#this hurts bcs it's just one fucking subject bringing me down

[peachesofteal]

with all these asks im resigning myself more and more to the bittersweet ending of them not getting back together but it being for the benefit of them all 😭

they obviously love eachother so much but for several chapters there’s this idea that’s been floating in the back of my head haunting me lol. idk when it’s mentioned, but you said in an ask that ‘simon’s job when he’s home is just darling’ in that he shoulders taking care of her. which is so lovely and when she isn’t doing well it seems necessary, BUT i feel like its cruel long term. he almost sets her up to fail (not on purpose) bc he gives her all of the support and attention he can and then he goes basically no contact for an indeterminate amount of time in a very dangerous environment where he can’t guarantee he’ll ever come home, and when she falters without the crutch, he gets home and has to do so much legwork just for her to get back to “baseline”. and this repeats over and over and she never gets the opportunity to really take control of her own health and wellness.

i can’t see it working longterm if one or both of the boys stays on fieldwork, but i feel like simon talking to price was about getting to him to switch to deskwork but the Hand of Author God makes me feel like him switching wouldn’t have worked if bringing it up for the first time made everything so fucked up like this lmao. like, for this whole blowup to happen because she never let him finish his sentence to say “i’m switching off fieldwork” seems like too much of a consequence for it to be the ONLY problem with the plan

him being on deskwork fixes the on-off support with darling, but he’d probably be miserable and then johnny would be alone in the field without his support. and the 141 would be definitely kneecapped if half their team transitioned to deskwork, and i feel like there’s too much camaraderie for them to leave Price and Gaz high and dry like that

i think it’ll end up happy but not in the way that erases all of the issues that have been building. which sucks. but is very empowering to darling, to potentially see her get out of the cycle of hurt that honestly hurts MORE since it comes from such pure intentions. she loves her boys and they love her but it’s so hard on them all :’)))) maybe a few years down the line when she’s more solid and self-sufficient she could withstand the downsides of their job better, and maybe by then they’d be semi retired from age or injury anyways, but idk. then it starts to become simple math HAHAHA

id love for u to prove me entirely wrong and be like no actually the power of love fixes it all, they all get happy and pseudo married or whatever and no one is sad ever again but i feel like you’re not gonna do that lmfao

anyways hugs and kisses for this story its eating me alive HAHAHA

All I will say is happy endings are ✨ subjective ✨ but don’t resign yourself to anything, just wait and see 🖤

[wolveria]

Sorry to bring up shipping discourse on your blog. Reminder that you have every right to just ignore this. It’s your blog.

But the whole thing around shipping aspec characters tends to be less “should we do it?” and more “stop fucking erasing a character’s identity just bc you don’t know how to write it”. I mean, not for everyone, obviously, but that tends to be what it boils down to.

Me, personally, I don’t mind the shipping (esp crackships and selfships. They get too much shit as is and I’m not adding onto that), but I do mind when people just ignore the characters identity or treat it as Straight Lite™️, which I have seen a lot of people do. And I know you said that it’s less about what they do with fictional characters and more about how they treat actual aspec people, but oftentimes (as far as I’ve seen) their attitude towards actual people tends to be similar to how they treat the identity of a fictional character. Which is to say, bad.

Again, this is all just from my personal experience with people, so maybe you’ve had a much more positive one. I just figured as another aspec person I could share my view. If it’s not welcome, no hard feelings or anything. I do hope you have a nice day/night.

(Anon is responding to this reblog)

And you can acknowledge your feelings about how fans interact with aspect characters. You have a right to be uncomfortable.

But these are your feelings, shaped by your experiences, and your perception will always be subjective. That's simply a part of human existence.

In other words, feelings don't inform reality (ask any person with anxiety).

There are two separate points you bring up, that 1) fans can erase a character's identity, and 2) how fans treat characters is a direct correlation to how they treat real people:

1) A character isn't a real person, therefore it doesn't have an identity that can be erased. It's an object. A fictional concept. You cannot harm them no matter what you do to them.

I am not speaking about representation. A fan does not have the same impact as a Disney executive. I am not, and will not, put them on the same level of power. How a fan headcanons a character will never equate to how media treats queer representation, and I will repeat this until my dying breath.

Which leaves this question: Do you believe it's immoral for other fans to fantasize about characters in a way that you find uncomfortable?

If so, why? Do you believe it's an actual problem? What would be your solution? How do you control people's fantasies, and is it your right to attempt to do so?

If the answer is no, then you must accept that how people interact with fiction isn't your responsibility or obligation, and that discomfort does not equal immorality.

If the answer is yes, please see below.

2) Correlating fantasies with "immoral" behavior is a talking point of conservatives, fascists, and pro-censorship groups.

People writing stories, making art, creating headcanons, etc., is not an accurate indicator or predictor of behavior. It might be helpful to ask yourself why you're equating these two things.

Why do you believe fantasy influences behavior? Or the inverse, do you believe that fans who treat others poorly will always have "problematic" headcanons/ships?

If so, why is your focus on how fictional characters are treated, and not on the actual behaviors towards actual people?

Are your opinions based on facts or on fears?

Pro-censorship groups will argue that reading certain books will lead to a corruption of morals, or those who write toxic relationships will become an abusive partner, or kids who play violent video games are more likely to hurt other students.

Claiming that fans who "erase" the queer identities of fictional characters will lead to actual bigotry towards real people, is the same kind of fear-based argument as above--it just uses leftist language to do so.

(I don't even know how to address the Straight Lite comment without getting into a whole other discussion about how you seem to believe some headcanons aren't queer enough. And following my own example, I am not going to extrapolate that onto how you might view real people's queer identities.)

I've seen a lot of shitty fans in my decade of fandom involvement. I can make a lot of assumptions about what kind of characterizations they like and how it relates to their behavior. I could do that, with a lot of gut feelings behind it, but that doesn't make it true.

Sometimes, shitty people have certain headcanons, or ships, or fantasies, and it doesn't actually mean a damn thing.

At the end of the day, I understand that what someone enjoys, their headcanons, their art, their fantasies, do not inform who they are as a person, nor does it predict how they treat other people. That's not how human behavior works, and there are decades of research to support it.

You can be uncomfortable. You have every right to feel uncomfortable. But discomfort is not an indicator of right or wrong, nor is it evidence your discomfort has an inherent moral weight.

This concept even has its own term: the wisdom of repugnance.

I hope this has been helpful to you. Thank you for your ask.

[romanarose]

Seattle: Part 2

Marc Spector X Fem!OC

Part 1 : Part 3

Masterlist here

Seattle Masterlist

Also come see me on tik tok at romana_the_cryptid

Summary: Marc gets another phone call, and this time, she might be ready to accept help.

A/N: thank you so much for all the support for his story! I decided to change it from "reader" to an OC, bc I write better this way. Everything is the same as in the original Seattle story, she's Jewish, only difference is her name is Rebecca. I decided to make things get a little worse for Rebecca and Marc, but after this chapter, now they'll start getting better.

WARNINGS!! Okay so warnings will have spoilers but I don't want to trigger anyone. So if you'd like to skip this and not have anything spoiled, just to the cut. If you need warnings, here they are. Domestic violence, sexual assault via condom tampering, pregnancy, talk of abortion, miscarriage.

************

3 weeks went by without a word. Nothing. Marc didn’t dare text or call Rebecca; he knew better. That wasn’t the first late night phone call, but it was the first after a hospital visit. How can she not see it? How can she not see how much love she deserves? No one deserves what's happening to her. Hadn’t she told him the same thing?

“Marc stop, you didn’t deserve any of it.” Becca had held him, late one night, resting her head on his chest while his head laid on the duffle bag that held everything he owned. “What happened wasn’t your fault, and you know it. Your mom is batshit. No one deserves physical abuse. You were a child, a child who had to go through mourning alone.”

“I wasn’t alone.” 

Did Becca think she deserved it? Did she think she was less worthy of love than him? Why was she, who was nothing but kind and thoughtful, the exception? Can’t you just call her? Check in? What if I call and Jack answers? If she got hurt because of that… I know, I know… I just… Yeah, me too buddy.

He was startled out of his thoughts by his phone buzzing. He usually let it ring out in his pocket, choosing whether or not to call back later,, but decided to answer. When he pulled his phone out of his dark washed jeans, his heart jumped when Rebecca’s name. “Are you okay?” He answered with a start.

“Can’t I just call you?” He could hear her trying to smile, but there was a strain in her voice, and a lot of noises in the background he couldn’t distinguish.

“Are you just calling me?”

A pause… “I’m in an ambulance.”

Marc kicked the wall of the building he stood by “Fuck!” His hands found his hair, pulling at it as he tried to keep calm. “What's happening?”

“Marc-ah, I need you to focus, I’m on my way to the hospital and the EMT is kind enough to let me call you, so I need you to focus, okay?”

Marc felt more sober than he ever had in his life. “Talk to me, honey”

“I’m hyped on on adrenaline and pain right now, so maybe I’m just thinking clearly, but I need you to come get me-”

That’s how they met. Really met, anyway. They knew each other through Hebrew school, but ran in different circles. Rebecca’s family was the subject of a lot of gossip due to her dad's known affairs, and later, her mom's cancer. Marc remembers little Becca showing up on his doorstep sometime after Randell's death holding some casserole dish for him. She said she had made it herself, and by the way it tasted, that was probably true. “I thought, well, everyone brings food the week of the funeral, but I figured this way you didn’t have to worry about Shabbot. Or at least part of it.” His mom wasn’t worried about Shabbat at all, she wouldn’t worry about it again. But that shitty cassarol was the only thing he ate that weekend, his dad too drowned in grief and managing the household alone to notice there was nothing left to eat. 

“Yeah, yeah of course-”

“Marc, -oof- please shut up. I love you but everything hurts and I need you to just listen for once. I'm going to Seattle Grace Hospital, I need you to come out here and do. not. let me leave with Jack. When I come down from all this, I’m going to make excuses like I always do, and I cannot go back with him. He will fucking kill me in a few years, you know this. FUCK, that shit hurts.”

“What-” Marc stopped himself, not sure if she’s done.

“He saw I called you after I got out of the hospital. I have to go, just, can you please come? I’ll pay you back-” 

Marc hit the brick of the building with the side of his fist, which hurt significantly “Stop, you’re not paying for shit, Becca. Don’t worry about anything, I’ll take care of it. I’m going to get you out of there.”

“I love you.” Rebecca sharply sucks in your breath. “Don’t let me die in this stupid fucking city.” Her voice breaks, praying he’ll bail her out just one more time…

Marc started speed walking toward his apartment, he was getting her out. “Never, sweetheart, never. I’ll be there as soon as possible, okay?”

“I gotta go, they're hyping me up on painkillers and I’m going to stop making sense…” Her speech was already getting less than clear.

“Can you just… Can you lay the phone down by your head? So I can hear you?”

The tears were finally coming again and he quickly tried to get to his apartment to find flights. It was noon and he wondered if there would be any flights left. He heard her ask the EMT, then return to the phone. “Yeah, I can do that Marc.”

For the next few months, food around the house could be scarce. Not because of lack of money, but because of where his parent’s attention was. Wendy was out of commission. She really only went to the store for alcohol and her food. Elias had so much going on from mourning and services and bills… After a few months, he got the hang of things, but there were a fair amount of times Marc went to school without food. Of course, she noticed. She always noticed when people needed help. She’d always giving him some of her food. A piece of fruit and a twinkie. Half her sandwich and some carrots. Sometimes she would insist she wasn't hungry, and he could have all of it. Marc would usually refuse, but sometimes it had just been so long and he was so hungry… That’s why he was so protective of her. She had lost her mom the year before, was suffering on her own, but she still took him in.

“It’s gonna be okay, Beccs. I promise.”

“Sure” was all she could reply through the pain in her ribs.

Marc listened to the sounds in the ambulance 

‘Concussion’

‘Broken’

‘Burns’

Fuck, what did he do to her?

The EMT took the phone and told him she was out of it on the pain meds. She couldn’t tell him anything, but Marc knew it was a little piece of mercy to even inform him they were hanging up.

‘We’re going to Seattle buddy, buckle up.’

‘Oh bullocks, I hate grunge’ Steven jokes, trying to make Marc smile. It worked, even just a little and even for just a second.

Marc was lucky enough to find a flight leaving that night. Seattle was literally on the other side of the country from New York, and between that and the time change, Marc stepped out of the airport at 6. He had checked the visiting hours; he still had time.

They talked about everything. When you have no money, there isn't a lot else to kill time. Both of them worked as much as they could, of course, but there were still seemingly endless hours to kill. When you don’t have a house to clean or a car to fix, that frees up a lot of time. There were a lot of long, hot summer days with nothing to do. After the incident where Rebecca had passed out from the heat, Marc tried to keep her cool as much as possible. Elias had warned him that after you get heat stroke once, you get more sensitive to heat. They began spreading a lot of time at the beach, much to Marc’s constant stress. Rebecca had never asked to go to the beach, never suggested anything water related outside of the fountain parks, fully aware that Marc hadn’t swam since his brother’s death. Infact, there were multiple times she had refused to go when Marc insisted. But eventually, on a particularly hot day, she couldn’t resist.

When Marc finally saw Rebecca for the first time in years, she was barely recognizable as she slept. The nurse warned Marc that she was sleeping, but Rebecca had given a message that if a Marc Spector came, they were to let him in. She looked different. Very different. Disturbingly different. Her hair, normally medium brown and curly, was straightened and lightened to an almost caramel color. And she was thin. He could see it in her face, she’d lost weight. Growing up, Rebecca’s weight was a point of mild annoyance for her. She was always confident, always wore what she wanted, but there were always little comments she made here and there. Not something he ever saw her caring enough to do anything about. She wasn’t one to change herself in general. Marc wondered how much of these changes were Jack’s idea, or if he had simply beaten down her confidence enough that she took it upon herself.

“Marc?” Becca stirred from her nap. Recognizing her friend, her face lit up. There she was. There was the girl he knew.

Marc strode over to her side, sitting on the chair as she sat up “Hey Rivkah- no don’t sit up, rest” She didn’t listen. Never does. Marc helps prop up pillows behind her, knowing damn well he can’t argue with her. He brushed her straightened hair from her face; it was thick as ever. “You’re safe now, I’m here” He was cataloging any injuries he could find. There was the  busted lip and a bruise around her eyes, but the most disturbing was the burns on the right side of her face and neck.

She saw him eyeing her. “Marc it’s fine, don’t-”

“Stop” it came out a little more harsh than he meant it to. “Don’t start doing that-”

“I’m not doing anything-”

“You’re mitigating, you always do this you always-” Marc took a breath, dialing back his frustration. “Every time you call me, you always tell me it’s fine. But it’s not. Tell me what he did.”

Becca closed her eyes, she knew she had to honest with him. She spoke almost monotonously. “When he saw that I had called you, he confronted me. I had just boiled tea and had the water in my cup.” She opened her brown eyes, but didn’t look at him. “He threw the water in my face.”

“Fuck, Beccs…” Marc moved his hands behind the hospital bed, hiding the way his fists clenched. Never was he more thankful to Khonshu than he was right now. Jack was going to pay for this one.

“Marc, don’t. I know what you’re thinking, no Moon Knight shit.”

It was like she could read his mind… “He can’t keep getting away with it, Beccs, and you’re not staying with him.”

“It’s not that simple, Marc”

The man was too stunned to speak. “Rebecca you can’t be serious…”

Tears pricked at her eyes as she looked at him, pleading with him to understand, although she couldn't understand herself.  “He’s my husband, Marc.”

Slowly, over the rest of the summer, they made their way to the water. Temperature right off Lake Michigan was always cooler than the city was, so it already cooled them down. With baby steps, Marc slowly dipped his toes in the water, eventually allowing the water up to his waist. Marc would follow Rebecca everywhere she swam, Rebecca remained conscious in her swimming too far out, as to not make Marc go further than he was comfortable. He would never stop her from swimming, he would never stop her from doing anything… not that he could if he tried. Rebecca was always the kind of girl where if you told her she couldn’t, she would do it just to prove a point. That’s what he loved. Her ability to be unapologetically herself.

He resisted the urge to throw his hands up in frustration. “We’re Jewish! We believe in divorce! We’re not baptists!”

When she looked away from him again, glaring at the floor, he sighed, continuing. “What else. What else did he do?”

She muttered something he couldn’t quite hear.

“He broke your ribs?!” Marc felt like he could kill Jack. His rage was blinding, a white hot furry he had to try and push back. He couldn’t be freaking out right now, she needed him here.

