#the pain is starting 2 travel down to my elbow too now

[pasta5284]

had to come home my neck/shouldr hurts so bad and its only getting worse??

[buttersmama]

Amusement park shenanigans

Choi soobin x m!reader

Summary: an amusement park date w soob

Warnings: none

Wc: 1k+

“yn hurry up! The cab’s already here” says Soobin in hurry as he puts on his shoes for the day, waiting for his boyfriend to get ready. It had always been like this he remembers back then on their first date too, yn was late by a whole hour. Soobin was so bummed about it and resorted to sit alone in the café after getting stood up by his date, and downing down 3 whole drinks.

Just as he made up his mind to leave, the café door sprung open suddenly by a customer, and that was the first time ever when he laid eyes on the culprit who changed Soobin the self-claimed ‘anti romantic’ to a hopeless romantic. “hey, sorry I’m late, I messaged you several times too but you didn’t reply to any” yn says sitting right across Soobin.  

His eyes travel down to the three now empty drink glasses. He tilts his head in confusion before questioning out his thoughts “you are Soobin, right? I don’t mean to be rude or anything but were you with someone else before I came along?” yn asks deflating a bit at the thought. “ah- no, I was the one who drank all the three drinks because I had nothing to do and was kinda sad that my date had stood me up” Soobin explains immediately, and gets embarrassed soon after the words leave his mouth.

His ears burn as decides to shut up. Yn laughs out loud at the boy’s demeanor, and Soobin sinks in the seat thinking he’s laughing at him. “Soobin, you don’t have to explain yourself to me, and im really sorry I made you think I wasn’t coming, I mean no one would ever leave you hanging. Just look at you” yn explains with his exaggerated hand actions.

“ow-” Soobin flinches at the sudden pain, “now who’s getting us late?” asks yn all dolled up. “what’s gotten into you? Stop staring” yn says looking away from his lover’s eyes. “nothing just remembered how we were quite late on our very first date too” Soobin replies without missing a beat, satisfied with how yn flushes in embarrassment. “how many times have I told you it was because I am bad with directions and got lost on the way!

Anyway, don’t we have a cab waiting? Don’t blame me when we get there late and have to stand in long queues” y/n huffs heading out. “wait for me babe!” Soobin says shutting the door behind him after placing the house keys in the pockets. Catching up to their designated car for the ride, Soobin rushes sitting in the back seat with his boyfriend and utters a small ‘sorry for the delay’ settling and adjusting a little.  

“we just got out of the house and I am sweating buckets” yn says to no one in particular while leaning on Soobin while looking at the view outside. “don’t worry yn my love for you won’t decrease even if you stink” Soobin comments jokingly, who was quickly shut up by yn’s stern glare. He quickly

apologized embracing the latter tightly. The couple held the same position till they reached the amusement park.

“we’re here” the mister who drove them, said breaking the silence. Soobin was the first one to get out of the car and waited for his boyfriend to follow as well while he paid for the ride. The amusement park was bustling with people and there was already a queue forming at the ticket counter. “told ya there’d be a queue” yn said joining soobin’s side.  

“and who’s fault is that?” asked mockingly.  

Yn on the other hand ignored the comment and started heading forward after harshly elbowing Soobin as a punishment. The couple joined the queue and waited and waited and waited for a long time until finally it was their turn to purchase the tickets. “tickets for 2 please” yn said, paying for them and taking two purple color bands assigned for adults to wear.

“here, I’ll help you with it” yn muttered to his boyfriend and pulling him along. They stood at a secluded area while helping each other put the bands on. “thank you, baby,” Soobin said suddenly feeling all lovey dovey and embracing his darling. Yn was a bit surprised initially but smiled and leaned in more affectionately.  

Yn cherished such moments; it made him feel all warm inside and think what good did he even do to deserve such a guy in his life. “love you boobie” Soobin scoffed at sudden confession, “love you too or whatever” he says swaying both of them together.  

“hmm, I don’t wanna leave but do you wanna try out the roller coaster?” yn asks looking at his yn to which he nods detaching from each other.  

“ya think you can handle it?” soobin asks being all confident.

“yeah I guess, I mean I’ve never tried it before but I think I’ll do okay” he answers honestly, swaying their hands together.

“if you get scared, just latch onto me instead, I’ll protect you”  

“yes love” yn says absolutely smitten.

They wait in the queue once again and soon enough get to sit on the ride, two people in one compartment it said, perfect. All settled, with the safety bar in place the ride starts, initially it was quite slow which yn wondered around why, just as he was bout to voice his thoughts, the ride took a dip. Not until that moment in life yn experienced true fear. He let out a screech and clung onto his lover eyes tightly shut as a safety measure.  

Soobin laughed at his lover’s antics wondering why would he even suggest going on the roller coaster if he himself was so scared of them, and mentally took it as a note to never bring yn on this very ride. The ride was over in minutes though yn felt as if he had been stuck on it for an eternity. Soobin held his hand out to support a very dizzy and tired yn, this was their first ride and yn already looked like he was ready to pass out.  

“babe, if you couldn’t handle fast rides why did you even suggest going on one?” Soobin chuckled. “I didn’t know it would be so draining! Besides, I had never tried it before” yn replies, still holding onto Soobin as they made their way out.  

“its was pretty good if we leave out the part where you were practically glued to me” he teased. Yn’s face burned up in embarrassment and buried his face in Soobin side staying silent having no comeback. This didn’t go unnoticed by Soobin of course to which he just ruffled yn’s hair gave him a small peck on the forehead.  

Yn’s heart thumped faster at the sweet gesture, face adorning a smile unknowingly.

[corduroyserpent]

I posted 4,075 times in 2022

That's 1,687 more posts than 2021!

115 posts created (3%)

3,960 posts reblogged (97%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@luukeskywalker

@catcrumb

@livingmeatloaf

@goatpunches

@pee-pance

I tagged 3,126 of my posts in 2022

Only 23% of my posts had no tags

#svsss - 529 posts

#tian guan ci fu - 317 posts

#xie lian - 242 posts

#hua cheng - 231 posts

#hualian - 214 posts

#shen qingqiu - 186 posts

#zhuzhi lang - 183 posts

#luo binghe - 159 posts

#star wars - 142 posts

#mo dao zu shi - 134 posts

Longest Tag: 90 characters

#💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

anyone else have this very serious problem?

85 notes - Posted November 10, 2022

#4

Pairing: Mobei-jun/Shang Qinghua

Rating: T

Tags: Fluff, Ming Reading, Mild Sexual Content

Word Count: 1.9k

Snippet:

“Ah, my king! Watch out for that–”

Mobei-jun hardly blinks as a giant cloud of pollen hits him square in the face. His arm is still up from where he’d casually swatted aside a branch covered in glowing purple blossoms; the flowers must not have appreciated his desire for them to get out of his way. Ridiculous. 

Shang Qinghua grimaces in that exaggerated way he’s prone to and squeaks out the—now irrelevant—remainder of his warning, “...pollen.”

Mobei-jun puffs an exhale, spitting out whatever bits of it had gotten into his mouth. 

“Pff. So cute!”

Cute? Him?! If anyone’s cute it’s Shang Qinghua. Mobei-jun glares at his husband, shoving away the part of himself that feels a little flattered. “Do you want to die?”

“Eh?” Shang Qinghua has the gall to look surprised. He puts up his hands placatingly. “Why is my king blaming me? I did try to warn you. It’s not this husband’s fault that you’re too tall to simply walk around it.”

“Ah, but it sort of is though…” Shang Qinghua somehow says without moving his mouth. 

One of Mobei-jun’s eyebrows lifts infinitesimally. 

Read the rest here!!

88 notes - Posted March 31, 2022

#3

Relationships: Zhuzhi-lang & Tianlang-jun, Shen Qingqiu/Luo Binghe, Tianlang-jun/Su Xiyan, Luo Binghe & Zhuzhi-lang, Mobei-jun/Shang Qinghua

Rating: T

Tags: Age Regression/De-Aging, Post-Canon, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Tianlang-jun Has Chronic Pain, Dreamscapes, Memories, Trans Male Character

Current Word Count: 26.6k

Chapters 1-13 are up!

“In my defense,” Tianlang-jun says as he elegantly lowers himself to sit cross-legged on the floor of the Holy Mausoleum, “I’ve never brought anyone back from the dead before. As far as complications go…this is relatively manageable, wouldn’t you agree?”

The question is directed towards a young child swimming in black robes far too elaborate and spacious for his minuscule size. The child simply blinks his big, dark eyes in response. It’s an incredibly familiar mannerism, and one that has only gotten cuter amidst accidental age regression. 

“Is Zhuzhi-lang angry with me?” Tianlang-jun leans his elbow on his knee, casually resting his cheek in his palm. “Or does your current age prevent speech? I admit to my ignorance regarding children and when their mouths start making intelligible sounds.”

Zhuzhi-lang tilts his head, remaining silent. And Tianlang-jun has a sudden…well, perhaps not fear but an emotion just shy of worry. 

He prompts, “You remember your favorite uncle, don’t you? Stunningly handsome, brilliant wit…” He trails off in the face of Zhuzhi-lang’s blank stare. Then he swallows down whatever intangible thing has gotten caught in his throat and smiles. “Okay! That’s fine, that’s perfectly all right. The only thing you need to know is that you call me jiujiu. Always have. Keep that in mind, will you?”

Read the rest here <3

90 notes - Posted April 21, 2022

#2

tianlang-jun travels around post-canon, once the deterioration of his body has slowed and the monks have set him free to do as he wishes.

he wishes to travel. that's it. that's all he's ever wanted.

so he does.

he wanders from place to place, seeing new plays and reading new books.

"and would you look at this zhuzhi-lang!" he says, casually glancing back. the space behind him is empty. his expression only dulls a little when he remembers there's no one following at his heels anymore

it happens so often these days, he's grown almost numb to it.

almost.

he shakes his head slowly, a rueful smile on his lips. he used to travel alone all the time before meeting his nephew but now...

it really isn't the same.

he should be used to loss at this point, he thinks. but his sister, and xiyan, and zhuzhi-lang just pile on top of one another, making the space in his chest dense and heavy.

it isn't that he wants to travel. it's that there were people he wanted to travel with.

so he returns, one careful step at a time, to the holy mausoleum. to the first place he went after regaining his freedom, to the place where his nephew's bones rest.

he places a hand against the chilled side of zhuzhi-lang's coffin.

it isn't in his power to return life to the cold body within.

yet.

he pats the coffin. once, twice.

don't worry nephew, he thinks, i'll be back

99 notes - Posted November 26, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

do you ever think about post canon tianlang-jun finally being able to recognize the extent of his grief, to truly just let himself feel it

he was trapped under a mountain for decades and then he was on a half-hearted mission of revenge. and of course he felt pain and grief during those years, how could he not?

but now he knows su xiyan never betrayed him. he knows that it was all a big, tragic misunderstanding. and he knows that his actions in the wake of it are the reason his nephew is no longer by his side.

and as he sits alone, with only his slowly healing body, he can finally just grieve. he can let the horrible guilt and pain wash through him and not push it aside as he's done for years.

and it's awful. it's an terrible ache like nothing he's felt before. but he knows that he has to let himself feel it, he has to acknowledge the hurt or it will eat him alive. and neither xiyan nor zhuzhi-lang would want that.

anyway. i think about this a lot

104 notes - Posted September 17, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[wardenred]

Angstober 2: Anxiety

A direct sequel for that first one, with a different POV.

“But it should be Norra, then, not I,” was the first thing Alita said when she heard her uncle’s proposal. It only made sense, didn’t it? Norra was three years older and already yearning for marriage, except she frowned at all the courtship opportunities their cluster of little villages offered. The odds here may be good, but the goods are odd, she kept saying, and even though she sometimes allowed one of the few upstanding young men to accompany her to a holiday market, she always returned from such outings with a frown. She dreamt of a different life, one of balls and splendor, the kind they had in the faraway, nebulous before.

Alita, meanwhile, was too young to remember most of it, and whatever hazy memories surfaced sometimes—usually when she was sick or in pain—she could never apply them to the person she was. She had no desire for balls, royal hunts, or leisurely salon mornings. A homebody by nature, she got overwhelmed even by the country fair after the first hour. Romance held no appeal to her, either. Whether it was because she was a late bloomer at seventeen or because it was merely not for her remained to be seen.

At any rate, she neither needed nor wanted the capital. The thought of her uncle going there was unsettling enough. Who would she play chess with? Who would teach her magic? Who would coax her out of the house for long walks down the river bank, pointing out birds and squirrels to each other? Still, she knew she couldn’t reasonably beg him to stay, not when the King himself had traveled all the way here to fetch him. But at least everything else would remain familiar once he left.

If she came with him, there would be no more comfort.

She opened her mouth to start explaining, but the look on her uncle’s face stopped her: urgent and high-strung, much like the turmoil bubbling behind her sternum.

“No,” he said gently. “I cannot take Norra. She would enjoy the capital a little too much, I should think; get ensnared by its joys and glitter. Under other circumstances, I wouldn’t wish anything less for her. But this is no pleasure trip, Alita. I won’t force you to come if you don’t want to, but I have to say this: I need you by my side. Because—” He leaned in, and Alita was struck by how pale his skin was. “I don’t trust the King.”

Alita’s eyes widened. Her stomach churned, and she hugged herself tight—for comfort as much as to conceal the trembling in her fingers. How could he say such a thing? The King was—he was everything to the country. He was the one who kept the Corruption at bay, who appeased the gods on the behalf of all people, who controlled the ebb and flow of magic under the great moons. No reason could feasibly exist to mistrust him.

Otherwise, they were all doomed.

Besides, a treacherous voice whispered at the back of her mind, in the unlikely event there’s any truth to this brash claim, wouldn’t it be kinder of Uncle Rythan to let me stay home?

Her uncle reached out to put a hand on her elbow. His fingers weren’t still, either. “I know I’m asking a lot of you, Alita. You don’t even have to decide right now. Dwell on it until morning, if you have to. I would of course prefer that you got some sleep instead, but...” His mouth quirked in a tiny lopsided smile, a sad smudge of mirth. “We are too alike, you and I, for me to seriously suggest it.”

Alita drew a long breath and counted to five before releasing it. “What would be required of me?” She could barely hear her own voice over the pounding in her ears.

“Be there. Listen. Watch. Share your thoughts with me, but only when we’re certain no one’s eavesdropping.” Uncle Rythan hesitated before adding, “And should I say so, ride home and help Norra assume permanent command of the estate as the new lady.”

Alita wished she could say she didn’t understand the implications. A thousand awful scenarios swirled in her head, each more catastrophic than the last. She tried to throttle them for now. Sleep indeed would be elusive tonight, anyway. She would get to untangle those terrors at night, with her diary, and that pretty green ink that smelled like peppermint, and probably calming tea.

But out of all the horrible futures she could envision, the one where her uncle ventured off alone looked the worst by far.

“I’ll go,” she said. A shiver ran up her spine, like an echo from his sigh of relief.

[darklordofthesimp]

Verity (Din Djarin x Reader)

On a remote planet, while chasing a bounty, you encountered a rare plant that produces the infamous "truth pollen". Not being able to lie is dangerous when you're in love with your Mandalorian employer.

PART 2

Requested by Anon:

#47: I forget how to speak whenever you’re around and it’s embarrassing.

A/N: OKAY LISTEN, my last 2 fics have gotten such bad engagement I don't have high hopes for this BUT if this goes good, would you want to see something where DIN is affected by the pollen?

Category: Mutual Pining - Involuntary Confession - Fluff - Angst If You Squint

Warnings: Swearing

You should have listened.

Though, to be fair, the Mandalorian had never explicitly told you to stay in the Crest- you saw it more as a strong suggestion. It was a new planet, some dirt ball in the middle of Wild Space that had been long forgotten by any traders or travelers. The bounty hunter had warned you to stay inside and you'd simply waved him off.

Now, laid out flat on your back, you thought he might have been right.

Your body protested against any attempt to get up and you opted to just still for a long, long moment. In your defense, you had just violently tumbled down into a rock bed.

You hissed, suddenly aware of the blood trickling down your cheek.

You thought you might have broken a bone or two, but with the 'wiggle' check you were pleasantly surprised to find nothing had snapped. Nothing other than your pride, that is.

Lush greenery pressed against your skin, soft leaves, and gentle blades of grass lathered into the landscape. The air was crisp, and as you started to regain control of your senses you realized you'd fallen into a small clearing. It was relatively shaded, with tall trees leaning over to shelter the small oasis you'd stumbled upon.

Forcing yourself up onto your elbows, your eyes widened as you drank in the sight before you. There were flowers everywhere.

The flora was a color you couldn't even begin to comprehend, a mixture of violet that made you think of the most tempting and delightful sins.

Where were you?

But you couldn't focus on the logistics of your situation, not when there was a wonder of nature less than two feet away. Where had these flowers come from? The teardrop petals fluttered lightly in the breeze, and suddenly your mind was consumed by the thought of their texture. You wondered if they felt like silk...

If you could just touch them to test your theory, you could be on your merry way. You were sure of it.

Pain and injury were forgotten as you stood to your feet slowly, feeling as though you were having an out-of-body experience when you approached the plant. It was almost glowing up close and you couldn't understand how this shit hole of a planet could have created something so ethereal.

You reached for the flower eagerly, awaiting the soft touch of those pretty petals.

By the time you realized something was wrong, it was too late.

___

You wheezed, rubbing the length of your sleeve against your nose. The trek back had been far longer than you'd anticipated and you knew Mando was going to be pissed.

Coincidentally, the hunter appeared to be on his way out as you approached, equipped with all of his "work" apparatus. Had he not found the bounty yet?

"Where have you been?"

His words were sharp and you winced, slowing your pace to a sheepish shuffle. When he promptly unslung his rifle, you realized that he wasn't going hunting, he was about to launch a one-man rescue party.

You couldn't tell him the truth, he would follow you around for months if you did. Constantly supervising you for the sake of your safety.

