You--you mean like a baby?” 

“Yeah, like a baby,” you say, grabbing his shoulders and squaring them to you before dabbing the coffee from his face and jacket. He watches on as you clean him up, completely still except for his wandering eyes. 

“I thought we were waiting on that.” 

“Waiting for what? A better time? There’s never going to be a good time with this job. And it’s not like we’d have to quit. Look at JJ. She has two and still does it.” 

“First of all,” Spencer begins, quickly recovering from your surprise proposition, “I don’t love the idea of either of us being in the field with you pregnant. And secondly, JJ also has Will and her mother to take care of the boys. We don’t have that. We’re both here all the time.” 

“I don’t care,” you groan, trashing the paper towels once you’ve done the best you can with his clothing. “We’d figure it out somehow!” 

“Mhm. It sounds like you’ve really devoted some careful consideration to this.” 

You drop your head to your shoulder, giving him your best puppy dog eyes and pulling lightly on his shirtsleeve. 

“Oh, come on. You haven’t thought about it at all? My perfect brain and your pretty face fusing to create a future Nobel-prize winner? Imagine how cute she would be, Spencer, we could put her hair in little braids and pigtails and we could dress her up and she could be in soccer and ballet and—” 

“She?” he smiles, studying your face intently. You roll your eyes. 

“Yes, she. Obviously we would have a girl. You—” 

The idea of Spencer as the father of your daughter hits you like a tidal wave, stopping you dead in your tracks. The images materialize in your mind’s eye so clearly, it’s like they’re already memories, so real and tangible you have no doubt it must come to fruition someday. But if before, your ranting was mostly a silly fantasy—now it’s become a bit more intense. 

He seems to sense your shift in mood. The big smile thaws slightly as he subtly grabs your hand on the counter. 

“What? What’s wrong?” 

There he goes again. Being kind. Being perfect. 

Tears sting your eyes, but you don’t let them fall.  

“Nothing. Nothing is wrong. I just... didn’t realize how badly I actually wanted that until I said it out loud.” 

The concern in his eyes softens to pure affection as he runs his thumb over the back of your hand. 

“I want it too. And whenever you decide you’re ready I’ll drop everything for you.” 

His words are like compounding pressure to the deep heat within you—forming something so solid and perfect you don’t have to wonder if it’s real. A ten on the Mohs scale, a concept that gets closer to actualizing by the minute.  

Your voice is quiet, revelatory as you admire the amber facets in his eyes. 

“You’re ready?”  

“I’ve been ready for quite some time,” he admits. And at once you feel the certainty of him paint your past and your future with one broad brushstroke. One day you will look back on your life and remember the time before Spencer, and that will be it. There is before Spencer, and with Spencer, but never an after Spencer. He wants to create something utterly permanent with you. “Come here.” 

He sets his mug down, carefully pulling you forward so you’re toe to toe with your back to the rest of the BAU; so that only he can see you. Despite how good the two of you are at avoiding PDA, occasionally an exception is made. He tenderly wipes away the few tears that have sprung from your waterline and accepts your arms around his waist, mirroring your embrace and completely enveloping you.  

“I love you,” he murmurs against the top of your hair, quiet enough that nobody in the office has a chance of hearing it. You sniffle. 

“I love you too. Also you smell really good.” 

He chuckles, hand roaming up and down your back for a moment. 

“And that is why we are holding off on this at least for a while.” 

“What do you mean?” you whisper indignantly as he gently peels you off him. His hands remain a steadying force on your waist as he smiles down at you beatifically. 

“I mean let’s give it two weeks and see if you still want a baby when you’re not ovulating.” 

[katsukistofu]

hihi !! thinking about a hurt/comfort fic with shinsou where reader feels like she’s boring/annoying to him

good parts

contents ౨ৎ ⋆ h. shinsou x fem reader. 1.5k words — hurt/comfort. fluff. slightly suggestive. ⭑ no matter how dark your brain gets, hitoshi is determined to help you see yourself in the same light that he does.

Hitoshi visibly softens the moment he opens his door at the sight of you standing there in the dimly lit hallway.

Dark violet pools swimming with worry drift from the way you’re chewing the inside of your cheek, like how he’s noticed you usually do when you’re anxious, to the hem of your pajamas balled up in your fists.

“What's up, love?” Hitoshi says in his softest voice, faltering when you finally meet his eyes with your reddened ones. His heart drops. Have you been crying?

At your uncharacteristically hesitant mumble of “Can I come in?” is when he feels said heart nearly split into two.

“Of course.” A concerned frown tugs at his lips. Something’s definitely wrong. You usually never bothered to ask twice, not that he minded of course, before barreling into his arms the second he turned the knob so many times before. “You can always come into my dorm.”

“I know, I just…” Your sweet voice that he’s missed all day trails off guiltily, and you take a deep breath as you fiddle with the edge of your pajamas.

“Actually, sorry, I didn’t mean to bother you. I think I’ll just go back to my room.”

“What, who said that? You never bother me.” Hitoshi’s gentle yet firm grasp on your sleeve stops you from turning to leave, and you huff at his stubborn attempt to make you stay.

“Toshi, let go.”

“I’m afraid you’re gonna have to amputate my arm first, and not that you couldn’t but I don’t think you don’t have the tools for that at the moment, pretty girl.” The edge of his lips tilt upward in a wry smile as he playfully tugs you towards him. “You’re not escaping me that easily.”

You huff and turn away, looking anywhere but into his warm, patient eyes. It’s a trap, you know it, once you do you’ll be spilling your guts out in no time, and the sickening aftertaste of burning shame is just something you can’t stomach right now.

Plus he’s wearing that gray hoodie he knows is your favorite, which just makes everything worse because he looks ten times more handsome than usual.

“Come on, sweetheart.” Hitoshi coaxes. “Talk to me. You know you can tell me anything, right?”

A beat of silence. 

Your lips press into a firm, thin line, and you finally surrender. 

“Yeah. I know.” You sigh, and he rubs your shoulder encouragingly.

“Go ahead then, I’m listening.”

“Okay, uh…” You mumble slowly, suddenly feeling very silly. “Do you think I’m annoying or that you’ll ever get bored of me, Toshi?” 

“Never.” He answers without skipping a beat. “To both. You never annoy me, and you’re anything but boring.”

“Really?” Your voice breaks a little and his heart clenches in his chest at the way you sound so doubtful of his words. Hitoshi reaches out to tenderly brush his knuckles against your cheek.

“Really.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Well when I wake up everyday, my first thought is that I look forward to seeing you.”

Your eyes widen, when it really shouldn’t be a surprise at all. “You do?”

“Mhm, I do.” Hitoshi moves to sit down on the edge of his bed. You gasp as he smoothly pulls you into his lap, quite literally sweeping you off your feet.  “And you know how else I know I’ll never, ever get bored of you?”

"What?" You shyly adjust your legs to straddle him more comfortably. He guides your arms to wrap around his neck in response, unwavering, intense eyes staring into yours. He’s so close that his lashes brush against your cheek when he blinks, and his warm breath fans across your lips teasingly.

“Toshi,” you whine. “You’re making me feel flustered.”

“I know it makes you feel flustered.” Hitoshi grins slyly. “That's why I love doing it.”

You gently bat his bicep. “Stop distracting me and answer my question!” 

“Yes ma’am.” Hitoshi chuckles as you retort by cutely puffing your cheeks and laying your head down on his shoulder. His arms are snug against your waist and he squeezes you in his lap. You always feel so nice, sitting so prettily on him. 

“I know I’ll never get bored of you because when someone asks what the best part of my day was, I always mention you in some way. Could be a cute doodle you made on a note you left me, you spending five solid minutes trying to push a door that says pull at a restaurant, or seeing you get excited over a new season of your favorite show coming out, anything as long as it's you.”

His expression is warm as he watches your head perk up at that, which quickly turns into a scowl when you realize exactly what he’s referring to. “The sign on that pull door was really faded, you couldn’t see it either!”

“That’s why I made you my guinea pig so I could come in and heroically save the day for you.”

“Heroic my ass,” you mutter into his hoodie and he laughs, then presses a soft kiss to your neck in response and you shiver. 

“And you have no idea just how much I love listening to you talk about your day.”

“...Even on the days I don’t do anything special?”

“Especially on those days.” He nuzzles his face into your neck and you giggle. “Love hearing you talk about mundane shit. Love when you send me a picture of what you’re having for breakfast, or when you tell me about some weirdly shaped cloud you saw outside during training.”

He pauses thoughtfully, and continues, “Hell, you could probably read me your grocery list and I'd still be hooked on every word. I love your little quirks, even the ones you think are weird. Your whole personality. Your cute voice.”

Hitoshi squeezes your hip. “So keep telling me all about it, okay? I wanna hear it.”

You let out a sweet little contented noise of agreement and your boyfriend grins. 

“So I think it’s safe to say that the chances of me finding you boring or annoying are real slim.” Hitoshi smirks, tickling your thighs that are still wrapped around his waist, and you squirm out of his hold and escape further into his bed while giggling. 

“Real slim meaning zero times infinity.”

“Isn’t that just zero, though?” You let out a soft sigh, completely out of breath as you flop onto his pillow.

“Shh, let me have my moment. Everything times infinity makes it more special.” Hitoshi’s arms come up from behind to hug you against him. “Like my love for you.”

“Ew.” You wrinkle your nose. “You’re so corny.”

“I know. Took you long enough to realize I’m obsessed with you.” He rolls his eyes, bending his head down to brush his lips against the nape of your neck. “Everyone in class already calls me a simp, you don’t need to rub it in.”

You flip around to face him, snuggling the side of your face into his pillow that has the faint, comforting scent of the laundry detergent he likes to use. “Good thing I’m also a simp.”

Hitoshi softly gasps in mock surprise. “Really? Oh my god,” his eyes flicker around the room as if he’s looking for the mysterious person who won your affections. “Who’s the lucky person?”

You laugh and the side of lips quirk up in that fond way that only happens when he’s with you. “You, you silly goose!”

“Me?” He sweetly brushes his nose against yours. “Wow. Feels like I’ve won the lottery.”

A warm feeling spreads across your chest, like honey being stirred into a hot cup of tea and Hitoshi’s eyes are half-lidded as he whispers in a low tone that makes the butterflies in your stomach flutter to life.

“Come here, love. Give me a goodnight kiss.”

You lean in to kiss his deliciously soft lips, and you can feel him grin against your mouth at your eagerness. He kisses you back twice as gently, agonizingly so, while his hand trails to cup the dip of your waist and you feel dizzy at his adoring touch. Your heart is pounding way, way too fast for this late at night.

He sneaks another tender kiss onto your neck, then on your collarbone, and Hitoshi laughs as you shyly smush your flustered face into his pillow.

“One more thing.”

You peek over to glance at him, and the way he’s looking at you makes you feel warm and tingly all over and your burning face is begging for you to return it to the cool depths of his pillow.

“Promise you’ll always tell me when you feel like this. No more keeping it in.”

Your eyes soften at his stern expression. “Okay, I promise.”

“Pinkie promise.” He says sagely, lifting his finger, and a laugh bubbles up in your throat at his serious tone when you raise your own, his larger pinkie overlapping yours. 

“I pinkie promise.”

“Good girl.” Hitoshi smirks, which is short-lived when his eyes widen in panic and it’s too late by the time he reaches to catch you as you proceed to tumble off the bed.

[delirious-donna]

an: I had this thought and it wouldn’t leave me so please enjoy the filth of my brain 😌 short but sweet…

pairing: Nanami Kento x female reader

warnings: suggestive, dirty talk, public setting, reader is very embarrassed by their situation

Frozen in place in the midst of the grocery store, you dared not to move. A slow trickle escaped your body and you firmly clenched your thighs together in the hopes of preventing anything further from leaking out. This was mortifying, this would be the thing that turned you into dust to blow across the wind for the rest of time.

A large hand found the small of your back, warm and familiar, followed by a concerned voice by your ear. “Something wrong, honey?”

You whipped around to him, face growing impossibly warm and sweaty at the immediate imagery of honey dripping from its pot. The slow sensual pour of sticky nectar prickled down your spine, and you wondered if he already knew of your current plight. Kento’s eyebrows rose towards his neat hairline, completely oblivious, despite your worries to the contrary, but he did sense your discomfort.

“Don’t you honey me,” you whisper yelled, poking a sharp finger into the centre of his chest. “Why did I let you talk me into this?”

“Talk you into… grocery shopping? We both need to eat, sweetheart,” he answered with a poorly disguised chuckle.

Kento turned to examine the fresh produce, squeezing mangoes to find one nearing ripeness, and you damn near dropped to the floor at the sight. His impossibly large hand encased the whole fruit, fingers flexed around the fleshy skin and all you could think of was how that was exactly how he would squeeze and grope at your breasts.

You took a step closer—drip.

“Kento…” you whined pathetically, tugging on the sleeve of his shirt and doing your damnedest not to dance on the spot like a child in need of the nearest bathroom.

With a sigh, he placed the basket hooked over his other hand on the floor and brought you into the shelter of his body. His chin rested on your head whilst your arms encircled his waist, holding him gently and only for a moment before pulling away.

“I’m leaking.”

Kento paused, perplexed. “You’re what?”

This was so embarrassing and he was going to make you spell it out for him. “What did we do before grocery shopping?”

“We showered, you cooked breakfast and I—oh.”

The penny finally dropped and you could kick him for the shit eating grin that spread across his face. You weren’t accustomed to such obvious delight etched over his features and at your expense too!

Before you could think to follow through with kicking his shin or huffing and puffing, he pulled you into his side and lowered his mouth to your ear. The warm fan of his breath sent goosebumps rippling up and down your arms and your pulse quickened.

“Am I right in saying that my seed is leaking out of you?” He asked coolly, as if he was asking you an everyday question like what type of cheese should we buy this week.

You nodded, afraid of your own voice right now.

Kento hummed. “Then I clearly didn’t fuck it deep enough. We’ll have to remedy that. How does it feel? I’ll bet it’s all warm from your hot little pussy.”

“Kento!”

“That’s right, my love. That’s how you screamed my name when I had your ankles by your ears. Mm, my sweet honeypot.”