“Bruised, Marc. Bruised them.” She turned back to him, almost glaring. “Just bruised. He said he’s going to go to therapy, and he’s going to stop drink-”

“He was here?”

She looked like she had been caught. She didn’t mean to let that slip. “Y-yeah. He’s um… he’s getting dinner right now. I was going to tell you not to come, but he…” She wished she could stop talking. Stop telling Marc everything, maybe he’d leave her be. But this was Marc, her Marc, she’d known him since pretty much as far back as she could remember. There weren't any secrets. “He took my phone.”

Marc shook his head. “No. No he’s not coming back in here, I swear to god, Beccs, he’s not touching you again.”

“Marc…” She closed her eyes, resigning herself to… something. “I’m sorry I dragged you out here-”

Before Marc could interject, Jack came in the door. He didn’t look as nervous as he should’ve been. “Marc, should’ve known you’d show up.” He was holding a bag of chinese food from down the street.

Marc instinctively stood up, placing himself between Jack and Rebecca. “When you burn my friend’s face, yeah, I’m gonna come.”

Jack slowly set down the food. “Friend, huh?” He was straightening up, almost postering. Not that he really needed to, Jack was several inches taller than Marc, but Marc was not intimidated. 

“Yeah, my friend. I need you to leave, otherwise we’re going to have a problem.” Marc took a step towards Jack, itching for a reason to hit him.

One of their favorite activities when the inseparable pair were too tired to swim was to lay in the water, the waves splashing up to cover their legs and dip under their backs. Marc had never envisioned that he would ever be comfortable like this, but he was. Perhaps it was the way she held Marc's hand. One of her hands laced with Marc’s and her other wrapped around his arm, securing him to her. They would lay like this for hours, either in silence or talking. Talking came so easy with her in a way it never was with anyone else. He supposed it was because there was nothing to hide. His brother, his mom, being homeless, the marines, mercenary, moon knight…. She had been there for all of it, in different ways. 

‘Do you want kids?’ She had asked, rather suddenly one day.

Marc thought about this, and for a long time. She held his hand for at least a minute while he considered, never pressuring him for an answer. ‘I don’t think so. I don’t think I’d be good at it.’

He felt her turn to him, frowning. He avoided her gaze. “Marc, that’s not true. You’d be an amazing dad’ she paused before answering. ‘You’re not your mom, honey’

Marc couldn’t help but chuckle at the thought of him with a baby. ‘I wouldn’t know how to take care of it, honestly’ He continued to avoid looking at her. When she was in that swimsuit, he had to actively stop his eyeline from drifting down. He respected her, he loved her… but he was still 18 after all.

She had spoken so softly, he had shivered. ‘You take care of me…’

Jack laughed. He fucking laughed at Marc. “Oh yeah? You gonna take her away on your white horse, back to your shitty apartment? Gonna fix all her problems until she finally fucks you?”

“You shut the fuck up” Marc, don’t fall for it, he’s taunting you “Don’t fucking talk about her like that.” He took another step, pointing his finger at the bastard in front of him.

“You gonna raise the baby too?”

Jack’s words hung in the air and for a moment all Marc could do was stare at Jack’s smug face. Jesus… His stomach dropped as the realization kicked in. She was pregnant. She was pregnant with Jack’s baby and now she was never going to leave.

A small voice from behind him. “Jack, what are you talking about?” Rebecca looked as confused and scared as Marc did.

Marc stepped back, just enough so she could talk to him, but close enough he could still protect her.

“You’re pregnant, Becca. You hadn’t notice your period is late?”

Rebecca looked like she was still processing, still connecting the dots. “I… my period has always been unpredictable… sometimes it doesn’t come… and we use condoms…”

“You thought we used condoms. You’ve been throwing up, gaining weight”

The realization hit Becca like a brick. He had purposefully gotten her pregnant. He had violated her body to trap her in this hell of a marriage. “Get out.” Her voice was shaky, but firm. “Get the fuck out of here, Jack.” She wanted Marc’s hand, but she was frozen. “I’m leaving.”

Jack took a step forward, but stopped when Marc moved in front of Becca. He wanted to allow her the autonomy to end this herself, but Jack was not going near her. Not again. 

Jack eyed Marc up and down. “You gonna raise the baby?”

There was no hesitation. “If she decides to have it, yes.”

Jack scoffed, turning to Rebecca who looked frozen in shock, hand on her stomach. “You have an abortion, and I swear to god, I will kill you.”

Becca whimpered, looking at him in terror. “Please leave.” She turned to Marc, pleadingly. “Marc, please make him leave, please?”

Marc didn’t need to be told twice. He stepped up to Jack. “You have two choices, Jack. One, you can leave and walk away with all your bones intact, or two, I will make you leave and you’ll be lucky to walk away with your life.”

When Jack had initially entered the room, Jack thought he could take Marc, no problem. But the way the shorter man looked at him right now was fucking feral. Jack had no doubt in his mind that Marc would tear him limb from limb. Wanting to keep some semblance of control, he turned to Rebecca one last time. “I’ll see you soon, Becca” he winked, and left as Marc started walking towards him.

Marc slammed the hospital door behind Jack, rushing back to Rebecca when he heard her start to cry, pushing away every bit of anger that was threatening to blow over. He’d deal with Jack later. Right now, she needs him. Marc sat on the bed, very very carefully taking her in his arms, being mindful of her bruised ribs and the scalded skin. “Oh honey, it’s gonna be okay, metuka. I promise.”

She tried to hold him tighter but winced when she hurt her ribs. “I didn’t think I could get pregnant… my period was so irregular I… I just assumed I couldn’t… I don’t know what I’m going to do…”

‘What about you, Beccs? Any kids in your future?’ He allowed himself to look at her pretty face, her dark curls splattered in the sand.

She grinned. ‘Oh yeah. Lots of ‘em. I’m gonna break the cycle. Those little kids are going to be so fucking loved.’

‘You’ll be a great mom, Becca.’ He meant it. Marc had never met a woman who was more loving and thoughtful. There was no doubt in his mind that she’s excel as a mother.

Marc let go, not wanting to hurt her more. She was taking deep breaths, calming down. “Don’t worry about that now, okay? We’ll get to New York and get you an appointment with a doctor, see how far you are. New York’s abortion laws aren’t too bad, you have plenty of time to decide what you want to do. I promise to support whatever it is.”

She shook her head. “You don’t want a baby in your apartment, Marc”

“Beccs, don’t worry about-”

“Don’t lie to me”

“Rivkah, I swear to you that if you want the baby, I will help you.” Marc promised. Her body had already been violated in a variety of ways, the least he could do is allow her autonomy over this. “And I swear to god that if you get an abortion, he won’t touch you. Don’t let any of that affect your choice.“ He touched the side of her voice that wasn’t burned, and she closed her eyes, leaning into him. “It’s all up to you”

“All I ever wanted was to be a mom…” Her voice cracked, she was scared to death, uncertainty clouding her senses.

Marc kissed her forehead gently. “If that’s what you want, that is what you’ll be” 

That night, after Rebecca fell asleep, Marc found himself in front of her apartment, banging on the door. I don’t know if this is a good idea… Steven warned. But Marc wasn’t listening. He was going to get her necessary items, kick Jack’s ass, and go. When Jack opened the door, there was a gun in Marc’s face. This did not phase him. Marc quickly disarmed Jack, pistol whipping him before he unleashed the last several years of hatred. For every time he hurt her, violated her, insulted her, Marc laid another blow. 

Marc, that’s enough… Steven spoke softly, warning Marc before he took it too far. Breathless, Marc pulled himself off Jack’s beaten body. “Where’s her papers.” Jack carefully directed Marc to Becca’s social, birth certificate insurance card, etc, and the phone she had stolen as well. He found a few backpacks and filled them up with things she might need:  He walked by the shelf in her bedroom, spotting a small teddy bear. He couldn’t fucking beleive it.

It was the summer they were homeless, there was a fair in town and although Marc hated crowds, Rebecca was so excited to see the bands that were playing. She hadn’t asked for a single thing, but Marc had insisted on spending just a little bit of money. They had gone on the ferris wheel and she nearly squeezed the life out of his hand on the tilt-a-whirl. They split a funnel cake while they watched the free show and she had managed to flirt  a couple beers from the bartender who didn’t bother checking ID. Every time they walked by the balloon darts, he caught Becca eyeing a teddy bear. She would never in her life ask Marc to waste money on that scam, but all Marc wanted was to see her smile. He’d give his last dime to see her smile… So he tried to win it. And tried again. And tried a third time. After spending way too much money, he had won her the teddy bear, grinning ear to ear as she squealed, jumping up and down and hugging him. She slept with it every night that summer, and it had been in the bed the night they had made love. He couldn’t believe she kept it all these years…

When he came back to the hospital,  he knew something was wrong. The hall outside her room was a commotion, doctors and nurses going out. “What’s happening?” He demanded, running to the room. The nuse older nurse that had been working with Rebecca gave him a look. “Honey, you know I can’t tell you that.” Of course. Marc wasn’t her husband. He was a coward when they were kids and missed his chance. He wasn’t her husband. 

Marc gave an apologetic nod to the nurse and pushed his way in, where he found his pretty girl curled up in a ball, arms wrapped around her head.

“Sweetheart, Beccs…” Marc sat on the beds, stroking her hair. “What’s going on…” a thousand worst case seniors ran through his head. Why did he leave? How could he leave her here? Of course something had happened in the hours he was gone…

She didn’t come out of her huddle. “You don’t have to worry about a baby anymore…”

It was then that Marc noticed her nightgown had been changed, as were the sheets of the bed. 

“Oh honey… I’m so sorry…” She shook her head that was still in her arms. “I didn’t even know if I wanted it…” She spoke through broken sobs.

Marc was unsure how to respond. She didn’t know if she was going to keep it, but she wasn’t sure if she had wanted an abortion either. “Can I lay with you?” Marc wasn’t could with words, but he could be there with her, he could hold her.

“If you want, but I’m still bleeding, you might-” Get blood on you she almost said, but Marc was already climbing in the bed, she happily made room for him. 

“Don’t worry about that, honey. Can I hold you?” He asked. He wanted every move he made to be approved by her. Rebecca nodded, and Marc slipped an arm around her waist, ever-conscious of her ribs. 

There was a moment of silence as she cried before she spoke. “She said it wasn’t my fault. The nurse. She said it wasn’t me…”

Marc brushed the hair with the back of his hand. “Of course not, Beccs, none of this is your fault. Any of it.”

“I asked if this was because I wasn’t taking care of it, since I still drank and wasn’t taking vitamins, if I did something…”

“Oh honey, no…” Marc wanted to take it all away from her. Whether or not she had wanted the baby, he understood this was a horrific thing to go through

“She said the stress my body took today might have induced it…” A shaking breath, and she winced at the pain in her ribs. “He made me get pregnant and he made me miscarry. I didn’t get a choice in any of it.”

That summer, they had existed as a unit. What they had, they shared. What they didn’t have they went without together. It had always been that way. Since the day Rebecca had shown up at his doorstep, sharing the food she had while dealing with her dad’s abuse. Every day of middle school where Rebecca helped cover a bruise with make-up. Every time in high school when Marc was sick with no one to care for him and she brought him soup and medicine she stole from her dad’s cabinet. Every time Marc defended her from shitty men or held her when he couldn’t protect her from one in particular. Back then, it had been her dad. Now, it was Jack. He hadn’t been able to protect her from her dad or Jack, but he wouldn’t let it happen again.

There Marc held her, whispering soft assurances and words of love in her ear as Rebecca cried herself to sleep in his arms.

****************

I hope this wasn't too dark y'all, I promise this is the worst of it. I needed something that Rebeca couldn't mitigate, something that Jack could never come back from. The rest of the fic will be Marc helping Rebecca get back on her feet, helping her find herself again, their relationship progressing, and both of them reconnecting with their faith.

Tagging everyone who had asked for a part two, this ill be around 5-10 parts, so if you don't want to be on the tag list, lmk! I won't be offended. It'll probably be closer to 5-7 parts.

@my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @ninebluehearts @sofi786 @myfandomlikesandstories

[spacegoathours]

gonna ramble about calnr below the cut

bc I’m BORED and this is MY blog I do what I WANT

TW for self-harm, I think. I am not nice to my girl

edit: i sat on this for days and it’s long and stupid but i’m sick of seeing it in my drafts. every day i strive to be worse than the last ✌🏼✨

since I am the worst at writing, and really not creative overall, I struggle with stepping outside of the few things I’ve drawn which range from generic cutesy things to angsty AF

at some point I’m gonna have to suck it up and make sense of their relationship, why it’s even necessary for both of them, and what the endgame is. is this just for funsies and doesn’t matter? yes. is my brain not going to leave me alone until I make sense of everything? also yes.

like. ok. we can assume that Lard Nar has dealt with a lot of loss. he lost his home first and foremost, but it can also be assumed that he’s lost a lot of loved ones, family and friends and so on, either by imprisonment or death by Irken hand. this makes him not only opposed to commitment for fear of losing someone but especially opposed to commitment to an Irken.

at the same time we like to think that Lard Nar sees past how Irkens tend to be on the surface and understands that they’re just victims of Irken society, this awful propaganda that turns what could be free-thinking individuals into single-minded drones privy to violence and hatred of other alien races.

he knows deep down that Callie is good because she saved him during the Vort disaster. that’s highly unusual Irken behavior and the act sticks with him years down the line, even after watching as his planet got conquered and his family imprisoned. so the two views go back and forth in his mind, i guess.

obviously trusting Callie in the end is what happens since they do, eventually, have some sort of complicated relationship. once he opens up to her, that fear of losing her just like he lost everyone else becomes super exasperated, now that he’s let Callie be someone important to him.

this really sucks for him because Callie is fiercely independent and leaves the Resisty ship often. each time is either quietly leaving without anyone knowing or getting very angry and leaving, never with the intent to come back. she just wants to be left alone at first.

(tw implied self-harm below)

Callie gets into a lot of trouble while away from the Resisty. the story I keep trying to tell with her is dark; she hates herself, a lot, has no sense of self-preservation and comes back fucked up every time. most of the time she’s found by the Resisty and they have to bring her back to health again.

her background of like… forced to train hard as hell to become a top elite next to miyuki and never wanting that future, having to escape her home planet because she would have been killed otherwise, actually being killed painfully after finally finding what felt like home, waking up in a body that isn’t hers and another Irken’s mind battling with her own, and by this point assuming that the Resisty just wants to use her because she could potentially be a huge threat to the Empire…

this girl’s mental state is bad by the end of it all.

and actually, most of the Resisty hates her at first, which doesn’t help. they just got done trusting an Irken who betrayed them and nearly got them all killed (Nyx). but their captain feels that he owes Callie, she saved his life after all so many years ago, so he saves hers in the only opportunity that arises to make it possible. so the rest kinda have to deal.

after some time goes by, Lard Nar realizes that he’s gone from “ok I have returned the favor my work here is done” to “fuck I really care about you please stop hurting yourself like this”. and he does see Callie as a potential asset to their cause at first, but doesn’t press the subject. after he realizes oh fuck I have feelings for this Irken he drops the idea from his mind entirely; he just wants her to be okay. Callie, seeing no future for herself, has no interest in joining the Resisty or being in any sort of relationship.

Eventually she comes around after slowly realizing that the Resisty has 1.) learned to trust her after Nyx’s personality is fully gone and they spend more time getting to know her true self and her history and 2.) saved her time and time again without expecting anything in return, proving that they actually do care. her mental state starts to improve slowly but surely.

Callie officially joins the Resisty and goes on missions with them. somewhere in this part of the story is where she realizes how much she cares about Lard Nar in return. but emotions are very confusing for Irkens, especially those surrounding romantic feelings, so Callie doesn’t know what to do half the time. she’ll go to Laksa like “hey Nar brought me flowers from a nearby planet and asked if I needed anything while I’m stuck in the med bay and it made me feel weird what does this mean” and Laksa will be like ROLLS EYES.

this girl stubborn AF and when she understands what she’s feeling for Lard Nar is love, she’s in denial about it. her??? with a Vortian???? that’s wrong!!! it’s not, but the things you’re taught on Irk take some time to unlearn. anything between them is kept in private and even though she thinks she has their relationship under wraps, the rest of the Resisty is like “oh wow sweet gossip” and they are very aware lol.

there is a mission at some point where some Irken enforcers capture Lard Nar and keep him imprisoned for a while, and Callie rips through the prison’s guards like they are nothing to save him, and at this point she doesn’t care what people think anymore. when she saved him and some other scientists the first time on Vort she didn’t think much of it, it was just the right thing to do and she took hold of the opportunity. this time she’d stop at nothing to make sure he’s safe, even if that means murdering a ton of Irken guards, going very much against her own ideals.

the two become highly protective of each other and intermittently co-dependent because of their different traumas surrounding loss. I don’t think this makes for the healthiest relationship - sometimes one or the other will realize they’re being clingy and pull back for fear of getting hurt. it probably takes them a very long time to get to a point where the fear of losing the other becomes less important than the desire to be together.

also like…this takes a while. you can’t erase the past, and the reality is that Irkens and Vortians have a very strained relationship with each other. Lard Nar occasionally gets a sinking feeling in his gut when he’s around Callie, remembering the history surrounding the broken alliance. This is an Irken who can choose to betray his trust at any moment, and it’s not like it hasn’t happened to him personally. Callie, being on the “winning” side between the two, feels overwhelming guilt and often feels like she doesn’t deserve to be with Lard Nar because of what the Irkens - her people - have done to him.