But instead of the excuses you had prepared, when you opened your mouth to respond, different words formed on your tongue.

"I was exploring and got lost."

Your jaws snapped shut instantly and you slapped a hand over your lips. Why had you just said that?

The Mandalorian's shoulders raised, instantly irritated with how blatantly you blew off his advice. You hadn't even sounded guilty, just factual.

"I told you that was a bad idea," he griped, turning on his heel. "What if something had happened? What if you'd gotten hurt and I couldn't find you in time?"

He stomped back into the ship and you followed guiltily behind, trailing him to the armory as he begun to offload his weapons. There was pressure in your chest at his words and at first glance, you thought it was just remorse for making him worry. When your mouth opened to respond where you hadn't wanted to, you realized it was something else.

"I did get hurt."

You stumbled back, throwing both hands over your mouth. The Mandalorian stiffened, softly placing the items in his hand against the table.

"Where?"

Again, the words fell from your lips involuntarily, "Everywhere. I fell into a rock bed."

He said nothing as he turned around, watching your panic increase when you couldn't gain control over your own tongue.

"I can't stop talking," you gasped, terror crawling along the length of your chest until it lodged itself firmly in your throat. "I don't want to say any of this."

Before you noticed he'd even moved, the bounty hunter filled your vision, gently ushering you to a cushioned bench you had created. He set you down, before crouching in front of you.

"Did you touch any plants you've never seen before?" While the words sounded calm, you could hear the underlying dread in his tone.

"Yes." You let loose a soft sob.

"What color?"

"Violet."

"Shit," he hissed.

When your chest began to heave with trepid breaths, Mando raised his hands quickly.

"No, no, it's okay. Don't panic, it won't hurt you," he soothed, nodding softly. "The effects will wear off soon."

You shook your head, dropping your face into the palms of your hands. You should have just listened to him from the beginning, he wasn't talking out of his ass, the hunter was only trying to help you. Why did you insist on fighting him every damned step of the way?

"What did I touch?" You asked, the tone hopeless even when muffled by your palms.

There was a short silence, as though Mando was bracing himself. "It's a rare flower. The pollen..."

He trailed off and you lifted your face from where you hid. The hunter was still crouched in front of you, mere inches from your body, watching you as he deliberated his next words. He was so close that it set your heart rocketing against your rib cage, and you wondered what he looked like when he was in deep thought.

Pressure built in your chest. You ground your teeth shut.

"It acts as a truth serum," he finished solemnly. "You can't lie."

The ground felt like it had been ripped out from underneath you. This was bad, this was so fucking bad.

"No," you rasped, shaking your head adamantly. "No, no, this isn't good."

The Mandalorian leaned back on his haunches, hands resting together against his thighs. You were sure that you looked crazy, telling the truth wasn't exactly a curse.

"I'm not going to take advantage of this," the hunter murmured, and if you hadn't known any better, you would have thought that he sounded almost hurt. "I won't ask questions you don't want to answer."

"You won't need to," you moaned miserably, throwing your head right back into your hands.

"What are you so afraid of?" Mando stretched his hand towards you and you were touched by his concern. Gloved fingers rested gently against your shoulders, sending your heart into overdrive.

"You!" The word was barely a gasp but it was as if they had burned him. He snatched his arm away and leaned back, watching you in what you could only imagine was shock and hurt. It was as if you had slapped him.

Your heart squeezed in your chest and before you'd realized what you were doing you gripped his hand tightly. "Not like that. I trust you, I trust you with everything in me."

There was a soft silence as he tilted his visor to watch where your fingers interlocked. You thought he might have been uncomfortable for a second there until he gave them a gentle squeeze. He was warm despite the leather, and at that moment you would have killed to touch his skin, vulnerable and human and real.

"Most open you've ever been," Mando snorted but it wasn't humorous, just quiet. "And it's when you're forced to."

Pressure built in your chest once again, and you tried to grit your teeth and cage the incoming confession. No matter how hard you tried, your mouth had a mind of its own.

"I forget how to speak whenever you’re around and it’s embarrassing," you rasped. "I don't hide away on purpose."

Red hot humiliation flared beneath your skin, heating your body up in a crashing wave. You felt your cheeks burn, sweat collecting against the back of your neck.

Tears gathered in your eyes and you were grateful that you had turned your face away from him earlier.

"Do you want me to leave?" He asked gently after a long silence.

You wanted to curl up in a ball and die.

"No," you said quickly, throwing your hands to your mouth in an attempt to muffle the next words. "If you leave I'll never forget how embarrassing this was and will think that you're disgusted with me for the rest of our time together."

You tried to gesture for him to go, shooing him away with your hands despite what you had just admitted. For the first time ever, the Mandalorian looked so torn that he just trembled.

You could see the shake in his fingers, the way his body leaned this way, and then that.

"I can't walk away if it means that you'd be living like..." He trailed off, breathing heavily from beneath the beskar. "Why would you ever disgust me?"

You sobbed.

Throwing yourself to your feet, you tried to scramble away before your mouth moved. Anything to stop what would have been a sledgehammer to this delicate friendship you had fallen into. True to character, you just tripped over yourself, falling backward into the wall roughly.

The hunter shot to his feet, immediately trying to provide aid that you desperately swatted away.

"Because I love you."

The words fell from your lips, like a weeping whimper, but they might as well have been shouted from the top of the Crest. The way he froze in front of you showed you exactly how badly this was going to go.

"You're a Mandalorian, you're my employer, I'm nothing you've ever wanted and I love you. You'll find me disgusting for ruining this over stupid feelings and for looking at what I could never deserve."

This time, there was no silence like you thought there would be. You thought he would have turned on his heel and left, or yelled, or just left you there to simmer in silence as he stared.

Instead, he gripped your shoulders tightly.

"You think you don't deserve me?" He hissed.

You stared at him through teary lashes, bewildered. The word formed and you didn't fight it, too shocked to even comprehend what was happening.

"Yes."

He watched you for a long moment, fingers tightening against your skin. You wondered what was going through his head, where his emotions were leading him. You prayed that he wouldn't grow disgusted the longer he thought about it. You begged any deity that you could think of that he would move on and forget that this disaster had happened.

But the Mandalorian was anything but predictable.

"You love me?" His voice was hard.

Your lips trembled. "Yes."

"For how long?"

"When you saved the village in Sorgan. I knew then."

When he didn't respond, the adrenaline in your system left you shaking. You hated this, you wanted to die, you wanted to be anywhere other than in his arms.

"You said you wouldn't take advantage of this," you whispered, leaning away from him. "You said you wouldn't ask..."

The hunter's fingers softened against your skin, "you weren't going to tell me?"

You shook your head, "never."

Putting him in such an uncomfortable position was the last thing you had ever wanted for him. He was constantly under stress, rarely did anything go right for him and you were convinced that the poor man had the worst luck in the world. You didn't want to add to that, you wanted to be helpful, not a burden.

Especially not like this.

"I'm not taking advantage of you," he murmured, finally. "I just need to know if you're telling the truth."

You scoffed, casting your gaze to the side. "I can't lie."

"Now," Mando said softly, the intimate whisper trailing along the length of your skin. "I'm trying to find the courage."

You blinked up at him as he leaned you back against the durasteel wall, heart tripping in your chest. What was happening?

His hand slowly raised from your shoulder, to brush against your cheek, to then rest against your eyes. Darkness flooded your vision, and your other senses went into overdrive. You could smell the smokey scent of the hunter before you, and distantly you wondered how he always managed to smell of woodfire and spice.

There was a soft, metallic hiss from somewhere above you and you flinched.

"Can I kiss you?"

You choked on your own breath, chest heaving from the weight of his words. That simple, small question. For once, throughout this whole ordeal, you were glad that your mouth moved before you could direct it.

"You can."

There was a soft huff from above you.

"Do you want me to kiss you?"

This time, it was you and not the pollen that answered.

"Yes."

And when he smiled this time, it was against your lips.

While the Mandalorian smelt of fire, battle, and blood, Din Djarin tasted sweet.

[kohanayaki]

.:Time and Time Again:. (Marauders Era x Reader) Ch 4

Snape looks back on your days at Hogwarts, how your friendship came to be, and how it came to end.

LINKS:   CH 1   CH 2    CH 3   CH 4  CH 5   CH 6   CH 7   CH 8

___________________________________________________________

Ch 4  .:Budding Feelings and the Beginning of the End:.

Severus Snape had made a lot of mistakes in his life, and seeing you again after all these years was forcing him to relive every single one of them.

He stared blankly at the wall in front of him, shrouded in the darkness and grim silence of his empty house. He never thought he'd see you again, and certainly not under these circumstances. When he'd laid his eyes on you in the kitchen of 12 Grimmauld place he couldn't believe it. He, much like the rest of the Order (except for Molly, apparently) assumed you wouldn't be at these meetings any longer. After James and Lily were murdered and Sirius was thrown into Azkaban, you'd left London and headed to New York under the Ministry's alliance with MACUSA, hoping to help bridge the gap between muggle-borns and purebloods in America. He knew you had been back to meet Harry a handful of times, but he also knew that being in this city brought up painful memories for you, so he was as stunned as anyone else to see you standing there in the doorway, greeting them as if nothing were out of the ordinary.

He could see that traveling had been good for you. He'd heard through the Hogwarts circuit that you were back on auror duty across the world, taking special assignments from Dumbledore and the Minister for Magic himself. You seemed like you were doing better, but when you turned to smile at him he could see the hesitation and the sadness that brewed behind your eyes, likely his doing.

He desperately wanted things to go back to what they were before—

Before he'd ruined it. . .

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~   1974  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Alright students,” Professor Slughorn said as everyone finished filing inside the room, “today we're going to be pairing off into new partners for the upcoming project.”

Groans and nervous chatter flooded the sound space immediately, no one very thrilled with having to work with someone new out of their control. You cast a glance over to Lily who looked equally displeased. You liked being her partner, you both excelled at the subject and worked really well together.

“Yes, yes, I know,” Slughorn said, waving the complaints off, “However, I am going to be giving you the luxury of choosing your own partners this time, but everyone—”

The energy in the room instantly shifted, everyone shoving around people to get to their friends.

“—keep in mind, if I see any slacking off or trouble brewing in these new partnerships I will not hesitate to rearrange them!”

Slughorns's words were completely lost among the commotion as people paired off before you could even get your bearings. Snape stalled as he stared at you from across the room; Lily had already been dragged away by Mary, and his brain was trying to work out how to ask you to be his partner.

Suddenly an arm was slung over your shoulder and you turned towards the new presence in surprise. You looked up to see Evan Rosier, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to his elbows and his Slytherin tie loose around his neck.

Oh, sod it, Snape cursed internally. He was too late.

“Wanna partner up?” Rosier asked, a crooked grin gracing his chiseled features, “It'd be my honor to have the smartest Potions partner in class, not to mention the most attractive.”

You rolled your eyes at the praise. Evan was your friend, and he was nice to look at, but if he thought that you would be willing to do all the work for the both of you in exchange for some cheap compliments, then he had another thing coming. You locked eyes with Snape from across the room

“It would be your honor,” you smirked up at Rosier, “but I already have a partner, sorry.”

It took Snape a few seconds to realize what you were doing, but once he snapped out of it he made his way towards you. You almost chuckled at how robotic he looked as he did, clearly shocked.

Rosier looked between the two of you and rolled his eyes.

“Suit yourself, sweetheart,” he said, letting you go and pushing you lightly in Snape's direction, “but if you change your mind, you know where to find me.” He sent a wink your way that left Snape's blood inexplicably boiling,

“Thanks for that,” you grinned, “and just so you know, I would have chosen you even if he didn't come up to me, so don't get all pouty about it, okay?”

Severus just looked at you blankly. Even after four years it was frightening how well you were able to read him; for a moment he was scared that he'd accidentally projected his thoughts to you, but he wasn't anywhere near that level of legillemency yet. He wanted to say something that had some semblance of gratitude but settled on:

“Whatever.”

To which you just laughed and dragged him to your now shared desk.

You really were something else.

“Now then,” Professor Slughorn addressed the room, “today we will be beginning the new unit on toxic concoctions, starting with the Draught of Living Death. If you would all turn to page ten of your books, we will get started presently.”

You turned open your book and Severus did the same. As he did, you noticed that nearly every page was covered in small notes littering the margins, with some of the instructions circled, crossed out, or modified. You were hardly surprised, Snape had been pouring over this book since last year when he'd stolen it from a fifth year Slytherin who'd been speaking poorly of you (that last part you were unaware of).

You turned your attention to the directions, reaching over to preheat the burner so your cauldron would be hot enough by the time you began. However, as soon as you lit the flame with the tip of your wand, your cauldron shot up into the air, hitting the ceiling with a loud BANG! before crashing down back onto your table, breaking several of the glass instruments that were settled there.

Your face burned embarrassment as everyone in the room turned to look at you in shock.

“Snape, (L/n),” Slughorn said, surprised, “whatever happened?”

“I. . .” you began, not knowing what to say, “I don't know, I'm sorry, Professor.”

“Quite all right,” he said uncertainly, restoring your table and equipment with a wave of his wand, “just be sure whatever that was doesn't happen again.”

“Of course,” you mumbled, trying to ignore the snickering around you. If you noticed the way that it stopped as soon as Snape sent a deathly glare at the culprits, you didn't show it. You reached down to grab your cauldron, noticing that the bottom was dusted in some sort of orange powder. As you turned it over, a note fell out of it.

You're welcome, (L/n). Sorry I couldn't be there for the fireworks~

J.P.

“That sneaky little, ugh,” you crumpled the note, growling in frustration.

“What is it?” Severus asked, peering over your shoulder to glance at the paper. However, as soon as you tried to show it to him it vanished in your hands in a wisp of glowing embers. You turned to look at Severus who was still staring at you expectantly.

“It was Potter,” you rolled your eyes.

Anger flashed in Severus' eyes before confusion replaced it momentarily.

“But that was your cauldron, not mine. Why would Potter want to mess with you?”

And now the anger was back again. Snape was used to Potter’s crew targeting him; bullying and suffering through minor hexes had become an everyday occurrence, but when he imagined them doing anything to you it was enough to make him see red.

“Ah, well. . .” you trailed off, deciding that telling him you'd yelled at the group of Gryffindors: 'if you jerks want to have a go at Severus you're gonna have to get through me first!' was a bad idea.

“I sort of, maybe, kind of. . . started it?” you said. Severus raised a brow at you. “Look, Potter was asking for it, okay? It was about time someone messed with him for a change. And besides, it was hilarious, even Lily got a kick out of watching that broom hit him in the head.”

Severus chuckled at that, a hint of pride welling in his chest at yours and Lily's shared distaste for the Potter boy.

“But that was the last straw,” you declared, grabbing a Sopophorus bean from the bowl in front of you and a knife to cut it as per the instructions, “I'm sick and tired of him acting like he's better than everyone else,” you said, stabbing down with your knife for emphasis. The Sopophorus bean jumped as you did, sliding out from under your blade and skidding across your cutting board. You huffed as you grabbed it again, placing it back down and holding it in place. “And he walks around with that little posse of his like he runs this school!” You brought your knife down again, moving your fingers at the last second, but the bean still managed to slip away, trying to bounce back into the bowl.

“This means war!” you seethed, grabbing the runaway legume again, now at your wit's end, and crushing it in your fist. It stopped jumping as the beet-red juice of the plant dripped down your arm, and Severus looked at you with a small smirk on his face.

“Well, that's one way to do it,” he said.

“Shove off,” you said playfully, throwing the bean in his direction. He dodged it easily, his smile growing.

“No, really,” he said, almost more to himself than you as he scribbled out the word 'cut' and replaced it with 'crush' in his notebook, “you might be better at this than you let on.”

You blushed at the unexpected compliment, backhanded as it was.

“Excuse you, I happen to be fantastic at Potions,” you said, grabbing another bean and avoiding his gaze.

“Right, that's why your cauldron exploded.”

“That was sabotage,” you shot back.

“I was talking about last week,” Severus said cheekily, taking in your flustered expression.

You both went back to your ingredients, eventually discovering that crushing the beans with the flat of a knife was the best way to extract the juice without them jumping. You watched Severus out of the corner of your eye as he measured out the African Sea water, adding it gradually as he stirred the mixture counter-clockwise. The elixir turned a bright blue color, shimmering as if light were being reflected off of it. He continued on with the formula, snapping off a few fluxweed sprigs before adding them and lowering the heat with his wand, hardly looking at the instructions at all.

You wondered where this newfound confidence had come from. Severus was usually so rigid and withdrawn, but right now he looked more at ease than you had ever seen him. A spark was present in his eyes as he worked that you rarely ever saw, and it made you smile despite yourself.

The rest of your potion making process went on without a hitch, and you silently applauded yourself as you watched the other students around you struggle to get their concoctions together. Even Lily seemed to be having trouble, though Mary wasn't really helping other than offering moral support.

You turned back to focus on your own potion, stirring it with the ladle and mesmerized by the way it began to turn a deep plum color. Meanwhile, Severus was cleaning up your shared station, looking over at the brew. His brows furrowed as he examined it.

“Just stir it a bit more,” he said, coming up behind you and placing his hand on top of yours, “the color is still off.”

Your face burned at the unexpected contact; Snape certainly wasn't a touchy person, so the act caught you completely off guard, though you'd be lying if you said you didn't like it. Severus nearly jumped backwards, absolutely mortified when he realized what he was doing. It was him micromanaging more than anything; he was so focused on getting the potion right he didn't even notice he was moving his own body as he gave you the instruction.

“Sorry,” he said, feeling quite possibly the lamest he'd ever felt in his life.

“It's okay,” you said, biting the inside of your lip nervously and continuing to stir like he said. Your light response allowed Snape to relax, his shoulders lowering a full three inches. He'd been certain you would have reacted to his mistake with disgust or repulsion, but you didn't. What did that mean? You were utterly confusing. Despite how well you could read him, Severus was unable to get a read on you at all. If he had been, he would have noticed the tiny smile on your face as you stirred, silently wishing his hand were back on yours.