If you weren’t melting already, you certainly were now. Your body betrayed you wilfully, the walls of your cunt pulsing to push more of the creamy cum into the seat of your underwear. Kento laced his fingers with yours and began to guide you down the aisle, but you walked on stiff legs, so afraid of what might leak down your thigh if you moved normally.

“I’m stuck! What if I make a mess? I can’t stand here all day,” you squeaked much to Kento’s amusement. He was enjoying your predicament far too much, the wicked man that he was.

“Shall I find you a cart to sit inside?”

“You’re not funny mister…”

“Oh, but I’m not laughing, darling. You’ve let my gift escape, which I find rather rude. I intend to finish this shop fast and replace what you’ve lost.”

You blinked, lashes fluttering in rapid succession. The weight of molten heat dropped into the pit of your stomach. He couldn’t be serious.

Gently, he hooked your arm through his and patted your hand. His face was unreadable once more, eyes scanning the produce and placing items into his retrieved basket. So handsome, so calm, yet beneath the mask lay a man capable of ruining you with words alone.

“Come along, dear. I’ve just remembered we’re all out of honey… not that we don’t have ample supply of our own,” he whispered the last part beneath his breath.

“You’ll always be sweeter than honey to me.”

[foreingersgod]

i saw ur post that u write for paige… maybe a teammate fic? i don’t really have a plot in mind but i trust that beautiful brain of yours 😁

Friendly Banter . PB

pairing: paige bueckers x reader

synopsis: you and paige may be teammates, but it’s hard to get anything done if you also happen to be dating

A/N: iiiiii kind of hate this :(

“your defending could use a bit of work, baby” you heard a familiar voice from the sidelines “don’t you think?”

you held back a smile, kissing your teeth as you turned on your heels. there was no one else in the gym except you and paige, the two of you deciding to get some extra drills in before practice tomorrow morning. you had just been practicing some shots and different dribbling drills while paige sat back to stretch for a while. there wasn’t anyone to defend, rather paige just wanted an excuse to tease you.

“i think my defense is actually quite good i’ll have you know,” you scoffed, bouncing the ball slowly as she walked towards you “what exactly could use the work, hm?”

“well for starters,” she said, matter of factly, cocking her head to the side. she rubbed her hands together and shrugged in your direction “you’re not being physical enough”

that made you chuckle, throwing your head back lightly in amusement. you nodded your head and rolled your eyes, “oh really?”

“really, i’d never lie to you, babe”

“care to enlighten me then?” you asked, her tall figure now standing over yours “i mean, you’re kinda obligated to help your girlfriend out, right?”

“oh i’d be more than happy to” she snickered, licking her lips as she looked you up and down. she got lost in you for a moment, you could tell, her eyelashes fluttered against the smooth skin under her eye as she surveyed your every move.

“well then show me, smarty pants,” you shoved her chest slightly, feeling yourself growing flustered by her intimate glances. you’d never get tired of the way she looked at you “what do i need to do?”

she slid past you, hands gripping your waist to hold you in your place as she came up behind you. it was silent in the empty gymnasium apart from the sounds of paige’s shoes squeaking against the varnished floors as she assumed her position. you were now facing the same direction, your back to paige’s chest as she leaned against you.

“you gotta be more assertive, you know?” she all but enticed, talking seductively into your ear. she was so close to you that you could feel her warm breathe on your neck “don’t be afraid to push your opponent around a little bit”

“i’m gonna defend you while you try to drive it in,” she continued “and i’ll show you how it’s really done”

you snorted, blowing a nervous breathe from your nose. she always knew how to get you riled up. her hands were hovering over you as you thought of a strategy to get the ball past paige. you began dribbling the ball, backing into her slowly which caused you to collide with her. the curve of your backside fit comfortably against her pelvic bone. instantly, you could sense paige’s breathe hitch at the contact, making you smirk. knowing its effect, you backed up even more, pushing against her harder to push your way closer to the net. she defended you to the best of her ability as she tried to keep you away, but the way your hips moved against her made it difficult for her to focus. while she was caught off guard, you faked her out and sprinted around her to drive it up and into the net. you cheered for yourself as paige shook her head in defeat, rubbing her hand across her jaw in disbelief.

“that’s how it’s supposed to be done?” you laughed, scrunching your nose “and you say my defense needs work?”

“that’s not fair,” she said “you were distracting me and you know it”

“i was just playin’ the game, paige! you’re the one who can’t get her mind out of the gutter long enough to defend me!” you came up to her, hands finding their way up to her shoulders, giving them a gentle rub.

“can you blame me?” she furrowed her brows “i don’t know anyone can even play at all when you’re out there on the court”

“maybe that’s my method of defense” you beckoned, teasing her harmlessly. you nodded your head behind you, motioning to your ass “don’t have to do much if everyone’s looking elsewhere”

she looked at you offended, raising her eyebrows as she widened her eyes “oh it better not be, nobody should be looking at my girl like that except for me”

“whatever,” you smiled, protective paige was your favorite “you have nothing to worry about, baby, nobody’s looking at anybody”

“you better hope so” she said, leaning down to place a chaste kiss to your lips “or you’re gonna be in trouble”

the tone of her voice made your knees weak, this was her way of getting back at you for your little comment. you kissed her once more before she pulled away from you, starting to make her way back to where both of your belongs sat on the sidelines.

“oh how so?” you prodded, already knowing the answer. you followed her as you chased her down, watching as she packed up her things. she handed you your duffel bag and draped her own over her shoulder.

“i could tell you,” she began as you both started to make your way out of the gym, heading for your car. she placed a strong hand on the small of your back, fingers snaking under your shirt, tugging you into her side with force “but id much rather show you instead”

[maybankswhore]

𝐃𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐄 ’ part one.

SUMMARY: jj finds himself crushing on kildare’s good girl.

PAIRING: bad boy!jj maybank x good girl!reader ( basically kook!reader. )

WARNINGS: smoking , cursing , thoughts of ‘corruption’ & violence.

listened to ‘born to die’ by lana del rey & ‘delicate’ by taylor swift & this plot was born! i’m obsessed with bad boy jj x good girl reader trope & i really liked the nsfw headcanon i did a few months back. this is one of my favorite’s i’ve ever writtenz

Your voice was sickly sweet in his ears everytime he heard it. Your words rolling off your tongue smoothly , slipping into his brain and making it go into a fog— like the highest he’d ever get. He always wanted more , listening in absentmindedly during class when you gossiped with your friends. He loved it when you laughed at something , the way your eyes would wrinkle and your hand would cover your mouth because you were embarrassed by how loud your laughter would carry. You shined in his eyes , always floating around like some god damn angel.

You were painfully innocent. Kind and friendly to everyone you came across. It was the type of innocent that all the boys adored , and all the girls found endearing. You wouldn’t hurt a fly. Everyone who knew you either loved you or hated you— the latter always one in a million. It was hard not to like you , because of your habit to cheer up even the angriest of people around you. You were a simple girl , always walking around in your little sundresses waving at everyone and wishing them a good day.

JJ adored that part of you. He found it cute the way you were so naively oblivious. When the boys would shower you in gifts and compliments , the thought of an ulterior motive never crossed your mind. You’d simply thank them with a smile , promising to do something sweet in return. It had gotten to the point that people had stopped trying because no matter what anyone did— you treated everyone the same. You were friendly and kind to everyone , no matter how hard they tried to be special or different in your eyes it just went right over your head and you didn’t give it a second thought.

Like today , in the cafeteria , JJ watched you from across the room with his hands in his pockets leaning back in his seat. His toothpick on the side of his lip hanging as he lightly chewed it. JJ Maybank out of all people— the boy who was the complete opposite of you had been so hellbent on you. Nobody really understood it but at the same time , they were all too afraid to speak up to him about it. He was violent and mean , dismissive to girls like you. The Kooky , preppy kind. But it hadn’t mattered to him because you were his only exception.

Your friend whispered in your ear , something JJ could only guess was something about him. He watched as you flushed , not being able to stop the smirk on his face as you swatted her away with the shake of your head. With eyelashes fluttering , you looked up at him , pursing your lips. He nodded your way as a sign of approval— a hello all in the same. Your lips pressed into a smile at that , wiggling your fingers lightly before adverting your attention back to your friends. The way the girls around you went to whispering in your ear caused something to swell in JJ’s chest , hoping you’d finally manage to let him have a conversation with him. For everyone else he was hard and mean— but for you , he was soft.

“You need to give up this Y/N fantasy already.” Pope interrupted JJ’s thoughts by kicking his foot from underneath the table and earned an eye roll in return. “I’m serious. You’re acting creepy.”

John B couldn’t contain his laughter , nodding his head in agreement. “Yeah , dude. I thought you’d be over it by now but it’s been like a month and a half and all you do is stare at her.”

JJ sighed in irritation. His friends constantly gave him shit about him. Not that he could blame them. If it hadn’t have been him , he’d be giving either them the same amount of trouble over it.

Any other girl would’ve been fucked and discarded by now. He never focused on one girl for more than a week , let alone over a month. But there was something about you that always made him curious , wondering how innocent you truly were. You were beautiful , prim and proper. His crush had turned into something else inside of him— obsession at best. The way you hadn’t looked at anyone else , staying to yourself and your group of friends. The girl everyone wanted but couldn’t have. There was just something about you that caused his body to react a certain way it didn’t with the others he’d been with. Just the sound of your voice made his heart race , the little looks you’d give him sending shivers down his spine.

“Shut the fuck up and mind your business , alright?” JJ grumbled out.

“Look JJ , be realistic about this—” Pope started.

“Y/N’s a kook , okay? And not just any Kook. Like practically the Kook princess. I’m pretty sure she has Sarah Cameron beat by a long shot.” John B continued listening on the reasons. “You can’t stand Kooks and she’s like—” he glanced over at you , in your pretty pink sundress. “She’s like nice and you’re not all that nice.”

JJ narrowed his eyes at John B. “I’m nice to you.”

Pope chuckled. “Yeah barely. And that’s because you have to be or you’d be homeless. I have Chem with Y/N and John B’s right. She is pretty nice. You don’t like girls like that.” He thought back to all the girls JJ had been interested in the past and none had been like you. There were all same , a bit snippy and wild. Partying at the bonfires , sleeping with him the same breath. You weren’t like that and he’d rather be honest with JJ then have his friend hurt the good in you , regardless if you were a Kook or not.

“You guys need to just mind your fucking business.” JJ spat them , clearly fed up. They should’ve known better than to push at him— his anger always got the best of him in any situation. His chair scraped loudly as he stood up and yanked his bag from off the floor.

“JJ , c’mon man—” John B called after him , but it was too late. The only reminder that the blonde had even been in the cafeteria was the doors swinging closed behind him.

The commotion caught your attention. You watched as JJ briskly walked away from his friends , an unreadable expression painted on his face. Whatever conversation your friends were in now seemed like white noise to you , knawing on your bottom lip nervously.

It was JJ Maybank. The boy all the girls talked about in the locker room. Some of things you had heard , though , you had wished you hadn’t. You felt pervy when you listened in on certain conversations about how he was in bed , rough and fucking girls like a man scorned one too many times. And you knew he looked at you. Your friends would always gush about it , saying how lucky you were to have had his attention this long. Your parents knew of him , too. Nothing good ever leaving their mouth when a conversation involved him— your dad complaining about his trouble–maker lifestyle.

The inward war in your head seemed to come to a close when your body reacted before your brain did. Looking towards your friends you flashed them an innocent smile , claiming that you didn’t feel good and wanted to use the bathroom before the period ended. Brushing off their concerns , you grabbed your own schoolbag before rushing towards the door JJ had once walked through. Your eyes flickered around the halls to find him , only barely catching sight of his blonde hair rounding the corner.

Taking in a deep breath , you took it amongst yourself to follow behind him— your legs moving before your brain could think it through. “JJ!” His name fell off your lips easily , like it was something you had practiced in the mirror for days. The way his movements immediately stopped at the sound of you , looking over his shoulder to make sure it really was you. Starting to feel nervous , you swallowed anxiously while tightening your grip on the backpack straps. “I uh— well I saw—” you flushed red as you stammered.

His eyes on you this close , just a mere foot away seemed to cause more of a reaction than you thought. Beautiful even up close , the way his lashes dusted the apple of his cheeks seemed to entrance you more up close. He still held that cocky smirk though , pleased to see you had come looking after him. His reaction was practically stoic besides that , but you weren’t inside of his chest feeling the way his heart had started beating rapidly. “Yeah?” JJ drawled out , his voice teasing.

You cleared your throat as you tried speaking again. “Well you left in a hurry and I was just making sure you were okay.” You finally managed to breathe out trying your best to ignore how shaky it sounded.

You weren’t used to things like this. Feeling so worked up over a boy. Your whole demeanor had seemed to shift just slightly , and it pleased JJ to see. “Sweet little Y/N , like always.” He hummed.

You blushed at that. The name coming from JJ made your pulse quicken. “Yeah. . .” you managed to breathe. “I–I can go. I just , you know—”

“Were worried.” JJ finished for you , finding humor in the way you stumbled over words.

“Yeah.”

Silence seemed to begin to suffocate the two of you. Suddenly you felt warm , almost sweating with JJ’s eyes on you. Biting the inside of your cheek , your nervous habit , you tucked your hair away from your face. “I have to get back to my friends—”

“Okay.” Was all he said , still looking at you. Flushing red , you nodded awkwardly and slowly started moving to turn away. You silently cursed at yourself as you began to feel embarrassed.

Before you disappeared around the corner , you heard JJ’s voice once more. “Come to the Boneyard tonight. We’re throwing a party. Come.”

You hadn’t bothered turning back or even sparing another look. His words rang around in your head— the way he looked at you burned in the front of your memory , replaying the color of his eyes.

Parties weren’t your thing and they never really had been. Your parents didn’t like them much and the crowds always seemed to overwhelm you. And the idea of being at the Boneyard of all places. . .

But something in the way that your stomach bubbled and your heart hammered— told you to raid your closet and find something pretty to wear.