I think I want them to have a happy ending where they can overcome their pasts, but ugh. I sure do view the IZ universe and timeline as very dark and awful and sure do love putting characters thru the horrors.

like I said before I’m bad at writing and there are a lot of elements here I want to include, which is why this ended up so lengthy, but some probably contradict others!! it’s just a string of thoughts though, so take it all with a grain of salt I guess. eventually I’ll simplify things which would make it easier to come up with ideas for writing/drawing. or just do whatever. whenever. this is literally just textbook “I want to shove my OC into every aspect of canon because I need to live” fuck it we ball

umm anyway how’d this get so fucking long. if you made it this far why did you do that. goodnight

[yell0wsalt]

20 Questions for Writers

saw @ljf613 do this and wanted to give it a try

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

27. (I have a couple others I made private bc they are horrid. Teeter between completely rewriting or deleting them, so in the limbo private collection they stay)

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

72,228

3. What fandoms do you write for?

I mostly have written for Avatar: Legend of Korra and have a few fics for My Hero Academia.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

I'm Bored, Let's Fuck

Your Electric Touch

A Spark in the Dark

Loving You throughout the Years

A Closed Discussion

Drives me bananas 2/5 of these are horrid not even well-writted E-rated fics and that I have several other stories I'd prefer being in my top 5 but whatever, I guess

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Of course! Very few read what I write, let alone bother to comment. Honestly, you took time out of your day to read my silly story and leave a comment?

That means the world to me.

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Without a doubt, Shinishi of the Deep. It was my first take on a Cosmic Horror AU and I took to leaving it open-ended regarding Iroh's fate. The last line Join me is simple, but keeps it in the air of who said it.

Was it Asami?

Was it the monster out in the open? Is that monster even real?

Who will he listen to?

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

The happiest? Umm I mostly write happy endings, so it all depends on the context, but probably Loving You throughout the Years, a small collection of one shots of Linzin being in a relationship not experiencing their breakup. Chapter 3 is what comes to mind when considering their happy ending.

Hurts Like Hell when I got Irosami to get together after their breakup was satisfying to write.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Not cool enough to get hate on, so I fly under the radar.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Oof, that's a big old YIKES from me. I do a lot better with the build up and sexual tension between the couple before.

Pay no mind to the snippet I posted yesterday

Although I feel like I should get out of my comfort zone and try it, it's also horribly embarrassing to be seen flopping in real time.

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

Noooo. I have curious thoughts about crossovers (/pos), but have zero business in giving writing one a shot.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I'm aware of.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Never have I ever.

14. What's your all-time favourite ship?

Don't do this to me. I'm naming three.

Linzin

Irosami

EraserMic

15. What's a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

I'm planning to bring all of my WIPs into the New Year!

16. What are your writing strengths?

Hmm, pass.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Everything—

*sad clown sounds*

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic? I

I've seen people do it before in other fics which can be an interesting touch to world building. However, my problem with some authors doing so comes down to it being clear they used a source like GoogleTranslate to do so. Often, the grammatical structure is incorrect (surprise, surprise, not every language goes subject + verb + object like English).

Also, there may be words in the other language that would be better suited for the context in the fic.

I know myself well enough that's something I should stay away from in my writing unless I am familiar with the language or can reach out to someone who is.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Legend of Korra. I just started this year, so there's still a lot more to tap into.

20. Favourite fic you've ever written?

Might be a tie between Breathe Me Back To Life or Say It. I like the universes I created for the pairings here and think about them often.

[e-munson666]

Can I pleeeeeease get a eddie x readers reaction to her finding out eddie wanted chrissy to come and watch him play bc he's never once asked her to watch him before. She's having conflicted emotions bc chrissy is gone so she can't really be upset about it. Instead of her talking to him about she goes to steve. Then steve brings it up to eddie but doesn't tell him reader is upset. Idk I sometimes hate when the reader is always confessing their feelings. I feel like eddie should know it's a shitty thing to do instead of having reader confess it.

Ooooh more angst! For Eddie this time!!!

Enjoy sweetheart

++Eddie Munson x Girlfriend!Reader××

Warnings ⚠️: 18+, language, angst. Some fluff. Eddie is kind of a dick, Sweet boy Steve. Reader is Hendersons sister. (A trope i love ok)

🖤Lady Hellfire🖤

"Are you coming to Hellfire tonight?" Mike Wheeler asked you as you drove him and your little brother Dustin home from school. Dustin promptly slaps Mike in the arm, knowing the subject is a touchy one for you. "I mean I just figured, your his girlfriend now, and I remember he used to ask chrissy to come all the.....OW" Mike was cut off by Dustin pinchin the crap out of his arm.

"Wait.....he used to ask CHRISSY?!" You ask Mike, glaring at him in the rearvire mirror.

Mike just stares wide eyed, knowing he fucked up. He looks over at Dustin. "Dude" your brother says, shaking his head.

"Dustin......you KNEW" you say, hurt prominent in your voice. You can feel your eyes we up with tears. "No, no, no sis don't cry, please, oh no" Dustin exclaims, hands running through his curls. He HATED seeing you upset, that's exactly why he never mentioned Eddie inviting Chrissy to sit in on hellfire all those months back......before.....she died.

You and Eddie had been dating for only a few weeks, but it always bothered you that he never wanted to include you in Hellfire, even though you've always shown interest in it. Why would he ask Chrissy to sit in but not you? You knew he had a crush on her back in the day, but it definitely still hurt your feelings.

When Eddie came over later that evening to hangout he noticed you were more distant than usual. He kept trying to snuggle up to you, or kiss you, but you kept shrugging him off. This put him in a foul mood and he finally snapped when you refused to talk to him.

"Fine, when your done being a bitch to me for no reason, call me" he huffs, rising from his place next to you and storming out. Dustin heard what Eddie had said to you, and was about to go running after Eddie to tell him off.

"Just leave it Dusty. Its okay" you say, stopping your little brother from making a huge mistake. "But he..." Dustin began to say, "I promise its okay, drop it" you say, convincing enough for Dustin to stomp off into his room, cursing under his breath about how Eddie was a fucking dickhead.

The next day you were mopey and depressed, you went to famly video to hangout with Steve and Robin, hoping it would cheer you up. As soon as you stepped foot inside the store Steve knew something was wrong. He immediately came rushing over to you, wrapping his arm around your waist.

"Hey, whats wrong?" He asks, taking your chin in his hands. "Did Munson do this?" He asked through gritted teeth. Its not that he hated Eddie, he was just so jealous at the absolute dumb luck that Eddie got you. Steve was head over heels for you, and it killed him when you told him you had started dating the metal head.

You nodded, tears rolling down your face, you explained what had happened the day before, Steve growing angry when you got to the part where Eddie called you a bitch.

"Is something wrong with me Steve?" You cry, breath hitched. "What? No of course not. You are perfect. Eddie is stupid if he doesn't want you to watch his campaigns. Its obvious you want to, he's just too dumb to notice it" he coos, rubbing your back as he pulled you into a big hug.

*

A few hours went by and the bell to the shops door dinged again. Steve looked up to see none other than Eddie Munson walking inside, immediately beelining for the horror section of the store. "Sup Harrington?" Eddie says, noticing Steve giving him a weird look.

After Steve had gotten you to calm down, he sent Robin home with you, "I'll be by after work, I promise" he says to the both of you, "Someone's just gotta stay until close"

When Steve continued to stare and didn't respond, Eddie grew irritated. He walked up to the counter, never taking his eyes away from Steve. "Seriously man what is your problem?" He asks.

"You really are dense aren't you Munson" he scoffs, causing Eddie to raise an eyebrow at him. "Excuse me Harrington?" Eddie responded, crossing his arms.

"You asked Chrissy to sit in on your stupid club but never asked your own GIRLFRIEND. Real dick move guy." Steve says, rolling his eyes at the confused look Eddie was giving him.

"What? How do you kn.........did she say something to you Harrington? Have you been talking to MY girl behind my back?" Eddie questions, tapping his foot against the linoleum floor.

"You really don't deserve her, you know that right" Steve retorts. Eddie is on him in a second, grabbing him by his vest and pulling his face close. "What? What did you just say?" He seethed.

Steve was about to repeat himself when the bell rung again, a whole family trailing inside. Eddie released his grip on Steve, scoffing as he exited the store.

What the fuck was Steve's problem, why did he mention Chrissy and you? Did you find out he'd asked her to watch hellfire a long time ago? Is that why you were so mad at him yesterday?

It hits him, how fucking stupid he's been, he let's out a long sigh as he heads to his van.

"Son of a bitch"

*

*

*

*

A/N: I hope you enjoyed! Angsty Steve and Eddie are my favorite lol 😆

[queenxxxsupreme]

Omggg! I had an idea it’s not very correct timeline wise…but maybe if you wanted to, could you write an imagine where the reader was tourtured together with Jaskier, but the reader is together with Netflix!Eskel or Netflix!Lambert, and Jaskier is like “fuck Geralt and… are gonna kill me”. But maybe it could work bc reader just have been telling Jaskier about their Witcher lover and Jaskier knows how Geralt is mad so he could imagine another witcher being fourious. +I think Geralt also would be mad that Jaskier got hurt bc of him.

Uh is this too complicated? You can totally not write this!! Sorry.

Have a great day!!!!! 🐺

A/N: Hi babe! I'm sorry this took ages to get out, but I hope you like it :) I put my own little twist on the episode where Jaskier is hurt by the fire fucker so I hope it's at least a little decent

Warnings: spoilers for s2, hurt!Jaskier, hurt!reader, nothing outside of canon for the show

Word Count: 2.2k

***

“Y/N? Y/N, darling? Wake up.”

“Jaskier…. Shut up.” You groaned, turning your head as you started to open your eyes. 

“Are you okay?”

“My head fucking hurts.”

“Mine too. I think we were knocked the hell out.” 

You tried to move your hand so you could rub your head but you found that you weren’t able to move your hands. Your eyes widened suddenly and you lifted your head. 

The room was pitch black with the exception of a ray of moonlight shining in through a window to your left. 

“Jaskier!”

“Just over here, darling.” He spoke from your right. You turned your head as far as you could to the right. From what you could see, he was bound to a chair behind you. 

“What happened?”

“I don’t know.” He shook his head. “I don’t know.”

“Yennefer? Is she here?”

“I don’t think so.”

You began to try to wiggle out of the bonds, but you didn’t get very far before there was something on the other side of the room that caught your attention. Someone snapped your fingers and what looked like a flame appeared, though you didn’t know what the source was. 

“Well that’s unsettling.” Jaskier whispered. 

You watched the very faint outline of a person move in the shadow. 

“Uh, uh, look. We don’t have any money.” Jaskier spoke, his voice shaky. “I am but a, uh…. a humble bard and my dear friend here, she’s-she’s my traveling companion. 

The floorboards creaked as the stranger moved, though you couldn’t tell if they were growing closer or further away until they snapped their fingers. The flame appeared closer. 

“Or-Or if this is about your wife, your mistress, niece–,”

“Shut up.” You muttered to Jaskier, fearing he would be making the situation worse. 

Your heart raced in your chest as you watched the figure. The next time he snapped his fingers, he was directly beside you. 

You flinched, realizing the fire was coming from his fingertip. 

Oh fuck. 

“Look, if you’re just a really big fan, then please note that I am not willing to discuss the subjects of my work, its inspiration or characters, fictitious or otherwise.” Jaskier’s breathing was shaky as he spoke, though he tried to stay calm and stoic. “So why don’t you just show yourself, and we can have a nice chat, and you can tell me what you want from us?”

You strained to see over your shoulder what was happening. 

The stranger- a man -was now in front of Jaskier. He placed one hand on the back of Jaskier’s chair and bent down to be face to face with him. He snapped his fingers, the heat of the flame lighting up Jaskier’s features. 

“Fucking-! Fuck!”

“Shhh.” The man hushed him, clearly taunting the bard. 

You pulled against the rope holding your wrists to the arms of the chair, desperate to get out and try to help your friend. 

“Hello, Jaskier.” The man spoke finally. 

***

You tried to move your fingers. They were numb, scorched from the mage’s magic. But you could feel a pain in your wrist and up your arm. You imagined it was similar to the same pain being cut open with a dull knife would bring. 

“Y/N- Y/N, are you alright?” Jaskier choked out, his mouth full of his own blood. 

Your eyes flickered over to him as you nodded your head. You couldn’t use your voice just yet.  

He spat the blood off to the side, then leaned back in his chair, tilting his head back to look at the ceiling. 

“We’re fucked, aren’t we?”

You kept your lips pressed together, unable to bring yourself to say anything. What if you were truly fucked? What if this was it? 

The mage wanted information on Geralt, which neither you nor Jaskier were going to give up. You would take what you knew about the witchers to your death– which seemed to be very near. 

Tears blurred your vision and your throat became scratchy. 

“Jask, I-I’m-I’m so sorry.”

“Oh, Y/N.” He spoke your name gently. “Don’t-Don’t do that. You can’t. We can’t give up, darling–,”

“This is it for us.”

“It isn’t. It can’t be.” Jaskier firmly shook his head. “That lover of yours would fucking kill me if I let you die…. What’s his name? Tell me about him.”

You shook your head, blinking the tears away but all that did was make them fall down your cheeks. 

“I haven’t even seen him since last winter.” You cried. The physical pain paled in comparison to the pain you felt in your chest from the thought of leaving Lambert without so much as a goodbye. 

“And you’ll see him again, darling. We’ll make it through this.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure, bard.” The mage spoke from somewhere behind you. 

You stiffened up in your seat, blinking a few times to get rid of the tears in your eyes. 

A hand found the back of your chair as the mage walked around you. 

“Tell me about this lover of yours, Y/N.” 

You clenched your teeth together as you glared up at him. 

Did the mage know about Lambert? Your stomach churned at the thought.

“Do you think he’d want you to die like this?”

“Fuck off, you son of a whore!” You pulled against your bonds. 

“Leave her alone!” Jaskier shouted. 

Before anyone could say anything else, there was a crashing noise that came from the bar. 

You turned your head, hoping to get a look at whatever it was, but you couldn’t see that far behind you. 

“I knew I’d find you here.” Yennefer spoke, her words slurring. “You lazy lout.”

A part of you began to panic even more. She didn’t have her magic anymore, so there was no way she could deal with the mage. She’d end up dead too. 

“Leaving me home alone to rot!” She hiccuped. 

The mage stood up as he watched her, momentarily forgetting about you. 

“Uh, uh…. This is my wife.” Jaskier told the mage. “She has nothing to do with this. Please let her go!”

“If you know what’s good for you, leave.” The mage said, irritated with her presence. “Now.”

There was a pause of silence. You heard a bit of moving around, but you couldn’t figure out what it was. 

“If you knew what’s good for you, you’d shut the fuck up.” Yennefer hiccuped again. 

“Have it your way.” The mage grabbed Yennefer and suddenly pushed her into a wooden column. 

Now they were just outside of your peripherals and you could see exactly what was happening. 

“No, no! No, please! Don’t hurt her! Leave her alone, please!” Jaskier begged, frantically gripping the arms of his chair. “She’s done nothing!”

You used the distraction to try to get your binds undone in any way possible. But this only seemed to cause you to rub your wrists raw. 

The mage snapped his fingers, causing a flame to appear above his index finger. 

Yennefer suddenly spat the alcohol she had been drinking at the mage, setting his face alight. He fell to the floor in pain, crying out. 

As fast as she could, she undid both yours and Jaskier’s binds and rushed you out of the tavern.

***

“Who the fuck was that?” Jaskier breathed out, leaning against a doorframe. 

“How should I know?” Yennefer looked back in the direction you three had run from. “You’re the ones he kidnapped.”