You and Snape stood at attention as Slughorn peered down at your potion, looking mildly impressed. He reached into his robes, procuring an oak leaf from who knows where, and dropped it into your cauldron. The leaf floated on top of the liquid for just a moment before its edges began to burn. It furled from the unseen heat, folding in on itself and disappearing into the inky depths of the liquid. Slughorn's expression lit up, his impression no longer mild.

“Merlin's beard, it's perfect!” he exclaimed, “in all my years I've never seen a pair recreate this potion exactly as you two have done today.”

You beamed at the praise, your smile only widening as you saw your emotions mirrored in Severus' face, albeit more subtly.

Over the course of your fourth year, you and Snape continued to excel in Potions, receiving much praise from Professor Slughorn and a lot of glares from your fellow students. However, there was something else that continued that year, and that was your increasing interactions with James Potter.

“I just don't get why you even bother with him,” Snape had said to you one day while you were in Potions. Your prank war with James was at its peak, and you were sidetracked that day in class coming up with new ideas to get back at him.

“It's a full on battle now, Sev,” you said, “I can't back down! Now, for my next one I was thinking something along the lines of a callback to one of his earlier stunts. Maybe get him back for tampering with my cauldron at the beginning the year.”

“(Y/n)—”

“I've got a few friends in Gryffindor, and apparently he talks about his prank plans way too loudly in the common room, so I have a head start on this one. They mentioned something about my shampoo—“

“(Y/n),” Severus stressed, finally catching your attention. You looked up at him, embarrassed at you rambling. “Why do you keep doing this?” he asked, “he's just baiting you. You know that.”

“It keeps them from doing anything that targets you, right?” you questioned back.

Severus didn't know what to say at that. It was true, ever since you had declared war on James, he and his stupid friends hadn't really bothered with him at all. Were you doing this for him? He didn't know what to do with the thought.

You were, of course, but you thought it better not to mention that in the last few months this had been going on, you'd also begun to find the rivalry and banter between you and James fun.

“Gather 'round students, gather 'round!” Slughorn beckoned the class over, disrupting your train of thought and putting an end to your conversation, “now, would anyone like to identify the potion in this cauldron here?” He gestured to a shockingly pink liquid that seemed to swirl on its own. Plum and periwinkle smoke wafted through the air above it in delicate spirals.

“That's Amortentia,” Lily said, “it's a love potion that's supposed to smell different to everyone depending on what scents attract them.”

“Right you are, Miss Evans,” Slughorn said proudly, “would you like to tell us what you smell?”

“Cinnamon,” she started slowly, “warm spices, butterbeer, sandalwood. . .” her cheeks reddened significantly, as if she'd made some sort of realization. “Th-that's all.” You stared at her quizzically but she just shook her head. You'd have to ask her about this later. . .

“(L/n),” Slughorn said, “would you be so kind as to do the same?”

“Sure,” you said, stepping up to the cauldron. It was captivating, almost drawing you in physically. “Wild lavender,” you said, smiling, your mother had a garden full of them when you were growing up, “rain when it hits the pavement, and old leather books.” Scents you wouldn't realize until much later all correlated with a certain person.

“Very different scents for very different people,” Professor Slughorn said, “thank you for demonstrating, you two. Now, we will not be brewing this potion today for obvious reasons. It is incredibly dangerous, capable of creating not true love, but unhinged obsession. What we will be doing, however, is studying its effects. . .”

“Strongest love potion in the world, huh?” Evan suddenly appeared at your side, “funny, I could have sworn it smelled just like you, although you wouldn't need a potion to reign me in~”

“Put a sock in it, Rosier,” you said, shoving him away playfully.

“Aw, come on, just one date wouldn't hurt,” he said, “I'm pulling out all my best lines here!”

“That's the best you've got?”

“Ouch.”

Snape couldn't help but glare at the Slytherin boy, not liking how close he was to you. Nice as he seemed, Snape knew how he could really be. He didn't think you'd be such good friends with Rosier if you knew he was knee deep in the dark arts as soon as the sun set on the castle. Then again, Severus wasn't one to talk.

Over the course of the year he noticed that you only grew closer to James, something that bothered him immensely. He was grateful that you had gotten his bullying to stop, but he hated that the way you had gone about it was to turn Potter into a friend. . .

“Merlin, he keeps looking over at you, Lils,” you said.

Lily and Severus looked over to where James sat with Sirius, Remus, and Peter in their corner table as usual. Somehow they always managed to be at The Three Broomsticks at the exact same time as your trio, almost as if they knew you were there. James Potter was, in fact, looking towards your table, until your friends not-so-discreetly turned to look at him and he diverted his gaze elsewhere.

“Idiot,” you rolled your eyes as you took another sip of your butterbeer.

Lily looked between you and James' table for a moment before turning back to you.

“Actually, (Y/n), he's staring at you.”

You looked at her like she'd grown a second head but then began to laugh.

“Is he? Jeeze, what a creep,” you said, but with affection in your voice that wasn't missed by Severus, “it's probably because I saved his ass the other day and he's still reeling from it.”

“Oh,” she said, a hint of what you swore was relief in her tone until she realized what you said, “Wait, you what?”

“Sirius and I were talking in the forest and we got ambushed by Malfoy's motley crew,” you said, “and Potter showed up because of course he did. It was just a little duel, no big deal.”

“What?!” Lily said, concern written all over her face, “they fancy the dark arts, (Y/n), you could have been hurt!”

Severus stared into his drink, unable to look at either of you.

“I'm fine, Lils,” you insisted, “and trust me, I don't think Malfoy's going to be bothering anyone anymore. Just show him a picture of a squid and he'll probably screech like a banshee.”

Lily laughed along with you, partially in confusion, until the first part of your statement hit her with a slight delay.

“Hold on, you were in the forest with Black? And did you just call him Sirius?” she asked, her teasing making your face flush.

“We just. . . figured some stuff out. . . It was nothing like what you're thinking, so drop it,” you grumbled, taking another drink to hide your embarrassed face.

“Whatever you say, (Y/n),” Lily sang, taking a sip of her own drink.

Severus felt jealousy bubble up in him like a disease. He cast his gaze upwards, his eyes locking momentarily with James'. His arch rival rose a cocky brow at him, his gaze unmistakably shifting to you and Lily before staring Snape down again. Severus took a sharp breath to steel himself, that feeling in the pit of his stomach never really going away.

That was the beginning of the end.

Read chapter 5 here!

Taglist:  @sleep-i-ness, @blackpinkdolan, @parker-natasha, @ornella0910 @undertaker1827 @thatwierdo-koemi @nxstalgicnxbxdy

[doctorstethoscope]

The Right Chapter 2 || Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader

Hello besties, laptop is going haywire but for the moment we are back!! 

Read chapter 1 of this fic here!

TW: This chapter contains swearing and descriptions of domestic violence. Please read at your own discretion! 

wordcount: 2.6k

tagging: @the-modernmary @greeneyedblondie44 DM to be added to the tag list :) 

Josh fell asleep on your ride home. You roused him gently as you pulled into your designated parking spot outside of your apartment.

“Josh,” You whispered, pushing at his shoulder gently. “Come on, we’re home. It’s late. Let’s go to bed.” 

He jerked awake. “Fuck. I was sleeping. Jesus.” He barked. 

“Sorry, baby. We’re home.” You repeated.

“Don’t know why you even bother calling it home. You’re never fucking here.” Josh grumbled, clumsily unbuckling his seatbelt and sliding out the passenger seat of the car. He went on ahead as you went into your backseat to gather your go-bag and purse. When you got to the front door, he was still fumbling with his house key. 

“Here, let me.” You took the key from his hands gently, unlocking the deadbolt and opening the door. 

Before you could even turn around, you were on the floor in the doorway, your nose slamming into the carpet. You were bleeding onto the floor, your blood soaking the tan fibers. It takes you a moment to realize that he’d pushed you. 

“Josh, what the--” a well placed kick to your hip cut off your protest before you could finish it. You rolled over, looking up to see him panting, with angry eyes. 

“You think you’re real slick huh? Staying late at work with the boss? Jesus, sweetheart. I thought you were better than getting a promotion on your back.”

“We were working, Josh. There’s nothing else going on there.” You argued, scrambling backwards away from him and propping yourself up on your elbows. You know that there should be some sort of instinct kicking in, one that allows you to disarm him as if he were an unsub, but you feel helpless as you struggle to put distance between the two of you. He followed you across the room, kneeling over you and pinning you against the floor before delivering another harsh slap to your already-swollen cheek. 

“Listen to me when I’m talking to you.” He growled, and you gulped. He smirked, before grabbing you by the hair and throwing you against the closest wall. You see stars, but you will yourself to stay awake. You’re scared of what he might do if you can’t fight back. 

“Oh yeah? Just working, at 2AM when everyone else is gone? And what was that he called you? Invaluable.” He spits out, pulling you up roughly by your forearms. He leaned in close, presumably to intimidate you. You don’t give him the satisfaction, looking him in the eye and doing your best not to let your glare betray your fear. “Well, we’ll see about that.” He smirked, reaching an arm around to take your gun out of its holster, placing it against  your chin. Your face dropped. 

“Josh… Joshua, you’re drunk. Let’s just go to bed, okay? I’m sorry I was out late. I’ll make it up to you in the morning. I swear.” You’re frantic, your training leaving you once again. De-escalate, de-escalate, de-escalate. “I’m sorry, baby. It won’t happen again, I promise. I’ll request a transfer so I don’t have to travel anymore.” 

He chuckled. “Okay, dear. We can talk in the morning. I’m going up to bed. Get that blood out of the carpet, will you?” He placed your gun on a nearby end table.

He kissed you on the forehead before he went to the bedroom, but the gesture had never been less comforting. He left you there, standing against the wall, blood streaming down your face. You slid down the wall, knees curled up into your chest on the floor, regulating your breath for a few minutes before you rose again. You holster your gun before tending to the blood on the carpet, realizing belatedly that you can’t get it clean because you’re still dripping all over the stain. You chuckled a little, although none of this is really all that funny, sitting back on your heels and looking up at the ceiling, wondering how the fuck you ended up here. Realizing you had no clue what time it was, you reached out your work phone, seeing a missed text from Aaron. 

Please let me know that you’re safe.

You looked around, at your blood on the carpet, at the dent your head had made in the drywall when Josh threw you against it. You brought a gentle hand to your face, feeling how your nose was definitely not in the same place it was when the day had started, and you sighed. Things with Josh were never perfect-- but this was too far. You texted Hotch back. 

I need help. 

Hotch could have easily blamed his inability to fall asleep on the cups of coffee you both had been drinking well into the evening, but he knew that wasn’t the case. If that were so, there was no reason for him to be flicking his eyes over to his phone every three minutes. But here he was, in his study, file open in front of him, and not a word of it absorbed.     

Finally, finally, his phone buzzed. He unlocked it fervently, anxious for the assurance that you were fine. Your text provided no such assurance. 

“Are you safe right now? Do you need medical?” He texted back, trying to keep his head for your sake. 

“Not urgently. Can’t stay here.” 

“You alone?”

“He’s asleep.” 

“On my way. Pack a go bag.” 

“Don’t come in. Light sleeper. Just text.”

You were suddenly grateful for the load of laundry you’d left in the dryer that morning, tossing it all in your go bag without folding it. When you realized that you didn’t know when or if you’d be back here, you took the lockbox off the top of the fridge and pulled out all of your important documents-- your passport, birth certificate, social security card--you tuck them all into a file folder as you feel your phone buzz. 

“Outside.” Hotchner texts you plainly. You gingerly pick up your bags and slip out the door, careful not to make any noise. 

Hotch is out of the car in an instant once he sees you-- he doesn’t know what he expected, exactly, but somehow you look worse, even from a distance. 

“Hey, hey, give me that.” He said, taking your bags from you. “You said you didn’t need medical.” He said, accusatory, but not mean. 

“I said not urgently. I didn’t want you to send an ambulance.” You told him. “I feel fine. I just need advil.” You said as the two of you climbed into his SUV. 

He looked you over, incredulous. Your nose was definitely broken, and he couldn’t tell in the dark of the night, but he was pretty sure you were still bleeding. Your cheek was swollen from where he slapped you, and you were sporting a black eye, likely a complication of the nose. And that was just what he could see. He shuddered, although he tried to hide it from you. 

“We’re going to the hospital.” He said, turning his key in the ignition and taking off.

“Hotch, I just want to sleep. Please. I’ll take myself to the hospital in the morning, I promise.” You practically begged. 

He turned his head towards you. The only thing he wanted more than to give in, in that moment, was to make sure that you were safe. “Did you hit your head?” He asked, 

“What?” You asked. 

“Did you bump your head at all, when everything happened?”

“Yeah,” you told him, running a hand over your head and feeling the tender bump that was forming there. You cringed, and Aaron caught it. 

“I’m sorry, but we need to take you to the hospital. You probably have a concussion.” He apologized. 

“I really don’t want to go through the whole ‘you were clearly involved in a domestic dispute’ thing that they’re going to do,” you complained.

“You don’t have to answer any questions you don’t want to answer. I just need to make sure you’re okay. Everything else goes at your pace.” He promises you, sneaking a glance away from the road and over to your face. You’re already looking back at him. 

“Thank you,” you whispered. 

Already looking back at the road, Hotch took one hand away from the wheel and gave your forearm a quick squeeze in response. You drove in silence for a few moments before Aaron pulled into the hospital.

“Alright, let’s get this over with so we can get you to bed.” He told you, climbing out of the car before coming over to your side to help you walk. Truth be told, you didn’t really need assistance, but your hip hurt so badly that you were limping, and it seemed better to have Aaron slowed down by helping you, rather than just by watching you. 

The emergency room was, thankfully, deserted, and you were seen relatively quickly. Aaron offered to stay in the waiting room but you asked him to come with you. 

“I, uh. I don’t really want to be left alone right now, if you don’t mind.”

“No, no, of course not.” He said, standing and following you and the nurse. 

“What brings you in, dear?” The nurse asked, moving slowly to accommodate your pace. 

“My boyfriend beat the shit out of me.” You said, figuring she might make it easier if you  just bite the bullet, and Aaron shot you a glance. You shrugged in response, and then noticed the nurse’s eyes shifting between the two of you. 

“Oh, no. Not him.” You assured her with as big of a smile as you could muster, given the amount of pain that you were in. “He’s a friend. He picked me up.” You explained as she led the two of you into an exam room, shutting the door behind you. Aaron helped you up onto the exam bed gently, choosing to stand nearby rather than sit in the chair provided.

“Okay, ma’am. Our policy for domestic disputes is not to involve police unless requested by the victim.” You cringed at her word choice. “We don’t want this to be more stressful than it already is. What we do instead, is we take a detailed account of everything that happened to cause you bodily harm, and if you decide to pursue any legal action, we can send those records along on your behalf. So can you tell me what happened tonight?” 

You glanced over at Aaron before you started, taking a deep breath. He wasn’t going to like this. You told the nurse, clinically, what had happened, leaving out the things he had said to you for Aaron’s sake. You did your best to keep your emotions in check, although regurgitating everything that had happened was making you feel sick. You glanced over at Aaron-- his jaw was set, his mouth in a straight line, nostrils flaring, even as he stared at the linoleum tile on the floor. You closed your eyes and attempted to zone out as you continued, as if you could distance yourself from the emotions by imagining that it was just a story you were telling. 

“And then he pulled my gun out of my holster---”

“Ma’am, do you have a gunshot wound?” The nurse interrupts you, voice slightly panicked.

Oh, shit. You probably didn’t need to include that part. Your eyes are open in an instant, and you look over at Hotch. He’s pissed, and not looking at the floor anymore.

“No, no. Sorry, that is um--- that’s clinically insignificant. He didn’t fire the gun or strike me with it. That’s how it ended.”

“Okay, hon. Why don’t you get changed,” she said, handing you a hospital gown, “and I’ll send the doctor in in just a second.” 

“Thank you,” you said, and Aaron echoed his thanks. 

“Clinically insignificant?” Aaron asked incredulously as the nurse shut the door. 

“Can you turn around? I need to change.” You deflected.

He turned to face the wall as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “He pulled a gun on you, (y/n).” He shook his head as you quickly changed. 

“I know. I’m sorry. You can turn back around now.” You told him.

“No, I’m sorry. How long has this been going on for? How did I not notice?” He asked as he turned to see you, practically swimming in the oversized gown.

“I think we all work really, really hard not to be profiled, Aaron.” You tried to comfort him.

He was interrupted before he could respond by the doctor knocking and then swinging the door open.

“Good evening, folks.” The smiling blonde woman said. “Let’s get you home so you can sleep some of this off, yeah?” 

It takes a couple of hours, but you’re sent home with a nose that’s set back in place, as well as a prescription for enough pain killers to put a large dog in a coma, in addition to the confirmation that you did, in fact, have a concussion. Your hip, thankfully, was just bruised. 

“She needs to be woken up every couple of hours for the rest of the night and the day tomorrow. Just to be safe.” The doctor told Hotch. 

“Not a problem.” He said resolutely. 

“Do you have any questions?” She asked, turning to you. 

“When can I go back to work?”

“Well, if you work at a computer--”

“I work for the justice department. So, I guess I’m really asking about field work.” You clarify.

“At least ten days, and that’s if you’re feeling better.” She said, giving you a stern look. You visibly deflated, knowing that if the doctor said ten days, Hotch wasn’t letting you in the field for at least twenty. 

“Thank you, doctor.” Hotchner said, placing a hand on the small of you back as she opened the door and allowed you both out. 

“Of course. Call us if anything changes.”

You trudged out to the car in an exhausted silence, sure that you’ll fall asleep as soon as the car starts moving. Once you’re buckled in, Hotch speaks. 

“I’ll tell Strauss that we aren’t coming in today,” he says offhandedly as he cranes his body back to pull out of the parking spot, his arm strewn across the back of your seat for leverage.