The night had come faster than neither you or JJ would’ve liked it to. You were a bundle of nerves. You had reapplied your lip gloss for what seemed like the hundredth time. And JJ just as equally on edge wondering if you’d even show up. As cool as he tried to play it , he knew it wasn’t cool. He wanted you there , to sneak you off somewhere to have you all to himself the way he had fantasized about. Too afraid of the chance of you not bothering to show up— though he couldn’t be too mad at you with the way he had invited you ( he wasn’t even sure you heard him ) , he hadn’t told the Pogue’s about it.

Wanting to play it safe rather than sorry.

Little did he know how determined you actually were. You picked out the prettiest thing in your closet , wanting to look your best. Paying attention to the littlest details , butterflies swirling in your stomach at the anticipation to see him. It seemed like a long time coming , anyway. Right? Your friends had noticed it before you had and at first , you weren’t sure to even bother. But JJ— JJ was different than all those other boys that tried it on with you. That’s all they seemed to be , boys. But JJ was more than that. You could tell in the way he carried himself. How closed off he was. There were things about him that nobody knew , things he had kept hidden about himself. Short sentences and broading shoulders , you knew there was more to him and your eagerness to know was foreign to you.

You had debated on calling one of your girlfriends to go with you. That’s what you had told your parents anyway. You knew they’d be furious with you if they found out where you really going , so you shrugged it off as just a get together with your girlfriends. Your excuse also allowed you to be out later than your normal curfew. Lying wasn’t something you liked to do and so you considered calling your friend— Jessie , to go with you but you didn’t feel like explaining it to her or anyone else for that matter.

Your mother allowed you to take her car and as you drove off towards The Cut , you did feel a little bad for your lie. The whole thing made you feel guilty and considered turning around and blowing the whole thing off , but the excitement you felt of seeing JJ again triumphed it.

You were a mess when you pulled up. You inwardly cursed yourself for the position you were in now. There was no way of finding JJ other than scouting through the crowds for the familiar color of his dirty blonde hair , hoping it wasn’t covered with a hat. Being by yourself made you feel open , and you fidgeted with your hands as you walked towards where everyone was— the sound of music booming on the beach helping you know where to go.

The moonlight illuminated your path just enough for your feet to hit the sand , the fire doing the rest. Your eyes flickered around to see any familiar face , but there was so many people. Red solo cups everywhere , the smell of weed making your nose crinkle. It wasn’t until now that you realized how in over your head you were.

Taking a deep breath , you gained the courage to move. You smiled at the people who glanced your way with wide eyes , not expecting to see you there. Sheepishly you waved , hoping to find someone you had at least more than one conversation with.

It took a bit of searching until you finally found someone. Pope Heyward.

He was JJ’s friend and the two of you had Chem together. Once even being partnered together. Taking a breath of relief , you politely pushed your way towards him , chewing harshly on the inside of your cheek. He hadn’t noticed you— not until you nervously approached in front of him.

When his eyes landed on you , his face went pale. He had to blink a couple of times to make sure it was really you. “Y/N?” He said your name confused , glancing around nervously. “What’re you doing here?” Pope asked but he had feeling he knew.

Pulling at your fingers you shrugged and tried to look around him to see if JJ was anywhere near. “It’s me.” You laughed lightly , flushing. “JJ invited me.”

“Oh!” He chuckled with eyes flickering around crazily. You cringed to yourself embarrassed and when Pope noticed , he quickly spoke again. “Not like a bad oh! Just a surprised oh. I didn’t think you came to things like this.” Pope explained himself.

“It’s okay , trust me I know.” You brushed it off to ease the tension between the two of you now , hoping it’d disperse. “But um— I don’t know.” You shrugged. “Wanted to see what it was like s’all.”

Pope nodded in understanding and wrapped an arm around your shoulders loosely , looking around again. He could tell you felt uncomfortable and wanted to make you feel a little better before finding JJ. “Did you come by yourself?” He asked , a bit of concern lacing his voice.

“Um , yeah.” You grimaced at how small you sounded but the look on Pope’s face made you feel a little better. “I figured I’d already know some people here and look— I found you.” You offered a grin , to which Pope gratefully returned.

“I’m sure JJ’ll be happy you’re here.” He assured you with a confirming nod.

He helped guide you through the mess of people towards the Kegs , and you spotted him. Your stomach fluttering at the sight of him. He wore his usual white t–shirt though it was a little more tighter than you were used to seeing. It hugged his biceps well and the sight made your legs feel like jelly. A backwards hat on top of his head. He was laughing giddily with John B and a couple other friends , his arm around his friend shoulders.

John B spotted the two of you first. His eyes widened just like Pope’s had and he quickly nudged JJ’s shoulder obnoxiously , pointing towards the two of you.

When JJ looked over and saw you , he couldn’t help but the accomplished smile that took over his face. His eyes scanned you slowly , not bothering to hide how he was checking you out. You were still wearing his favorite— a pretty little sundress , in the color light pink this time. He almost groaned at the sight. The night sky did you justice , drawing attention to the highlights of your face , the plumpness of your lips. He found you to be the most beautiful he had ever seen you.

“There’s no fucking way.” John B mumbled as you approached them obviously anxious as you smiled.

“What’d you know.” JJ spoke up , grinning at you. “The Kook Princess actually came.”

The name he used for you made you flush but you roll your eyes all the same. Trying to play it cool , you simply shrugged and looked around. “Thought I’d see what the hype was all about s’all.”

JJ threw his head back in laughter. Knowingly. “Of course you did. Well—” he threw his arms up and gestured towards the atmosphere. “Thoughts?”

“It’s alright.” You hummed and turned your attention towards John B who was watching the interaction with his jaw slacked open. “Hi John B.”

“H–Hey.” He stuttered in surprised. “I can’t even lie right now I’m fucking shocked to see you here , Y/N.”

Closing your eyes in a bit of frustration , you nodded slowly. “So I’ve been told. Twice.” You emphasized the word.

“Right.”

Rocking back and forth on your heels , JJ dropped his arm and walked closer to you. You looked up at him through fluttering lashes coated in mascara , the blush you wore drawing attention the way the smell of his cologne made you flush. “Want a drink?”

Looking back at the keg , you shook your head timidly. “Any water?”

“Inside.” JJ told you. Without wanting he reached down and grabbed your hand , pulling you towards you and away from Pope. “Catch you guys later.” He said , pulling you in the direction of the Chateau.

His hand in yours was like salt and ice. It burned so bad but in a way that made your breathing hitch and mind become hazy. You liked it. Ring clad fingers squeezing your own.

“I didn’t think you’d come.” JJ admitted as the two of you walked in the kitchen. You leaned against the counter and watched as he moved towards the fridge. “Didn’t think it was your scene.”

“It’s not.” You quipped. The smirk on his face making you squirm. “Like I said , I was curious.”

JJ chuckled and walked towards you again. Just like in the hallway , his attention attentively on you as you shifted foot to foot. Handing you the water bottle you reached for it , fingers grazing his making you gasp lightly. Blushing you cleared your throat. “Cold.”

Your reaction to him made his chest feel big. The way you were squirming around trying to act all confident when JJ knew you weren’t. Humming to himself , he stepped towards you closer. One arm leaning on the counter your back was using , the other reaching out to touch your necklace. Your breathing hitched once again , caught in your throat as his hands danced on your skin lightly. Barely touching but just enough to make you feel it.

“You look pretty.”

The sentence was simple and sweet. Something you had heard a thousand times before. But hearing it come from JJ made you feel different. It made your stomach bubble and the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. You hadn’t even noticed how hot the tips of your ears were starting to get. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You almost laughed how the situation mirrored the one from this morning. Cocking your head to the side , you decided to speak up again. “Do you like me?” The question slipped before you meant it to and you instantly regretted it. JJ’s face didn’t falter though , instead his face only looked amused.

“Why do you ask?” He was teasing you now. His tone of voice showing it off.

“Well— well because! My friends always catch you looking at me in school and sometimes when I’m in the library it looks like you’re going to talk to me but you never do and— and you invited me here.” You squeezed your eyes shut in pure embarrassment. Your cheeks were surely flamed red and you were positive you sounded like an idiot.

JJ softened at your expression.

“You’re right.” He started watching as you slowly peeled your eyes open to look at him. “I do all those things and I do it because—” pausing he tried to figure out what to say. JJ did like you , alot. But you were fragile and delicate , the prettiest flower out of a whole entire garden. And as much as he wanted to pick you and keep you forever , he couldn’t stand to be the reason you wilted. For the first time that JJ could ever remember , he didn’t want to hurt you. “I like you , Y/N—” his words barely above a whisper.

“But. . .” you guessed.

“But you’re you and I’m me. You’re everything good in this world and I don’t want to go corrupt that.” Selfishly he did , but he wouldn’t— couldn’t , be selfish when it came to you.

You paused to look at him. Searching his face for any sign of anything other than him being truthful. You were quick to find that there was nothing there. He was being genuine and your heart lurched at that , speeding up like crazy. You knew it was insane. The idea of you and him. You knew he was violent , and a player and just the type of boy your mother always told you to stay away from.

Shamefully , you weren’t strong enough to walk despite all the facts spelled out in front of you.

“I like you , too.” You said carefully. Studying him as you spoke. He hung on to every word , absentmindedly leaning in a bit closer each second. “That’s enough for now.”

Your words made his eyes flutter closed. His forehead leaned against yours as you felt every sense in your body overload. Goosebumps rising.

“For now.” He let out breathily.

It would be enough. For now.

[beenbaanbuun]

Ateez with an s/o who's always a little horny right after waking up. That's it. That's the thought.

(This totally doesn't come from the fact that I'm like that and wake up constantly wishing yunho's fingers or mingi's head were between my thighs)

~lyra

OKAY SO THIS?!?!?!? IMMACULATE IDEA!!

(warning for smut and somnophilia but i feel like that’s obvious)

seonghwa

okay so i’m of the opinion that seonghwa will do anything to keep the love of his life happy

if that means letting you grind on his thighs when you wake up first thing in a morning, then so be it!

like i can imagine him waking up to your moans one morning, all bleary eyes and confused while you try your hardest to push yourself to an orgasm

he watches through his lashes for a second while he decides what to do because he’s still tired but he can’t leave his love to suffer!

“just use my thigh, darling,” he mutters eventually, voice still a little scratchy, “i cant sleep with you squirming about like that.”

you’re a little confused, but seonghwa just pulls you closer and slides a thigh between yours

“there you go,” he says as you grind down, “now go crazy, darling.”

hongjoong

hongjoong strikes me as someone who likes to use toys in the bedroom (idk why, he just gives me those vibes)

like he collects them like pokémon cards and just keeps them in one of his drawers for when the opportunity strikes

and it does strike when he wakes up one morning to you moaning and squirming in your sleep

he takes him time picking a toy out before shaking you awake and dangling in front of your tired eyes

“you want this, baby?” he watches as you sleepily nod, “ask for it like a good girl.”

and even though your voice is slurred with sleep and your eyes are already fluttering closed again, you can’t help but quietly beg for what hongjoong is offering

yunho

oh you’re so right about yunho’s fingers - i am a huge fan of them personally and i think he definitely gets off on seeing his partner fall apart on them

so when you have a conversation with him about always being horny when you first wake up, a million ideas flood his brain

“what if i woke you up by making you cum?” he asks as if it’s the most casual thing in the world, “y’know, play with you a little to get rid of that tension.”

you’re practically squirming in your seat at the idea, and of course yunho can tell

so the next time you sleep over, he puts it to the test and begins to play with your clit first think when he wakes up

and by the time you even wake up, he already has two fingers stuffed deep inside of you fucking you mercilessly as he pushes you closer to the edge

yeosang

yeosang would be so nonchalant about it but in the best way possible

like it’s kind of hot when you nudge him awake, a whine climbing up your throat as you struggle to make yourself cum with your fingers

he just grunts at you tiredly and pats his lap for you to climb on, which you do in a heartbeat

“you can ride me if you want,” he says with his eyes still closed, “i’d fuck you but i’m too tired right now.”

and you’re kind of too tired as well, but the horniness outweighs it and you power through the ache in your bones as you work to get him hard before sliding down onto his cock

and the moment you’ve finished he’s wrapping you in his arms and pulling you to his chest

“10 more minutes and then we’ll get up.”

san

if you don’t think san is doing everything in his power to make his lover happy then i’m afraid you’re incorrect

so when he finds out about your little morning horniness problem, he’s obviously filled with sympathy and compassion (and horniness…)

“you can wake me up, you know,” he shrugs, trying to seem chill about it, “or just use my body, or some shit. i don’t mind, babe.”

and of course you take him up on his offer; you use any part of his body you can think of

his thigh, his bicep, his abs - it’s all on the table for you, and it’s so good every single time

and when he wakes up to see you already a moaning mess, grinding on the muscles he’s worked so hard on, it’s safe to say you’ll have to prepare yourself for round two… and three

mingi

i’ve said it a million times before but this man has an oral fixation and you know i’m right!!!!

so obviously when you complain about how much you hate waking up horny all the time, it’s like christmas has come early for him

“do you want me to sort that for you?” he perks up, eyes glistening like you’ve just given him the moon, “i can sort that for you…”

and of course you agree because you’re so sick and tired of always having to wank first thing in the morning!!

but what you don’t know is that the alternative mingi is suggesting is you waking up to him mouthing at your core like a starving animal each and every morning

you cant complain when he does the job so well though

he always makes you cum at least three times before pulling away and shoving his dick inside of you to solve his own morning wood problem…

wooyoung

again, i’ve said it a million times before but he’s such an evil little shit!!!!

like i can imagine him waking up pretty early in the morning, only to hear the sweet sound of your moans echoing through the room

he turns to you with an amused grin, watching you way your face screws up as you desperately paw at your clit

“want some help?” you nod desperately, “you’ll have to say sorry for waking me up first. i couldn’t sleep with you being so loud!”

and if you weren’t so desperate you wouldn’t even considered it for a millisecond, but you’re right on the edge and you just need one more thing to push you over the edge so…

“m’sorry, youngie,” you say with a sleepy voice, “please make me cum.”

and how can he say no when you ask so nicely??

jongho

jongho is another little devil who i think takes great pride in teasing you for being so horny

“you want me to fuck you while you’re still asleep?” he cocks an eyebrow at you when you first bring it up, “you really can’t get enough of me, can you honeybun?”

and you can’t help but roll your eyes at him, even though he’s right; you really can’t get enough of him…

the next morning you wake up to jongho’s moans in your ear and a heavy cock spreading you open and fucking into you

“g’morning,” he grunts into your ear, “didn’t think you’d be asleep for so long but i guess you’re a slut even in your dreams.”

the both of you finish pretty soon after you wake up, and the moment you do, jongho goes back to being his usual teddy bear self

literally has you pinned to his chest and his soft cock still inside you for pretty much the rest of the morning

[sickeninglyshoujo]

a/n: continually obsessed w/ cod dads, here's price

part 1: simon here

part 3: soap here

part 4: gaz here

masterlist here

warnings: pregnancy

word count: 1.7k

buy me a ko-fi

Price was afraid to have babies with you because of the age difference and you rolled your eyes every time he talked about being an old man and how a pretty young thing like you shouldn’t be dating him much less trying to get knocked up by someone his age. As if he’d let you even entertain the thought of leaving him for a young buck who couldn’t spoil you like you deserved.