You leaned against the barrel next to you, your insides swirling around like a storm cloud. 

“Oh what? You mages don’t all share an alma mater? You didn’t catch him at an alumni event?”

“You know, I was looking forward to a few more thank yous, perhaps some genuflection.”

You heaved and threw up on the ground. Whether it was from your nerves or the terrible pain in your hands, you weren’t sure. Perhaps it was both. 

“Geralt.” You choked out, wiping your mouth with the sleeve of your tunic. “He’s-He’s after Geralt.”

“What?” Yennefer furrowed her brows. “Why? What does he want with him?”

“You know, I assumed it was to drink tea and eat crumpets and wax nostalgic over old times.”

“Jaskier.” You shook your head. You couldn’t catch your breath enough to be able to argue with them. Your chest was tightening and you couldn’t breathe. 

“What’s wrong with her?” Yennefer asked. 

“I couldn’t tell you. But maybe it’s the fact that we almost died not even three minutes ago!”

Yennefer put her hand on your arm, but you didn’t acknowledge her. You kept your head down, eyes closed tightly as you tried to remember how to calm down.

She tilted your head up, brows furrowed. 

“What’s wrong, Y/N?”

“I-I just– I can’t–,” You shook your head. “Lambert. I almost…. And I haven’t seen him.”

“A panic attack.” Jaskier told Yennefer. 

“It’ll be alright. Come on. We need to keep moving.” Yennefer put her arm around you to provide you with support. 

***

After a confrontation with a group of men that resulted in Yennefer kicking one man in his bullocks, you and Jaskier were split up from the mage. When you found her again, she disappeared right before your eyes. 

“Fucking hell!” Jaskier stepped away from the window, rubbing his brow with the heel of his palm. “So much for not having her magic.”

“I-I don’t know how much further I can go, Jask.” You told him, shaking your head softly. “My hands…. They hurt so bad.”

“I know, darling.” He looked up and down the alley. “We need to find shelter.”

“I need to get to Kaer Morhen.”

He looked at you like you’d just spoken an unfamiliar language. 

“Kaer Morhen? That’s miles and miles away. A few weeks worth of traveling. We wouldn’t make it far in our state.”

“I was a healer decades ago. I-I know some magic, but not a lot. It’s been so long since I’ve done anything, I don’t know if it’ll work. But I can try to conjure a portal.”

“Try?” He repeated. 

“Try. As in, it may lead to where I want it to, or it may lead to the bottom of the ocean.”

Jaskier chuckled, putting his hands on his hips. 

“I don’t know if I like those odds, if I’m honest.”

“We don’t have any choice, Jaskier. We need to warn Geralt.”

A somber look came over his features. 

“How do you know he’s at Kaer Morhen?”

“Winter is coming. If he isn’t there already, then he will be soon enough.” “Are you sure this is safe to do, Y/N? I’d really rather not end up at the bottom of the ocean.”

“Neither would I.”

You took a deep breath as you looked around in search for something to draw energy from. 

There was a pot of flowers near the door to your left. Hopefully that would be enough.

“Give me your hand, Jaskier.”

***

Ciri stared down at the bowl of stew in front of her. She sat at the same table as Coen, Lambert, and Geralt. 

“It’s not going to get any more appetizing the longer you stare at it.” Coen told her. 

“I’m not hungry.”

“You need to keep your energy up.” Geralt said. 

She sighed heavily. 

With no warning, a portal opened above the table they were at. Having no time to react, the witchers and the princess could only watch as two people fell from the portal. One landed on the table while the other one rolled off into the floor. 

“What the fuck!” Lambert shouted, jumping to his feet. He started to reach for the dagger on his hip when he realized it was you who had landed on the table. “Y/N, what the fuck?”

You groaned as you pushed yourself up on to one elbow. 

“Jaskier!” You looked around in search for the bard. 

“For fuck’s sake, I think I would’ve rather landed in the ocean.” He grumbled as he got to his feet. 

“What happened?” Lambert held his hand out for you, wanting to help you down from the table. 

“I-I can’t, Lambert.” You looked at your hands. 

He followed your gaze, eyes widening as he realized you had been burned terribly. 

He clenched his teeth together, turning his attention to the unfamiliar man that had followed you through the portal. 

Lambert grabbed the front of Jaskier’s doublet, almost effortlessly hauling him to his feet. 

“What the fuck happened to Y/N?”

“Lambert, let him go.” Geralt came to stand by his brother, golden eyes finding Jaskier. “He didn’t hurt her.”

“Geralt’s right, Lambert.” You got down from the table so you could stand beside Jaskier. “It was a mage. He hurt us both.”

Lambert let Jaskier go, growling in frustration. 

Jaskier nervously chuckled, straightening his doublet. 

“He certainly is a charming one, Y/N.”

Lambert turned his attention back to you. You didn’t let him get a word out before you threw your arms around him. 

“I didn’t think I’d see you ever again.” You whispered. 

“You’re shaking, bug.” Lambert slipped his arms around you, giving you a firm squeeze. 

“I’m just so glad to see you.” You kissed his neck and then his cheek. You wanted so badly to fist his doublet, but you had to remind yourself of the injuries on your fingers. 

“Let’s get you cleaned up.” He pressed a kiss to the side of your neck. “Then we can talk about this mage fucker.”

Taglist will be reblogged because tumblr hates me :)

[yunhohours]

⠀ ⠀ ♡ A Relationship With: Junseo ♡

Request: I love when you take about Junseo from WEi 🥺🥺 what do you think a relationship with him would be like?

Your parents love him

He always brings your mom flowers and talks to your dad so respectfully that they would be upset if you ever broke up with him

But let’s be honest you would never bc he’s perfect

Physical touch is a Thing

He likes to have you sit in his lap and wrap his arms around your waist when you’re all hanging out with friends

Will give you the softest little kisses on your neck and shoulder while you sit there

He adores you, he can’t help himself

Though he tries to do it when no one’s looking because he can get a little shy

Facetimes you all the time

Like even if it’s just for two seconds from the parking lot to the building he’s going into, he wants to see you

100% the type to drive with one hand on the wheel, one hand on your thigh

Makes meaningful eye contact all the time

Stares at you lovingly and blushes shyly when you catch him

Likes to take mirror pics with you with one hand on your waist

You rarely fight because he's very patient and careful when communicating with you

Nothing hurts him more than fighting with you

So if you're fighting, you probably fucked up for real my dude

Kisses your temple all the time when you’re close to him

Like he just does it instinctively and probably doesn’t even realize how much he does it

Plans cute lil dates for you like picnics

Or a stroll somewhere beautiful

You’re each other’s photographers

Though he always tells you how the photos never quite capture your beauty

Sends you gym selfies with a lil 😜 emoji every time because he knows what he's doing

But if you react in any way he just changes the subject lIKE JUNSEO WHY

It's just fun for him to tease you tbh

But when you get back at him by sending him a photo of you wearing something that you look good in

He's facetiming you like "show me more babe, you look so pretty"

And he really doesn't mean it with anything but love and adoration

No intentions, just heart eyes

But if you give him a "special show," he'll probably die

Whether that's from blushing or being too in love with you?

Who's to say (both)

Tucks your hair behind your ear when he’s listening intently

Learns your favorite foods and watches youtube cooking videos so he can surprise you with them

Does your skin care for you when you’re too tired or lazy

And he doesn’t half ass it believe me

Likes to sleep on his back with you curled into his side, head on his chest

Makes you coffee every morning if you drink it

Or orders it in if you have a special place you like to get it from

Just generally wants to make your life as fulfilling and peaceful as you've made his :(

NSFW STARTS HERE

Loves getting you off but casually??

Like will just get you off on his thigh while you’re making out but acts like nothing is happening???

Or will rub your clit absentmindedly while you watch a movie on the couch

If you call him on it, he just smiles at you and keeps going because he wants to

And he knows you’d stop him if you didn’t want it too

Making you cum is like a self soothing behavior for him tbh it calms him

It's not a rare occurrence for him to suddenly pick you up and place you on the nearest surface

Just to bury his face between your legs

But he does it all so coolly and gently that's it's hard to comprehend that it's even happening until you're seeing stars

Even his mouth is gentle

But so skilled that you're clutching at his hair for grounding in seconds

Sex with Junseo is like a spiritual experience

It’s not intense in the way that it’s crazy or rough

It’s intense in the way you feel inside

It’s a soul-bonding experience that couldn’t be replicated with anyone else

Soft, heavy exhales when you go down on him

He completely lets go when you take care of him

Likes that he gets to use his strength when he’s on top of you

And the way that you drool over the veins in his arms

Makes him feel so fucking good about himself

He is also very aware of his impressive stamina and likes to show it off to you

When you’re on top of him, he holds your upper body close to him

Watches the pleasure on your face in awe as you get yourself off on him

Nothing is sexier to him

Will tighten his grip around you suddenly and start thrusting up into you, holding you still so he can take care of you

Wants you to be able to focus solely on how good you feel and nothing else

It helps that he gets to watch you fall apart because of him too

Basically your pleasure is HIS pleasure at all times

He’s not even worried about himself at all until you’ve orgasmed at least once already

Prefers to cum inside you (be smart!) or pull out

Lays flat on his back next to you afterwards just panting and grinning like it was the best thing to ever happen to him

Looks over at you and laughs when you make eye contact before enveloping you in his strong arms

Holds you there until you both drift off to sleep <3

[godwrecks]

um.. can i req for kuroo just being so mean to his girlfriend with a huge size kink on top? i just love the idea of him deliberately being mean bcs he likes seeing his baby cry for him then immediately change to a loving bf after that 🙈

Mean Dom! Kuroo - Too Dumb

word count: 1.7k

tags: dacryphilia; heavy degradation; daddy kink; dom! kuroo; mean kuroo tbh; size kink; throat fucking; some aftercare (?).

Always in a world of incessant business and black suits, you should have guessed Kuroo would need release somewhere else. Yet out of all things he could enjoy, out of everything that could be his if he just wished it to be, you turned out to be the subject of his adoration. He absolutely worshipped you - showered you with gifts and praise so much so that you would never doubt yourself or his love for you. And considering the way his eyes shone with tenderness whenever you were around, you never did. Not usually, at least.

But right now, when he was so deep inside you yet his face branded utter boredom, you couldn’t help the sinking feeling in your chest. You had struggled against his almost suffocating embrace, writhing like a prey facing death, when he ripped your panties aside and aligned himself along your folds. There had been a few protests, yet his dark gaze was enough to silence you.

“Tetsu,” you cried out, clinging onto his shoulders for leverage when he finally directed his eyes towards you.

“You fucking done yet, princess? You’ve had me waiting here for a while now,” Kuroo grunted, lowering himself down to his elbows and pushing a hand down against your abdomen. He was well aware of how much bigger he was in comparison to you. “Been inside you so many times, baby, and you still need fucking time to adjust?” He chuckled cruelly, his mocks only making your walls tighten around him. It wasn’t your fault - you wailed it wasn’t. Taking his long, girthy cock now was no easier now than it was before. No matter how many times you did it, he always managed to stretch you out until he made you his, turning the disastrous burn into pure ecstacy. Each and every time.

“I- I’m okay now, ‘s just too big…” Your whisper was borderline inaudible as he began thrusting inside you, setting a merciless pace that knocked the air off your lungs every time he bottomed out.

“You sound like a dumb whore the way you’re talking. Daddy’s cock, is that what you meant?” To your terror, he sat up on his knees, lifting up your thighs against you to gain more speed. Your back arched with moans as he rammed into you harshly, forcing you to take his full length with every buckle of his hips. “Fucking answer me, are you that hopeless of a case?”

“Yes! Yes, that’s what I meant. Daddy’s-” Cut off by a scream, your sentence got lost in a sea of heavy breaths. The low growls he emitted by your ear, coupled with the twitching and swelling of his cock inside you was nauseating. Sickeningly perverted.

Wrapping a large hand around your throat, you gasped for air while Kuroo gazed down at you with a sinister smile, zeroing in on the tears welling up. The bruising force of his hips clashing against yours was enough for you to hold his wrist in a desperate plea, begging for a breath of air as he kept tightening his hold.

“T-testu!” The raw panic ringing in his ears instantly tore his hands away from your neck, but the lifted corners of his mouth were unmovable as he pulled out all the way, just to slowly sink in back to you.

Your back pathetically arched into his touch, clit rubbing just right against the smooth skin of his defined abdomen. The way he looked down at you as if you were nothing but a used toy he’d throw away soon had your hand pushing against his chest, attempting to slow the reckless grinding of his hips.

“What now?” His eyes were so cold, only letting the slightly feral tone underneath the ice flicker through.

“Slow down, please, it hurts.” Contradicting your plea, you let it out a shameful moan when his thumb began circling the swollen bud. Oh, it was so clear he enjoyed watching you unravel under him, as if you were a little porcelain doll - the favorite in his collection.

“Princess, I don’t think I ever stated you have a fucking say,” he rolled his eyes, and the carelessness with which he threw you around in the bed - bringing you up to your knees on the edge of the bed while he stood - left an unfamiliar distaste reverberating through your system.

With another hand gripping your shoulder to keep you in place, he pried your mouth open slowly, savoring the crimson of your lips. His digits sensually pushed against your tongue, to which you responded by swirling your tongue around them. The hand previously restraining you lowered down to his cock, where he began pumping his fist up and down. Precum quickly began pooling from his tip and without realizing, your tongue had surely stuck out, ready for him to use your mouth.

At least that’s what you thought, but the moment he fisted your hair and forced you down his length, you knew it would be too much. You tried to relax your mouth, but his cock twitching inside your mouth made you choke even more. You couldn’t breathe, you only ogled up at him with tears that threatened to fall at any moment, hoping maybe he’d have some mercy. “You said you'd take it so why are you struggling, huh? Do you not want to?” He finally let go of you, and as much as you tried to compensate for the air your lungs were begging for, it was hard to even relish in the emptiness again when he sounded so damn disappointed.

“No! It’s not that, daddy, I just can’t fit you inside my mouth, it hurts,” you uttered the words as your arms wrapped around his legs, bringing him closer until his length was raised taut against your cheek.

“So everything hurts now for you,” the laugh that echoed off was strange, condemning. His cringe at the sight made your heart tremble. “I’m taking the time to train your useless little throat and this is how you behave? You should be fucking thankful, or would you rather I use my secretary’s?” You tried to listen for any sign of hesitance or teasing in his tone, but it was cold steel you heard. Shaking your head swiftly, your bottom lip quivered as his tip set against your mouth once again.

“So then why, baby? Why are you acting like such a stupid slut, as if you haven’t learned anything?” Using your throat as nothing more than a cock sleeve, he thrusted into your mouth continuously, ignoring all signs of your struggle. “You’re too dumb to remember, is that it? Maybe it’s time I throw you away and find someone new to play with.” Those were the words you lost it at, when the tears began cascading down your cheeks. Even as you sobbed, even as the oxygen barely managed to reach your blood and dizzied you, you kept him inside your mouth. Wishing - clinging to the hope that you could satisfy him again like you used to. But just as your spotted vision started going black, you were suddenly pulled up into his embrace, his arms holding you tightly against him. No, not like the claustrophobic hold he had on you earlier, but with that warm strength you were always met with when you needed it.

“I got you, pretty girl. C’mon, look at me,” Kuroo’s words were once again dripping with honey, his index finger lifting up your chin so your teary eyes could lock with his. “So fucking pretty when you cry, you know that right? Know how much I love you?” His charming smile was like a lullaby, easily dissipating every concern you had.

“Keep crying for me, angel, yeah? Wanna see those pretty tears when I make you cum.” Those words were the last you registered before he sat down and pulled you onto his lap, easily slipping inside you with how much you had been dripping onto the sheets.

Though you hadn’t come before, every thrust was worse than the previous. You were so sensitive you could feel absolutely everything - every vein and pulsing of his cock, every place where you clamped down on him, every brush of your hardened nipples against his firm chest.

“Tetsu, it feels so good! Feels so good, I’m gonna cum,” you sobbed on his shoulder, bouncing on his lap each time he plunged into you.

“Go on, princess. Cum with me, make daddy proud.”

With a kiss to your dampened cheek, his rhythm increased enough to send you both into your high. For a moment, you felt awfully aware of your surroundings, your heavy pants and the lewd sound of naked skin slapping against another. It was like the calm before a storm, right when your orgasm rushed in and cascaded over you, milking every last drop of the creamy liquid from Kuroo without even noticing.