“We?” You questioned. 

“You need to be woken up every two hours. I can’t exactly do that from the office.” He reminds you. 

“I can just set an alarm on my phone, it’s not a big deal.” 

“Uh huh, and when the alarm doesn’t wake you up because you have a brain bleed?” He’s teasing you, but you also know him well enough to know that there is a very real twinge of anxiety behind it. 

“Hotch,” you scoffed at his joke, breaking into a smile despite yourself. “I don’t need you to take care of me.” You added more seriously. 

“I know you don’t.” He placates you. “But will you let me do it anyways? Plus, you’re not the only one who didn’t sleep last night.”   

“I guess that’s my fault.” You admitted. 

“Hey, I’m glad you called me. And I’m also glad the bureau has a generous sick leave policy. We both need it right now.” 

You can sense that this is an argument that you’re not going to win, and even if you could, you don’t have the energy to try. You close your eyes and lean back against the headrest in the car, giving him a resigned nod before you fall asleep.

[warmblanketwhump]

⌘

⌘: being carried

"It's just off the trail, you said."

"Shut up."

"Just a little farther, you said. When was that, an hour ago?"

"Are you done?"

"I was done an hour ago. This sucks."

The rain pours down as the waterlogged pair slogs through the forest, hopelessly lost with no hope of finding the cabin they'd rented for the weekend. 2 hours ago, they'd set out with a set of handwritten instructions that the rain had long since washed away. And B, who was fighting off the start of a cold and didn't want to go on this trip anyways, was far too ready to express how cold and wet and uncomfortable they were.

"I'm freezing, A. Seriously. I can't feel my toes," B moans, coughing into the elbow of their sodden denim jacket and giving an exaggerated shudder. A stops short on the trail and whips around, glaring daggers at B.

"You think I'm having a picnic out here, B? If you'd brought your rain jacket like I told you, you'd be drier. Now keep your eyes out for the trail marker, and don't make me wish I'd left you at home like you wanted," A snaps. B's eyes go wide and they clamp their mouth shut. A feels a twinge of guilt, but they're too wet and tired to offer up an apology.

They numbly trek on in silence through the rapidly darkening forest. Suddenly, A hears a shout from behind them, and they turn around to see B splayed on the wet leaves, leg twisted awkwardly beneath them.

"Slipped," B grunts. "Told you I couldn't feel my toes." They try to push themselves up, but let out a sharp cry and fall back down. A rushes to their side, but B holds out a warning hand. "I've got it. Wouldn't want to remind you how much you wish you'd left me at home."

A watches as B painfully stands, heavily favoring their left ankle. B refuses to move until A starts walking ahead, and all A can hear behind them is the awkward shuffle through the wet leaves and the occasional sharp inhale. A loud yelp from B finally does it, and A turns around to see them several paces back, on the ground again, forehead resting against the rough bark of a tree.

As A gets closer, they see B panting heavily, face ashen, eyes squeezed shut in agony. A places their hand on B's cheek, and their eyes blink open as they suck in a shuddering breath.

"I can't walk," they whisper, lower lip trembling. Their ankle is a deep purple and swollen, aggravated by their efforts to keep going. Their eyes are glazed, whether from sheer pain or their cold turning into something worse, A can't tell - and their heart clenches with guilt again. This is my fault. B wouldn't be here if it wasn't for me. I dragged them out here when they didn't want to come. I yelled at them when they didn't feel good. And now look at them.

"C'mon. Let me help," A says. They slip their rain jacket off and around B's shaking shoulders and hoist them onto their back. Soon they're slowly plodding through the rain again, B's arms wrapped around A's shoulders and their face buried in A's neck. Even in the cold rain, A can feel the fever radiating off of B, despite the shivers that course through their soaked body.

Please let us find it soon, A begs silently, adjusting B's slumped body to hold them tighter. B's head was bobbing, and A knew they needed to get out of the rain as fast as possible.

Finally, A spots the trail marker they'd been searching for, and within minutes the rustic cabin appears on the horizon.

"B, we made it," A whispers, gently squeezing B's leg. B doesn't reply, but squeezes A's shoulders back. The cabin isn't much, but it's a tiny beacon of light, offering much needed shelter to two exhausted travelers.

Now they just had to make it through the weekend.

[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

Life size mannequin.

Erik’s girl uses him as a mannequin but Erik takes it too far and it back fires.

If you were to ask Y/N how she gets everything done she wouldn’t be able to give you a straight forward answer. Juggling school, a full time job, and a side hussle isn’t for the delicate and inadequate. Staying up until 2 AM with flash cards sprawled out on the living room table and a ratty mannequin head between her legs every night, Y/N fights much needed rest to recharge for the next days events. That’s not the only thing her teeming life has to offer. Y/N’s new boyfriend, Erik would be seen as a distraction to some but she can hold her own without slacking on her studies, missing a days work, or forgetting to do a clients hair. He’s handsome, fun, intriguing, smart, and that dick...it needs its own SSN and certificate. It’s own area code even. If she had to admit it, whenever her mind drifted to their bodies tangled in her sheets, moaning and groaning, she lost focus just a little bit.

Y/N is off on a Friday for once and instead of catching up on rest, Y/N decided to use her entire day making a closure wig for a friend and client. It’s a 24 inch body wave natural black lace frontal. No shedding, very soft, bouncy, with overall great quality. If only her lousy mannequin head would keep still!!! Y/N gave up after the mannequin head slipped from her grip. She usually has a wig stand with a mannequin head attached to the end but all of them are covered with other wigs that didn’t need to be ruined. The old fashioned way brought her back to how frustrating it was to practice. And to make things worse, Erik is strolling back and forth in front of her naked after his shower and completely ignoring her closet stocked with plenty of towels. When he stopped in front of her, his strapping thighs and that lethal weapon dangling she felt her face grow warm and her belly grow butterflies.

“You’re not helping, jerk,” Y/N said as she continued sewing. She was almost finished.

“I haven’t seen you in a few days and the one time I have a chance to spend time with you, this is what you do.”

“This wig is past due, Erik. I was supposed to get this to her two days ago. Thank God she had some shit going on herself otherwise I would be losing a client.”

Erik gave up trying to seduce Y/N and grabbed a pair of briefs from his travel bag.

“Whatever, you owe me some after this,” Erik sat down on the bed, leaning on one elbow, “You really into this.”

“And?” Y/N sassed.

“I’m just saying. Why not be a full time hair stylist?”

“Because I don’t want to do this for a living. Why else would I be in school for something that has nothing to do with hair? It’s just money to make on the side.”

The mannequin slipped again and Erik burst out laughing.

“I wanna see you try it since you find my struggle funny.”

“Oh, you don’t want me to do it I’ll fuck that whole wig up.”

Y/N ignored his smart remark.

“I’ll come over there and mess that shit right up and make you start over.”

“Erik, I’m not in the mood right now leave me alone,” Y/N cut her eyes at him, “Try me if you want I will take the end of this needle and dig it in one of them keloids. Make it pop like bubble wrap, think I’m playing.”

“You forget you’re talking to someone with a pain kink. Why you think my pain receptors fucked up?”

“So, you mean to tell me, if I boil some hot water right now and pour it on your leg...you wouldn’t feel pain?”

Erik frowned his face into a mug at Y/N as he cocked his head back. The widening of his eyes is what made her giggle.

“You don’t know how to love me all you wanna do is hurt a nigga. What is wrong with you?”

“I’m only messing with you—”

“No you’re not. If I say some shit you don’t like I get slapped upside my head. If I want to be in a playing mood you threaten me with that little fist of yours. Just admit it, you enjoy tormenting me.”

“You’re so Goddamn dramatic,” Y/N tilted her mannequin head forward, “Can you do me a huge favor?”

“If it involves getting up off this bed the answer is fuck no,” Erik said while lying on his back now with his legs hanging over the edge of the bed.

“I already know you’re about to say no but...I want you to let me use you as my mannequin.”

“Huh?”

The way his voice rose an octave has Y/N laughing.

“Can you let me put this wig on you so I can finish this?”

Erik’s brows shot up as his eyes landed on her, “Why? So you can sneak and take a picture? I’m not falling for that.”

“Erik c’mon now. I just need your head for a second and that’s it.”

“I can think of other ways you can use my head but instead you wanna put some weave on me.”

Erik sat up and swung his legs around to face Y/N. Erik leans forward on his knees, staring at the wig with a steady blink.

“What size is that shit anyway? You know I have locs so...how the hell is that supposed to fit on my head?”

“I’ll just...fit it over that pineapple on top of your head.”

“Jokes,” Erik reached up and took out the elastic band that held his tapered locs. Shaking his head, his locs fell over his eyes, “I’m not putting that on my head.”

“Not even for me?” Y/N pouts, “Not your favorite girl?”

“I know you, Y/N. You’re gonna put that shit on my head, take a picture, and post it. I’m not falling for the shit. I told you that.”

“Whatever. You got a big ass dome anyway and this wig is average size.”

“Now you’re tryna clown me?” Erik said with a half smirk on his full lips flashing a bit of his gold canines.

“It’s like...mad wide from front to back...no wonder you keep your hair long—”

“I know you ain’t talking shit with that ginormous ass forehead, girl.”

“I thought you said all the fine girls got big foreheads?” Y/N bat her lashes at Erik.

“That’s what’s helping you out. First time I saw you I was thinking damn, this bitch got a big ass forehead. And don’t think I forgot about how you played me when you sent that cropped picture.”

“Boy, fuck you!!” Y/N shouted over Erik’s laughter.

“I was—I was looking at the picture like where the rest of her face go?!”

Y/N glared at Erik as he dissolved into laughter.

“It’s really not that funny. Now are you gonna help me or not?!”

“Aight, I’ll do it this one time.” Erik sat up with one hand resting against his abdomen while the other wiped away tears, “Where do you want me?”

“On the floor between my legs, DUH where the fuck else would you be?”

He began dying laughing again from Y/N’s obvious annoyance. Erik took his place on the floor while Y/N climbed behind him onto the bed with each leg dangling on either side of him. Y/N takes the wig from the mannequin and before she placed it on Erik she tilted his head back more for easier access. Grabbing the half-done wig, Y/N fluffed out the ends before arranging it over Erik’s locs. Even at their short length it was a challenge to fit the wig the way she needed it.

“Can you PLEASE keep still?” Y/N prompted.

“I’m not even moving. This wig just don’t fit.”

Y/N applied force and wiggled it over his locs causing Erik’s head to rock back and forth aggressively. He growled before reaching behind him to grab her hands. The wig looked much shorter on him in the back from how prominent his back and shoulders are. Erik turned to face her with his lips tight and face frowned, the wig making him look ridiculous and silly. Y/N folded her lips into her mouth but the urge to laugh caused her cheeks to puff out.

“If only you knew how tight my fucking head feels right now. I can’t even smile without this shit feeling like my scalp is being pulled. This better come off when we’re done or that’s your ass.”

“Erik, turn around. I only have one section to do and then you’re free. Next time, don’t ask me to help you with shit if you’re gonna act like this.”

Erik sucked his teeth and faced forward so Y/N could continue. He lowered his head so she could work on the back area.

“Can I ask you something, babe?” Y/N said.

“What?” Erik replied.

“Do you mind modeling this for me—”

“See, I knew this shit—”

Erik stood up before Y/N could wrap her arms around him. He walked over to the full body mirror in her room to look at himself and that’s when he couldn’t hold back his own laughter.

“Yo, what the fuck do you have on my head!” Erik played with the strands while turning his head from side to side, “I look like James Brown, AYE!!!!”

Y/N was in stitches when he mimicked James Brown in the mirror. She fell back against her bed hollering from the way he looked.

“Nah, I’m not drunk right now I need to be drunk to enjoy this,” Erik leaned into the mirror, “I look better than half the bitches that come in here to get their hair done. Let me find out.”

“You are so STUPID!!!!” Y/N yelled between giggles.

“I’ll be back,” Erik left the room with the wig swaying from side to side since it wasn’t fully secure.

“Where are you going?!” Y/N shouted from the bed.

Erik didn’t respond to her loud voice. When he returned two minutes later he had a cup in one hand and his bottle of Hennessy in the other. Erik sat both the cup and the bottle on Y/N’s cluttered dresser to make himself a drink.

“This was supposed to be a quick thing now you’re drinking.”

Y/N watched Erik from her relaxed spot on the bed. Erik took two sips of his drink before standing in front of her mirror again.

“What are you doing?!”

Y/N couldn’t even finish her words when Erik started shimmying his shoulders and snapping his fingers to a soundless beat. Hooting with laughter Y/N could feel wetness on her cheeks.

“IM DONE!!!”

“This shit give bad bitches super powers.” Erik said

“Let me find out you wanna wear a weave now.” Y/N jokes.

Erik brought his cup to his lips and drank more Hennessy while moving his hips. This was too good not to get a video. With Erik being his usual silly self, Y/N snatched up her phone from the floor before pulling up her Instagram to record him. On her story, Y/N focused the camera on her boyfriend when he started singing the lyrics to Lady Marmalade.

“Gitchi gitchi, ya ya, da da. Gitchi gitchi, ya ya, here!!”

“Oh my God!!” Y/N cried out with a chuckle before ending the video. She uploaded it to her story before quickly tossing her phone towards the end of the bed.

“Creole Lady Marmalade!!!!!!!!”

“You hardly had anything to drink and you’re acting like this? Lord.”

“Aight, I’m done for now,” Erik made his way back over to Y/N with his cup, “put on a movie or something.”

“Ohhhhhh!!! So you’re asking me to pick this time?! I get to make a decision, Erik?! Wowwwwwwwww!!!”

“Girl, shut up.”

Y/N chose a random movie for background noise while she finished. She was surprised at how content he was and it made her consider asking him to help more in the future. It was fun and it made her laugh. That’s one thing about Erik that she adores. He matches her sense of humor. Y/N heard a vibration and when she glanced over to look at her phone the screen is still black. Between her legs she could see Erik staring at a text message from his Lock Screen

“What the fuck is this nigga talking ‘bout.”

“Erik keep still—”

“Nigga who is Miss Man?!”

Y/N paused to peer over Erik’s shoulder.

“This nigga just called me Miss Man from Scary Movie.”

Erik tapped on the microphone on his keyboard to speak.

“Who the fuck randomly texts somebody that at 11 PM? Fucking weirdo ass nigga. Let me find out you want Miss Man for yourself.”

“Who is Miss Man— OH! The PE teacher that was sniffing the underwear?!!! hahahahahahahahahahaha!!!”

“This nigga...he said all you need is the underwear, skirt, nails, and makeup—wait.”

“And some long ass balls!!” Y/N snickered.

Erik whipped his head around and when Y/N met his fiery eyes she swallowed her laugh and it left an uncomfortable lump in her throat.

“Did you post me online wearing this wig, Y/N?”

“No.”

“I’m gonna ask you again. Did you post me online in this wig?

“Mm—mm. I did no such thing.”

“Then let me see your phone.”

Erik reached out for Y/N’s phone but she snatched it away. Erik moved his head to the side to flip some of the wig hair form his face but it fell forward again disobeying him.

“Did I? Uhhhh—OKAY OKAY!!”

It happened so fast. Erik has Y/N by the waist and up in the air.

“Yes, I did!! I’ll delete it.”

“You don’t listen to shit I tell you to do—”

“It was cute! You looked cute with it on—”

“You know what’s about to happen right?! I told you not to do that shit!”

“Erik, it’s all in fun. I’ll get rid of it—”

“That shit is embarrassing! What if I posted you online at your worse?”

“I don’t have a bad moment I always look good.” Y/N sasses.

“Says the girl that always complains about me taking off guard pics.”

“Erik, you’re not even at your worse. You act like I posted you looking bummy!”

Y/N kept her word and went to Instagram to delete. When she got there, she was met with at least ten DMs replying to her story.

Corythemua_: gurllll who is that? 👀 ooooh he is fione!!! Is he into guys?

Jermaine_87: Wtf is he doing?! 🤣🤣🤣🤣 let me text this nigga

Katriceee: how did you convince him to do this?! LOL

Amethyst1993: when he find out about this you are in trouble girl!!!

“did you delete the video yet?! Don’t let me find out it’s still there!”

“It’s gone! Happy?! What happened to being in a playing mood?!!”

“Now all my friends texting me and clowning me! You play too many games. Hurry up and help me take this shit off!”

Erik brushed some strands from his lips with his fingertips and Y/N squealed. Nothing he could say or do would make her listen. He looked absolutely hilarious with the wavy tresses of the wig moving in tandem with his brawny physique.

“Erik, I can’t take you seriously with that wig on.”

“Then take this off!!”

Erik attempts to pull it off but suddenly stops when he realizes he needs help.

“I want this shit off now, Y/N.”

“FINE! Come here.”

Y/N tapped the floor with her foot for Erik to take a seat. When he does, Y/N does the opposite of what he asks and begins to place his hair into two buns. She silently laughed behind him, praying that he wouldn’t hear her falling apart. When she was finished, Erik assumed she was done because he didn’t feel the hair tickling his skin. When he stood up to look in the mirror, Erik groaned loudly at his appearance before flexing his jaw at her threateningly to make her listen. It didn’t work at all for him. She couldn’t stop laughing.

“You look so crazy!!!!!” Y/N hugged her sides and rolled on the bed with laughter, “And that evil look is making it even funnier!!”

“I’m about to beat your ass if you don’t take this shit off!!! It wouldn’t be funny if this shit stuck now would it?!!! I gotta go to work and all that nah take this off—

“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!”

“Aight, are you finished?!” Erik said impatiently.

“Baby...you don’t understand...oh my God.”

“Y/N, for real, take this dumb ass wig off before I cut it off!”

“Okay okay!! Before I do...you gotta do one last thing for me...pretty please? With caramel sauce and a cherry on top? I’ll do whatever you want if you do this last thing for me.”

“.....”

“PLEASE BABY?!!”