Throughout your pregnancy he treated you like fine China, afraid he’d say the wrong thing and make you cry. He’s heard about women’s hormones during pregnancy even as you remained rock solid, rolling your eyes when he’d ‘yes dear’ you.

You tried to kick him out of the bathroom when morning sickness hit and he refused. Instead sitting on the tub next to you, petting your back as you leaned into the toilet and tried to soothe you, telling you how strong you were and how beautiful you were carrying his baby even with sick bubbling up your throat at the slightest movement “I thought morning sickness was only supposed to be in the morning,” you moaned with your forehead pressed against the cool floor tile. “It’’s a misnomer, love,” John said, removing himself from his perch on the tub to wet a cool washcloth and wipe down your face.

He wishes this phase was over, hates seeing you in pain like this.

That changes once the baby’s born then he’s ready to do it all over again. He didn’t know how attached he’s gotten to helping you do the things you couldn’t because of your belly  like putting on your shoes (looking up at your belly reverently the entire time before planting a kiss on it) for you and helping you pick things off the floor that your clumsy fingers dropped. He grew a particular affection for helping you rub shea butter and vitamin E oil over your rapidly appearing stretch marks.

Price insists on building the nursery furniture without reading the directions, “Know what I’m doin’ woman,” and to your chagrin he was right. Managed everything without a set of directions perched on his knee and instead chucked them to the side with the box.

The first thing he built was the fancy rocking chair he bought for you, insisting you don’t help him with anything “At least let me hold the screws John, I feel stupid just sitting here!”

To him, peace is this. This is what so many long nights holed up in some shithole on a mission have led to. Him sitting on the floor at your feet, building a life together while oldies play on the record player in the next room. He’s so overwhelmed in the moment he can’t help but pull your hand to his lips and kiss it and laughs at you when you ask him what’s wrong

“It’s all right, is the thing, love.”

When you get the first ultrasound, he stops at the store on the way home and purchased a picture frame (insisting you stay in the car and not overexert yourself, he’ll just be a moment, love). The next day he’s on base it now proudly sits facing him next to the photo of him and you vacationing in London with your faces squeezed together in the frame, selfie-style.

Tells anyone who enters his office about you and how far along you are, whether they ask or not, comparing the baby to different sized fruits, which parts were developing that week.

“She’s the size of a lime now, tiny little thing.”

“Can you imagine that she’s growing fingernails in my bird’s belly!”

Absolutely rubbed your swollen ankles in the evenings when he got home from work, peppering gentle kisses on them when he switched feet

Loved your pregnancy brain fog and would kiss your nose any time he got to remind you about something. He became the keeper of your calendar, scheduling your appointments and taking you to them.

When you go into labor, he’s on base in a meeting with some high-brass in a meeting on a highly classified matter. He’s not even allowed to bring his phone into the room. Instead having to turn it off and lock it in a safe prior to entering even with a baby on the way. He was aware this might happen and had instructed you on the line of succession.

“If you can’t get ahold of me, leave me a message lovie, then go down the line. Simon’s second-in–command-”

“Then Kyle, then Johnny, I know, John, you’ve drilled it into my head,” You soothe him, petting the creases he’s worn between his eyebrows, “It’ll be just fine, women have been doing it for thousands of years.”

“I’ll be there, I promise lovie,” He kisses your palm

You leave the message on John’s voicemail, a curt, “It’s time John, once I hang-up I’m dialing Simon, just like we practiced.”

Simon answers on the third ring, “Missus?” His rumbly voice cuts across the line.

“It’s time Simon and John’s still in the meeting since his phone is turned off.”

“Copy.”

The line goes dead leaving you blinking at the Call Ended screen.

You decide that Simon is aware of the drastic nature of the matter and instead busy yourself, you lug the baby bag and your purse to the floor next to the door and go through the checklist John had created in the front pocket: Stove off, windows shut and locked, televisions off…It wasn’t until Simon was letting himself into your front door that the list was likely a distraction from your husband to stop you from leaving on your own until Simon arrived.

Simon collects you with the cool confidence of a Lieutenant in the special forces.

No, don’t worry about the bags or the door, he’s got it, just get yourself into the car.

You try John’s number over and over on the way to the hospital, narrating Simon’s driving, “John, I’m going to have words with you when this is over, I cannot believe you let your pregnant wife in a car with what has to be the worst driver in all of Manchester!”

Before you know it, you’re being rushed into the hospital with Ghost snapping at the nurse at the desk for a wheelchair, NOW! He barks out orders in true military fashion leaving your head buried in your hands as you’re being escorted to the maternity ward.

“Now don’t worry, Sir, your wife is in excellent hands,” one of the nurses addresses Simon, all muscle pushing you in the wheelchair, unblinking and matching their pace.

“He’s not-” You try and interject.

“She better be,” Simon cuts you off, “And the labor will be handled with the utmost care or someone will have to answer to me personally.”

The contractions have started coming back to back and you’re pacing the hospital room, sucking on ice chips fed to you by a patient Simon.

Kyle and Johnny have also arrived and join him in his vigil, somehow maneuvering their way through the “Father and family only” policy the hospital has.

“She was adopted,” You later find out Kyle deadpanned at the security trying to stop him from entering the room, “Can’t you see the family resemblance?”

True to his word, John is there.

He’s rushed into the room, frazzled and running his hand over his beard, eyes darting until he finds you, “Hey sweet girl, I’m here, I’m here,” pointedly ignoring the nurse trying to count out the men in the room

(“Who are these men to you again miss?”)

(“I’m the father,” Gaz informs, flipping through a magazine to pass the time between bursts of activity with contractions.)

You moan out John’s name slapping at his chest weekly when he gathers you up into his arms and hugs you, “I’m mad at you John!”

“Don’t be mad, love, I made it just like I promised,” He tries to soothe you, smoothing his hands over your disheveled hair. “Not about being late, about getting me pregnant!” “It’s a bit late for that now, love,” He does his best to hide the smile twitching into place under his mustache. 

The boys remain in the room for the entire labor, John holding one hand and the other men trading off when your grip became too strong (“Dinnae know the lass could break my bones with just one hand,” Johnny moans shaking out his aching appendage.)

When the baby finally arrives, the doctor again looks around at the men in the room, “Would…Dad like to hold her?”

John finally extracts himself from your bruising grip to hold your daughter, eyes twinkling with joy at seeing the bundle covered in blood and viscera. Such a difference from every other time he’d been covered in the blood, these are stains he’ll gladly wear.

#1 baby wearer captain price

“I hardly get to hug you anymore because she’s always strapped to you!”

Price’s eyebrows go up at that, “Are you jealous, love?

 “Not jealous, but I miss my husband's arms around me!” When you say that with a slight pout in your voice, Price is quick to arrange Uncle Soap and Gaz so he can wine and dine you like old times. 

You make sure to wag your finger enough at the boys and remind them they’re there to babysit, not throw a rager and rile up the baby, even though you know your warnings are falling onto deaf ears. You wholeheartedly expect to return home to a cranky and overtired baby and two military men.

“Can’t neglect either of my girls” he’d mutter into your hair after pulling you close after dinner, holding you to his chest tightly in the middle of the sidewalk 

“You never do, John, you’re the best man I could’ve hoped for,” You muttered into his chest, “Never did I think I’d get someone so in love with me and our child.”

Will regularly fall asleep with the baby curled on his chest, boonie hat pulled down over his eyes, with your daughter also lulled to sleep by his steady breaths. You can’t help but take a photo every time it happens, so smitten with how your husband enjoys his quiet days on leave.

You can’t help but send the photo to the boys, having the group chat with them immediately blown up with emojis sent by Soap, laughing at the Captain’s prone form.

As a joke the photo ends up framed on Price’s desk, next to the ultrasound. Price actually enjoys having it to remind him of the peace he has waiting at home and the joke is ruined when the photo remains in it’s place of honor.

[kissitbttr]

can u please do one where Eddie asks to sucks on ur titties, and he super shy about it because ur his first girlfriend but u ofc let him and I think it’s absolutely adorable

BIG YESSSS oh mannn, he’d get so tittydrunk!! also i changed it up a little bit towards the end <3

-

eddie has seen tits before. not in real life, though. he’s seen them in magazines and home videos and he thinks they’re absolutely divine.

growing up, he never experienced what dating is like nor sex. he never even had a girlfriend before! does it bother him? not really, but it’d be such a blessing if he was gifted with a woman of his dreams. someone like debbie harry or cindy crawford. yeah, he was pretty unrealistic about that one. i mean, don’t all teenage boys?

and that’s when you happened. soft, girly looking princess who stole his heart with your gorgeous smile and rockin’ body. he admits he was a little shallow at first, but how could he not when he sees you dressing up in small clothings that shows the shape of your perfect tits? he’d drool.

eddie, just like any other hormonal teenager, has dirty thoughts that consumed his brain. but he never really acts on them, seemingly afraid that he’d do something wrong or make you feel grossed. he doesn’t want that.

but god, does he want so badly to touch and suck on your tits. just imagining his hands wrapped around the soft flesh makes his cock twitches.

“you okay there, eds?”

a soft voice pulls him out of the train of thoughts. he blinks rapidly and find your eyes looking at him in concerned. you’re sitting beside him, with legs tucked under your butt and his eyes casts down to see your thick thighs hugged perfectly by the grey cotton shorts.

he’s definitely not looking at your tits too right now. definitely. not

“hm? oh, y-yeah” he chuckles nervously, gliding his sweaty palms against his jeans. is your room always been this hot?

“you sure? you look a little red” as you lean over towards him to brush the sweat coating his forehead, he tenses. maybe it’s because your chest is now pressing against his arm. “did i do something?”

“n-no! you didn’t do anything wrong, princess. it’s just that-“ he pauses to glance down at your tits, gulping at the sight of them almost spilling out of your cami top. “you’re distracting. that’s all?”

raising an eyebrow, you crossed your arms. which isn’t helping the case because your tits only pop out more. “how am i distracting?” he doesn’t give you an answer, only to eye at your chest once again and that’s when you realize,

“are you kidding me? my tits?! that’s why you’ve been acting weird?”

“what? I’m a guy! tits and ass make me hard! and yours are…” he trails off, tilting his head. “perfect—shit I’m sorry, i don’t know why I’m acting like this”

his tinted cheeks just make him ten times more cuter. like a kid getting caught hiding an adult magazine under his bed

“you know, just because you’re a virgin that doesn’t give you the right to be a perv” he knows you’re joking but he can’t help to blush when you say that,

“i’m not a perv! and god—you promised you’d stop making fun of me about that!” he pouts, brows tipping in as he watches his girlfriend laughs,

“i’m kidding” you give him a peck on his cheekbone, staring at the adorable boy who’s blushing like crazy as he looks at you, then a sudden question pops in his mind,

“c-can i… touch them?”

“what?”

“you know—uhm, c-can i feel…your tits?” he points at your chest, voice grows quite and shy when he asks the question. looking over to you hesitatingly as he plays with his fingers. a habit of his when he’s nervous,

“you want to play with them?” a smirk plays on your lips, toying with the material of your top, “fondle a little and make a mess on my tits, baby?”

“god don’t say it like that. it sounds dirty” he rubs his face vigorously with his hands. also to hide the blush on his cheeks so you won’t have to see. “but y-yeah. can i ?”

“you’re so cute. asking for my consent and all. such a good boyfriend” you giggle, and his lips stretch into a smile when you say that. he likes being complimented that way. means that he’s doing a great job and hasn’t done anything to make you feel weird around him,

“of course you can. thought you’d never asked” you shift yourself into a much more comfortable position,

“really? that’s—oh shit—“ he gets interrupted by you plopping down on his lap, legs kneeling beside his. hands going over around your waist to keep your body steady. “okay uhm—wow—princess, god, you’re very close to me.”

your breasts are now at his eye level and dangerously close to them. wouldn’t be surprised if his nose brushes against them.

he feels goosebumps arise on his skin when your hands making their way towards his neck, tugging on his hair to get him to look up. he whines at the sudden contact,

“you can play, eddie—besides” you halt your sentences by giving him a soft kiss. “they belong to you, anyways. right?”

eddie feels a sense of pride inside of him when you mentioned that. confidence grows knowing he’s the only person that gets to feel and see your tits. one lucky motherfucker, that he is.

“y-yeah. fuck yes” he replies almost too shyly. watching you drag the straps down to your shoulders. enough to make your tits bounce free from the material.

eddie’s cock just turns painfully hard.

“they’re so—pretty” he breathes out, eyes locked on your breasts. hypnotized by the fullness of them and perky nipples just begging to be touched by him.

slowly, his shaky hands come up to rest them on your chest. a sigh of relief leaves his mouth when your nipples graze against his palms. he gives them a squeeze, cursing under his breathe by the softness of it,

“you like em?” you tuck a hair behind your ear. looking down at his hands. “how do they feel?”

“fucking amazing” he responds clearly amazed he’s too far gone now and refuses to look at you. “god, baby—they’re so” his hands give another squeeze. “soft and plushy—do they lactate?”

“jesus, eddie. I’m not pregnant.”

“you’d look hot if you were” he mumbles, hoping you don’t hear that but you manage to catch it,

“i’m still in high school dumbass. don’t even think about trying to knock me up” you swat his chest with the back of your hand, making him giggle childishly.