You still trembled weakly from the pleasure when you felt Kuroo’s fingers draw circles on your stomach. It was then, when you looked down, that you discovered you were trying to keep in every bit of his seed inside you, unwilling to let any pour outside.

“Look at that bulge, too full with my cum, huh? You always do so fucking good for me,” Kuroo grunted with a smirk, the sweat on his forehead glistening with every labored breath.

“I love you,” you looked at him with furrowed brows and a pout, still unable to shake away the words from before.

He smiled briefly, wiping away the tears before cupping your cheeks and bringing you closer. “I love you so fucking much. Never forget that, okay? No matter what I say when I’m like that, you’re the only one for me. Only girl I wanna spend my life with, and only girl I want to absolutely fucking ruin every night.” His lips ghosted above yours with the whisper, merely brushing against yours with every spoken word. “Got that?” A brow lifted up with the question, seeking for the confirmation he needed to hear.

“Got that,” you smiled, taking the reins and lunging forward for a kiss.

my dumbass literally forgot abt the size kink?? i’m so sorry, i tried to go back & include it but i hope you enjoyed it nonetheless. thank u for the request!

[comfyswitcherblanketfort]

Grunge-Metal Geralt 3

its finally time 😂 after months of staring at an empty google doc i finally had a useful idea - also y’all, go listen to ‘Brighter Side of Grey’ by Five Finger Death Punch bc that’s the song i based this on and its fire and i love it also all of ffdp is one whole witchery mood

Warnging: vague discussion of a car crash where Geralt was severely injured, big emotionaly vulnerability, swearing?, listen to the song then you’ll get the vibes i promise

__________________

“Give them a break, guys,” Eskel sighed as he wrote down his coffee order, “They had a close call. It’s not like they’re always this…”

“Gross. Skel. The word you’re looking for is gross.” Lambert snatched the paper out of his brother’s hand and stalked out of the room with Aiden in tow. 

Jaskier scrunched his nose and called from where he was tucked under Geralt’s chin, “Did we drive them away? I can get up if it’s too much.” Even as he spoke, neither he nor Geralt so much as twitched to make good on the offer. 

“Doesn’t bother me,” Eskel shrugged. 

Lambert and Aiden, mainly Lambert, were getting fed up with Geralt and Jaskier cuddling and cooing and doing general new couple bullshit. Especially since they’d been together three years now. They were recording a collaboration song, meaning everyone had to be there, but it seemed the two vocalists only really cared about each other. Jaskier sat on Geralt’s lap, played with his hair, stole kisses whenever he could… at one point Lambert caught Geralt tracing Jaskier’s lips and forced a coughing fit to get his attention. He probably thought it was subtle, even if no one else did. So to take a break and get some of what he called ‘patience juice’ (coffee), Lambert ran to their favorite coffee shop while Eskel laid down his bass line. 

It’s not that they were intentionally this annoying, not all the time at least. After the car crash, especially once Geralt started doing well in his physical therapy, the couple just couldn’t keep their hands off each other. Not to say that was the only relationship Geralt was suddenly extra involved in, it was just the most noticeable. 

Finally, after tea and coffee was distributed to everyone it was time for Geralt and Jaskier to, well, do their jobs. Jaskier was fidgeting and humming little scales, doing anything to calm the sudden nerves he felt bubbling up in his stomach. 

“You alright?” Geralt purred, nudging him with his elbow as they stood side by side at their respective microphones. When Jaskier only shrugged he continued, “What's wrong?” 

“I’m just not used to so many people being here while I…” Jaskier motioned to the mic before glancing around him and taking a deep breath, “it’s a vulnerable song…” 

Geralt’s worry lines in his forehead melted as he pulled Jaskier into his arms, “I can kick them out if you want?” he whispered. 

Shaking his head and inhaling Geralt’s scent deeply, something Jaskier had learned not to take for granted, he steeled his nerves, “I’ll be fine. Maybe a little weepy, but fine.”

As they were about to start, listening to the instrumental track and humming their parts of the song, Lambert brought Jaskier a bottle of water and set it on his music stand. He gave him a quick side hug and kissed his hair, offering a small “sorry” for all his teasing. Jaskier just giggled in response, the kind that only bubbles over from too much anticipation. He missed it, but Geralt mouthed a small ‘thank you’ to Lambert as he sat back down on the other side of the glass. 

Jaskier hooked his pinky around Geralt’s as the guitar intro started, needing that little bit of contact for the first line. When they’d written it it felt perfect. The audience knew exactly what kind of song they were about  to hear and Geralt really hadn’t known if he would pull through. It took Jaskier right back to the dimly lit hospital room where he scrawled and scratched out lyrics to keep Geralt distracted from his upcoming surgery. The fear, the desperation, the little pockets of joy when they forgot where they were, the overwhelming love that Jaskier thought he’d never be able to fully give to Geralt all crept back up his throat as he took a breath for that stupid fucking first line. 

His voice cracked partway through as he sang, making him fully grip Geralt’s hand, “I’m writing this in case I’m gone tomorrow,” By some miracle, he found his support for the next line, “I’m writing this in case I’ve moved along,”

For a moment he thought he’d gotten over the worst of it. A couple lines passed in relative ease, emotional but not so much it interfered with his craft. If he focused on looking at his microphone and keeping his breath supported he might make it through. Then Geralt joined him for the chorus. 

“When the lights go down, Know that I am never far away. When the sun burns out, I’ll be waiting on the brighter side of grey.” 

His harmony faltered and he involuntarily heaved a broken gasp in the middle of a line, desperately trying to focus on the mic that was now warped by the tears in his eyes. 

Geralt broke off after the first word of his verse, turning to Jaskier and pulling him in again, “You alright, love?”

“I’m fine. I’m sorry,” Jaskier groaned in embarrassment as he clung to Geralt’s frame, “I’m being a baby. I wasn’t even the one hurt.” 

“No you’re not,” Geralt argued, running his knuckles over Jaskier’s cheeks to wipe away his tears, “Here,” he moved their mics and stands close enough that they were shoulder to shoulder and their fingers could comfortably lace together. 

Jaskier squeezed his hand gently and gave him a brave smile, “From the top?” 

“From the top.”

This time Jaskier tried watching Geralt as they sang. He made it through the first chorus and got to just watch as Geralt sang his verse. The pang of emotion in his chest was still ever present, but it was manageable. Until he noticed Geralt having trouble. 

On “All you get to keep is what you’ve shared,” Geralt squeezed his eyes closed and his grip on Jaskier’s hand tightened. The folk singer prepared, relaxed, readied himself to take a breath in. He was expecting that one to hurt after how much Geralt insisted upon it. How he threatened to get out of that hospital bed and scribble the line himself if Jaskier didn’t put it in. He wasn’t expecting the last line of the stanza to hurt. It had been comforting to the both of them at the time.

Geralt’s lip quivered and his voice was almost pinched as he sang out, “Remember no one ever really dies.”

Even being the one to write the melody, Jaskier missed the first three notes of the chorus, “Fuck. Shit. I’m so sorry.”

“No, that was on me,” Geralt sniffed and chuckled, “I knew you’d lose it if I did.”

“How do you do this?!” Jaskier exclaimed, chugging half the water bottle to keep the breakdown at bay. 

Aiden’s voice came over their headphones, “Half our songs are his trauma and another quarter are group trauma. He’s got practice sweetheart.”

They tried a couple more times, even got through the whole song once with only minimal tears and one tasteful cracked note. But it was still a struggle for Jaskier to keep it together, and the more they sang, the more Geralt lost his iron grip on his composure. 

“Look at me,” Jaskier instructed, moving Geralt to face him and adjusting their mics so they could sing to each other, “Just like when we wrote it. Except a little less pain.” 

The joke earned a snort out of Geralt, exactly what Jaskier was aiming for, “This is supposed to be easier?”

“We can try?”

Jaskier did wonderfully for his verse, singing to Geralt was familiar and safe, even if the subject matter was terrifying. The chorus went well, but as soon as Geralt started to sing, Jaskier couldn’t exhale and it was all he could do not to sniff and ruin the take. 

“If you’re hearing this I know you’re probly scared,” had tears falling down his cheeks again and Geralt’s voice cracked as his eyes welled up, “Nope,” he choked, “that’s worse. Much worse.”

“Fuck,” Jaskier gave a watery giggle as he wrapped his arms around Geralt’s middle, “Why did we decide to do this again?”

Geralt pressed a kiss to Jaskier’s hair, sniffling and holding him tight, “I think we’re sadists.”

“Back to back,” Eskel’s voice crackled in their ears, “Try it back to back.” 

Leaning back to watch Jaskier’s reaction, Geralt hummed, “Do you want to? Or do you need a break?”

“Fuck it,” Jaskier shrugged, spinning Geralt around and following suit as he moved his equipment. 

As they stood waiting for the tech to start the audio, Jaskier felt like he could really inhale for the first time all day. Geralt was there, he could feel his ribs expand against his back and his fingers tapping like a metronome on Jaskier’s palms. This is what they were missing when they wrote the damn song. The comfort of knowing someone is always at your back, that they’ll be there when it’s hard and even when you’re separated. 

A warmth spread through Jaskier as the intro started and he felt ready. He still pressed back into Geralt on the harder lines, reminding himself he was still there, but they both made it through two full takes. 

On the final one, as the recording of the softly picked guitar faded out, Jaskier couldn’t help but repeat two more lines, “When the lights go down, Know that I am never far away.”

His voice hung in the air for a beat, the sense of finality reverberating through the studio and bringing everything else to a stand still. 

Geralt was the first to breathe, “Shit, we made it.”

“We fuckin made it,” Jaskier huffed, emotionally drained but immensely satisfied as he turned to hug Geralt from behind and press his cheek to his spine, “I love you.”

“I love you too. Let’s get a snack?”

“Yeah.”

When the sound tech played the potential mix for the first time, he tacked on an echoing, distant sounding recording of their conversation. Everyone looked at each other and nodded, goosebumps on their arms and that feral sparkle in their eyes that every artist gets when they’ve stumbled on something really exciting. They re-recorded some guitar and drums, but they kept the vocals exactly the same. 

For the album art they wrote “I love you” on the tattered hospital stationary that had the lyrics and chords written on it and took a picture. Jaskier had the original framed and hung in their house as a little reminder. 

[all-my-love-for-harry]

Don’t shout.

summary: Harry doesn't know what to do after he lied to Y/N.

word count: 1.7k

based on these requests:

"fuck i didn’t mean to send that haha okay for ‘shy little boy’ can u do something where yn and harry fight over him going to a girls house while on tour (but she’s a friend) when he gets back home yn ignores him bc she found out n stuff (the kid is not home i can’t remember his name srry) hope this makes sense"

and

"How about when Harry and y/n fight and Artemis thinks they are going to break up but he doesn't want Harry to leave him. I love you writing. Artemis is sooo cute uWu."

and

"hey idk if you’re taking requests but i was wondering if you could do one where you and harry get into an argument where he makes you cry and artemis sees and gets mad at harry and won’t talk to him until harry apologizes to you,, ty !!"

and

"where y/n and harry have there first big fight"

and

"For the my shy little boy series, could you do one where y/n and Harry fight about something and Artemis gets upset at one of them as well?"

a/n: had to change the requests a bit but i hoped they worked together!! I enjoy writing angst so i liked doing this one :)

you can find more of my shy little boy here

*:･ﾟ✧ ✧ﾟ･: *:･ﾟ✧ ✧ﾟ･: 

Y/N was never one to pick up a fight. She was the type of person who preferred bottle up her feelings, most of the time. Usually she didn't have drama in her life aside from the occasional four-year-old tantrums and stuff, but then again she hasn't dated anyone in what felt like years. And she has never dated a famous person before, so every day she learned something new.

Like how trust is the most fundamental part of a relationship. She couldn't believe every little thing that was put in the internet about him, as eighty percent of it was all fake information. So she always trusted Harry and waited for his side of things before jumping to any conclusions.

However, this time, she couldn't do that. Not when dozens of pictures of him leaving one of his ex-girlfriend's house with the same clothes from the day before where all over the internet. She couldn't care less about that part, to be honest. What she was hurt about was the fact that Harry told her he was at his hotel and wasn't going to go out that night.

She knew Harry had friends, a lot of them were women. And she was no one to tell him who he could and could not hang out with. What she felt betrayed about was that he lied about it.

Now, Y/N considered herself a very mature person. But this time she allowed to feel angry and ignored every call of Harry's, not being in the mood to talk to him after she saw those pictures.

When he was back to London, he already had figured what was the problem. And he couldn't blame Y/N for ignoring him either, so as soon as he landed, Harry went straight to Y/N's home, determined to give her an explanation.

Y/N opened the door, raising an eyebrow at him but let him in anyway. She turned around and walked to the kitchen, completely ignoring him. Harry closed the door behind him and followed her, knowing her silence was anything but a good sign.

"Where's Artemis?" He asked softly, trying to make small conversation.

"His room." She murmured, raising a glass of water up to her mouth to drink from it.

"Are you mad at me?" He already knew the answer, but he didn't know how to bring up the subject. All he received was a bitter laugh from her. "I'm sorry..."

"For what? Because you lied to me or because you got caught?"

"Caught? Nothing happened, Y/N."

"Then why did you lied to me?!" She almost slammed the glass on the kitchen island, growing really angry. "Why you didn't tell me you were with her?"

"I didn't want you to be mad." He murmured, like a little kid who was being scolded.

"And how do you think i am right now? Uh?" Crossing her arms over her chest, Y/N stared at him. "I trust you, Harry. Every day, all the time. All i ever ask from you is honesty. What happens when i can't even get that?"

Harry panicked for a second, not knowing if she was going to break up with him over this. "Please, tell me how i can make it better."

"Start with telling me why you lied." She demanded. "And don't say because you didn't want to upset me because i'm not buying that. I called you the night before those pictures were taken. You told me you were at your hotel room, was that even true?"

He nodded furiously. "I was at my room when i called you. I swear."

"You told me you were gonna take a shower then you'd call again to wish Artemis a good night, but you never did. Harry, i called you, three times and you didn't answer. Here i was thinking you were so tired of working you fell asleep when in reality you were at you ex's house doing god knows what!" A single tear rolled down her left eye, breaking Harry's heart.

"She called me. She had broken up with her boyfriend and needed a friend." He said. "We drank a little, that's why i couldn't drive back to the hotel. I slept in her couch. Nothing happened, baby, you have to believe me."

"I'm not worried about you cheating, Harry. I worry about you lying to me. How can i trust you if you don't tell me the truth?" More tears fell from her eyes. "I don't want to be that type of girlfriend, but i thought we could tell each other everything."

"And we can, god, we can. I'm sorry, so sorry, baby."

 "Were you still going to tell me even if those pictures didn't come out?" She asked. Her lip was trembling as she waited for him to answer, however, Harry stayed silent. "That's what i thought."

She tried to walk out of the kitchen, but Harry wrapped his hand around her wrist gently, stopping her from leaving. But Y/N was too hurt right now to react properly, so she snapped. "Don't!"

"Mummy?" A much smaller, scared voice was heard, making both adults swallow hard. "Why are you crying?" Artemis was confused when he saw the tears on his mother' face, but then his eyes landed on Harry. Under any other circumstances, he'd jump on his arms, excited he was back home. But he was quick to put two and two together, and he instantly blamed Harry for his mummy's tears. So he furrowed, stepping in front of Y/N to take a good look at her.

"Hey, baby. Were you there long?" Y/N asked him, running a hand through his soft curls. Artemis shook his head. He didn't heard much, and what he heard he didn't understand. Just that his mum was shouting and Harry was apologizing for something. "Let's go back to your room, okay?"

She took his hand and guided him back to his room, staying with him for a little bit to show him she was okay. She knew Harry wouldn't leave, especially not after a fight, but she wasn’t sure she could keep fighting with him once she came out.

Harry made the decision to make lunch for them, hoping Y/N would be willing to talk to him. He knew Artemis was now mad at him too, and Harry felt so bad for upsetting his two loves. God only knows how protective Artemis is of his mum.

He didn’t even know why he couldn’t answer Y/N’s last question. He didn’t think paparazzi would take pictures of him entering and exiting his ex-girlfriend’s house, or that Y/N would react in that way. But he also understood how bad it looked from her perspective.

“You’re still here.” He heard her voice from behind.

“I’d never leave while we’re like this.” Harry turned to look at her, furrowing when he saw her red eyes. “I never meant to upset you.” She nodded, staying quiet. “I know how the world makes it look every time I’m out with someone from the opposite sex, I’ve been targeted as the biggest player for that.”

“Those things are not true.”