“.....”

“Erik, look, it’ll be funny! I just want you to cat walk for me and then I’m done—”

“Ahhhhh HELL no—”

“Please—”

“For what?! So you can keep laughing?!”

“I’ll suck your dick, lick your balls—”

“Girl, that won’t work on me—”

“You sure about that?”

Y/N poked her tongue out and started doing tricks with it to show off her tongue ring. Erik’s eyes squinted at her but she could tell from his breathing that he wouldn’t be able to fight it much longer. He even said so himself that her head game makes him weak and no woman before her has ever made him weak.

“...from here to the bed and that’s it.”

Y/N smiled victoriously.

Erik placed his hands on his tapered waistline before lowering his head. Y/N could hear him silently laughing to himself before he lifted his head displaying an adorable dimpled smile. He started strutting towards Y/N with stiff hips and two left feet. All this from her flicking her tongue. Y/N stared at him with her mouth hanging open and eyes wide. He had a focused look on his face and the wig with its two buns flopped up and down messily like bunny ears. He struck a pose with his hip jutted out before he started to vogue. At that point, Y/N couldn’t take it any longer. She had to grab onto Erik so she could catch her breath. Soon, Erik’s deep laugh could be heard.

“You get on my nerves,” Erik sat beside Y/N, “now, can you take this off of me?!”

“Turn around,” Y/N took down the buns before carefully sliding the wig off from front to back, “You’re off the hook after that I’m gonna go back to using this mannequin head.”

“Yeah, finish up so I can spank that ass for posting me on social media.”

Y/N did a double take, “I’m still in trouble?!”

“Yeah, you’re not off the hook.”

The remaining time Y/N finished her clients wig, she thought up all possible ways he could punish her this time.

“Can I have a kiss?” Y/N asked with a sweet sounding voice.

“Yes,” Erik poked his thick, moist lips out and Y/N pressed her soft lips against them.

“Mmm...still in trouble, ma,” Erik whispered.

[myonepiece]

Hello! First off I love your work it always makes my day! You talked about how you think Kid is a virgin and how he would be slightly flustered with a s/o other first time and I was just wondering your thoughts? Most people headcanon Kid as very aggressive and bringing sex into a relationship much sooner than is socially acceptable and your opinion is a bit different i didn't know if you had anything else on the topic? If he truly is a virgin do you think he would be nervous or whatnot with a s/o the first time like would it truly show he was a virgin or do you think his aggressive personality would show through? Thank you so much for everything you do!

thank you so much i'm glad it makes you happy!! 🖤

kid's first time with his s/o (and first time overall)

//nsfw 18+

*i typed fast so excuse any grammar/spelling/punctuation mistakes

okay so i'm gonna write a little "analysis" i guess 😅 not sure if that's the right term, and then i'll put headcanons

yes kid is a virgin, i don't know really know when is too early to initiate sex but i'd say kid tries to initiate it 2 or three weeks in at least. i think that kid would feel more of a sex drive with a partner, he wants to be physically close to his partner (often he prefers more sexual ways), he has a lot of passion that he puts into his physical interactions with his partner (sfw or nsfw).

yknow what where did we actually get this "thing" that kid loves sex??? where did that come from? is there a basis or evidence for that?

anyway, i don't think kid is as "sex crazed" as most people write him to be. those weeks before it happens a lot of the physical contact is kissing and making out, but as i said before he puts a lot of passion into the sfw moments too, like cuddling. sometimes during cuddling he caresses his partner a lot and often very sensually but doesn't think of turning it into something more. while he doesn't have that many hobbies the ones he does have he spends a lot of time doing so it's not like he has a bunch of spare time to try and get some from his s/o, he doesn't think of it all the time either.

however, a few times when he got drunk before him and his s/o do it, he'd try to initiate it but all his s/o has to say is no or just seem like they don't want it and he'll drop it.

so now to the actual first time- i think that his virginity would show through a bit, i also think that hehad talked about it to his s/o before like just asking if they've ever done it, (of course killer could've also told his s/o !! 👀💀).

first time headcanons

(*not very detailed it's just like a summary)

-most likely happens after a normal dinner with the crew

-kid had been thinking about it for the past few days wondering how to start it, if you want it- so he had been kind of distracted for those days and zoning out was common

-once you get back to his room he kisses you and it heat sup after a minute, he pulls you tightly against him and his other arm snakes up your body to hold onto the nape of your neck

-you both start moving towards the bed and you fall back onto it, this is when kid pulls away and he looks at you in the eyes checking for any negative signs, in a gruff serious tone he whispers "do you want this?" and you say yes and he waits another moment before crashing his lips onto yours again

-it lasts a few seconds then he pulls back to strip of his vest, when it's off and discarded somewhere across the room he slips his hands under your shirt and pulls it off for you, he tries to undo your bra but he keeps fumbling and eventually he gives up with a huff and hovers over you while you take it off and throw it across the room

-he's frozen momentarily, staring at your chest, and you have to pull him towards you to get him to snap out of it, you pull him onto you and kiss him again, he crawls further over you and you both move further onto the bed

-while you're kissing kid's hand travels to your chest and kneads the flesh, he's growing desperate and he lets go of your chest to reach down and try to undo his pants, failing, he just let's himself drop on top of you so he can reach down with both hands and undo his pants

-he throws them off somewhere in the room, then you have to push him off again because you have to take off your bottoms, so he props himself up again and watches you take them off, once they're off he goes back and kisses you once before pulling away but staying close

-he asks "are you sure?" and you say yes and then you kiss again and he brings his hand down to run over your pussy and eventually runs his finger up and down past the lips and he has no idea what he's supposed to be rubbing he's just making sure you're wet

-you can hear his breath hitch when he feels it, after a minute or two he grabs his dick and pulls away so he look down and line it up with your entrance,

-he pushes in slowly and a series of grunts leave him until his dick. is completely sheathed in you and he look up at you as a guttural moan escapes his lips

-you reach your arms out for him and after a few slow thrusts he lowers back down to you and props himself up on one elbow while the other cups your breast

-he stars moving and it gradually builds up until you're not feeling. the pain anymore, the he's going faster

-i agree with the kid being really rough thing so obviously he's going. to get rough and fast fairly fast, so he's slamming into you and his figure is looming over yours, his head hung low to keep his lips attached to yours feverishly devouring them as your saliva mixes messily, he's holding himself on one elbow and as your highs approach his hand that had been groping your chest flies to the sheets above your head and harshly hits the matress as he grabs onto the sheets

-lots of grunting from him

-your hands hold onto his back and your nails dig into his skin, skip a few nasty but heavenly moments and kid's thrust become sloppy(er) and he's dragging the sheet he's holding down and right before he cums he stops kissing you and his head rests on your shoulder- and he pulls out, he cums and the moan-like grunt sound that he makes is enough to push you over the edge and you cum and your hands claw down his back and then he lets himself fall onto you again

-blah blah blah i don't know how to end this i'm leaving out the aftercare i hope that's okay! 🖤

[extasiswings]

you make my heart beat

I played myself...anyway, if you’re interested in the post that inspired this, it’s here, asking how I would write a forgotten first meeting + hospital AU.  Also on ao3 here.  Have about 2k of Buck and nurse!Eddie set between seasons 2 and 3. 

Eddie is at the reception desk reading a chart when a cup of coffee slides over the counter and settles by his forearm. He glances up—

“Usually it’s the doctors bringing me bribes, not the patients,” he says, a small smile curving his lips. “Last I checked, you didn’t have charts for me to transcribe for you—what’s this for then?”

Buck shrugs and leans forward, elbows on the counter.

“Who says it’s a bribe? I can’t just do something nice for my favorite nurse?”

Eddie closes the chart and picks up the cup—his eyes slip closed as espresso and cinnamon bursts across his tongue, and he barely holds back a groan—fuck, but it’s been a long shift.

“Thank you,” he replies. “Did I know you were coming in today?”

Buck shakes his head. “Last minute check-up. Got new scans on Monday—if everything looks good, Dr. Graves should clear me to take my recertification test.”

There’s a hopeful note in his tone even as Eddie catches the flicker of nervousness that passes through his eyes, and Eddie thinks about running into him a few months earlier, about I don’t know who I am without the uniform, and reaches out. His hand curves around Buck’s elbow where it rests on the counter—it makes his breathing go a little unsteady, touching Buck without the justification and distance provided by clinical professionalism, but the touch elicits a soft smile that does funny things to his heart, so Eddie can’t quite regret it either.

“That’s really great, Buck,” he says quietly. “I’m happy for you.”

One of the new residents comes around the corner and Eddie clears his throat as he pulls back his hand.

“I guess I know what the bribe was for then,” he teases, trying to push them back to their prior, lighthearted zone. “You just wanted me to do your work-up instead of Shirley.”

Buck laughs. “Can you blame me?” He asks. “She’s mean and her hands are always cold.”

“You complain that I’m mean all the time,” Eddie shoots back as he logs into the computer to check Buck in.

“Yeah, well, maybe I—” Buck cuts himself off and Eddie glances up in time to catch the flush darkening his cheeks. There are a lot of ways that sentence could end and all of them make his own face heat.

Maybe it’s silly—he’s an adult, he’s single, he gets flirted with all the time, even, or maybe especially by Buck, he shouldn’t get flustered. But it’s because it is Buck and not just any random patient or family member that he does. Because Eddie doesn’t know what he’s doing but he wants—

He busies himself grabbing a clipboard and a check-in form and clears his throat again before looking up.

“Come on, I’ll take you back.”

“Thanks, Eddie,” Buck replies, and his smile is back, the soft one. It’s only because Eddie’s distracted by it that he notices the way it twists into a grimace when Buck takes a step.

Eddie’s brow furrows. “You okay?”

Buck waves him off. “Fine, just—I’ve been training a lot so I can take my test as soon as I’m cleared. Must have pulled a muscle or something. Twinged a little is all.”

Eddie makes a note on the clipboard and Buck groans.

“No, come on—I pulled a muscle, I’m fine, you don’t have to write that down.”

“Maybe you pulled a muscle, maybe it’s nothing—regardless, Dr. Graves should know that you’re having leg pain just in case,” Eddie says. He pauses and narrows his eyes. “You weren’t going to tell him.”

“Because it’s nothing,” Buck insists. “Come on, Nurse Diaz, isn’t there some saying about hearing hoofbeats and thinking horses, not zebras?”

Eddie steers Buck down the hall to an exam room.

“Yeah, sure. I’ve heard it,” he replies.

“So?”

“So…” They step through the door and Eddie nods at the exam table before reaching for a blood pressure cuff. “There are a lot of very common things that could be causing pain in a limb that you’ve had multiple surgeries on, only one of which is that you pulled a muscle, and some of which could be serious. No zebras required. I’m not taking the note off the chart and you’re not going to lie when you get asked about it, okay?”

He fastens the cuff around Buck’s arm and presses a button to start the reading—he can’t help the way his lips twitch at Buck’s exasperated look.

“Little pressure,” he adds, and Buck rolls his eyes.

“I should have taken my chances with Shirley,” Buck grumbles.

“Yeah, well, if there’s a next time you can bring her coffee instead—I hear she likes hazelnut lattes.”

The cuff loosens, the monitor beeps. Eddie scribbles down the number. It’s a little high—Eddie glances over, takes in the tension in Buck’s shoulders, and bites his cheek.

“It’ll be okay,” he says, even though he usually tries to avoid promising patients anything. “Best case, they run a few more scans and waste a couple hours of your afternoon to find out that you’re right and perfectly fine. Worst case, something’s wrong and they catch it now and fix it and you’re still on track to get back to work, just maybe a couple weeks later than you planned.”

“It’s already been five months,” Buck sighs, his fingers raking through his hair.

“I know it’s frustrating—”

“How’s Christopher?” Buck interrupts, and Eddie levels him with a sharp look for the obvious deflection, but allows the subject change as he logs into the exam room computer.

“He’s good,” he replies. “Great, actually. Keeps asking about you—he, uh, he had a really great time the other day, even if it was just hanging around here. I can’t thank you enough for watching him.”

It’s not something Eddie normally would have done at all, but his abuela had a fall, Pepa had to go back to work, he couldn’t take off because they were already short-staffed with three other nurses out with the flu—

And Buck had just…been there. Finished with his physical therapy and offering to stick around so Eddie could finish his shift, all smiles and no judgment, and after five months…well, they’re something like friends, right? They're...something, anyway.

“He’s an amazing kid, and it was the best day I’ve had in…awhile, actually,” Buck admits. “You really don’t have to keep thanking me. I would do it again any time.”

I do, though, Eddie thinks, but he bites it back. He bites back, I’d like that, too.

He finishes filling in the intake information and steps back.

“You should be all set. The doctor will be in any minute.” He pauses before he reaches the door. Swallows.

“Find me after?” He asks. “Let me know how it goes? I’m on until four.”

“I’ll find you,” Buck promises. “Have to say I told you so when it turns out I just pulled a muscle.”

“I’ll be glad to hear it,” Eddie replies. He gets one more smile to sustain him before he walks out, leaving Buck behind.

He’ll see Buck later.

Except…he doesn’t. The rest of his shift passes without another sign of the other man and the gnawing worry in his gut worsens. The exam room is empty when he checks, he doesn’t have any new pages or texts—it would be easy to pull Buck’s chart and find out if something happened, but that feels like it would cross a line when it’s not strictly necessary—

He shoots off a text of his own, but there’s still no reply by the time he’s showered and changed out of his scrubs.

It’s happenstance that he runs into Dr. Graves’ favorite resident outside the locker room.

“Hey, Cassie—Graves had a patient today, Evan Buckley? I did the intake, and I was wondering—”

“Oh, he was admitted,” she says. “Room 312, I think.”

Eddie’s stomach drops. Sometimes he hates being right.

“Thanks,” he says faintly. She gives him a distracted hum, preoccupied by responding to a text, and Eddie heads to the elevators.

“Hey,” he greets a few minutes later, leaning against the doorway in Buck’s room. His hands are shoved in his pockets and he’s not entirely sure whether to cross the threshold.

Buck looks…tired. Frustrated. Upset. Raw. He tries to cover it when he sees Eddie, but it doesn’t fully work.

Eddie’s heart aches.

“Blood clots,” Buck sighs with a rueful shrug. “On the screws in my leg. They said it was lucky they caught it before one broke off and traveled anywhere, or it could have killed me. Guess you saved my life, Nurse Diaz.”

“Well…” Eddie weighs his hesitation against his desire to be closer and ultimately pushes off the doorframe to step inside. “You are my favorite patient. Who else is going to bring me coffee if you died?”

“Oh, I’m sure a lot of people would be more than happy to do that,” Buck replies. “I’m picturing a line around the block here.”

Eddie settles into the chair next to the bed.

“I think you’re vastly overestimating there, but—” Eddie wets his lips as he meets Buck’s gaze. Fuck, he’s not good at this, but he would do just about anything to bring Buck’s smile back. “—but, for whatever it’s worth, I wouldn’t want anyone else to.”

“Because I’m your favorite patient?” The look in Buck’s eyes is hopeful but wary, the kind of look that says despite his easy flirtations, he’s been burned before and expects to be again. And maybe it’s that honest vulnerability that finally unsticks Eddie’s tongue because when he opens his mouth to respond, what comes out is—

“You’re not just a patient, Buck. Not to me. You have to know that.”

“Do I?”

The skepticism feels like a challenge and Eddie rises to it by leaning in—he slides his fingers into Buck’s hair and closes the gap, kissing him once, twice, as Buck makes a startled sound against his lips and curls his own fingers into Eddie’s shirt to kiss him back.

“I don’t do that with just anyone,” Eddie breathes when he pulls back. “And I definitely don’t let them meet my son. Clear enough?”

Buck clears his throat, and nods, flushed and a little dazed in a way that makes Eddie bite back a grin.

“Speaking of, I have to go pick him up, but…” Eddie steals another kiss. “I’ll come see you tomorrow? And maybe we can…talk about this a little more?”

“I’d like that,” Buck admits. “And—Eddie—I—” His throat works as he swallows.

“Thank you,” he says finally. “For not letting me brush it off.”

Eddie’s thumb rubs against the edge of Buck’s jaw before he finally drops his hand.

“I care about you. Part of that means wanting to see you care about yourself,” he replies. “You don’t have to thank me for that.”

Buck looks like he might argue with that, but ultimately just tugs Eddie in for one final kiss before releasing him.

“Tell Christopher I said hi.”

“I will.”

[kaypeace21]

The fathers of Stranger Things:  (narrative analysis)

This analysis will discuss all the dads in st. But will mostly focus on the parallels between Brenner, Lonnie, Neil,and Hopper. And the ramifications on their kids.And no i’m not saying Hopper is necessarily as bad as these other fathers/doesn’t have his reasons. But i think the parallels are worth mentioning.

Cycles of Ab*se  & internalizing your father’s teachings

Baseball-We see in s2 the cycle of abuse is there- Billy mimics Neil, and then Max mimics Billy. And uses violence to stand up for herself- which earlier she said she was trying to combat … explaining she can be angry like Billy sometimes but she never wants to be like him (her nickname symbolizing this: aka ‘mad max’).  

We see in s3 Neil taught Billy baseball and bullied him  and called him a “p*ssy” so Billy as a child bullied others and calls them a “p*ssy” (internalizing his father’s teachings and probably venting his anger towards his father on to others). We also see Billy in s2 antagonizes max and demands “say it. say it!”And later Max yells at Billy “say it! say it” and attacks him with a bat. Showing that even Neil has influenced her to a certain extent (via Billy’s ab*se of Max). 