“after graduation then.” he shrugs playfully and he could sense you sending him a glare but chooses to ignore that,

his thumbs slowly drawing circles around the hardened nipples making you moan softly, and hearing it almost makes him cream his pants. eddie thinks you create the prettiest moans ever. plus, it’s an extreme ego boost for him.

“you do know how to make a man weak on his knees, sweetheart”. his voice grows cockier the minute you become putty in his hands. “fucking perfect.”

he’s in a trance at the sight of you. pupils dilating at your body arching back a bit with hands on your thighs. teeth sinking into your bottom lip and eyes screwed shut. making it impossible for him to stop playing with your breasts.

you’re looking like a proper dream to him,

“can i suck on them?”

you chuckle before nodding. “again with the questions? you should know the answers by now.”

“just making sure I’m not crossing any boundaries. trying to be a gentleman here.”

“stop with all the modesty. you literally have your hands on my boobs” with an eye roll, you push yourself back towards his chest. hands link around the nape of his neck. “need a little push maybe?”

he’s about to ask what you mean by that, only to be answered with your hips slowly rolling against his hard cock over the jeans. “jesus christ, y/n—“

“come on, now” you nod your head towards your chest. “do what you gotta do.”

in instant, his mouth is wrapped around your pebbled nipple. you yelp in surprise then giggle after seeing him like that, his hand flies to your ass and pull you close.

“easy, cowboy—i’m not going anywhere”

he can’t focus. you feel so good and soft inside his mouth. tongue messing around the nipple, painting it with his spit. suckling on the soft flesh like a baby with his eyes shut, his other hand moves to give a rough squeeze on your other breast.

“fuck i love them so much” he moans, leaving wet kisses on them. teeth dragging over the skin to mark you. “you have the prettiest of em all, sweetheart—i swear.”

he’s lost in them. truly hooked. and you thought to yourself that he could be just saying that because your tits are the only ones he has ever seen. when he knows for sure, that the others are nothing compared to yours.

“aw look at that. my baby is hooked” you coo at him, who’s resting his cheek on your body with his mouth still not letting go. his soft brown curls tickling the valley of your breasts. “enjoying yourself, my pretty boy?”

you pat his cheek to get him to respond, which he only hums instead while continuously flicking your nipple with his tongue. never wanting to stop. but he can’t stop the fluttery feeling in his stomach when you call him ‘pretty’.

circling your hips just a little harder now, you bury your hands in his hair. massaging the scalp that guarantees another moan from him. sending the vibrations down to your spine and straight to your core. he pinches your nipple between his thumb and fore finger, rolling it ever so gently. brown eyes snap open to see how you doing. smiling to himself when your jaw hangs open in pleasure.

“i have an idea.” your hands turn to grip on his shoulders, giving a firm squeeze before pulling his mouth off of you, making him whine. “how about i teach you how to fuck my tits now, eds?”

he has never felt more excited in his life.

[strang3lov3]

Troublemaker (Brain Scramblies 2)

Joel Miller x Fem! Reader

Summary: Joel is bad at feelings and distances himself from you after your concussion, and faces his feelings on patrol with you.

Warnings: Smut smut smut of all varieties, so like oral m and f receiving, PIV. Ya know the drill!!! 18+ MDNI! Joel is bad at feelings. Kind of slow burn, asshole Joel. Very sweet sex! Age gap oops

Word Count: 4.9k

A/N: SURPRISE MOTHAFUCKAS!!!! BRAIN SCRAMBLIES 2 AT 10PM ON WEDNESDAY NIGHT!! My bf recently informed me you’re not supposed to sleep when you have a concussion so my bad guys sorry for giving you all brain damage that's on me ALSO THANKS FOR ALL THE LOVE ON BRAIN SCRAMBLIES! Here’s part two for all who asked!! Like brain scramblies, I don't love this but there was an overwhelming demand for part two and I was concerned for y'alls sanity. Also I changed the title again oops.

Read the first story here! It can be read as a standalone but I highly recommend reading Brain Scramblies first!

Please please please comment and reblog if you enjoy!

Joel ended up falling asleep with you. He woke up early and quietly excused himself from your bed. God, how pretty you looked sound asleep. With your puffy lips and quiet snoring. The way your hair fell across your face. He pushed your hair away from your eyes and left. 

Stupid. So fucking stupid. 

You didn’t mean any of it, any of what happened last night. Joel was a fool for indulging in your concussed words and letting himself believe any of it was real. He placed too much meaning on last night. 

He’d need to work hard to erase the way you made him feel. He needs to forget how he loved taking care of you, how he wants to be the one to make you feel better after a long day or when you’re sick. How he wants to spend all of his time making you smile. He needs to erase all of his love and adoration for you. 

In the morning, Tommy took you to the doctor. Your head was still sore and pounding slightly, but the doctor assured you that with a week’s worth of rest, you’d be back to normal. Honestly, you’d be better in a day or two but it’s best to take it easy for a while longer, just in case. 

You were in the waiting room while the doctor prepared some medicine for you. Some tea to help with the headaches and nausea, and some pain meds. Tommy was sitting right next to you. 

“Feelin’ alright, honey?” he asked you. 

“Yeah, I’m okay. Hurting a little but I’ll be fine,” you replied. Your head was still tender, and likely would be for a while. 

“Up for dinner on Friday? As long as you’re feeling okay, of course,”

“Yeah, yeah. Only if Maria is cooking, of course,” you teased him. Tommy wasn’t a great cook, unfortunately. 

Tommy chuckled. “Well, that’s a given. Joel will be there too. You remember him taking you home last night?”

You shook your head. “I thought you and Maria took me home. It was Joel?” Your memories were fuzzier than you realized. 

Tommy’s lips curled in a sly smirk. “Yeah, no. It was Joel. You don’t remember anything you said to him?” You shook your head again. “Well, you were flirtin’ pretty hardcore.”

Your cheeks burned and flushed. “No,” you groaned, burying your face in your palms. 

“Oh, yes. Called him handsome left and right. Never seen him so bashful before. He was pink as a flamingo, honey,” he said. “Course, that was only at the bar. He didn’t tell me if you said anything else about your little crush when he took you home.”

“No, no. You’re lying, Tommy,” you whined. This cannot be fucking happening. What did you do? 

Tommy shook his head. “It’s the truth, I’m afraid,”

You were embarrassed. Actually, you were way past embarrassed. Mortified. Humiliated. 

Tommy could see what you were thinking, the excuses you were making up in your head. “Don’t you think about canceling dinner, now. Maria’s making your favorite pot roast, with all those carrots and potatoes,”

Your eyes were pleading with his, his own twinkling with amusement. You opened your mouth to speak, but the doctor interrupted. 

“Alright, now. Tea is for the nausea and headaches, it can be a little bitter so I’d suggest adding some honey. These pain meds will help with the throbbing,” he said. He instructed Tommy to keep an eye on you, make sure you’re hanging in there. 

You both thanked the doctor and left the infirmary then. Tommy relented his teasing, seeing as how you were so close to combusting in embarrassment. 

The week passes slowly. It’s boring, so fucking boring. You do puzzles, read your favorite books, work on your blanket you’ve been knitting. Sip your tea. And each day, all you can think about is Joel. What you said to him, what you don’t know you said to him. 

It’s Friday. Tonight’s the night you’ve been dreading all week. As you make your way to Tommy and Maria’s home, you go over your plan in your head. Just be polite, like always. Apologize to Joel and make nice. Then go home, and the next time you’re on patrol with Joel it will all be back to normal. Right?

No. Not right. 

“Hi,” you say to Joel. Tommy’s setting the table, Maria is putting the finishing touches on her meal. 

Joel only grunts in response, never once meeting your eyes. You might as well have said hi to a brick wall or a houseplant. 

“How’s your week been?” 

“Fine,” he grumbles. “Your head, uh, feelin’ any better?” He speaks like he’s in pain, like each word stings and aches as it rolls off of his tongue. 

“Yeah. It’s better, mostly. Tommy said you walked me home, and I guess–”

Joel cut you off. “Dinner’s ready,” 

Wow. So it’s like that. 

You sit next to Joel at the table, who never once speaks to you the entire meal, save for a “Pass the potatoes, please,” or “I need the gravy,” here and there. You’d never experienced such an awkward dinner before. And Joel was never your biggest fan, but he had never been so rude and short with you before. You felt it was a little undeserved, given you had no control over the situation last week.

Luckily, Tommy and Maria fill the air with conversation to make up for Joel’s shitty and impersonal attitude. Within a few hours, dinner is over. Tommy begins clearing the table as you and Joel get dressed to leave. You bid all of them goodbye, and then leave. Dinner didn’t go the way you planned, but nothing ever does. At least it was finally over. 

“Walk her home, Joel,” Maria says sternly, watching you through the window. “Come on. It’s the least you can do after icing her out all evening.” “She’s fine. Concussion healed.”

“Don’t care, brother,” Tommy interjects. “Walk her home, or you’re cleaning the stables for the next six months. Go. Think y’all have some stuff to talk about, anyway.”

“This is ridiculous,” Joel mumbles as Tommy and Maria both hug him goodbye. But he does it anyway.

He meets you a little ways away from their home, the crunch of leaves under his footsteps startling you. “Let’s move. I’m walkin’ you home again,” he says. 

“Oh, that’s nice of you,” you reply, surprised. No doubt Tommy and Maria forced him into this. 

Joel says nothing. He’s silent the entire walk home, silent as he leaves you on your porch. 

You’re in disbelief. You were expecting to maybe laugh a bit over the situation last week, but not this. Who knew Joel hated being flirted with so much? He takes quick steps, never once looking back to make sure you make it inside your home okay. 

Fuck it.

“Joel,” you call out. “Come here.”

Joel turns around, eyeing you with a frown. “What do you want now? You’re home.” 

“Come here.” your voice is stern and demanding.

He rolls his eyes and shakes his head, true to dramatic Joel fashion. When he steps up onto your porch and stands in front of you, he stares at you with a blank expression, his eyes are cold. “What,” he says flatly. No trouble at the end of his sentence, like he usually calls you. It stings.

“What happened last week? When you walked me home, after my concussion.”

“Nothin’. Nothin’ happened,” 

“Are you sure? Because Tommy said I was flirting with you at the bar, and I don’t know if I said something rude or what but I…” you trail off. “I don’t know. I just want to know what happened.”

Joel sighs deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You didn’t say anything rude,” 

“Then what? What did I say?”

“It doesn’t matter,” 

“Then tell me,” 

“I said it doesn’t matter,” 

“It matters to me,”

Joel steps away from you, sitting on one of your chairs. He won’t look at your face. “Fine,” he says gruffly. “You called me handsome.” 

“Tommy told me,” you say quietly, your voice is small. “Listen-”

“About a million times, actually. It’s all you could say for a minute there,” His tone is beginning to soften, but he’s still grumpy and bothered. “Gave me a nickname, too.” “I did?” 

“You did,” 

“What was it?” you step closer to him, taking a seat in the chair next to where he’s sitting.

“Joelie,” he says. “You called me Joelie.” 

“Joelie, huh?” you mumble, half to Joel, half to yourself. “Was that all?”

Joel is looking off into the distance, the cool air is biting at his ears and nose. “No, there was a little more,”

“Are you gonna tell me?”

“No, I don’t think so. No reason to,” he pauses for a second, remembering. “I’ve got a fuckin’ bone to pick with you, though.”

“Clearly,” you reply with a sarcastic tone. “What’d I do, other than call you handsome?”

“You fuckin’ pinched me. Again,” he turns to face you. “You have a real problem keepin’ your hands to yourself, you know that?” he scolds you angrily.

You can’t help the giggle that escapes your lips. “You probably deserved it! You always do, you’re such a dick,” 

Joel scoffs, it’s almost a chuckle. “Maybe. I wasn’t actin’ like a dick that night, though. Not enough to warrant you pinchin’ me,”

You’re puzzled. Why else would you pinch Joel, if not as a punishment for acting like an asshole? “Then why did I pinch you?”

Joel turns red then. Like, really blushes. His ears and cheeks are bright and rosy. He’s flamingo pink, just like Tommy said. 

“Why, Joel?”

“You said I have an ass like a uh…a peach,” he whispers. “And then you–”

It’s your turn to blush now. “No,” you interrupt. “I didn’t. Joel, tell me I didn’t pinch your ass.”

He nods, silently. 

“I am so fucking sorry, Joel,” you apologize frantically. You were a fucking menace!! “Please. That was so inappropriate.”

“It’s fine, trouble. Was kinda cute, actually. You said I have eyes like coffee beans too. Never heard that one before,”

Trouble. 

“And that’s all?”

“You said you’ve got this great, big, humongous, gigantic crush on me,” he says through a sigh, his tone is defeated. Sarcastic, even. “That was really it, though.”

He doesn’t mention all the times you asked him to fuck you. He’s not a sadist, you’re embarrassed enough already. In fact, you’re so embarrassed and in your own head that you don’t even pick up on the sadness in his voice. 

You open your mouth to apologize, to explain. Joel speaks first. 

“Don’t worry about it. I know you didn’t mean any of it,”

And then he sits up, making his way to step down off of your porch. He turns to you one more time before leaving, you can’t place his expression. He looks almost sullen, almost heartbroken. 

“Goodnight, trouble.” 

He leaves. Once again, you weaseled your way too close to his heart.

And that’s the last you really speak to Joel.

You’re not on patrol with Joel very often, but he’s even quieter when you are paired up. Not in the rude kind of way like at dinner, but in a sheepish sort of way. Like he’s embarrassed, or sad, or feels nervous to speak to you. The confident, cocky Joel is long gone. He rejects all of your attempts at conversation, and it leaves you heartbroken and baffled. 

If only he knew how you felt about him. If only he’d let you speak. 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

It’s a chilly and rainy fall day, you and Joel are holed up in an old home on patrol together. It’s been maybe a month, a month and a half since that night on your porch.

He’s not really speaking to you, except to give you instructions here and there. You’re getting sick of his attitude. So standoffish and cold.

You wonder what went wrong that night. He was never all that friendly with you, but he was never like this. He looked right past you, like you were a phantom. Not really there.