“And you know that. But… in my past relationships, they didn’t believe me. They’d automatically assume the worst, that’s why I didn’t want you to find out. I didn’t want the opinion you have of me to change. I’m truly sorry.”

Y/N sighed. She looked at him in the eye and could see how vulnerable Harry was allowing himself to be right now, how honest and regretful his eyes looked.

“You’re a good friend, and a good boyfriend. That’s what I think of you. Harry, you don’t have to lie or hide things from me. I know nothing happened, I trust you in that. Just, please, be honest with me. I don’t want to find out of things when there’s already millions of pictures online, I want to hear the truth from you so we can save arguments like these.”

Harry nodded furiously, again. “I promise, it won’t happen again. I’m sorry.”

“I forgive you.” She stated. Harry walked towards her and pulled her for a tight hug, squeezing her close to his chest and sighing in relief. “But Artemis is kind of upset too.”

“I should go apologize to him too. We shouldn’t have been fighting with him in the house.”

“Go talk to him, I’ll finish this.” She pointed at the almost done meal Harry was cooking.

He obeyed, making his way towards the little boy’s room. The door wasn’t entire closed but he still knocked before entering. “Hey.” He said softly, but Artemis didn’t answer. “I’m sorry you heard that, monkey.”

“You made my mummy cry.” He stated, crossing his little arms across his chest, looking exactly like Y/N while doing it. “You have to apologize.”

“I already did, kiddo. Mummy and I have talked, now I want to say sorry to you, for upsetting you.” Harry knelt in front of him.

“Are you gonna leave?” He said, his mood drastically changed as his eyes filled with tears.

Harry was confused by the question, but was quick to assure him. “Of course not. Everything’s fine, monkey. Adults fight sometimes, but I’m not gonna leave, ever.”

“That’s what my teacher told Susie but her dad doesn’t live with her anymore.” He rubbed his eyes with his little fists, whipping his tears.

“But that’s not us, Artemis. I’m here, do you see? I’m never gonna leave you or your mummy.”

“Promise?” Artemis offered him his right pinky and Harry wrapped his much bigger one around it without hesitation.

“You have my word.”

They hugged, Artemis wrapped his little arms around his neck, applying a little pressure as he was still afraid Harry would leave him. But in response, Harry just squeezed him closer to him. He sat on the floor with Artemis on his lap, letting him calm down as he cooed at him.

“I love you.” Harry barely heard the words, as Artemis spoke above a whisper, still pressed to Harry’s tattooed chest.

But he still heard. And he couldn’t help the dimpled smile from appearing on his face. He loved this boy more than he could ever begin to describe, and the reassurance that the feeling was mutual was always something Harry loved to hear.

He kissed the top of his head, brushing some blonde curls out of his small face so he could look directly at his hazel eyes. “Not as much as I love you.”

☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁

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[sharkboygirlish]

Messy.

ONE-SHOT

Word count: 2793

Disclaimer:  One piece and all it’s characters belong to Eiichiro Oda, I just like to write about them.

Warning: None

Rating: T (i guess?? there’s cursing)

Author’s Note: Whale, this is the first fanfic I’ve posted on the interwebs since high school so please keep that in mind, lol. I do plan to finish it sooner than later so check back in a few days if you want to read the rest, sorry I don’t have it all done right now.  At long last it it FINISHED.

Feel free to tell me what u think! Unless it’s mean, then I ask that u keep those thoughts in ur noggin because I’m just writing these for fun not for grades.

Without further ado, here ya go.

Author’s Note pt 2: So i didn’t end up going the smut route like I originally planned, but I think it worked out better bc this one got nice and Emotional.

Summary: Zoro really shouldn’t agree to be Nami’s drinking partner if he wanted to keep their friendship from getting... Complicated.

__________________________________________

The moon was floating high in the night sky when Nami wandered onto the deck, unable to sleep even after a few hours of sketching. 

She wanted company – specifically, she wanted the company of the crew’s resident alcoholic. It only took a few minutes to find him on the lawn deck with his back against a tree and his eye closed. ‘How typical.’

Nami smiled a small, excited smile as she strode over to him and squatted between his parted legs. An unconscious sigh left her nose as she swept her gaze up and down his face. She caught herself thinking, ‘He really is easy on the eyes isn’t he.’ ....again. 

Who was she kidding? She’d been thinking the same thing every time she looked his way lately. 

Two years ago she’d been able to keep the immature crush she had on him locked tightly away but somehow - it had gotten out and was slowly consuming her entire being. 

Nami hoped he hadn’t noticed how often she invited him to drink with her because she didn’t think she could handle being rejected. So she settled for spending time alone with him whenever and however she could. 

“Hey, moss-head,” the navigator said finally, leaning in to squint at him, “Are you asleep?”

He had literally just settled down for a nice cat nap when the navigator appeared suddenly to interrupt him. ‘Damn. What the hell did she want now?’ 

Instead of answering, Zoro chose to ignore her and pretend like he was deep asleep. ‘Why won’t she go bother someone else?’

Nami started prodding his cheek with one finger to rouse him if he really was sleeping, ”Zorooo wake up, I wanna drink,” she whined and his eyelid opened instantly.

‘Why’s she so damn pretty..’ was the first thought he had when he realized that she was a lot closer than he’d anticipated. 

He mentally chastised himself after, trying to remind his id that Nami had never once indicated that she wanted to be anything other than friends and he should respect that. 

But… There was no harm in looking from time to time was there? And she was pretty. She’d always been... ‘Oh for fuck’s sake, now he sounded like Sanji. He needed to get a grip.’

“Helloooooo,” Nami waved her hand in Zoro’s face until he snapped back to reality and snatched her wrist up, pulling it away. He scowled but it wasn’t deep, and now he was refusing to look her in the eye. “What was that about, huh Zoro?”

“Nothing.” The swordsman replied perhaps a little too quickly to avoid suspicion, “Thought I heard a noise, doesn’t matter – oi, didn’t you want to do something?” 

He couldn’t remember what exactly it was. He’d been so distracted by the way her bangs framed her face and sometimes got caught in her eyelashes—’Damnit! He was doing it again.’

Nami smirked again but didn’t press the subject anymore. She’d do that later once they started drinking. “Weren’t you listening to me? You’re so rude, maybe I should find someone else to share my booze with.”

Was it a good idea to go drink with Nami when he kept catching himself thinking about feelings that he’d been suppressing for the last two years? Probably not…

But he couldn’t just decline an opportunity to get buzzed. ‘And... Maybe he wanted to get buzzed with Nami, specifically.’  

Zoro scoffed, mostly at himself. “Quit playing games, damnit, do you want me to drink with you or not?”

“You’re so stubborn,” The navigator teased with a pleased smile that made his heart beat unevenly, “I could care less if you join me, but you’re not allowed to come unless you say you’ll be nice.”

“Nami. I am older than you, quit treating me like a fucking child or I swear-”

“That’s no way to talk to a lady who’s getting you drunk for free, Roronoa Zoro. If you can’t be nice then I’ll just add the cost of everything you drink to your debt and-”

Zoro didn’t have time to ruminate over the way hearing her say his full name made him shiver because he had to shut her up before she did charge him. 

“Okay, okay. I’ll be... nice.” He hissed through gritted teeth and her answering giggle made his pulse flutter. He had to fight to keep himself from smiling. ‘What the hell was going on with him tonight? Was he sick?’

“Good boy,” she turned and started walking towards the Sunny’s aquarium bar, glancing back over her shoulder to make sure he was coming.

“Don’t push your luck, woman.” Zoro snarled to mask his confusion over the sudden need to touch her that he felt scratching at the back of his head. He really shouldn’t agree to be Nami’s drinking partner if he wanted to keep their friendship from getting... Complicated.

He knew it, but he followed her up the stairs all the same.

                                                       * * *

“Why d’you always want to drink with me anyway, witch?” Skeptical of her intentions, his narrowed eye fixed itself on Nami as she approached him holding two maroon tinted bottles. She offered one to him and he accepted it – but he didn’t let his guard down yet.

Zoro lowered his gaze to check the label out, whistling long and low when he read 23% alcohol per volume. A couple puzzle pieces clicked together in his head ‘Oh, that’s why. Because if she tried to drink this with anyone else they’d pass out after two glasses.’

“Would you believe that I just like hanging out with you?” Though her tone was teasing she was actually being genuine, she had a lot of fun with him whenever they went out.

“No–“ He paused when Nami kicked him in the shin hard enough to make him swear. Reaching down with his free hand he rubbed the sore patch of skin and glared daggers at his crewmate. “What the fuck was that for?!”

“You said you’d be nice, Zoro! So be nice or I’ll charge you a hundred thousand beris for that bottle.” Nami uncorked hers but waited to hand the corkscrew over until he behaved himself. The look he was giving her would probably frighten a small child but she didn’t flinch.

‘This was his choice.’ He reminded himself. Of his own free will he chose to get drunk with Nami instead of napping, and that meant dealing with her bossiness no matter how much he loathed it. ‘Sometimes he just wanted to grab her by the shoulders and make her shut up, there were better things her mouth could be doing anyway-‘

“Why do you keep staring at me like that, do I have a zit or something?”

Zoro sat up so fast that he banged his shoulder on the underside of the countertop. ‘What the hell was that? What the hell was wrong with him?’ He hadn’t even opened the damn bottle and he was already making himself look like an idiot.

“No,” the swordsman grumbled, wracking his brain for a believable excuse, “Just thinking about how I’ll owe you money even after I’m dead if you keep charging me for bullshit.” That made her laugh and Zoro cursed himself for how much he liked hearing it. “Don’t see how it’s funny for me, witch.”

Nami let him take the corkscrew from her, eyes crinkled with amusement while he opened his bottle. “You’ll just have to stay alive until you pay me back in full, I guess!” She trilled before taking a long, heavy drink from hers.

“Yeah?” Zoro snorted before mimicking her and downing about half of the wine in the container. It tasted disgusting, which he’d expected, but that didn’t make the bitter aftertaste any less miserable. His nose wrinkled slightly as he set the bottle down. “I bet even if I did try to pay you off you’d find a way to charge me more.”

“You make me sound so heartless,” the navigator batted her eyelashes innocently, pretending to look hurt, “Why would I ever do such a thing?”

“Hah.” He scoffed before chugging some more wine and failing to keep track of how much he was drinking each time. “Because you want to keep me on a leash since I don’t throw myself at you like that dumbass cook.”

An impish smirk crawled it’s way onto Nami’s face that made him immediately regret what he’d just said. ‘Fuck. Damnit!’

“So…” She began slowly, savoring every second that the swordsman spent avoiding direct eye contact with her, “You admit that you are one of my lap dogs?”

A muscle in his jaw flexed and he stopped drinking for one second to grunt, “That’s not what I said.”

“That’s what I heard!” Chimed Nami as she rose from her seat, stepping over to Zoro and tracing a finger under his jaw while he drained the last few drops of liquid. “I should get you a collar, so people know who to bring you to when you get lost.”

Normally he would have snapped at her for poking fun at his sense, or lack thereof, direction but he wasn’t listening to her. She’d come close enough for him to pick up her scent and maybe it was the alcohol intensifying his feelings, but it was suffocating him in a good way.

He loved the way she smelled. Tangerines from her soaps mixed with salty seawater and traces of sunscreen. A hint of orange blossom, but only when she was close to him like this. 

Zoro inhaled deeply through his nose and, without realizing it, his expression melted into something affectionate and gentle. ‘In two years she’d changed in so many different ways… but she still smelled the same. She still smelled like home.’

                                                        * * *

“What are you thinking about, Zoro?” Her voice void of it’s usual teasing tone, Nami’s curiosity was piqued by his sudden shift in demeanor. He looked soft and peaceful, like he didn’t have anything to worry about. She wanted to know why.

‘Ah, fuck.’ What was he supposed to tell her? That he was thinking about how good she smelled? ‘Yeah right.’ Zoro was quiet for a while, mulling over his words until he came up with an explanation that didn’t sound as creepy – but also wasn’t a lie.

“I guess..” he finally murmured, his gaze shifting to meet hers, “It’s just been a while and… I was thinking about how nice it feels to be back here, with everyone…” a brief pause then he added, “I missed you guys.” ‘Look at him being all gushy and emotional, this wine really was something else.’ Zoro reached to brush his fingertips by her temple, catching a stray lock of hair and tucking it behind her ear, “I missed you.”

When had Zoro ever been this honest with her about the way he felt? Never was the answer, but now he seemed to trust her well enough to know she wouldn’t spill his secrets. Nami took his face in both of her hands, surprising him, and pulled his head down so she could kiss his forehead. “I missed you too, Zoro.”

Something about hearing her say that she’d missed him too broke a dam in his chest that he’d been trying to keep together for two years. Hormoness flooded through his bloodstream quicker than Zoro could even process them and before he knew it he was practically throwing his arms around Nami’s waist and crushing her against his chest.

“Nami—” he pressed his face into her neck to hide the tears that he couldn’t hold back anymore. Sober he might have cared about losing it like this around her but she was here and… ‘He just – needed to hold her.’ Hold her and smell her and feel how real she was because she had almost been taken from him.

‘He’d barely begun to process what he had been through on Thriller Bark when they were attacked in Sabaody. If he tried to think back on it his memories would get hazy and his bones would ache from their very cores. He knew what had happened but it’s like his brain was protecting him from understanding how close to death he’d come. Then – to be torn away from the people he loved with all of his heart? Who he had just nearly killed himself to protect?

It had ripped him apart and rubbed salt into every wound. And it fucking hurt. The same kind of pain he felt when he saw Kuina dead on the floor of their dojo. He was scared, he was furious, he was devastated – all over again but this time it was so much worse. So, so much worse.

That was why he had trained so hard over the last two years. Because he couldn’t bear the grief that came with loving them so deeply – so he got stronger. And stronger. And stronger. No matter the cost to his body, he would become powerful enough to defeat anyone who crossed them. Then… He would never have to feel the agony that he did when he first woke up on Kuraigana Island ever again.

Taking on all of Luffy’s suffering in Thriller Bark had been the most physically painful experience of his entire life – but that was nothing compared to how much it hurt to think that his friends were gone forever, that he hadn’t been able to protect them.

Training made it easy not to think about what had happened -- but now he was home, and they were safe - and he was realizing just how close he’d come to losing all of them. At once. And he could do nothing to stop it.’

Startled by him grabbing her, Nami was prepared to give the pirate a good smack if he was getting handsy but… He started trembling. ‘Was he not feeling well?’ Her mouth opened to form the question then stopped. His breathing hitched while his entire body jerked and she realized…

‘Zoro was crying.’

Roronoa Zoro, who prided himself on his strength, was sobbing wretchedly into her neck. ‘He must have been holding this in since Sabaody.’ Nami’s heart ached for him and his stupid pride that forced him to torture himself instead of letting him cry like he needed to. She’d been expecting him to crash at some point, how couldn’t he? Even someone as strong as Zoro was still a human being.

One of her arms cradled his head while the other wound round his shoulders, her fingers combing gently through his hair. “Oh you sweet, sweet boy…” she spoke in the tone that Bellemere used to use when Nami and Nojiko were frightened by a passing thunderstorm. It always calmed her, maybe it would calm Zoro, too.

‘Quit fucking crying you loser you’re supposed to be a man.’ But he couldn’t, he literally could not stop because he was trying to. “I wasn’t strong enough,” his voice quivered at the edges and he hated it. ‘He was definitely never going to drink this kind of wine again ever. Not if it turned him into a blubbering mess like this every time.’

“Shhh, no. No. Don’t you dare try to blame yourself for what happened. Hey, look at me.” Nami urged his head off her shoulder and cupped his face in both of her palms, “None of us were strong enough, okay? Not even Luffy.” Each tear that fell she tenderly swept away with the pad of her thumb. The corner of her mouth turned up as she assured him, “But we are strong enough now. We can take care of each other. Nothing is ever going to tear us apart again, Zoro.”

‘She was right. Of course, she was right. He needed to have faith in his crewmates and his captain. They could do anything as long as they had each other.’ His breathing slowly evened out as he focused on anchoring himself back to reality. He wasn’t in Sabaody or Kuraigana – he was on the Sunny. In the bar, with Nami who had grown so much since he last saw her. The look in his eye softened like it had before his breakdown.

“You’re staring at me again, Zoro.” The navigator teased, her hands falling to rest on his shoulders. He hadn’t let go of her yet but she didn’t mind, he could hold on to her for as long as he needed.

A ghost of his usual smirk passed across his face. “Sorry, Nami…” Zoro took a little risk by leaning in to press a chaste but lingering kiss to her cheek, then traced a path with the edge of his nose to her ear, murmuring, “Wine makes me a little… Messy.”