We also see in s3 when Will is frustrated he destroys cb (a symbol of his artistic ambition/the day his father left) and destroys it with a  baseball bat (and then we see the mf officially return) . We also see in s2, Will has a baseball next to the mf drawing (in his room). This is noteworthy due to the fact Jonathan in s1 asks if Will even likes baseball or is just doing it to appease his father. in s1, Will admits he isn’t a fan of baseball -showing how this ‘interest’ in baseball in later seasons just reflects his desire to win his father’s approval (through more sterotypically masculine hobbies).  And we see how both Neil & Lonnie taught both their sons baseball- who are both named William -and who they would call  “f*gs”. We also see in s1 Jonathan lugs around a baseball bat & his father’s gun -however neither tool is used by him in the end successfully. However, in s3 we see Jonathan using an axe (like Joyce) showing by this point he’s mostly taken on Joyce’s influence. 

El’s spying , fighting the Russians, and  lack of care for her safety shows she internalized Brenner’s teachings- We know in s1 El was trained to be a spy/weapon against the soviets (by Brenner). And in later seasons when it comes to her interpersonal relationships- she continues to spy on everyone around her.  she spies on Mike despite his vocal discomfort in s3. Brenner specifically tells her to spy and repeat the words the guys are saying back to him- which is exactly what she does to Lucas and Mike (spying on them and repeating their words back to Max). And when Mike is concerned for her safety we also have El mimic Brenner’s words (from s1) . in s1 she is also said to be taken by Brenner to be a “weapon to fight the commies” and in s3 that’s exactly what she did!  She does literally everything Brenner ever wanted from her!!!!!!!

Jonathan & Billy’s fights with Steve (reflect their father issues... which Steve accidentally triggered)- We see Billy and Jonathan both shoved into walls by their father’s . For Billy this is in a direct consequence of Max running away and for Jonathan- Will’s disappeareance. Billy first shoves Lucas into the wall similarly to Neil. And both Jonathan and Billy are told to “STOP”.

Billy also breaks a plate over Steve’s head. What’s interesting to note is in s3 we see Billy’s mother threw a plate at  Billy’s father (so he was mimicking the dysfunction he saw as a child). kind of like how in s3 he backhands max (mirroring how neil backhanded his mother in the s3 flashback). 

When it comes to jonathan we see jonathan tell nancy to leave and it’s “not worth it” to argue with Steve. However he stops in his tracks when Steve says he’s “like his father”. Then Steve proceeds to insult his family. And  eventually Jonathan who throughout every season is generally portrayed as non confrontational attacks steve. similarly when Billy and Jonathan are beating Steve (who is laying on the ground)-multiple people are yelling for them to stop.But both are in too much of a triggered daze to stop themselves. Even when the cops come- Jonathan elbows the cop in the face and kicks steve with handcuffs on and even says handcuffed for the cop to “get off’ (like he told Lonnie earlier). 

Both would rather do this to their own fathers-but Steve (and the cops) were used as their proxy instead. The fights might reflect what the boys have been taught by their fathers-aka vi*lence. Also on some subconscious level jonathan may have been like-oh you think i’m like my dad? I’ll show you what my dad is like (beats steve with no mercy).

***also, tw se*ual ab*se (you can skip)-during the jonathan fight they also bring up the “pervy photo sesh”- which jonathan took right after seeing his father. in the movies said to inspire s4 they often had a se*ually ab*sive dad/relative who would take innaproriate pics of his kids.uuuuugh. So jonathan may have just been mimicking that past behavior of his father. ugh.***

father’s ab*se  reflects the supernatural

*if you know about my did theory-part 1 and 2 you’ve heard this stuff in detail but i’ll just give a brief synopsis 

- The demogorgan that attacks Will in s1 is  a demon called the “deep FATHER” in d&d.

-El first comes across the demogorgon  (“deep father” ) eating it’s own eggs- symbolically this shows the ‘father’ is hurting it’s own kids ( a motif in the show)!

hunting/baseball/trunks connecting to Lonnie and the monsters:  Will is attacked by the demogorgan in Lonnie’s old shed (and Will tries to defend himself with Lonnie’s old hunting gun). The demogorgan jumps on Jonathan and knocks the bat out of his hands, when he tries defending himself from the demogorgan( both activities: hunting/baseball Lonnie taught the boys).  We also see the demogorgan also attack hunters and a deer- a ref to the lonnie & Jonathan hunting story about Bambi. In s1 we see Jonathan check Lonnie’s trunk to see if Will is there . But also we see the mf throw heather and later her parents in the trunk as well. Also when Jonathan starts talking car repair lingo in s3 -Will senses the mf (since Lonnie repaired cars as a hobby in s1). When lonnie returns in s1 jonathan asks Joyce “did that thing (demogorgan ) come back?” And when Lonnie says he explored around the quarry-jonathan mentions how the demogorgan only traveled a few miles  around his house. When Lonnie says “someone should be held accountable” for what happened to Will- it transitions from lonnie hammering a nail into the wall to Mike piercing a pencil into paper explaining the hole in the upsidedown and how Will got trapped there- hinting at how Lonnie causing trauma to Will is the explanation for everything supernatural. Also need to point out how we zoom in on the lightbulb in Lonnie’s shed (after Will is taken) and they later zoom in on a red lighbulb (when Jonathan tears the innappropriate photos down from the red room) and then it transitions to the christmas lights. And then we see Lonnie berate Jonathan and there’s a glowing lightbulb beside Lonnie (to mirror him to the demogorgan).

-flowers & monstrous fathers: when Brenner (”papa”) first hurts Terry on a hospital bed she wakes up with sunflowers next to her bed. Lonnie in s1 is shown to have a sunflower blanket, and in s2 we see a sunflower book next to Will’s bed after he has a nightmare. We also see that the demogorgan ( ”deep father’-also called the “the man without a face” in s1 ) have a face that resembles a flower. Brenner also gave El a flower when on her bed (although not a sunflower) before forcing her to face the demogorgan for the 1st time.

I believe  credit goes to the tumblr user lazy-storm-cloud for noticing Lonnie’s sunflower blanket. I noticed most of the flower imagery but never noticed that blanket until they mentioned it.

-supernatural “wounds” connecting to Will,  El, Kali and fathers.The lab workers say the upsidedown’s influence over crops/hawkins is “spreading”  while joyce says the tunnels Will drew are also “spreading”. Will says his now-MEMORIES” (connected to the mf-who parallels lonnie) are “growing, spreading, and killing.” Later, Kali in reference to Brenner says her wounds “spread” because she didn’t address her pain caused by Brenner (her papa). And when kali creates a brenner-double he says El has a terrible wound that’s “growing, spreading, and eventually it’ll kill you.” (if not addressed) and they don’t stand up against their father.

-doors connecting to problematic fathers: We see Will in s1 have a sign on his bedroom door that says “do not enter”. And he also requires a password for cb for people to enter. When joyce in s1 hears aggressive knocking on the door she assumes it’s lonnie and says to “go away, Lonnie”.  In s1 we the demogorgan unlock the door telepathically and chase Will. later we see Will stare at the shed door terrified as the demogorgan sneaks up  behind him. in s2 we see the mf slam open the arcade door by itself, and also open his house door in the same manner . when the house door opens it zooms in on the back of his neck- which indicates it’s based off an old memory-a now memory.  We have El also telepathically unlock people’s doors in a similar fashion-not respecting such boundaries. And El asks in s1e1 for the door to stay open.  And Neil, Hopper, and Billy  angrily yell to “OPEN THE DOOR!!!!!” And Hopper slams doors open demanding they stay 3 inches open. We also see El enter a door in the void to see Heather being attacked in a tub and entering the darkness.

tubs:brenner forces El into a sensory deprivation tank. Later El refers to it as a “tub” after seeing the byers tub. we later see the mf is afraid of the byers’ tub. And tub iconography shows up for billy & heather. the s4 movies hint at Will having a tra*matic memory occurring in the tub.

The fathers of St  (recap):

Brenner (“papa” to El and Kali). He forces El into a dark room for hours when she doesn’t obey him. At one point tries to force her to k*ll an animal.  Given the way she ate at Benny’s- he may have starved her as another form of punishment.He allows El no ability to express herself (and dresses her in a masculine/androgounous way) and bans her from the outside world. He tries using a calm-kind demeanor to try and manipulate mothers (Joyce & Karen) into thinking he cares about their kids. And uses El as a weapon/spy .  He would read to El and give her flowers and  a lion plushie . in the st novel  (suspicious minds) he compared the children/numbers to  “rabbits” he could “hurt”.

Lonnie-(dead beat dad of Jonathan and Will). divorced.Forced Jonathan to k*ll a rabbit. It’s implied he has thrown his kids in his dark car trunk  (since Jonathan checks if Will is lonnie’s trunk in s1). He tries manipulating Joyce into thinking he cares about Will. But he just wanted to use Will’s death to make money. He canonically-joked about his son dissappearing. And insulted his ex wife. Then when he realizes he can profit off his son’s death-who he hasn’t seen in years. He leaves his 20-something live in gf, flirts with Joyce calling her “babe”. And pretends to care for Will and the rest of his family. Then gaslights them when they call out his bs. He also has called Will a “f*g” and it’s implied he forced Will to hunt/play baseball. He also shoves Jonathan into a wall. He can have a relatively calm demeanor like Brenner-but then blows up. He smokes, and it’s implied he may be an alcholic since beer cans are littered all over his house. Will has lion plushie in cb (and since lonnie means ‘lion’ it may have been given to him by Lonnie?). He  (like Hopper) implies Joyce is mentally ill and that she’s hallucinating due to grief-and says she’s going to go “over the edge” mirroring Hopper’s words about Joyce in s1. 

Neil- divorced.Calls Billy a “f*got”, and forced him to play baseball. He later shoves his son into a wall and slaps him. He has a calm demeanor and then yells to make his points with Billy.  He also yells at first wife cause romantically jealous. Him & Lonnie both have fights with their ex wives where the phrase “I’m not lying to you” is used. 

Hopper- divorced.in s1-3 we see he smokes, pops pills,  and is an alocholic. The pilot pitch explicitely states he is . He is shown to have anger issues, sells out El’s location to Brenner in s1. In s2 threatens to send her back to her ab*sers if she doesn’t listen to him/ stay isolated from the outside world. dresses her androgonously and tries controlling her romantic relationships. He yells at Joyce cause romantically jealous . joyce annoyed at Hopper: “yes everyman i speak to is my boyfriend”. El says “you are like papa.” And in the pilot Brenner and Hopper were said to dress similarly. And Murray says to Joyce that Hopper is a “brute” who “reminds (her) of a (past) bad relationship”. Aka Lonnie. 

Steve’s dad- is called an “asshole” by Steve and it’s implied he cheats on his wife.

heather’s dad - is sexist to Nancy and cold to his wife. We see Heather (who is the same age as Nancy) has some hidden resentment towards him.

Sam (Max’s dad)- divorced/out of the picture like Lonnie. in the novel ‘runaway max’ is said to be a criminal who often took Max to shady places/bars. And also taught her how to pick door locks-similar to how Jonathan picked a car lock open in s1 like max with a door in s2.

Dustin’s dad- also out of the picture ? dead... maybe?

Recap: Parallels of fathers

forced their kids to k*ll animals/violence toward rabbits/throws kids in dark places/gave their kids lion plushies/tries unsuccessfully to manipulate mother’s  into thinking he cares for their kids: Lonnie & Brenner

taught kids shady stuff like how to pick locks: Lonnie & Sam 

are described as poor/called their sons “f*gs”/forced sons to play baseball/slam sons into walls/have their sons attack Steve/have sons who are into hard rock music: lonnie & Neil

“i’m not lying to you”-:Neil/ex wife and Lonnie/joyce

dr*gs/smokes/alochol ab*se/womanizers/hunters: lonnie & Hopper

imply Joyce is wrong about the supernatural and is just mentally ill: Lonnie and Hopper. Both use a similar expression of her being on “the edge”.

lie to Joyce: Lonnie and Hopper (specifically lies claiming he took her advice and uses that lie to try and get a date with her)

Gave them cat plushies: Lonnie,Brenner, possibly hopper with sara’s tiger 

being connected to flowers: Brenner & Lonnie

yell at love interest when romantically jealous:Neil and Hopper in s3

Hopper: compared to Lonnie (by Murray in s3) and Papa/brenner (by el in s2). in the original pilot Brenner & Hopper were supposed to look similar. Brenner was supposed to have a beard, and wear jeans and plaid shirts similar to hopper in s1. it’s also interesting to note how Hopper started to look more like Neil -they’re both blondes-and in s3 they have matching moustaches (and billy started growing out a moustache in s3-mirroring him becoming a mini neil too).

dress El in masculine clothes/isolate her from outside world/spy on El/read to El:Hopper & Brenner

calm demeanor but quick to anger/ also divorced: Hopper, lonnie, Neil

yells to “open the door”: Neil, Hopper, (and possessed Billy) .it’s also implied Lonnie can pick door locks open.

outliers

jonathan - In the pilot pitch he’s described as taking on the father role for Will (after Lonnie left).  However, he is often paralleled to the mothers of st. Most likely because he never had a healthy father figure- and distrusts even good men like Bob- so models his parenting behavior more so on maternal figures. We see  Jonathan being paralleled to the mothers taking photos of their kids on Halloween, and Jonathan being paralleled to Karen twice.  We even see him bored/annoyed in s2 watching the film “mr mom” since the comedic premise was haha - dad has to stay at home- cook for their kids , drive them to school, do laundry, whaaa how can a man do that ... look it’s so hard  ? isn’t that what moms do instead? All things Jonathan does without literally tripping over himself and failing like the older male film character, initially does .  He also in canon helps pay for the mortgage. We also see Jonathan is unlike the other problematic fathers (who demand entry into their kid’s room) since we see him knock on Will’s door and get verbal permission before entering Will’s room in s2 (respecting Will’s sign). Similar to joyce ringing cb’s doorbell and getting verbal permission from Will to enter.We also see on Halloween Jonathan mocks Bob but when Will defends him Jonathan later mimics Bob telling Will “hope it doesn’t suck” (in a vampire voice) showing at least subconsciously he was mirroring the parenting-like behavior from Bob (since Will liked Bob). So Bob became the first male he used as an inspiration for his ‘parenting style’.

Ted-  is shown in direct opposition to Lonnie.In s1 we see Ted help Mike put on a tie mentioning to Mike it has to be a “little tight” and that it “looks good”. And  after this scene: we see Jonathan struggle to put on a tie (and then ripping it off in frustration-signifying his lack of a father figure that could have taught him how to do this when younger). So in s3 we see Jonathan’s ties are always poorly done and slightly loose around his neck. The same season Jonathan comments about how Nancy’s dad makes 6 figures and his dad “isn’t even around”. He finacially supports his family. cuddles Holly on his fav laze-boy and takes her to fairs. Wants to comfort Mike after Will dies (but listens to Karen to give him time). Has Karen tell Mike that if he wants to talk to him about Will’s death- he can call him at work and he’ll come home for Mike. His calm demeanor seems genuine -unlike the other father figures who quickly lose their cool facade (Ted has never yelled at his kids). Even when kids yell or insult him he doesn’t lose his cool. Worst things he’s done: told kids to stop cursing, naps alot, gives an outdated football analogy about How Mike needs to stop acting out . Why st fans claim he’s a bad dad : boring af aka the human embodiment of wonder bread, in loveless marriage,  and not rambo-esque like Hopper so people act like he’s a horrible dad in comparison to Hopper. Despite being a  more stable parent in the normal everyday situations.

Lucas’ dad- unfortunately we saw very little of him. But he seems somewhat similar to Ted. He’s nice and gives somewhat dated  advice at the table to his son-like Ted did. He seems like a mellow, chill dude, who finacially supports his family. But,Unlike karen/ted it seems like he loves his wife and vice versa.

Bob-the wannabe stepdad-  as the first romantic interest after Lonnie-He contrasts him. He doesn’t do drugs or smoke.  Is emotionally vulnerable with Joyce and vice versa. He never makes fun of Will or Joyce’s mental health issues. he relates to Will -who was bullied as a kid, and is into computers, comics, and was in av club (just like Will). He is supportive of Will’s non-manly interests and encourages those interests (bringing brain puzzles, and board games over when told Will is sick).  Unlike Lonnie who tried to force ‘manly’ interests on to Will. He isn’t mad when Will busts his brand new camera but is simply concerned that Will is being bullied. He’s also shown being concerned about Will’s mental health. He helps joyce with little things like finding her keys and taking Will to school. His happy calm demeanor  is genuine-and he is never shown yelling in anger. He kindly disagrees with joyce on the ‘ drawings on the walls game’ cause he was concerned it wasn’t good for Will’s mental health (and tells her she can talk more about Will’s issues). He sacrifices himself to save Will, joyce and everyone around him.  And unlike Hopper- Bob was never jealous or mean to joyce about the men in Joyce’s life. Bob was serious about Joyce and the boys-he wanted them to be his family and move them near his own blood relatives. We see he had an impact on the boys at the end of s2- Will drawing the “bob newby superhero” drawing and Jonathan using Bob’s camera. 

[angstyaches]

Hey! Here’s the headache request #2 lol

Charlie or shayne (this feels more like Charlie to me, but whatever you feel like!) with an awful headache that is absolutely killer, and it’s lay-on-the-floor-of-the-bathroom-with-the-lights-out-and-cool-washcloth-over-the-forehead-time, except the other one doesn’t know that quite yet until they find them in pain and puking their absolute guts up, which cues lots of gentle caretaking, soft comforting whispers, and maybe camping out on the floor together until the poor kid is able to get some sleep and wake up feeling a little better.

Again, I'm so sorry for losing your original request! I didn't quite make it to the sleep/feeling better, because I felt it come to a natural end.

Word Count: 1458

CW: headache, emeto, demon possession, character needs help moving.

___

He gasped deeply, swallowing back a howl of pain. His stomach was lurching under his ribs, unable to still itself under the amount of pressure that radiated from his left temple.

It hurt, it hurt, it hurt so much that he couldn’t believe this was real, he couldn’t believe he’d ever known a time when his head hadn’t felt like it was being drilled into.