You’re knitting your blanket, sitting on a window seat. The rain is pitter pattering against the glass. Joel is stoking the flames in the fireplace. The only sounds are the clicks of your knitting needles and the crackle of the fire. There’s a tupperware of snickerdoodles you brought for him, sitting untouched. It was your olive branch. He didn’t even thank you for them.

“What do you think of my blanket?” You hold the blanket up for him, various shades of green yarn arranged in a rippling pattern. 

Joel takes a quick glance, barely even looking, then grumbles something. 

“Joel? I didn’t hear you,”

“I said it’s fine,” he snaps at you.

You sigh, knitting your blanket furiously. What a fucking dick. “You know what? You don’t have to be such a fucking asshole all the time, you know that?”

“Fuck are you talkin’ about?”

“I said that you don’t have to be an asshole all the time,” you spit.

“I’m not–”

“You are. And I don’t even know why!” you laugh wryly. “All you do is fucking ignore me. And I don’t get it, Joel. I don’t know why I even try with you.”

Joel tries to speak, but you don’t let him. 

“I get it, okay? I made you uncomfortable when I called you handsome and pinched your ass and everything that night. I’m sorry,”

Joel is still stoking the fire, giving you no attention.

“I’m serious. I had a fucking brain injury, I had no control over my actions or my words. And I’m sorry,”

Joel’s not listening to your words. He’s so in his own head, he’s not absorbing any of it. All he hears you say is “I didn’t mean anything I said, I don’t feel anything towards you,” Rub it in some more, why don’t you? I’m not in love with you and I don’t think you have nice eyes like I said.

“I do have a little crush on you, okay? You do have nice eyes and a nice nose, and you’re the most handsome man I’ve met in my life. But it doesn’t give you the right to act like this,” you snapped. “I know it made you uncomfortable because I’m too young for you or whatever, so I want you to know I am sorry. Genuinely. Can you please drop the dickhead act now?”

Joel freezes, thrown off.

“Joel,” you demand. 

“Say that again,” he says. He’s looking at you finally.

“I’m sorry,” 

“No, not that,” he waves his hand. “About my nose.”

“I like your nose,”

Joel never liked his nose. But you do. The strong shape, the freckles and scars. It fits him perfectly. “You mean that?”

“Of course. Why else would I say it?” you say bitterly. God, he is so far up his own ass you wonder if he even knows what the sun looks like.

“Why?” he asks you, a smile is threatening to curl his lips upward. 

“The shape, I don’t know. Your freckles,” you say through a sigh. “That’s what you’re getting from this? Can you please just let me apologize for harassing you?”

“No,” he responds. “Tell me more. About my eyes, again.” Joel stands up now, looking at you from a few feet away.

You shake your head. Haven’t you embarrassed yourself enough for him? “Why? Thought I told you they look like coffee beans,”

“Humor me,” he says, his voice low, stepping toward you now. Your heartbeat picks up its pace as he considers his next move. He sits next to you at the window seat. He’s so in love, melting into a puddle before you. God, the way you’ve ruined him.  

“You have nice eyes. Dark and deep. I like the way they shine amber in the sun,” you whisper. You can’t help the growing smile on your face, the same smile when you’re alone and thinking of Joel’s handsome face. “Happy now, asshole?”

There’s a silent moment between you both after you speak, Joel’s looking at you in a way he never has before. The butterflies in your tummy flutter a little faster now, his eyes darting back and forth between your own and your lips. 

“Joel,” you sigh, “Quit looking at me like that.” Your words are more desperate than you intend them to be. You wanted to sound more stern, like him. 

He doesn’t say anything as he carefully places his hand on your cheek, his thumb swiping back and forth against your skin. Your eyes flutter shut. 

He takes the opportunity to pull you close, his lips just millimeters away from yours. “I’m sorry,” he whispers to you. “I wasn’t bein’ fair to ya. You said all those things to me when you weren’t in your right mind,” he trails off, bowing his head. “I’m no good at this.”

“Try me,” you whisper back, your eyes still closed. 

“I don’t know, trouble,”

You pull back, looking into his eyes. They’re big and full of adoration and insecurity, a brutal combination. “Thought it wasn’t real?”

Joel can only nod. The man who always has something to say, suddenly choking on his words. His hand is still on your cheek, holding you steady. 

You want to kiss him, so badly. You want to kiss him with every fiber in your being. But you fight it. He’s going to be the one to kiss you, it’s going to be how you always pictured it. This, you’re certain of. 

Joel’s eyes are frantic and unsure. 

It feels like minutes. 

Hours. 

Days. 

An eternity before he finally does it. And then finally, he kisses you, slowly and gently. It takes you by surprise, sweeps you off your feet. His lips are soft and slightly chapped, he tastes so distinctly Joel. You sigh and moan against his lips as his tongue mingles with your own, you curse yourself for the desperation you exhibit. As if he cares. 

You kiss like that for a while, softly. His gentle and loving kisses are a stark contrast to his gruff and domineering personality on patrol. He’s dissolving under your lips, feeling love he’s not felt in a very long time. Everything he can’t say with his voice he says with his kisses. 

You break the kiss, trailing your lips down his jaw, the scratchy hairs of his beard feel amazing on your skin. You kiss down his neck, something you’ve fantasized about thousands of times. 

“Wait,” he rasps out. 

You pull away, noticing the tent in his jeans. “Want me to stop?”

“Yes,” he breathes. Your eyebrows raise and your head tilts slightly. “No. Not like that. I just, I want to do this right. Treat you right.”

“Joel?”

“Yeah?”

“Shut up,” you speak into his neck. “Need you to fuck me.”

He lets out a breathy chuckle as you continue kissing his skin, trailing back up his thick neck and nibbling at his ear. He’s panting and moaning beneath you, you never expected he’d fall apart like this. “You know,” he starts, “You told me you wanted me to fuck you when you had your concussion.” Your face grows red and you stop kissing him for a second. “Did not,”

“Did too,”

You ignore him and pretend like he didn’t just tell you that. You kiss his skin, it’s hot and slightly salty. You feel his pulse under your lips and then, you pull away. 

His brows furrow as you smile. He’s so fucking cute like this, way cuter than any fifty-something man should be. “Your turn. Tell me what you think of me, then we can continue,” 

Joel’s confidence is back and fully fledged now, it’s a welcome return. “I think you’re nothin’ but trouble. Honestly and truly,” 

“Yeah?”

“S’right. Makin’ me fat with your damn cookies. Makin’ me crazy with all your pinches. And you’ve got me fallin’ in love now. You’re a goddamn troublemaker, and I’ve known it since the day I met you,” 

It’s everything you ever wanted to hear Joel say. He’s falling for you.

He continues, “And when we get back, I get a redo. Doin’ this the right way with you, baby. Gonna make you dinner and all that. Like a gentleman,”

“You better,” you mumble, kissing him again. Your hands find their way to his jeans, fumbling with his belt. His cock grows harder beneath you, he swats your hands away and helps you free it, his member springing up between you both. 

You kneel in front of him, wrapping your fingers around the base of his cock. You lick a long stripe from the bottom all the way to the top of his dick, swirling your tongue around the blushed tip. “Troublemaker,” he sighs. “Don’t tease me now, sweetheart. Please, baby.” His eyes are screwed shut, face contorted in pleasure.

You love the way he calls you baby. And troublemaker. And sweetheart. You’ll be his baby and his sweetheart and his troublemaker for the rest of your life. 

You take him into your mouth, tongue paining his cock with swirls of saliva. His cock parts your lips, you love the smoothness of his skin. He tastes like skin and slightly salty, you hum against him as he bucks into your mouth. “Fuck, baby,”

You bob your head up and down, making a sloppy mess of saliva all over his lap. He pulls you off, suddenly. 

“My turn,” is all he grumbles when he picks you up and drags you to the couch in front of the fireplace. He makes short work of discarding your clothes, unbuttoning your jeans and your jacket and shirt. You’re naked in front of him, suddenly feeling vulnerable. You cover your breasts and bring your knees to your chest.

He notices and promptly begins removing his own clothing. “I know, I know,” he soothes you. “Evening out the playing field and all. Don’t hide from me now, I’m gonna make it right. You’re fucking beautiful, baby.” 

He’s naked now, kneeling in front of you and spreading your thighs apart. Your pussy is wet and glistening for him, you feel his hot breath on your center. He looks at you with wide eyes, his silent way of asking permission. You answer him clearly by carding your fingertips through his scalp, tugging on his head to where you need him most. You thrust your hips towards him, begging him with your body. 

“Eager, are we?” he mumbles. “Been dreamin’ of eatin this pussy, baby.” 

“Please,” you beg him. 

“Since you asked so nicely, trouble,” 

He doesn’t tease you, doesn’t spend any time kissing and biting your thighs. He dives right in, his tongue exploring your most intimate parts. It trails up your lips, through your folds. His tongue dips in your wet hole, tasting your slick. You jolt and gasp his name at the feeling. Your thighs clamp around his head, his scratchy beard is abrasive against your flesh. You welcome the feeling. 

He parts your thighs again then, a little rougher than the first time. His tongue slides through your wetness once more, then finds home at your clit, swollen and needy. He flicks upward, alternating between long and languid licks and short and quick kitten licks. One of his hands meet your center, his middle two fingers enter your pussy and punch upward until he finds the spot that makes you tick. He hasn’t touched a woman in a long time, but still remembers all the best ways to make her see stars. 

“Fuck, like that,” you gasp out. “Fuck, don’t stop.”

Joel says nothing as he eats your pussy, sucking and licking at your center. It’s not long before you’re coming undone on his tongue, your slickness making a mess of his face. Your moans are breathy and quick, he savors each one. His eyes are wide and dark with lust.

Barely recovered from your high, you grasp and paw at his shoulders, encouraging him to come up and meet you for another kiss. You taste yourself on his lips.

“Need you now, Joelie,” you breathe, breaking the kiss. 

His nickname still sounds just as sweet as the first time you whispered it, all those nights ago. 

“‘Course, trouble. I’ve got you.” he says against your skin, his tongue darting out to play with your nipples. He’s dragging the tip of his cock through your folds. “How do you want me?”

“Just like this, please. Just fuck me,”

Your wish is his command. He slides the tip into you slowly at first, making sure it’s not too much. It’s not, of course

He pushes into you all the way, you sigh in pleasure at the fullness. He fits inside you perfectly, like he was made for you. His tip presses at that sweet spot inside you with each thrust, almost effortlessly. 

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he moans. 

“Yeah, Joelie. Just like that, baby. Don’t stop,” 

He fucks you like that, not too hard and not too soft. A deliciously and devastatingly pleasant pace, with such care and love. 

And then the lightbulb goes off in your head. His butt!! 

How you wish you remembered pinching his ass that night. 

“Joel?” your voice is clear, not moaning or breathy. 

He stills inside you, taking heaving breaths on top of you, like it’s taking everything he’s got not to keep going. He looks at you with concern, afraid that he might have hurt you. “Everything okay? What do you need?” 

“Can I squeeze your butt?” 

Joel says nothing, just looks at you with a puzzled expression. He furrows his brows and squints at you before rolling his eyes.

Hey, at least you’re asking permission this time. 

“Please?”

“Yeah, dummy. It’s all yours, now. Don’t wear it out,” he grumbles, but you hear the playfulness in his tone. 

You giggle, reaching down to grasp a handful of his ass. It’s round, plump and fleshy. You dig your nails in slightly, pinching him a little. He winces slightly, shaking his head at your mischievous expression. Your eyes are bright and silly with your bottom lip pinned under your teeth in a grin.

“Hey now, trouble” he scolds you with a smile. “Behave.”

He kisses you, continuing his motions. His thrusts are so fluid and confident, you’re getting closer now, so is he. 

“Fuck, baby,” he pants. “Can’t hold off much longer. What do you need?”

You pull one of his hands from above your head and place it at your center. “Circles, please,” 

He adjusts his grip on the arm of the couch and moves his fingers to your clit, slick with your wetness and his spit from before. “You got it,”

His thrusts become sloppier, he’s letting out strangled gasps and groans. You’re moaning, crying his name as your orgasm begins to bloom inside of you. It’s intense and hot, it feels like sparks through your blood. 

“Joel, Joel,” is all you can say. He fucks you through your orgasm, chasing his own. “Fuck, Joelie.”

“I know, I know. I’m right there. Hang on for me baby, doin’ so good,” 

With a few more shuttering thrusts he’s spilling inside of you, painting your insides with his hot come. You feel every pulse and twitch of his cock, and he slumps on top of you. His skin is hot and sweaty, you don’t mind. You’ve been dreaming of his body pinning your own down for ages. 

You stay like that, just catching your breath together. He kisses your neck as your fingertips trail up and down his back. “I love you so much, Joel,” you whisper. “I really do.”

“Love you too, sweet girl,” he says softly. You love the way his voice sounds here, soft and gentle. All for you and no one else. 

He pulls out of you then, you whine at the loss. He lunges off the couch to reach for the tupperware container of snickerdoodles you baked for him.  

He pulls off the lid, grabbing a handful of cookies and shoving one in his mouth. Apparently Joel was still a typical man, snacking after sex. 

You giggle, grab a cookie of your own and kiss his cheek. He wraps an arm around you and pulls you close to watch the flames in the fireplace dance. 

“God, you’re evil,” he says, his voice muffled by the cookies in his mouth. “Force feedin’ me cookies and makin’ me fat.”

“Busted. You got me,” you say, smiling. “Gotta keep your ass nice and squeezable, hm? It was my devious plan all along. You figured it out, Sherlock.”

“Shut up. Fuckin’ troublemaker,”

tags:

@swiftispunk @rosaliedepp @pedrotonin @kittenlittle24 @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @brittmb115 @bigboiseason123 @laysmt @guiltgoreglory @aubreysylvain @leeeesahhh @harriedandharassed @southernbe @ravenouswild @luvrking @r02eg0ld @amythenortherner @walkintheprk @zpandaqueen @silkiers @angel-with-a-heart @kdogreads @boofy1998 @theoremrobin @2valentines @happy--birthday--kiddo @elissaaa @paleidiot @brie-annwyl @str84pedro @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @kyloispunk @tiredbuthappy @yuk-for-president @nopealoupe @blackvelveteen1339 @monboudoir @darleneslane @bbyanarchist @@spideysimpossiblegirl

(if you don't see your @, i got rid of the ones tumblr wouldn't let me tag. Leave me a comment if you'd like to be on the taglist!)