[officialscaramouche]

PART 3 OF THE REMEMBERING FIC POR FAVOR,,,I BEG 😞🙏

Of course! And thank u for specifying which one bc I mix the two stories up all the time lol

pairing: Scaramouche x gn!reader

wc: 1,484

tw: none

prev next

When you woke, you lay in the softest, and silkiest bed you’ve ever laid in. The room was elegant and ornate, the walls a deeply painted red with golden accents. You sat up with surprisingly less resistance from your wound, looking down and at the bandages that you were wrapped in. Where was your shirt? And who undressed you?

The door swung open with a click and you quickly covered yourself with the blanket, looking to the door. Your captain held a tray with dishes on it, presumably breakfast. “Good morning,” he said, kicking the door closed and making his way to your bedside. He placed the tray on the bed table and took a forkful of pancakes into his mouth. “Is your chest feeling better?”

You bring the blanket up further and glare at him. Was he the one who undressed you? How unprofessional of a captain. “Did you undress me?”

He took another forkful and held it in front of your mouth. “Yes.”

“Why? Why not the second grade medic?”

He rolled his eyes when you pushed the fork away, eating another bite himself. “What, you want Tartaglia to see you naked? You’re lucky I’m the one who did!”

“I wish none of you undressed me without my permission!!”

Scaramouche balled his fist around the fork tightly. You were getting on his nerves. Not eating, not drinking, only fighting. “Why not me?! I’m your fucking bo—”

The door to your room clicked open again except this time, your Lieutenant came in. “Whoa! Everyone can hear you yelling outside!” He walked up to the two of you with a smile. “It’s too early to be arguing like this. It’s like you never even forgot anything!” He laughed, gesturing to you.

You glared at him too, turning to look out the window. “Are we leaving yet? I want to get back to the harbor.”

“Not yet,” Scaramouche grumbled through the pancakes. “Because of you, we cannot leave until the day after the next.”

“Because of me?!” You shout, turning to face your captain and wanting to shove him to the ground. But you turn a little too quickly and you crumble under the pain of reopening your wound.

“Please, [Y/N], we need your wound closed before we can start moving out.” He pulled down the blanket to look at your chest. You instinctively grab his wrist to stop him, but the hand above yours that also tried to stop him was your captain. Why would he care if Tartaglia looked at you naked? It wasn’t his body!

You stared Tartaglia in the eyes. “I can look at it myself. I’m the medic.”

“Alright, comrade. I’m gonna snag breakfast before it’s all gone. And you,” he pointed at Scaramouche. “No more yelling.”

After finally getting you to eat, your mood brightened up. Scaramouche was staring out the window with his chin resting in his palm, every now and then his eyes flickering to look at you. You were the same, despite not knowing much of anything. You still ate your food with vigor and you still got happier and less snappy after you ate. “Oh god are these from Mondstadt?! There so fucking good!”

Scaramouche scowled, taking a strawberry from your plate. “Watch your fucking mouth!”

“Look who’s talking! I get it from you!”

You were right, though. After spending so much time with Scaramouche, certain words became more of your daily vocabulary. But wait…why did you spend so much time with your captain?

“Well hurry up so I can take your plates to the staff and you can change your own fucking dressing.”

“Why didn’t you just wait for me to wake up?” You asked, taking a big sip of your water.

“Because you asked me to.”

There was a pause. “I’ve been asleep though. Why’d I ask you?”

Scaramouche grinned like a little boy. “I don’t know, maybe it’s because you love me?”

You shoved your tray off of your lap and crossed your arms. “You are so not my type.”

Scaramouche laughed. “Bet I can change that.”

That evening you had another hydrotherapy session. This time, you weren’t going to fall asleep. It was the same as before; Tartaglia held pools of water over your ears and temples. After having the soothing water wash over you, it was as if you had melted into another existence. Your mind was free of thought, your body light and numb. You didn’t exist, and you weren’t anywhere.

Then a familiar voice brought you something to focus on. “Are you awake?” Your Lieutenant jokes.

You smile. “Yes, I’m awake.”

“Okay, I’m going to ask you simple questions. You should know the answers to these.”

“And if I don’t?”

“I’m serious, please answer truthfully and to the best of your knowledge.” There was a pause as he wiggled his fingers, shifting the water in ways that you were sure had meaning. “What is your name?”

“[Y/N],” you say simply.

“Good! Who is your captain?”

“Captain Scaramouche,” you reply.

“Excellent! And who do we work for?”

“The Tsaritsa.”

“Good job. I’m going to ask you more subjective questions, you ready?”

You feel your mind beginning to fizz, like a glass of soda. You fight it, and nod. “I’m ready.”

“If you feel any pain, or are shocked by forgotten trauma, we can stop. Just say the word “starconch,” and I will cease the therapy.”

“Yes, sir.”

Tartaglia sucked in a deep, nervous breath. “When you think of the Tsaritsa, what comes to mind?”

“Um…I think of her kindness. She’s so understanding and she accommodates my wishes.”

“If you didn’t work for her, what do you imagine you’d be doing?”

Your face contorts in thought. “Hopefully…living a peaceful, mundane life. Working everyday, being with the one I love everyday, for example.”

“Let’s say you live this life. Who is the person you’re living with?”

“I…don’t know. We’ve been together for two years now but I don’t know who it is.”

“Can you describe him?”

You cock your head to the side. “How did you know it was a man?”

“Nevermind,” he cuts off, not wanting to potentially ruin your memories with his incorrect words. “Next question. Do you enjoy being a medic?”

“It’s never fun to see my teammates get hurt. But I have confidence that I’d never let anyone die.”

Tartaglia hummed above you, and smiled. He admired your confidence and your ability to be strong and courageous when you needed to. “Is it hard being a medic?”

You smiled, and laughed a little. “Nothing is hard when you know what you’re doing,” you chided. “I think fighting is hard, but you do it wonderfully everyday.”

He observed you carefully, a thin veil of darkness washing over his face. “If someone taught you how to fight, would you?” The question was a little more self indulgent, hoping that if he could teach you, you wouldn’t get hurt like this again.

“No, because the man I love protects me just fine.”

You were right. The person that you loved was like a guard dog of sorts. If someone so much as had an ugly scowl on their face as they’re coming toward you, he’s there to step right in between. He was always there, always reliable. But the one time he wasn’t, you nearly met your fate by the time they got you back to camp.

Tartaglia shifted. “Is there anything you know about the man you’re with?”

“He’s handsome,” you sang, a little teasingly. “And he’s so intelligent. And he’s sweet to me, and he’s silly at times, and when we fight we have bad fights. Yelling at each other, saying awful things…but he’s so quick to apologize and do things to make me forgive him.” Tartaglia watched as you went on and on, feeling bad that you had all these things to say about him but he didn’t have a face or name. Just the feeling of love and happiness for a mystery man. “And he’s always there for me. I try to be there for him, but when I do I mess things up. Like right now, I’m only hurt because I—” You sat up suddenly, disrupting the therapy and turning to look at Tartaglia. “I was saving him,” you say with wide eyes, as if he didn’t know that. “I…only threw myself into the battle to save him. That means…it’s one of the guys here right?”

Tartaglia raised his brow and shrugged his shoulders. He wished he wasn’t a good person, because he would’ve taken this opportunity to tell you he was your boyfriend. “I’d tell you but that would ruin the fun!”

You glared, your brain feeling a little strange still from the session. You stared down at your chest wrapped in bandages. This was your love. You placed your hand over your heart to steady your heart rate. “Better me than him.”

Tartaglia disagreed.

[problematicfavesareproblematic]

Boys Who Speak With Silver Luck

Joe Liebgott x Reader

Ok, so THIS is more what I was intending to write for you, @itswormtrain​​! Hope you can learn to forgive me!!

This one is a soul sister/unofficial sequel to ‘You’ve Been Sad (Because I’ve Been Lonely)’ bc I’m bad at doing one shots 

Warnings: SMUT, domesticity, fluff, healthy dynamics, poetry being an aphrodisiac, feels(?)

All poetry mentioned is from the anthology No Thanks by ee cummings, and the title is from the song (inspired by 44 by ee cummings) comes from The Boys Are Too Refined by The Hush Sound

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“I still don’t see how you can read those things.”

 You smirk to yourself, nudging his thigh with your foot as he sits at the foot of the bed. 

In retaliation,  Joe lightly traces the tip of his finger up the arch of your right foot and chuckles when you flinch at the tickle of it, the chuckle becoming a laugh when you lower your book and frown at his mirth.

“And here I thought you were actually wanting to do something nice for me,” you tease, letting him pull your foot back into his lap and watching him smirk as he returns to massaging the sore muscles there. “Should’ve known you were gonna betray me eventually….”

 He scoffs at your theatrics, mumbling a soft apology when you hiss in discomfort as his thumb works on a particularly tight knot just above your heel.

 “Why do you wear those things if they hurt your feet so badly?”

 You furrow your brows at him, resting the book on your stomach as you let a smile play on your lips.

 “They’re called heels, and I wear them because they make my legs look amazing.”

 Joe tilts his head to the side as his face takes on a contemplative expression.

  “‘This is true…” he says with a nod. “You look fuckin’ gorgeous in ‘em.”

 You offer a hmph in smug agreement, picking your book back up and continuing where you left off.

 Tonight had been the night of Chuck’s family’s yearly holiday party, the one night where both you and Joe dressed to the nines and got to rub elbows with people Joe and Chuck lovingly referred to as ‘rich snobs with inherent mommy fetishes’. 

Joe never failed to leave you starstruck when he wore his nicest uniform, and even though you didn’t wear yours, Joe always managed to convince you to pin your Purple Heart and as many unit citations you could fit to the breast of whatever dress you picked out. 

 “Fuckin’ love watching those ignorant fuck’s faces when they realize what a badass my wife is,” he had growled in your ear as you had gotten ready that night. “Gets me harder than a goddamn rock, you got no idea…”

 The two of you had danced and drank and laughed over some of the most amazing food you’d ever tasted. It had been perfect.

More and more things were becoming perfect as time went on and the dark horrific shadows of war began to shrink away under the bright California sunshine. 

It was heartbreakingly nice to see Joe happy, truly happy. He deserved it- you all deserved it.

 A groan of frustration is the only warning you get before Joe crawls up your body and plops himself atop you, the suddenness of the action making you release a grunting giggle. Undeterred by the obvious fact that you’re trying to read, he kisses at your chest through your shirt.

 “Pay” kiss “attention” kiss “to meeee” kiss

 You take one hand from the book to scratch lightly at his scalp, smiling at the sound of him humming in annoyance.

 “What’s in that dumb book that’s got you glued to it, huh? What can big words give you that my big—OW.”

 You cut him off by clunking the book gently against the back of his head, giving him a soft smile when he looks up at you with a frown.

 “You’re so needy,” you chastise hollowly. “Never thought you’d get jealous over something as silly as poetry—”

 Joe rolls his eyes. “Poems are for kids and nerds, don’t get what it is about-” he sits up a bit more so he can see the cover of your book. “Whatever an ee cummings is that’s got you so gaga over it…”

 You raise an eyebrow at him. “Believe it or not, Joseph, I think you’d actually like this guy’s poems—”

 Joe snorts before bringing his head back down to rest on your chest. “Yeah, okay—”

 “Hey,” you challenge, scooting up on your pillows so you can sit up, the movement bringing his head to your ribcage. “I’m serious! If you were to like any sort of poetry, you’d need it to be as sexual and swear-y as you are…. Here, listen-”

 Before he can protest, you flip to the one you had in mind: 44.

 “the boys i mean are not refined 

they go with girls who buck and bite 

they do not give a fuck for luck 

they hump them thirteen times a night

 one hangs a hat upon her tit 

one carves a cross on her behind 

they do not give a shit for wit 

the boys i mean are not refined…”

 “Gimme that!”

 Suddenly, the book is ripped from your hand- and before you can protest you are shocked to see Joe turn the book so he can bury his nose in it. Careful not to be smug about it, you bite back a smile as you watch him mouth the words as he reads. 

 The fact that you’re able to hold in a laugh when his eyebrows shoot up in surprise should make you eligible for another Purple Heart.

 When Joe’s eyes flick up to meet yours, he’s looking at you as if you’ve just done some suspicious slide of hand- intrigued but still somewhat cautious.

 “Well?” you ask. “What did you think?”

 Joe flicks his gaze down to the book again, like he thinks it may have changed somehow when he wasn’t looking.

 “Are they….all like this?”

 You do smile now. “Well, I’m not sure- I haven’t read them all yet.”

An idea pops into your mind as he flips through the pages of the book.

 “If you give it back, I can see if I can find another—”

 Joe suddenly smirks, and when he lifts his face so you can see him, he’s looking like the cat that ate the canary.

“Read this one.”

 Now you’re the hesitant one, taking the book back from him as if it could suddenly turn into a snake.

The poem he’s picked  is one you haven’t read yet, but if it’s one that Joe picked out you can only imagine what the subject matter is.

 “Okay then,” you say slowly, clearing your throat as you cast him a brief look of suspicion before beginning.

 “may i feel said he

 (i'll squeal said she 

just once said he) 

it's fun said she”

 (may i touch said he

 how much said she

 a lot said he) 

why not said she….”

 As you read, Joe’s hands come up to hold your sides as he kisses slowly across your chest, your stomach. Every so often, his thumbs smooth upward to rub across your shirt-covered  nipples, and you can feel him smile as he kisses at you.

 Your shirt has bunched up, revealing your hips and the sensitive skin between them. Your cheeks feel hot, and your mouth suddenly becomes dry as his lips drag between your hip bones promisingly.

His hair tickles your skin when he begins mouthing lower, to the waistband of your underpants.

 “Y/N?”

 “Yeah?” you sigh, tongue wetting your bottom lips as you begin to breathe heavier.

 “Keep reading.”

 Oh. You hadn’t realized that you’d stopped.

Clearing your throat, you blink a few times before finding the place you left off.

 “Uh, (let's go said he 

not too far said she 

what's too far said he 

where you are said she)

 may i stay said he 

(which way said she 

like...like this said he 

I-if you kiss said she- shit, Joe….”

 Joe’s warm hands have worked your underwear down your hips and around the swell of your bottom, and the heat of his breath across the thinner skin that he’s exposed has you losing focus again.

Because he’s nothing if not a consummate tease, he doesn’t do anything more than kiss only a sliver of the newly revealed skin.

 “Y/N…” he reminds you, nipping lightly at you when you groan in frustration. “I think there’s still some to go—”

 Your heart is thrumming in your chest, and it takes you a few seconds to find where you left off this time.

 “M-may i move said he

 is it love said she) 

if you're…..uh, if you’re willing said he 

(but….. you're killing said she….”

 The words have started to dance across the page, a whine coming from somewhere deep in your chest at the first touch of his fingers to the slick lips of your sex.

You’ve officially lost your place, now. You just pick the stanza your eye catches first and hope for the best.

 “(tiptop said he 

don't stop said she

 oh no said he) 

go slow said she- fuuuuuck…..

 I-(cccome?said he….goddamn it Joe, please!”

 You throw the book off to the side, sweat beading on your brow from how deliberately cruel Joe is being as he continues massaging at you. When Joe sees that you’ve started to shake, he lunges up the bed to wrap a hand around the back of your neck and kisses you messily- your teeth clacking together briefly as he buries his fingers inside of you and immediately finds the place that never fails to ruin you.

 Clinging to the front of his shirt, you squeeze your thighs together as a delicious tremor rolls up your body from where you’ve trapped his hand. You’re so worked up you almost want to cry, the heat in your lower belly almost bowing your back.

 “Does that feel good, Baby?” he mumbles against your lips. “Who is it that’s making you feel this good, huh?”

 You make an incoherent noise, quickly wrapping am arm around his shoulders to try and bring his mouth back to yours, mewling in frustration when he refuses to do so.

 “Ungh! Joe, I’m begging you!”

 “Say it again,” he says darkly, and if you had the strength to open your eyes you’d see just the power-drunk way he is looking down at you. “Do it—”

 “Joe! Joe Joe Joe Joe Joe….”

 You chant his name like a prayer, your voice dying in your throat as he starts using his palm to stimulate your neglected clit.

 With a silent scream, you come apart, head lolling back as he continues to coax you through your orgasm, dimly aware of the praise being kissed across your chin as he refuses to relent the punishing paste he’s established.

 Your face is throbbing with the strength of your thudding heart when he finally starts to slow down, your body still bowing and writhing as he begins to coo down at you sweetly, capturing your lips with his as your shaking starts to subside and your sweat begins to cool.