With clammy hands, Charlie felt around on the floor for the wet cloth that he’d been holding against his head before the vomiting had set in. It’d been his second course of action, after downing some ibuprofen (which were now swimming in the toilet drain), and before killing the bathroom light. He finally found it and dragged it towards himself, pressing it to his head and holding it up with an elbow on the toilet seat. Usually, he’d have shuddered in dread at the thought of putting a cloth on his face if it had just been sitting on the bathroom floor, but there was no room for pickiness now.

Besides, he was sure the floor had been washed that week. Yeah. Maybe.

An unproductive retch made his throat clench and forced his jaw open. He was almost relieved to think that he was nearing empty; once the nausea passed, he could focus on becoming a reclining statue on the floor again. Most annoying was the fact that the puking was a result of the headache, but was also making it worse.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, the demon CT mumbled, Human bodies make no sense.

“Charlie, you okay?” That was a voice from the real world, specifically from the other side of the bathroom door. “You’ve been gone ages.”

Before he could even entertain the idea of responding, thick chunks rolled up Charlie’s throat and into the water. He dreaded to even begin to think what those chunks once contained.

“Charlie…?”

Before Charlie could protest, CT’s telekinesis kicked it and unlocked the bathroom door. Shit, he thought, flinching at the sound of the door clicking open. He yanked the cloth down over his eyes, desperate to keep his eyes covered.

“Don’t turn on the light,” Charlie hissed, feeling the demon’s energy kicking in to replace that which he’d already lost from his own body. The effort of talking was so intense, like every word was a kick to the inside of his skull with a steel-toed boot. He barely mumbled out a groan as he pushed himself upwards, his whole body thrusting back and forth lightly with the repeated spasms that went through his tummy.

“You’re sick?” Shayne mumbled, clicking the door shut slowly and cutting off the light from the landing.

“Mmhmm…” Charlie reckoned Shayne had figured it out hours ago, despite his best efforts to appear cheerful during the evening. It wasn’t often that Elliott and Felix made the trip out to Mulberry, and the last thing Charlie had wanted was for anyone to be worried about him. “Headache… bad one.”

As expected, Shayne let out a sigh. “You should’ve said something…”

“Please don’t yell at me,” Charlie gasped, saliva running down his chin as he hovered about the toilet seat.

“This is literally as quiet as I can –” Shayne shut himself up with a soft grunt. He knelt beside Charlie. It was obvious that he intended on rubbing his back while he continued to heave over the toilet, but Charlie had other intentions now that his boyfriend was here.

And by boyfriend, he meant human pillow.

The tiles were freezing as he lowered himself to the ground again. He’d sweat so much more since he’d started throwing up, and his clothes were a little damp and felt disgusting against his skin.

He didn’t really care about the rest of his body, though, as long as he could lay his head in Shayne’s lap. Shivers ran down his back, direct waves of tension that trickled down from his skull.

Charlie whined, low in his throat, as Shayne brushed his hair back from his forehead and laid the cloth across it. His fingers moved slowly and gently as always. It was as though Shayne believed Charlie’s skull was made of eggshell, and that it might have cracked and collapsed inwards if it was put under any serious amount of pressure.

Whereas honestly, it felt more like his head might crack from the pressure coming from the inside.

Even as he was lying still, Charlie felt like his head was being wrenched to the side, as though he was nailed to a turntable that was set spinning slowly. Only the sensation of Shayne playing with his hair kept him somewhat grounded, and even that didn’t feel like nearly enough.

“Just cut it off.” His voice was getting higher as time went on, like he was an old tea kettle slowly coming to the boil. “I want it gone, just – just chop it off.”

Shayne frowned. “Your hair?”

“My fucking head!”

“Sssshhhh…” Shayne’s fingertips glided down the nape of Charlie’s neck. In contrast to the light touch, Charlie could feel his own muscles tensing up, hard as rocks. Every inch of his body was reacting to the pain which, in itself, only really took up about one inch of his skull. "It's okay."

“It's not! I hate this,” he whimpered.

“I know...”

A low groan from the pit of his stomach alerted him to the fact that the convulsions were traveling through his insides again, and he choked on a sob. His head was still in pain after laying it in Shayne’s lap, but it was the most comfortable he’d been in ages. He didn’t want to get on his knees again and lose even more of his dinner.

His chest tightened with a hiccup. Shayne cupped a hand around his shoulder, ready to help him back up.

Charlie tried to hum in protest, but squeezed his lips together upon tasting acid on his tongue. His spine jerked him forward, curling him up even tighter. The cloth dropped off of his forehead again, but this time Shayne grabbed it before it could sit on the tiles for too long.

“Charlie –”

“I c-can’t, I can’t sit up!” He clapped a hand over his lips as his stomach clenched again.

“I’m so sorry, Charlie, just remember I love you.”

“Wh-wha –?” The floor suddenly seemed to tilt in the opposite direction, or maybe it was entire fucking planet, because Charlie suddenly didn’t know which way was up or down. He felt Shayne pulling his arm up around the back of his neck, dragging him to his knees and draping him over the toilet seat. Charlie could barely see for the stars exploding in his vision, but when sickly liquid clawed its way up his throat, he heard it hit another body of liquid at the bottom of the bowl. “Fuck…”

“You’re okay,” Shayne whispered, right next to his face. Charlie’s chin was practically resting on his shoulder. His arm was draped over Shayne’s other shoulder, like he was injured and being dragged off the battlefield.

He felt another wave of nausea bubble up under his ribs, his stomach letting out an uneasy gurgle. Charlie shut his eyes as a mouthful of bile stung his throat before cascading out of him. Needles of white-hot pain shot through his head.

A gentle knock on the door sounded like an elephant being dropped on the landing.

“Fuck – what?” Shayne hissed, turning his head to project his voice away from Charlie’s delicate eardrums.

“Is everything okay?” a voice asked from the other side of the door. Sounded like Felix. “Do you… need anything?”

Part of Charlie wanted to beg for some more ibuprofen to kill the agony in his head, but another wrenching pain in his gut told him it wouldn’t stay down this time either. He heard Shayne hesitate, probably having the same realisation.

“Water might be good,” Shayne said back.

“Blanket,” Charlie choked out softly. He had a horrible feeling he wouldn’t be moving from the tiles for a long time yet.

Shayne sighed again, rubbing a hand along Charlie’s spine. “And the blanket from the sofa, Fee.”

After chucking up another sliver of whatever was still in his stomach, Charlie turned his head and nuzzled into the hollow between Shayne’s shoulder and neck. His body would have crumpled to the ground if it hadn’t been practically tangled up with Shayne’s.

“P-please don’leave me,” he mumbled, realising his was slurring his words.

“Love,” Shayne whispered, sighing in the way he did that let Charlie know he’d just said something mildly infuriating. He wrapped an arm around Charlie’s waist and pulled him even closer, taking even more of his weight now that the sporadic vomiting seemed to have stopped. For now. “I’d never dream of it.”

[pirate-au]

A Pirate's Life for a Prince (Part 3)

Summary: Roman was a dashing Captain, content with his exciting life out at sea, diving head first into adventure both on and off land. He wouldn't give up his life for anything, and yet he found himself...lacking something. He was never sure what.

When he meets Virgil, a seemingly common traveler in an old tavern, that lacking feeling in his chest goes away for the first time in a long while. So surely there's no harm in offering the stranger and his friend a ride, right?

Once again a big thank you to @cheshirevalentine for help with this story

part 1 part 2 part 4 part 5 part 6

Logan had always been a light sleeper, and while the noises of the ship rarely ever bothered him enough to disturb his sleep, what did disturb him was Roman's ridiculous new habit of getting up to go on late night walks.

He’d woken up earlier when Roman had slipped out of the room, and he was still awake some time later when he returned, sooner than Logan would have expected.

He didn’t bother pretending to be asleep, sitting up on his elbows and squinting at the doorway. “Why are you awake?”

Roman froze in his spot when Logan spoke, hesitating for only a moment. “Uhm, I uh, I was just… on a walk! I was just on a walk, is all. Couldn’t sleep.”

“Roman,” Logan sighed, steady and unimpressed. Roman had always been an actor at heart, but the Captain couldn’t lie to save his life. “What’s wrong?”

Roman sighed, running a shaky hand through his hair. “Virgil is a prince, did you know that? Crown Prince. I had no idea.”

He was doing his best to sound casual, but it wasn’t hard for Logan to see through the hastily put together facade to the panic underneath.

Well. He’d expected them to have this conversation eventually.

“I was not aware he was the heir, no.”

“Well, he is!” Roman said, sounding a bit frantic. “My reaction was that we had to turn around, of course. I’m a pirate, but I’m not the kidnaps-the-only-heir-to-the-throne type of pirate. Apparently that was the wrong reaction!”

Logan tilted his head, trying to get a better look at the Captain, but the poor lighting made it almost impossible to read his friend’s expression. Not that he’d ever been good with expressions anyway. “Are we turning around?”

“No. We aren’t turning around, he—” Roman paused, clearing his throat before he started up his pacing. “They weren’t… good to him. We aren’t turning around and we won’t be bringing him back for any reason.”

"Roman." Logan hesitated, choosing his words carefully. He certainly had no qualms with the decision, but they did still have a crew to think about. "Is your… infatuation with Virgil playing into this decision?"

“What?” Roman whirled around to face him, eyes wide. “No! They hurt him! He nearly tipped himself off the ship when I said I was turning around! This has nothing to do with me. I’d be a monster if I took him back!”

“I figured as much,” Logan said, calm as ever in the face of Roman’s outburst. They had always been that way- Logan being the unwavering tree in the face of Roman’s inevitable storm. He leaned back against his pillow, assuming this was the end of the discussion. “I would not have let you take him back anyway.”

“Wha- why not?” Roman asked, incredulously. “If you knew something why didn’t you just tell me? This whole thing could have been avoided if I had just known better!”

Logan hesitated, fiddling with his blanket between his thumb and forefinger. He’d figured Virgil was a royal based on his clothes and mannerisms, and he’d suspected Patton was a servant or advisor of some kind.

He’d quietly asked Patton about it, mostly curious how they’d managed to get out of the palace walls unseen, and Roman had been too busy with Virgil to notice Patton grab his first mate by the tie and promptly threaten his life if anyone ever found out about Virgil’s identity.

He had a feeling Roman wouldn’t appreciate hearing about that right now. Besides, Logan and Patton were getting along fine now, the few times they’d spoken.

“I did not know,” he said instead. “There wasn’t enough time for me to do anything but speculate about Virgil’s identity.”

“But why didn’t you say anything?”

And Logan… knew why. As hard as it was to admit it to himself, he knew it was because Roman had looked so happy this past week. Roman had smiled, and laughed and looked so excited. It had been a long time since Logan had seen that spark in the Captain’s eyes. He didn’t want to be the one to take it away, to replace it with only more stress and worry.

“There was no point.” Logan finally settled on, lifting his head to meet Roman’s eyes through the dark. “But there is no logic in returning an abuse victim to their abusers, Roman. I know you would never forgive yourself if you decided to turn around. So I won’t let you.”

Roman seemed to deflate, his shoulders slumping. He sighed, rubbing his face with both hands. "He tried to throw himself off the ship, Lo," he whispered. "This… is not going to be easy to deal with."

“It is not,” Logan agreed, thinking back to how viciously protective Patton had been of the young Prince. “But I doubt it will be any easier for him. Your kindness is probably something very new to him.”

“I know,” Roman said, lowering himself to the floor and resting his face in his hands. “And that’s awful. I wish—” he stopped, head shooting up in panic. “You don’t think Patton—?”

“I do not,” Logan assured. “I imagine Virgil would have said something to you while you two were alone if Patton was a threat. He seems to be able to calm Virgil down,” he said. “From what I’ve seen.”

Roman relaxed once more, slouching a little. “Oh. Good, I… I was just worried. I hadn’t thought of it before, but if he was and I left Virgil alone with him—”

"Patton and Virgil have been sharing a room since they arrived here,” Logan pointed out. He’d seen Virgil go to Patton if he looked overwhelmed, an unspoken agreement to be held, and he’d seen Patton seek Virgil out himself if he seemed to get a bad feeling. “Virgil has not appeared to be in any pain or distress since departing."

“Right. Good, that’s… good.” Roman sighed, small and unsteady, running a hand over his face. “Why is it that the one time I try to do a good thing it ends up biting me in the ass? Is this karma?”

Logan frowned, first because Roman had done plenty of good things in the past, and second because… what on earth did that mean?

“Why would Virgil… bite you in the ass?”

“It’s a turn of phrase,” Roman said with another sigh. “It means what I did is having a negative effect on me.”

"But you're doing the right thing, despite the negatives." Logan sat up in bed again, reaching for his glasses to get a better look at the Captain. "If any other pirate had found Virgil, they'd take him home and demand a ransom in the process. You're saving his life, Roman."

He watched with a frown as Roman, still seated on the floor, reached for his pillow and blanket tucked neatly into the corner. Logan (allowing himself to be a bit petty for once) had set up the Captain’s temporary bed on the floor.

But seeing the obvious exhaustion on his face, the unmistakable tension in his shoulders, Logan couldn’t bring himself to stay annoyed with him. Not when he suspected Roman wasn’t getting nearly as much sleep as he claimed to be.

“I know,” Roman said, rubbing wearily at his eyes. “I don’t know what he’s going to do when we get to Deigh, though. I don’t think he even has a plan, he said he didn’t expect to get out of the city so fast.”

Logan sighed, moving his own pillow to the other side of the bed and scooting over to make room for the other man. “It’s fortunate that he met you, then. I’m sure he’ll find his way.”

Roman nodded, gratefully getting up from the floor, grabbing his pillow and making his way over to his side of the bed. Logan took a risk and reached over to squeeze his arm, relaxing slightly when the Captain smiled.

“I hope so,” Roman said quietly. “At least he won’t be alone.”

Taglist

@i-really-like-dragons @stitches-system @poettheythem @remy-the-lemon-berry @shrubs-and-bushes @i-sexually-identify-as-a-mistake @wordsmithandworm @the-dead-and-the-decaying @hope340 @winterwynd @thomas-sanders-tothe-standers @angstysunshine @sunshineandteddybears @pixelated-pineapple

[sparetimeimagines]

Patience

Tsukishima Kei x Reader

Part 2 of Habits

Tags; soft core, smut, fluff, Soft Tsuki

Masterlist

“Go home, Tsukishima.”

It had been weeks since you’ve seen him.

No text messages.

No phone calls.

Nothing.

You felt yourself being played.

He finally got what he wanted, for you to confess to him once again that he was right.

Condescending asshole.

Why does this keep happening to me? You thought as though this time around things were supposed to change.

However, this time it felt different. This time, you felt him picking at the stitches he swore he wasn’t going to play with.

And now you feel stupid.

You feel stupid for driving all the way up there at two in the morning.

You feel stupid for believing he meant what he said and falling for every word of it.

“I broke my phone. I swear. I swear I wasn’t blowing you off. I had exams and my phone was broken. I didn’t have time to come down and see you. I promise you I wasn’t going to fuck this up again. God, you have to believe me.”

“Go home, Tsukishima.”

“No. Not until you let me explain.”

He shows up with flowers and you slam the door in his face.

“Baby, please.” You hear him through the door. “Open up.”

“No fuck you, Tsukishima.”

“Don’t be like that, Y/n.”

He had to manipulate you. You thought as long as you cut off everyone else, everything would work out right.

Some fool you are.

He can’t stay out there for long. Eventually he’ll have to go away, go home and leave you alone.

You open the door hours later to walk your dog; the same one he bought you for your birthday a year ago.

“I figured you’d still be here.” Unamused, you stare at the blond who waits with his elbows resting on his knees.

“Just let me explain.”

You sigh, letting him tag along.

“You can walk with us. She needs to go out.”

“What about the flowers?”

“Hold them. Toss them. I don’t care.”

He holds them the entire walk, them wilting in the process.

“She’s gotten big.”

“Yep.”

“I can’t believe you still have her.” He watches the fluffy black dog sniff around a tree.

“Her dad fucked up. Not her.”

“I know.” He frowns pushing his glasses up by the bridge. “I’m doing that a lot lately.”

You pay attention to him from the corner of your eye with nothing to counter him with, so you remain silent.

“You should have called.” Ten minutes have passed and he’s like a kid waiting to be lectured; quiet and focusing on anything to keep his attention. In this case, it’s the rocks he kicks from under his shoe.

“How could I have called if I didn’t know your number?”

“Find a way!” Your outburst catches you by surprise as you turn to him. “You could have found a way.” You turn away from him hiding your face. You didn’t mean to get emotional. It was supposed be quiet.

“Y/n.” He sighs, the tips of his ears growing red. “I had no way of getting to you. It was finals. What was I supposed to do?”

You had no intentions of letting him know how badly he hurt you.

You thought better of him.

You thought he knew that.

“I don’t know. You could have tried.” You sniffle trying to hold back tears, looking at the sky.

Are you crying because you’re sensitive? Are your feelings hurt? Are you upset with him? Why now? Why not earlier when he was locked outside of your apartment.

“I did try.”

“How?”

You turn to him with a stray falling from your eye. “I trusted you, Kei. You made me feel safe. Then you tarnished that.”

You focus on his face, red like yours.

“Do you know how that made me feel, Tsuki? Of course not. Because you only think about yourself.”

You point your finger at him, he remaining silent. Simultaneously, the four legged creature decided to run after a squirrel. The leash splits from your hand and instantly Kei starts chasing her.

You follow after them, he much faster than you. Following the duo on unstable ground, you step in a dip rolling your ankle.

Beside you, you welcome the bouquet of flowers Tsuki dropped chasing after your dog.

Minutes later he comes back with your dog on the leash and you sitting on the ground with an ankle starting to bruise.

“You’ve always been clumsy.” He chuckles looking over your ankle. “Yeah, I definitely wouldn’t walk on it. Here let me help you.” He extends his hand to you but you whisk it away instead.

“I got it, Tsuki.”

You attempt to collect your ground, instantly failing when it came to applying any pressure to your ankle.

“See. Bad liar.” He scoffs.