[sisitrip]

Future Whispers

My little crispy soul is trying to knit itself back together. I'm choosing to do that with an early Gallavich stolen moment.

_________________________

Ian smiled in the dark as Mickey swatted his hand away from the bathroom lightswitch. 

“That’s not like you,” he murmured. “You usually want to see everything.”

A warm press of air was the only warning he got before Mickey kissed him, soft and deliberate. Astounded, he stilled, afraid to breathe. It was still so new, this kissing, and like new things, it was precious. 

“Easy,” Mickey whispered when he finally remembered to breathe. “There’s no part of you that I don’t want to see when we’re doing that.” Mickey gave him another soft, astonishing kiss. “But, right now, I’m after less, especially with your family down there doing the most.” 

A high pitched squeal rang out from downstairs, punctuating Mickey’s point. 

He laughed, letting Mickey drag him to the toilet and push him to sit on its closed lid. Before he could blindly reach out for Mickey, his lap filled with his warm, heaven scented weight. 

“So, what’s “less” to Mickey Milkovich? I didn’t think you knew how to do less,” he whispered around another kiss, sliding his hands up and down Mickey’s thighs. Emboldened by the dark, he rounded his hands to Mickey’s ass and got a nip to his bottom lip for his roaming.

“I don’t do less. But, I’m settling for this until everybody knocks out,” Mickey whispered back, slipping a bit of tongue between his lips.  

He nearly lost track of the conversation as their kisses grew longer, more heated. 

“I’ll try not to take your ‘settling’ personally,” he breathed.

“Relax, it’s not like that. I'm just trying this mouth-pressing thing again.”

“Mouth-pressing?” he laughed against Mickey’s lips. “God, you’re so romantic.”

“That's what it is, ain’t it? Just two sets of lips pressing together in a sloppy way.” Mickey pulled his lower lip into his mouth and gave it an exquisite nip. “Be glad I didn’t call it tongue stacking.” 

“If you don’t stop describing it so beautifully, I think I'm going to cry,” he said, chasing after Mickey’s tongue with his own.

Mickey chuckled and leaned back. 

“I’m just calling it like I see it. Anyway, I’m still deciding if I hate this whole mouth-pressing thing. No wait. Yeah. I hate it.” Mickey immediately dove in for another tongue-filled kiss.

“Oh, that much is clear.” He pulled Mickey closer, hardening beneath him. “You definitely despise kissing.”

“Absolutely disgusts me,” Mickey said, tilting his head so he could kiss at a better angle.

He smiled into the next kiss.

“Then we should just end this horrible kissing and do something else.” He tried to pull Mickey’s shirt out of his pants. “I've been thinking all night how much I want to feel you come on my stomach while you ride me.”

Mickey stopped his roaming hands and buried his hot face in his neck. Despite the sheer number of times he’s been inside Mickey, the little mouth-pressing hater was still shy about dirty talk. He didn’t have ‘bashful thug’ on his dating Bingo card, but he was here for it.

“Gallagher, if people knew that Disney looking mouth of yours was all Pornhub, your stock would tank.” 

He lifted Mickey’s head by the chin and kissed him. 

“I’m devastated. I thought my mouth was your favorite thing about me,” he murmured, stealing tiny kisses. 

“Tied for first. If you ask me what it’s tied with, I’m braining you.”

They kissed languidly for a bit, heat banking just enough to kick his thoughts toward things beyond kissing. Future related things he’s been wanting from Mickey for a while now. His mouth, clearly not occupied enough, decided to start trouble. 

“What are you going to do when I’m like, 60 years old and my mouth-pressing game isn’t as strong?” he asked, going for Mickey’s chin with a kiss and landing on his nose.

There’s a beat of quiet. He expected Mickey to change the subject, like he did with all future talk. But, instead, he got no such brush off, as miraculous as that was. 

“I mean, your mouth-pressing game ain’t that strong now.”

He snorted. 

“But, if you’re asking for 60 year old Ian,” Mickey teased, kissing his cheek. “I think I might tolerate a lower level of mouth-pressing. But, let the record reflect that everything else has to stay above board.”

“Yeah? Everything else like what?” he asked, heart thudding a little at Mickey envisioning the future with him. 

“That arms and legs wrapping thing we do before sleep.”

“Cuddling?” 

“Yeah. That shit better not slack off.”

He beamed in the dark. “Noted. What else?” 

“Hugs from behind. They remain fully operational or I’m out.”

He huffed a soft laugh. 

“Of course. Anything else?”

Mickey’s quiet for a long time, stroking his hands up and down his chest. 

“You being the first thing I see when I wake up,” Mickey whispered. “And the last thing I see before I go to sleep.”

He said nothing, but his eyes got entirely too hot. Like a bat using echolocation, Mickey knew he was teetering on tears, even in the dark. 

“Keep it together, Gallagher.”

His emotional laugh confirmed Mickey’s suspicions and he was rewarded with a kiss to his forehead. 

“Is that-” He stopped and cleared his throat. “Is that all?”

“No.” 

“What then?” 

Mickey scooted until they were belly to belly and hugged him tight, like he needed support. When he spoke, his voice was vulnerable and rough with emotion. 

“Keep being happy to see me. Keep … keep wanting me to be around.” 

He wrapped Mickey up, heart splintering. It wasn’t Mickey’s soft plea that broke him. It’s the idea that one day he’s going to stop wanting him close, as if that was remotely possible. He’d tried keeping his distance and it had been like watching color violently drain out of the world. 

“That’ll never slack off, you hear me?” He squeezed Mickey tighter, meaning it to his marrow. “Never.”

Mickey didn’t say anything. He only pressed closer. 

He held Mickey in the dark for a while, listening to his family’s ruckus downstairs. Unbidden, the thought of being a husband, Mickey’s husband, bloomed into his mind for the first time. He smiled into Mickey's shoulder, frightened and excited by the thought. Husband.

Mickey pressed a sweet kiss into his neck and hugged him tighter, clearly thinking about some things himself. He decided to let them both off the hook. For now.

“So, my fingers must be tied for first with my tongue-stacking, right?” he asked, bouncing Mickey a little on his lap. 

Mickey snorted. “First off, it’s mouth-pressing. Second, your fingers are okay, but not first place material.” 

“My legs then.” 

“Those chicken sticks? Hell no.” 

He started giggling. 

“My eyes. You’re always saying how green and alien looking they are. You like that weird shit.” 

Mickey pulled back. “I do, but they’re second place. You know, I could just tell you instead of you guessing, Ian.” 

“If you say anything but my dick, I’m tossing you in the bathtub.” 

Mickey held his face in his hands. 

“How could it be anything but that? Your beef bus is insane.” 

He broke down laughing, pulling Mickey into another kiss. 

“My mouth-pressing and beef bus thank you for the compliment.” He grabbed Mickey’s belt. “You feel like taking that bus for a ride?” 

Mickey groaned and gave his cheek a tap. 

“I don’t know how you live being that corny. And the answer is no. I ain’t skeeting with your little brothers and sister downstairs.” 

“How about some more mouth-pressing instead? Just to make sure you really hate it.” 

Mickey sighed. “Alright, get that Disney mouth ready. Maybe by the time you’re 60, you’ll be better at this whole mouth-pressing nonsense.” 

That earned Mickey some tickling and his whispered giggles made the dark bathroom magical. He liked Mickey whispering about their future. He liked that Mickey thought about it at all. If they somehow manage to make it, he’ll remember this as the place where their lives started to take root and shape. 

On a bevy of future whispers in the dark.

[ellecdc]

Hiii congrats on your new job, we love a employed queen 🙌. I hope I’m not bothering you with requests my marauders brainrot is taking over. Could I please perhaps request headcannons and whatnot about the boys as dads, individually and/or the different polys you write for? If that’s alright, your latest fic brought this on I suppose 😭. Bye bye now lovely, enjoy your dayyy

marauders brain rot is taking over for me too babes, no worries.

James:

cries constantly. baby is upset? he's crying. baby is adorable? he's crying. baby learns something new? James is crying.

tummy time is daddy time because James is on his stomach in front of the baby too - his partner will make jokes saying that James and their five month old are working on their gross motor skills together

loves playing pretend; get's in arguments with the child if he doesn't think they're imagining 'properly' (his partner has to scold James for ruining the fun)

the dad-friend; kids will run up to the door to ask if your kid and James can come outside to play - plays manhunt, nickie nine-doors houses with the kids, is the best dad to go trick-or-treating with, his kids friends come over to hangout with his kids and him

cries at every single milestone: first steps, first word, birthdays, plays/awards or recitals or sports games etc, graduations, first dates, school dances etc

begs his partner the second his kids move out for more (regardless of how old they are at that point) "we can adopt! yeah? what about foster - why don't foster kids? please?!"

then he becomes a grandpa and the whole damn thing starts all over again

Sirius:

I see Sirius as a bit of a worrier - constantly in his head about what he's doing, if he's doing it right, if he's being a good enough dad, etc etc

stuck like glue to the kid the second they're born - takes night time feedings and every diaper change because he doesn't want to be absent like his dad (and maybe mother? probably had nannies in muggle AU or relied on Kreacher for child rearing) -> Sirius wants to be there for it all; he wants his child to know that their dad was there

does stuff with the kid that's a little too old for them lol - five month old wearing a leather jacket, buys a motorcycle helmet for a 1.5 year old (partner had none of it!), buys them their first bike at 3, etc

BUT then....as the child get's older - refuses to believe that they're that old. "a cellphone?! what do you need a cellphone for!? you're seven!" "dad, I'm 13." "since when!?!?!?"

definitely wants his kids to learn how to play an instrument (he doesn't even care which instrument; he just wants to share his love of music with them!) but doesn't want it to be a chore/burden like learning the piano was for him and Reggie (and many children world wide lol), so gently encourages through out their whole life and buys them any instrument they're interested in and let's them change their minds 700 times (even though it breaks his heart a little bit each time)

pretends not to cry when he sends them off to school (in kindergarten or college in muggle AU or Hogwarts)

cheers the loudest and most obnoxiously at all sports games/recitals/awards etc even if he has no fucking clue what's going on (OMG, I just thought - I used to work at a dance studio and he was be the best fucking dance dad!!!!!)

known as the cool/hot dad amongst his kids' friends

Remus:

so incredibly freaked that something this small and perfect could possibly exist - moves in slow motion for the first month of the babies life because he's afraid of dropping it or shaking it unintentionally

talks to the infant like it's a regular person/adult; running joke in the family (i.e., friend group) that the baby won't have a first word - they'll just one day start stringing full sentences

swears constantly in front of the kid - one of their first words is fuck which Sirius and James find hilarious and never let Remus forget it (and they actively encourage the kid to continue it too because they love to see Remus sweat every time it happens)

insists the kids know how to play outside and get dirty - (jokingly) admonishes them if they come inside after playing and don't have dirt under their finger nails.

loves to build forts (inside and outside) and I could see him liking to hike with the kids (nothing huge, but down to streams and such), teaches them to catch (and release) frogs, bugs, etc, they take pictures of bugs they find on their walks so they can look them up when they get home

reading, arts and crafts, paintings, etc

keeps every single painting and drawing they've ever made - keeps them in a filing cabinet organized by child, age, and type

if James is the fun dad, Remus is the chill dad; all the kids in the family go to him for advice, if they are in trouble (e.g., need a ride from a party that their parents don't know about), to complain about their own parents

never not telling the kids how much he loves them and how proud he is of them

Regulus:

runs immediately to James and Sirius for advice - does not want to be an apathetic parent

deep anxiety/lots of overthinking

very gentle and delicate with his babies - afraid of hurting them and finds them to be just the most precious little things...like they're sacred and need to be handled with the utmost care

keke & I headcanoned that his partner would often find him in the middle of the night playing the piano quietly with the baby laying on top of the piano to feel the calming vibrations if he got up with them

reads baby books and parenting books front to back like they're novels - takes notes, highlights, stickie notes etc

LOVES STRUCTURE - routine is so important to Regulus as a dad; his friends end up needing to learn his child's schedule in order to ever see Regulus

his kids may find him to be a bit more strict, but he's also a bit of a pushover; will buy his kids whatever they want - his partner ends up having to yell at him and tell him that he's going to raise spoiled brats....he buys them a diamond tennis bracelet to make up for it

works really, really hard to be different than his parents; Sirius tells him constantly that he's doing a very good job of it (and they both pretend that Reg doesn't cry about it)

Barty:

had a bit of a chat about this in this post, but basically...

the most hands on and involved dad to ever walk the earth - will not go to any place that isn't child friendly or catered to children

the most proud of everything that his kid does: sits up on their own? can hold their head up? holding a fork? knocks over a block tower? can point to their nose? He's fucking celebrating, like, throwing a party over it

I could see him being like an instagram dad - constantly taking pictures and bragging about how awesome/smart/cute/perfect his kid is (but his partner had to tell Barty to stop telling other parents that this meant their kids were inferior to his......even if they were)

get's faaaarrrrrr tooo involved with playtime, one of my mutuals made some really sweet comments on the post linked above that I might turn into a quick blurb

cannot for the life of him be bad cop - he thinks everything his kids do is awesome/spectacular (even the bad stuff) -> tries to play it cool in front of his partner/co-parent but will absolutely fold the second they leave or the kid's lower lip wobbles or the give him those doe eyes

most hated parent on the PTA [parent teachers association] but volunteers for everything - every school field trip, every bake sale etc

fucking ridiculous when his kids start dating - no one is good enough for them, pouty when the kids want to spend an evening or whatnot with their new fling instead of him

takes it as a personal offence (or at least acts like it) when the kids move out/go to college

what do you all think? any other head canons I should add to this list?

[unfinishedslurs]

RIP Mike Wheeler’s heterosexuality

“Is being gay contagious?”

Steve stares at his phone groggily before putting it back against his ear. “…Mike?”

“Is it?”

“It’s three in the fuckin’ morning is what it is.” He rubs his nose, Mike’s words finally catching up to his brain. “Seriously, Mike? No it’s not fucking contagious, you’re not gonna get the gay disease or whatever from me. I promise you’ll keep liking girls.”

He’s a little hurt, even though he knows the question is innocent. They’ve been asking a lot of questions, like the inquisitive little assholes they are, but none of them had seemed like they weren’t okay with it. Until now.

“…that’s not what I meant,” Mike says. Steve realizes that his voice sounds shaky, even over the phone.

“Then what—“ he cuts himself off, realizing halfway through his bitching that there was only one reason Mike would call about this. “Oh.”

“Can you pick me up?”

“It’s three in the morning,” he repeats, even as he starts wondering where he left his keys. “Your mom…”

“Steve,” Mike pleads. “Please?”

He sighs. “I’m on my way.”

Mike is sitting on his doorstep when he pulls up, head in his hands. Steve doesn’t have to get out of the car, he stalks to the passenger door with all the vitriol of a boy with too many emotions to hold in, and wrenches the door open hard enough that Steve worries he’s going to break it.

“Watch it, noodle arms,” he says, trying to pretend this is normal. Maybe if he acts like it’s not well past midnight, Mike will relax.

It doesn’t work. Mike slumps in his seat, not bothering with the seatbelt. “Can you just drive?”

Steve drives. Doesn’t really know where they’re going, but it doesn’t matter. Just away seems to suffice.

He eventually pulls into a side road

“I’m scared to even touch another guy now! Because apparently hugging is gay when you’re older, and so is sleeping in the same bed, and telling your friends you love them, and…and I’m fucking scared all the time, ‘cause what if they’re right? How do they know? How can they tell by just fucking looking at me? It’s bullshit!”

“Shit, kid,” Steve says, heartbroken. “Shit. C’mere.”

He pulls him close, and Mike turns his face into the crook of his neck, shaking. His shirt collar starts to get damp.

“I don’t know what to do,” he cries. “I thought it was normal, I thought everyone was just…so scared all the time, and we just didn’t talk about it. But then you said that thing about being afraid and pushing it down, and I didn’t— I tried to ignore it. I tried so hard not to think about it, Steve, I swear I tried.”

“I know you did,” he says quietly. It hits him that he might be the only one who really gets it. Eddie gave up denying it long ago, deciding to evolve into something else for them to focus on. Robin’s a girl. Which doesn’t mean jack shit in most cases, because being a lesbian fucking sucks in a town like Hawkins, but girls aren’t as obsessive about it. Sometimes when they compare notes, Robin will just stare at him.

Mike shakes his head. “I don’t know what I did wrong,” he mumbles tearfully into his shoulder.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Steve says with a surprising amount of vehemence. He grabs Mike by his scrawny little shoulders, pulls him away so he can look directly into his bloodshot eyes. “Not a damn thing, do you hear me? There is nothing wrong with you, and anyone who tells you otherwise deserves a swift kick in the balls. Got it?”

Mike responds by bursting into loud, messy sobs.

Steve just keeps holding him, running a hand through his hair and soothing him gently, like he wishes someone had done for him or Robin or Eddie when they were young. Finally Mike pulls away, embarrassment starting to set in.

“Sorry,” he mutters.

“Can I tell you a secret?” Steve asks instead of a meaningless platitude he knows Mike wouldn’t accept.

Mike gives him a suspicious look. “I guess.”

“I’m scared too. All the time.”

“No you’re not,” Mike snorts. “You don’t need to make me feel better just because I’m a pussy.”

“I’m not joking,” he says. “Why do you think I dated girls? Why do you think I went through so many lengths to hide it? It’s fucking terrifying, man. But you know what makes it less scary?”

“Dating girls? Marrying a woman?”

“No.” He pokes Mike’s chest, right over his heart. “People. Friends who love and accept you. Friends who know what you’re going through, even.”

“Do you…” Mike chews his lip. “Do you think Nancy would be okay with it? With me?”

“Absolutely I do. She was okay with me, wasn’t she? And I was her boyfriend.”

“Yeah, but it’s different when it’s your family, right? Sometimes people don’t care if someone is… people don’t care until it affects them. Do you think Nancy is like that?”

He knows Nancy isn’t like that, but that's a talk they’re going to have to have themselves. “I really don’t,” he encourages. “I think she’d be really glad to know this part of you, actually. She loves you.”

“…I know,” he says, shifting uncomfortably. “I don’t… we made this dumb no secrets pact the first time the Upside-Down happened, I don’t know why. It’s stupid. But…I don’t want to keep secrets from her anymore.”

[scrupulosity-comics]

hey is racism one of your obsessions? also white and ocd. if it is, how u cope with it? i'm really afraid all the time to hurt my loved ones who are black people, and they're the majority of my loved ones. and how do u identify whats racism from whats an intrusive thought?

Most of my race-related OCD is abstract stuff like “if I move out of my parents’ house and try to live my own life outside of their control, I will have to find somewhere I can afford to pay rent, which will probably mean moving into a low-income neighborhood, which would mean inadvertently helping to gentrify the community, which would gradually push the original residents out of their homes and disrupt community ties and support systems and creating housing insecurity, so therefore I can’t move out or move on”.

I think that’s just part of a larger existential terror that I can only ever make the world worse by living in it—a net harm to the universe, molecule by misspent molecule.

I have been letting this ask sit in my inbox for weeks now because I’m convinced that anything I say will be destructive. What if my answer enables or excuses racism? What if my answer fuels the anguish of the mentally ill?

The rational and compassionate part of my mind insists that your loved ones (and mine!) understand that you (and I) are white, and have likely dealt with white peoples all their lives, and are capable of judging for themselves whether you are good to them and deserving of their intimacy. It is impossible to go through life without hurting and being hurt by people you care about—always you will have blindspots and miscommunications and competing needs. That’s just part of the curse of consciousness and being a social species. We all get a little blood on our hands eventually, one way or another… friendship involves knowing this, accepting this, and committing to avoid it and then, that failed, to make things right.

Again: your friends know you’re white. They have reason to expect the best of you or they wouldn’t be your friends. They choose to have you in their lives; trust them to trust you, and to recognize the difference between a beloved friend struggling with a treacherous and unkind brain and doing their best in an inescapably racist society, and a racist who whose bigotry makes them unworthy of their time and affection.

I do think racism obsessions are a particularly difficult manifestation of OCD to cope with because they’re hard to discuss at all without feeling like you’re implicitly asking for absolution. With other types of OCD, it’s common to seek reassurance that what you’re obsessively afraid of isn’t true—but what feels more racist than asking someone to reassure you that you’re not racist…? LMAO.

They say the “cure” to OCD, such as it is, is just to learn how to embrace the existential horror of uncertainty. Tall fucking order. Hell on Earth! But in a bizarre way I have found the rhetoric that “everyone is unconsciously and incurably racist” to be unexpectedly helpful… there is no total psychological purging and mental purification we can undergo, no amount of ritual self-flagellation that will drive the demons out, no pristine state we can aspire to and hate ourselves for soiling. Only mundane everyday commitments to compassion and empathy and solidarity and cleaning up our messes. But even then, a thought isn’t a mess. A thought I’d not a thing that happened or a choice you made. It doesn’t represent an alternate timeline branching off into a parallel universe where you have acted on it and hurt people.

Earlier this year I was playing a video game—during my lunch break I got to wondering what happened if you failed a skill check that I had passed in my own playthough, so I looked up a clip on YouTube and was so triggered by the answer (the player character calls his companion a racial slur in the heat of the moment, without meaning to, even if you’ve played him as a committed anti-racist) that I immediately spiraled and was close to throwing up in the broom closet, and when I got home I opened my own save and tried to make the player character kill himself as catharsis. It was an incredibly unreasonable guilt response to a completely fictional scenario that I hadn’t even gotten in my own playthrough, but in retrospect it was a safe way to explore fear of my own internalized racism hurting somebody and what might happen if my intrusive thoughts came true. It sucked and it was terrible and I was angry at myself for being crazy about it, but it ended up being a small dose of exposure therapy and practice at not repenting for nonexistent through self-abuse.

I dunno. This has been a long uncomfortably personal ramble but I hope it’s helpful. I don’t know if your friends know you have OCD (or how it manifests) and I don’t know whether telling them would help. But allowing yourself to trust others to trust you is far more useful than beating yourself up for thoughts you don’t want. I have on occasion warned people that I am cautious about doing certain things with them—particularly drinking—because there is a risk that I may spiral and show symptoms humiliating and uncomfortable to both of us, and I don’t want to put them in a position where they witness or feel like they have to help me manage the white guilt elements of my disorder. These conversations have usually gone well, and the mutual understanding to boundaries takes some of the tension out, which seems to reduce the triggers. It’s messy and awkward and maybe it limits who is willing to be friends with me, but IMHO it’s better than surprising someone.

As for determining whether something is an intrusive thought or actual racism, I guess my answer is: does it matter? Would you manage them differently? Intrusive thoughts may be an evil voice in your brain, but racism is an evil voice in society’s brain.

[raz-writes-the-thing]

A Fair Few Questions

Aziraphale x Crowley x GN!Reader

In which the Reader finds out Aziraphale and Crowley are Supernatural entities and has a fair few questions for them.

Requests are: OPEN

“So… let me get this straight,” you say, “those are not coloured contacts… Zira, you’re an Angel, and Crowley is a Demon.” You blink as though it will clear the shock and confusion from your system. “And not as in cutesy pet names ‘Angels’ and ‘Demons.’ Real, biblical, Heaven and Hell ‘Angels and Demons.’” Oh, you might just faint if you weren’t careful.

Crowley sticks his bottom lip out thoughtfully for a moment, swishing his wine around in his glass. “��Bout sums it up, yeah.” 

You let out an exasperated sound that’s not quite a word but not quite a formless sound either. Your hand comes up to rub at your forehead. A habit you’ve grown into. You were going to get wrinkles if you weren’t careful.

“I don’t- what do you mean,” you reply, frustration eating at your brain. “I have so many questions.” 

Aziraphale smiles comfortingly, patting his lap. They’re both sitting on a two seater lounge next to each other- Crowley splayed out in his usual fashion. You let out a little noise of protestion before immediately caving and going to lay across the two of them, head in Aziraphale’s lap. 

The headache immediately eases, and you wonder just how much Aziraphale had to do with it. Anything was possible, right? And now you were thinking about it, all of your aches and pains mysteriously disappeared when he was near. Odd, but suddenly making a whole lot more sense.

“Oh, my dear,” he coos, one hand coming up to play with your hair softly. “I know it’s hard to understand. Humans aren’t quite as aware of us as they used to be.” He looked to Crowley, who was downing some more of his wine ever-so-helpfully. “Crowley, love, do you remember back at the beginning- the Human’s recognised us as Angels and Demons by sight? It’s certainly not like that anymore.” 

“Mm, right,” Crowley replied, laying a hand over your legs and shifting them more comfortably for you onto his lap and not seeming a might bit bothered by the idea that humans did not recognise him by sight anymore. “You have questions, then?” 

You flustered for a moment, looking between the two of them. 

“Are you allowed to answer things?” You ask cautiously. You didn’t want to get them in trouble. Could they get in trouble?

“Uh, sure,” Crowley shrugged, setting his empty glass down on the side table. He propped his elbow on the back of the lounge so he could face towards you. 

“Is… God real?” You asked with another moments hesitation. 

“Oh, yes,” Aziraphale replied, a reverent look on his face. “Most definitely, I’ve spoken with her once or twice.” 

You swallowed thickly and thought you might just move on from that line of questioning. The implications of what that meant were astronomical and way too much to focus on right now. 

“Do pets go to Heavan? Oh, please say yes.” 

Crowley chuckled and gave the outside of your thigh a comforting pat. 

“Yes, love, pets go to Heavan. I believe they have a rather nice park, too,” Aziraphale smiled, brushing his thumb between your eyebrows to ease the tension there.

“And- how old are you, really, then?” 

“Oh, we’re about six thousand years old,” Crowley says tiredly. You can empathise. Six thousand years is a long time. You’d be tired, too. You rub a hand down across your face, snuggling into Aziraphale’s tummy a little. “We’ve been here since the beginning.” 

“Since the beginning? Wait- does that mean- what about the Dinosaurs?” 

Crowley looks at you with a sly grin.

“That might’ve been us, I’m afraid, love.” You eye him in a way that says what-exactly-does-that-mean? To which he laughs, and replies, “it’s a joke Humanity hasn’t got yet.” 

You groan and cover your eyes, horrified by the information that has now been shoved at you. You don’t know what to do about any of this information. 

“Oh, dear, Crowley,” Aziraphale chuckles, looking down at you with such love. “I think we might have broke our favourite human.” 

Crowley squeezes your thigh and chuckles. “Mm, unfortunate. Might have to get a new one, eh, Angel? What do you think?”

“I rather think you might be right,” the literal Angel replies softly. You glare up at the two of them between your fingers, “but I do quite like this one.”

Crowley reaches over to pull one hand away from your face, bringing it to his lips to kiss softly. You cheeks heat at the intimate look in his eyes. His, you now realise- entirely real eyes and not at all contact covered. You lose yourself in them for a moment as he rubs your knuckles, lips pressing into the skin.

“Will you tell me something?” You ask, brushing a finger over Crowley’s cheek. “Something interesting you’ve done. I’m sure six thousand years worth of stories is a lot.” 

“Mm,” Crowley replied thoughtfully. “I suppose we do. As long as it’s not the fourteenth century. I hated the fourteenth century,” he makes a face. You filed that away to ask about another time.

“Oh, I know,” Aziraphale said, cheeks about to burst with the strength of his smile. “Shall we talk about the court of Henry the eighth?”

Crowley lets out a barely contained bark of a laugh. “Oh, yes. Now that was an interesting assignment. Bit close to the fourteenth, though,” he added with a hint of a warning.

“You’ll live,” Aziraphale brushed him off as he began to tell you all the interesting tid-bits that only someone who was there at the time could tell you about. 

The three of you talked for several hours about different eras of history. You asking questions, Aziraphale being quite factual, and Crowley adding all the juicy facts and drama into the mix to keep things interesting. 

As it turned out, they had a lot of information about a lot of things, and you were looking forward to asking them questions about everything under the sun, before the sun, and everything in between. 

Heavens, you really did love them. 

And they loved you too.