“Shut up, Tsuki.”

He extends his hand once more, those long fingers wrapping around your wrist. “Just let me help you.”

“Fine. Fine.” You give up. “Don’t you dare drop me.”

He hands you the dog leash, scooping you into his arms.

“You’re making it really hard not to.”

Inside the home, he lays you on the couch letting the dog free.

“I try to make things right and you end up hurting yourself.” He groans giving you the side eye.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

“Well it’s your fault.”

“Whatever Tsuki. You’re so full of shit.” You roll your eyes throwing an arm over your face.

“Aww she’s sorry.”

You look out from your arm seeing Kei laughing at your pup dropping toys on your stomach.

“Yeah acts just like her dad.” You throw the ball with slight frustration while he watches amused.

He loves her. Always had. She always listened better to him too.

The pup brings her toy to Tsuki this time, begging for someone to play with her. He leaves out of your sight and returns with something frozen wrapped in a towel. He lifts your leg with ease and sets it in his lap.

“Now. Since there was so much to talk about. You know, from you ghosting me after I confessed to you, again, to how you rejected me, again. Explain yourself. And it better be good because I’m hurting really bad right now.”

He presses the cold compress hard against your skin making you jump, hissing in reaction.

“Tsukiiii.... shit.” You hiss throwing your head back.

“Mmm that’s not the first time I heard that.” He smirks watching you. “Besides woman, how many times do I need to explain this to you. I. BROKE. MY. PHONE.” He glares running his hand along your leg. “Take it or leave it. That’s my story.”

You return his glare and sigh.

“I hate you, Tsukishima Kei.” You groan with your eyes sealing shut.

“That’s not what you said last time.” His deadpan eyes were audible.

“Well, I take it back.” You allow your ears to guide you, his touch secondary to your hearing.

“You can’t just that it back.”

“Watch me.” You fold your arms across your chest, not bothering to look at him. “If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t be in this position right now.”

“So it’s my fault.” He scoffs as you feel his eyes watching you.

“Yes, its your fault.” You sigh scooting closer to him.

“So I see.” He says. “How’s your ankle feeling?”

“I’m hurting so bad right now.”

He lifts the ice pack exposing your purple ankle.

“It’s going to hurt a lot more when you have my kids.”

That caught you off guard. Not that you haven’t mentioned having a family more than once in the time you dated...

“Your kids?” You sit up on your elbows watching him watch you.

It’s just been awhile.

“I’m six feet tall. Did you think they were going to be bite size like you?”

“There’s a chance. Besides, who said I’m still having your kids? Maybe I want someone else’s.”

Tsukishima bursts out laughing. “There’s no one in this world who’s going to put up with you. You’re whiney.”

“And you’re an ass.”

“And yet you sound surprised.”

“I’d kick you right now.” You roll your hips further in the couch, simultaneously closer to Tsuki. “You’re a jerk and I hate you.”

“Again with the catch phrase. News flash. You don’t mean it.” He sighs running a hand over your foot.

“Does that hurt?”

“Yes.”

“How about here?”

“Yes.”

He’s trying to massage your ankle, kisses on it, working up to your core.

“Here?”

“No. Tsuki, what are you doing?”

“Good. I think I should inspect this area a little longer.” He completely ignores your question. “You know, just to be on the safe side.”

His long fingers brush against the edge of your shorts, him receiving a moan as his lips touch your skin.

“Tsuki no, I’m hurting.” You moan, your mouth disagreeing with your body.

“I’ll be gentle.” His voice, soft and reassuring, matches the look in his eyes, those caramel irises rolling to you in a daze. He takes his glasses off placing them on the coffee table nearby. His fingers trace up your leg, delicate gestures along the curve of your body, feeling the tension building from the inside.

Those eyes reconnect with yours, he crawling on top of you with a leg on each side, straddling your waist but it’s obvious he’s holding back. His fingers trace along your jawline, guiding your lips into his.

This toxic, mesmerizing affect he has on you leaves you obedient and purring.

“Will you forgive me?” He hums into your neck leaving soft kisses in trail to your breast where he takes your shirt off.

“I’ve always loved your body.” He runs the back of his hand across your skin. “You’re so beautiful.”

His lips pepper you to your nipples, one hand caressing your skin in circles, the other massaging the free breast.

“Maybe this will distract you some. You know. From the pain.” He moans between the light bites.

The separate hand travels south to your navel, the backside painfully slow until he meets your shorts.

“Is this ok? I’m not hurting you right?” He stops, eyeing you as you exhale with a long relaxed moan. “I just want to make you feel good.”

You nod generously, your eyes closing ready to relax.

He slides your shorts off your hips.

“I never get tired of seeing this.” He moans leaving open mouth kisses on your hip bones. “You’re beautiful.”

His cold fingers trace along the exterior of your lips watching how you react. His hot breath teases your heat as he slides down into his stomach, wrapping an arm around your thigh pulling you closer.

“Mmm Kei.”

“Yeah? Baby girl you like this?”

“You said you were going to be nice.”

“No, no I said gentle. Purr for me.” He smirks exposing his teeth in glee.

“Tsukiii.” You pout arching your hips into him.

“Patience Baby.” He runs his index along your slit. “We have no where to be.”

“Kei, you know I’m impatient.”

“Yes, Baby Girl.” He slides the finger along the outside. “But I also know you’ve been neglected, and I need to fix that.” He spreads your lips. “And I am truly sorry.”

He slides his tongue over your clit, watching your eyes roll back in your head. Your body trembles preparing for him.

He brings the same finger from earlier to your entrance slowly stretching your needy hole.

“Fuck Tsuki.”

“Shhh Shh. Baby Girl.” He counters your long exaggerated moan. “I just want you to feel good.” Kei releases his finger from your core, watching your eyes open in distaste.

“Relax. I’m just tasting you.” Sliding his finger in his mouth, he keeps your eyes locked, sliding it back inside your ravishing flower. “You taste so good.” He moans feeling himself grow hard. “So damn good.”

Pumping your core, he slides a second finger into you adding more tension.

“I love you so much.” He mumbles, his insecurities exposing him.

You smile running your fingers through his curls as he lean in closer, licking your folds.

His left hand finally releases your breast, sliding to your adjacent thigh, barricade himself into your core.

He laps your slit too many times to count, the ecstasy overwhelming you as you buck your hips against his hold.

“Tsuki.” You moan while he pins your hips down.

“Patience Baby. This is all for you.”

“I need you. You have this control over me. And I hate it.” You pant with needy eyes. He stops what he’s doing, pulling out of your lubed heat, leaning over your body.

Chest to chest, nose to nose.

You grab his neck pulling him into you. Your taste on his lips, your tongue attacking his with needy lust.

Your fingers trace his face, cupping a cheek and you moan into his mouth.

“You drive me crazy.”

You break, turning to his neck licking the sweat from his skin.

“Can I have you?” You shutter, your words caught in your throat.

“Baby Girl, you can have whatever you want.” He hums kissing your lips tenderly.

“I want to feel you inside me.”

“Baby... you’re hurt.”

“I just want to feel you. Tsuki please. I want this.” He sighs and sits up.

“Somewhere else. I don’t have enough room on this couch. I’ll hurt you.” He eyes your bedroom door and back to you.

“Please, Kei.” You moan rolling your hips against his clothed bottoms.

He relocates you to the bedroom taking off his shirt. You stop to admire his chiseled body from volleyball, releasing a painful moan, sliding your fingers over your clit.

“Fuck... baby girl that’s my job.” He dives down in between your legs clasping his hands over yours, pinning them to the side, continuing laps from before.

“You feel so good Tsuki.” You moan as he sits up.

“Are you sure this is what you want?”

“You’re saying this like it’s my first time.” You smirk with a giggle.

“Look, Baby Girl. I really don’t want to hurt you. I can get... distracted.”

“I’m fine Kei. I promise you I’ll let you know if it’s too much, ok?”

He leans over your body, kissing your lips, your breast, your core and sits up, losing his bottoms.

“Promise?”

“I promise Kei.” You smile feeling him line up with you.

It was different this time. The lust was different. His touch is sensitive. He runs his hand along your thigh as he presses into you.

“Oh, Baby Girl.” He moans with his head thrown back. “You’re perfect.” You feel your breath hitch inside you with the new found pressure. He leans forward, slowly rolling his hips into yours again. His runs his fingers in your hair as he begins thrusting slowly.

Open mouth kisses, he hears your breath getting caught in your throat.

“Are you ok? Is this fine?” He asks and you nod.

“You’re just big. Give me time.” You adjust your hips and he slows his pace. “No... Kei. Keep going.”

He bottoms inside you scraping your cervix and causing you to gasp.

“Oh my.” You catch yourself and he pulls himself out halfway.

“Are you ok?” He watches your eyes and you nod with an embarrassed giggle.

“Oh my goodness, Kei. Just go. I’m fine.” You laugh frustrated while he smirks.

“Ok ok.” He kisses you and sets a steady tempo.

Are you ready to trust him again? Your heart races in your ears as thousands of things run through your head.

He’s feels amazing.

I want to trust him again.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

But can you trust him?

He leans into your neck leaving kisses too many to count.

“I’ve missed you.” His groan, so low you could have ignored it, sends chills down your spine. Your core tightens and he notices.

The cocky blond leans down and places his lips to yours. His thrusts are clean and he pulls you in. “I don’t ever want to be without you again.” He’s breathy and his body gives under pressure, collapsing as he finishes inside you.

His broad shoulders cover your body while he leaves kisses across your skin to your lips.

“Then don’t leave, Kei.” You bury your head into his chest as he kisses your forehead.

“I’m not going anywhere, Baby Girl.”

Tag List:

@kellyisalone

@girlyluke

Hopefully it’s something you will enjoy ☺️

[potentialproblem01]

More Padre!Domingo coming right up aka Daddy Sunday pt. 2

As per usual, all my immense love to @creme-bruhlee and my Daniel server for being a sounding board and to @gwaciechang cheering me on to the finish of this one. 

Contained herein is 1.7k of somnophilia, unprotected sex, ambiguously negotiated kink, and further disrespect to Spanish Catholicism. If you’d prefer ao3 and Part One. Stands alone. 

Rahab

Exodus 34, Joshua 6

You and Padre have been seeing each other for a while now, you’ve got a key to his place in the attic above the church. It’s a shame he’s an early riser since waking to the midmorning light above the city is one of the warmest things you’ve ever felt. 

Padre always gets up early for work and you always come in late from classes and there’s always so little time for the both of you. What little time you get to yourselves is used for fucking and sleeping, not that you really complain about it, it’s just how things are. 

It’s verging on summer, sticky heat tagging along to the end of the wet season. You’d gone out the night before and when you came in, he’d already been asleep. You were quiet, careful not to disturb his night before Mass beauty sleep. You had peeled off your boots by the door, yanked your socks and panties off and dived into bed still half clothed. He’d slung an arm around you, pulling you close, nuzzling into your sweat lank hair. The last uppers were worming their way through your system in a heady buzz as you snuggled into him like a second skin before conking out.

You woke when he got up for work the next morning, watching him dress lazily from the bed. Your head was cottony but you forced yourself up to hydrate and pull the rest of your clothes off. He watched you unzip your skirt, giving you a swat to the ass as you pulled it down. You gave him a filthy kiss before he headed out the door. 

You left your clothes on the floor and went to shower, scrubbing the grime from the club off. You towel off preliminarily, the heat of the day will dry you the rest of the way as you collapse back on top of the bed sheets to sleep the rest of the morning away.

---

The late spring sun rises through the upper windows, casting the afternoon in stained glass tinted light, not enough to wake you but enough that when Daniel comes in, your skin is painted in the most delicious colors. 

He undressed quietly, hanging his shirt up and dropping his slacks in the laundry basket before quietly coming up to where you’re sprawled face down on the bed, ankle twisted in the white sheets. He sits gently on the edge of the bed, sliding a hand from your ankle to knee, skin soft in sleep, clean of glitter and sweat. He traces the lax tendons on the back of your knee before travelling up, lingering on the inside of your thigh but you don’t wake. 

He watches you for a few minutes, tracing sigils into your thigh before nudging them apart, dipping into the crease of your thigh, rubbing smoothly. He keeps watch over your face, looking for signs of consciousness. All you do is readjust your head against the pillows. 

His finger gets more adventurous, skimming over your folds to tease at the other side, picking up a hint of damp. He smirks to himself before leaning over you, whispering into your ear “Good dreams, Princess?”

He shifts himself between your legs, careful not to disturb you before stroking himself as he dances fingers across your entrance before slowly inserting one, waiting for a reaction. When none comes he grows bolder, adding a second and gently pumping them, drawing out your wetness. 

You’re wet enough for him to not have to worry about lube but he goes for some anyway, wanting you to wake to his cock being fully seated in you and not a second before. He slicks himself generously before crawling up the bed with the grace of a polar bear on thin ice. He’s vigilant in positioning himself over your thighs to get the easy angle. He approaches haltingly, adjusting himself with one hand around the base of his cock to guide and the other holding your lips apart. 

He checks that you’re still sound asleep before he breaches you, hands falling to the sheets by your shoulders to avoid further stimuli that could wake you. It takes immeasurable self control on his part not to thrust in all at once. It’s smooth and a self-inflicted torture so severe it cancels out the sin of committing it. 

He comes to be fully sheathed in you. He lowers himself to his elbows, rosary falling against your back in a warm cascade of beads, his hot breath fanning over you. You twitch in your sleep but don’t wake. He breathes through another quirk of his lips, you were always such a sound sleeper, secure enough in your position with God to never worry if you’ll wake again. 

He straightens his back, moving to lay more fully over your back, dragging his rosary through your hair, shifting on his elbows to box in your head, pulling back a hand to loop his overly large heirloom rosary around your throat too. 

He pulls out and thrusts all the way back in with all the violence of a man trying to earn his place with a personal God. This is what wakes you with a disoriented moan, dreams blurring with reality. You go to push yourself up only to be restrained by the sharp scent of myrrh and smoke all around you, warm skin pressing you down, beard hair scratching at the side of your face. 

“Do you know what I preached about today, mi cielito?” A thrust, “Of course you don’t. Are you familiar with Rahab?”

You shake your head as he thrusts into you at a leisurely pace, soft and sleepy moans spilling from deep in your chest compressed between the pure sheets and his ribcage.

“The righteous harlot.” 

You roll your eyes and try to wiggle some space to stretch your staticky limbs but are restricted by his beads chaining you to him. He feels you pull on them and shifts his weight again, freeing a hand to put his first bead and cross in your hand. 

“Pray for me, Princess. Contemplate our sins for me.”

You make a half hearted sign of the cross, earning you a thrust and a kiss to the side of your neck. You begin to recite the Apostles Creed, each line earning you half a thrust. “Was crucified, died, and was buried- Fuck!” He pulled all the way out and proceeded to thrust back in with a rough surety, grinding down into you, digging his teeth into your shoulder. 

“I don’t think that’s part of it. Start over.”

You let out a sob as you start the Creed over, trying to hurry through as he resumes his half thrusts. You close with a slightly hysterical ‘amen,’ the last of the sleep warmth leaving you for the heat of passion. The blood flow is no longer sluggish but concentrated in your core, flaring out in need. You make it through the Our Father before another sob makes you deviate from the script. 

Daniel tuts in your ear, “Do you need to start over?”

“No, please. I’ll be good.”

“Are you sure? You keep messing up. Do you need a corrective hand, Princess?”

“No, no. I can do it.”

“Prove it.”

You struggle through the Hail Marys’ and pull in a shaking breath, really hoping he took Charity to heart. He hasn’t let up on his thrusts, he intentionally holds you in the limbo of regularity and almost but not enough. You know better than to beg, he’s given you an instruction and you have to thread the beads through your hand and pray. 

He nuzzles into your ear, telling you how good you’re being for him. You make it through the first Glory Be and go to announce the first Mystery before you can’t take it anymore and struggle under him, trying to force yourself back on his cock. He pulls out, worming a hand under you to paw at your breast, pull at your nipple, “Bad girl. You still have an Our Father.” He presses you up into his chest, kneading at your breast, “Be a good girl for me.”

You struggle, feeling empty without is cock but you make it, begging to be delivered from evil. When you finish, he mutters an ‘amen’ against your throat as he stuffs his cock back in you, pulling the rosary from his neck to leave on you as he sets his weight against your lower back, pinning you down. He widens his stance and drives into you without delay. 

The power in his momentum shakes the bed, causing the headboard to knock against the wall, a rhythmic tempo to accompany you being crushed into the mattress. 

The sheets stick to your clean sweat as you edge closer, breathing hard and inadequately through your pillow. You whimper with the strength he’s using, bending your spine, wetly slamming into you. 

Your orgasm sneaks up on you, shuddering through you in one violent motion before you go limp under him; underwhelming and way too much.

He nudges your legs closed and you let him, creating a tighter channel for him to fuck into. He rebalances, one hand planted on your back, the other climbing up into your hair, yanking it back on the knife’s edge of pain. 

His nails bite into your skin and the grip on your hair tightens before he lets out a long and low growl as he comes. He lets go of your hair but not before, “You’re my blessed whore aren’t you?”

“God, yes.” For that blasphemy he slaps the side of your face he can reach, the angle is awkward but the point is made, you wiggle your hips, clench around his spent cock, “But I’m still in your bed.”

He huffs out a derisive laugh, pulls out, “That you are.” 

The mess of come and lube starts to cool between your legs, sweat growing tacky. You pull the beads through your fingers again, suck the bottom of the cross into your mouth and give him a half lidded stare before rolling over into a dry spot. 

He leans down and licks a stripe up your stomach before latching onto a nipple before you swat at his head and he lets up, coming up to kiss you. He nips at your lips but you deny him, pushing his face away. 

He doesn’t listen, grabbing a tissue from the bedside table to wipe himself off with before laying down next to you, pulling you into an embrace and throwing an arm over his eyes, ready to fall asleep on a Sunday afternoon with you. 

Part 3