 “Good girl,” he sighs into your mouth. “You’re such a good girl for me….”

 You don’t reply- can’t reply.  Joe’s reduced you into a boneless mess of a woman.

 When you do eventually open your eyes, Joe is smiling down at you with an obvious affection that threatens to get your heart racing once more. Not taking his eyes from yours, he gently slides his fingers from your still-fluttering sex and makes a show of licking them clean. 

 With a mischievous wink, he uses his other hand to smooth your hair from your forehead before carefully rolling so he’s laying beside you, his shoulder pressed against your as he chuckles.

 “Huh, whaddaya know,” he says after he releases one of his fingers from between his lips with a lewd pop. “Guess poetry isn't that bad.”

 Using all of your energy, you turn your head to give him the weakest glare you think you’ve ever given.

 “When….when I can breathe witho’ havin’ to think about it so hard, I’m gon’ make you cum til you pass out.”

 Joe gives you a smiling kiss.

“And I’ll let you….once we finish round two.”

 Well, looks like I’ll be going back to the bookstore sooner than I thought.

~ ~ ~ Taglist: @mrseasycompany​ @itswormtrain​ @mrsalwayswrite​ @happyveday​ @sunsetmando​ @teenmagazines​ @liebgotttme​

[expectingtofly]

Incident at Playgroup

2.8k

fluff, established dean/cas, baby jack, human!cas, cas and dean terrorize other parents

dedicated to @thiscastielhasflown bc a few weeks ago we talked about tfw’s mcdonald’s orders and this fic happened. wishing you a good week with schoolwork assignments that only take half the time you expect them to, eventual restful sleep, and good grades <3

also posted on ao3

“Clown!” Jack yelled, pointing at the entrance to the McDonald’s indoor play area. A Ronald McDonald cardboard cutout guarded the door, holding a sign reading, You must be this tall to enter.

“Inside voice,” Dean said, though he wasn’t sure it mattered much when he could hardly hear himself speak. Recently, they’d joined a playgroup of parents and kids from Jack’s preschool, and this weekend, some of the moms had organized a playdate at the McDonald’s in town, one with a huge play area.

Meaning, they were now surrounded by screaming kids, diaper bags, and stressed out parents.

Dean winced as a kid shrieked from across the room. “We need to take a photo of you next to ol’ Ronald to show Sam.”

“Okay,” Jack agreed, jumping up and down in his chair.

Coming over with the tray of their food, Cas put out a hand to steady Jack’s chair. “That would be unnecessarily cruel."

Dean grabbed his Big Mac. “Yeah, well, he deserves it.” Before they’d come here today, Sam had repeatedly told them, quote, “please don't fuck this up again." Always was a polite bastard. “He’s gotta have more faith in us. What are we, amateurs?”

“Unfortunately, I believe that’s the point,” Cas said, sitting down and giving Jack his Happy Meal. “We don’t have the best track record with these sort of things.”

These ‘sort of things’ being playgroups. 

So, they’d tried a couple that hadn’t worked out. “Not like it’s our fault,” he said. “Take a seat, kid.” Jack ignored him, jumping in his seat as he waved to another toddler sitting nearby.

Cas beamed, holding onto the back of the chair. “He’s making friends, that’s a good sign.”

“Kid could make friends with a blank wall,” Dean said, but Cas was right—making friends was the whole point they were here. While Jack could make friends with just about anyone and anything—every crayon had a name and backstory, Cas’ trenchcoat was taken on make-believe-adventures, and the Impala could apparently talk, if Jack’s one-sided conversations during long car rides was anything to go off of—it was true that Jack was lacking in the friends-that-aren’t-hunters-or-over-a-decade-older category. There weren’t exactly many toddlers running around the bunker.

Hence, why they were spending their Saturday afternoon at the Hell on Earth known as McDonald's PlayPlace.

Jack held out the bag of apple slices that came in his Happy Meal. “Open.”

Dean stared him down and Jack added, “Peas.”

Close enough. Taking the bag, Dean told Cas, “Don’t look now, but Amanda is handing out brochures for Pampered Chef again.” According to Sam, that was another reason this playdate had to be a success—making friends with the right parents meant getting invited to more playdates and whatever other random events the parents came up with. It was like a weird society Dean had never known existed until Jack started preschool and started interacting with other kids his own age.

“I saw you using the food processor the other day,” Cas said, glancing over his shoulder to look despite Dean’s warning. Dean rolled his eyes. “I think it’s ingenious.”

“I’m not going to another two hour cooking demonstration.“

“Sam said we need to make a good impression.”

“He can go buy overpriced kitchen tools then.” It was a little too convenient that Sam had gotten out of taking Jack to this playdate—Dean had a suspicion that the multiple Ronald McDonalds stationed around had something to do with that.

He tried to hand Jack the apples, but Jack pointed at the play area. “Wanna play!”

“You have to finish your food,” Dean told him. Crossing his arms, Jack glared at him and stomped his foot on the chair.

“Just eat two more nuggets,” Cas told him. He picked up his filet-o-fish sandwich and glanced at Dean. “What?”

“You’re spoiling him.”

Jack stuffed his face with two chicken nuggets, which prompted Cas to give Dean a look. “Well, you’re teaching him bad table manners.”

Just to be obnoxious, Dean shoved half of his burger into his mouth in one bite. Jack laughed at him and Cas rolled his eyes.

“Done!” Jack announced, and Cas pushed his chair back so he could escape.

“These play places are gross,” Dean said, swallowing. “He’s gonna catch a disease.”

“Good thing he can’t get sick,” Cas said, watching Jack clamber up some stairs to reach a slide.

“Yeah, well I can,” Dean retorted. Jack went down the slide with a squeal. Landing at the bottom, he waved at them and Dean waved back.

“The Winchesters are here!” someone called too cheerily and Dean rolled his eyes, turning to see Ashley walking over. Lady thought she ran the group, always recruiting parents to bring snacks and toys to playdates. A little too high and mighty when Dean knew for a fact that the cupcakes she'd brought last week were store-bought.

Settling down into the seat next to them, she asked, “I wasn’t expecting you two today. Where’s Sam?”

Dean resisted rolling his eyes. Of course Sam was everyone’s favorite. Wasn’t his fault Sam was better at feigning interest in grocery lists and laundry piles. Parenting was hard enough without getting subjected to the unique torture of playgroup small talk.

“Him and Eileen went on a weekend trip,“ Cas answered easily and Dean nodded. They’d long given up trying to explain to others why Jack had a rotating list of parental figures accompanying him to playgroup, figuring if the other parents thought they were in a weird cult situation, at least that was better than them knowing the truth—like the fact that Sam and Eileen were away hunting a rugaru in Missouri. Though they were going to run out of excuses soon for why playgroup couldn’t be hosted at their place—an underground bunker with enough weapons to hold off an army.

“Well,” Ashley said, “I’m glad you guys were able to make it.” Yeah, that was a fake smile.

“We wouldn’t miss it,” Dean said, plastering on his own fake smile. “I can’t think of anywhere else I’d rather be.” Cas kicked him under the table.

“We’ve loved having Jack in the group,” Ashley said, and that might not be a fake sentiment. Jack could charm anyone. “Such a sweetheart. Lily adores him.” She smiled at where Jack and her daughter Lily were crawling through a tunnel at the top of the play area.

“Jack, no!” Dean called, seeing Jack stick his fingers in his mouth. “I’m so getting sick,” he muttered under his breath.

He was trying to come up with an excuse to get away as Ashley pulled out her phone to show them a new post on her mommy blog—boring, same old content. Give him a blog and he’d actually have something interesting to say—when he heard familiar crying from across the play area.

Without a second thought, he was pushing back his chair and rushing over, squeezing past playing kids and their parents to find Jack sitting on the floor bawling his eyes out and a bigger kid standing over him.

“What the hell happened here?” he demanded. He went to pick up Jack, but Cas was already swooping in and grabbing him.

“He pushed me!” Jack managed through his sobs, and Dean turned on the older kid.

“What the hell’s your problem?” The kid’s baleful expression faltered. He took a step back and Dean advanced on him. “You get off on making kids half your size cry?”

“Don’t speak to my son that way!” someone exclaimed, pushing through the crowd of kids and parents to glare at them. “What’s going on?”

“Your son is a menace,” Cas told the woman—Denise. Playgroup gossip said her son had gotten held back from kindergarten due to his inability to ‘play nice with others.’ Jack’s crying had subdued to sniffles, but Cas still held onto him like he might break apart. “He was bullying our son.”

“I’m sure it was an accident.” She put her hand on the kid’s shoulder. “You didn’t mean to hurt him, right, Tommy?”

Tommy only glared at them, and Dean glared right back. “He needs to apologize to Jack,” Cas said.

“Tommy, apologize.”

After several long, drawn out seconds, Tommy muttered, looking down at his feet, “Sorry.”

“I don’t think that was a real apology,” Cas said.

“It’s not my fault Jack’s a crybaby,” Tommy shot back.

“You little—” Dean started

“Take that back,” Cas snapped, and if he wasn’t human, Dean would’ve expected his eyes to start glowing fiery blue. Denise’s eyes grew wide, her grip on Tommy’s shoulder tightening.

“Is there a problem here?” someone asked, and Dean turned to see a McDonald’s employee hurrying over.

“Yeah, this kid shoved our son,” Dean said. “And he’s being a little shit about it.”

The employee’s expression turned shocked and Dean heard a few gasps from the parents that had crowded around to see the commotion. “I’m gonna have to ask you to leave,” the employee stammered. “This is a kid’s play area, we won’t tolerate fighting here.”

“We were already going,” Cas said haughtily. He glared at Denise. “And if 'Tommy' ever lays a hand on Jack again, he will be sorry.” Jack’s expression was eerily similar to Cas’ as they shot twin glares at Tommy, and Dean thought he caught a spark in Jack’s eyes.

“Let’s go,” he said, taking Cas’ elbow and guiding him through the crowd of spectators before Jack tried to incinerate the kid. He wasn’t sure if that was one of Jack’s powers or not, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to find out in a crowded McDonald’s. Even if the snot-nosed kid deserved it.

The staff behind the counter was watching along with everyone else in the store, the once noisy place now brought to tense stillness. Cas snatched up the rest of their food and Dean knew they were already on the verge of getting the cops called on them, but he couldn’t resist turning and jabbing his finger at the little brat. “And don’t you ever fucking touch Jack again!”

Cas shot Denise and Tommy another look, Jack copying it over his shoulder, and Dean let the door slam shut behind them.

“I can’t believe the audacity of that woman,” Cas raged, strapping Jack into his carseat. Dean grabbed the wipes and leaned over the front seat to wipe Jack’s hands before he touched everything and spread germs around. “And her kid is exactly the same!”

Jack craned his neck to look back at the McDonald’s as Cas finished strapping him in. “Play!”

Getting into the passenger seat, Cas slammed the door shut. “You will not be going back there, not when those children are around. Dean was right, these play places are vile.”

“You alright, kid?” Dean asked Jack, shutting the wipe container.

Jack kicked his feet against the seat. “Hungry.”

Cas pulled out the container of Jack’s half-eaten chicken nuggets and Dean protested, thinking of a fateful day with a bag of cheerios—he was still finding them in every nook and cranny of the car. “No eating in the backseat.”

“He’s just been through a traumatic experience,” Cas said, handing the container to Jack. “We can make an exception.”

“Fine,” Dean muttered, gripping the steering wheel as he pulled out of the parking lot. “I always knew Denise was shifty. You saw the way she was trying to spin the story, making it out like it wasn’t her kid’s fault? Fucking asshole.”

“Asshole!” Jack agreed cheerfully from the backseat.

“That’s not a nice word, Jack,” Cas said. Quieter, he added, “But it’s accurate.” He pulled out his phone. “I’m gonna send a message to the playgroup chat. Tommy’s behavior can’t be tolerated. Soon all the kids are going to become bullies.”

“He needs to be taught a lesson,” Dean agreed, glancing at Jack as he stopped at a red light, trying not to flinch at the crumbs on Jack’s lap that threatened to fall to the floor. “Needs to get knocked down by someone. Hear that, Jack? We’re gonna teach you how to fight back.”

Jack nodded. “I can fight!” He waved a chicken nugget around in mock punches and Dean gave up any hope of keeping the backseat clean.

“Maybe we can convince the other parents to kick Denise and her son out of the—Oh.” Dean looked over at him and Castiel winced. “We’ve been blocked from the group chat.”

“That makes three of them,” Dean muttered, pushing the accelerator as the light turned green. “We’re gonna end up on some blacklist soon.”

First playgroup, Jack had set a couch on fire. Since the "baby god testing out his powers” explanation wasn’t gonna fly, they went with the tried and true, “playing with matches” excuse. Didn’t stop the group from voting to kick them out.

Second playgroup, Cas had gotten in a fiery debate over the ethicality of beekeeping, and what was Dean supposed to do? Not back him up? He hadn't known you could get kicked out of the zoo for "disorderly conduct."

Alright, maybe Sam’s fears that they’d fuck up this playdate too weren’t completely off base.

“I think it’s time we give playgroups a rest,” he decided.

"But Jack needs to make friends."

"He's already got us, and Claire and Kaia and Alex and—"

"Charlie!" Jack added from the backseat.

"Charlie," Dean agreed. "He's got plenty of friends." Cas only stared him down with a particular smitey look in his eyes, and though Dean knew there wasn't a real threat behind the gaze, he sighed. "Fine. We’ll try again.”

"I already had one in mind," Cas said, brightening. "In case this one didn't work out."

“Done!” Jack yelled.

“Inside voice,” Dean said automatically. “Wait, you had a backup plan?"

“Yes,” Cas said, taking the empty container of chicken nuggets from Jack. “I thought it wise considering our track record. It’s a smaller group than this one was—Here, Jack, you want my ice cream?”

“Dude, seriously?” Dean protested as Cas handed an Oreo McFlurry back to Jack, who excitedly held out his hands. “That’s a disaster waiting to happen.”

“Not necessarily,” Cas said. “I don’t think we’re that destined to fail again—Oh, you mean the ice cream.” He glanced at Jack, who was dripping ice cream onto his lap with every spoonful. “Um. Traumatic experience?”

Dean wasn’t falling for that excuse a second time. He started to say so, but Cas wasn’t listening, picking up his phone as it beeped several times in quick succession.

“What?” Dean asked, seeing a slow frown cross Cas' face as he stared at the screen.

Cas held up his phone to show several texts in a row. “We’re in trouble.”

On cue, Dean’s phone started ringing, the screen lighting up to display Sam’s name. Fuck.

“Sam would like to know why we’re all blocked from the group chat,” Cas said unhelpfully, and Dean rejected the call.

“Good luck explaining why.”

“Maybe the problem is us,” Cas said slowly. He met Dean’s eyes, then they both shook their heads.

“No, it’s those stupid parents,” Dean said.

“And their insufferable children,” Cas agreed.

“Insufferable!” Jack agreed from the backseat, ice cream smeared across his chin. Or that’s what Dean thought he was repeating, the word losing a few syllables along the way.

“Not you, Jack,” Cas said. “Every playgroup would be lucky to have you.”

“Just, they apparently don’t know it,” Dean pointed out. “Or we wouldn’t keep getting kicked out.”

His phone started ringing again, as if to remind him of the fact, and he looked pointedly at Cas. “You deal with him.”

“No, you,” Cas said.

“For fuck’s sake,” Dean muttered. Then he had an idea.

“Hey, Jack, tell Sam about what you saw today.” He turned on speakerphone and handed back his phone, not even caring that Jack’s hands were a sticky mess. Okay, maybe he cared a little, but that’s why the Impala now always held wipes in the glove box.

Jack grabbed his phone eagerly. “Sam!” he crowed. “Guess what I saw!”

Dean caught Sam’s voice over the phone. “What—Jack, hey, where’s Dean?”

“Clowns!” Jack said, waving his ice cream spoon around. “Clowns everywhere!”

“Very mature,” Cas told Dean.

Dean shrugged. “Buys us some time.”

“That’s nice, Jack, but put Dean on,” Sam said. Jack started to give the phone back, and Cas whispered,

“Tell him about the slide.”

“Sam, Sam! I went on a slide!” Dean gave him a thumbs up in the rearview mirror and Jack copied it.

“Dean! I know you can hear me!” Sam yelled as Jack continued on about his eventful day.

“We’re horrible influences,” Cas said, unsuccessfully fighting back a smile.

“Nah,” Dean said. “We’re the best.”

tag list

@becky-srs @xojo @marvelnaturalock @aelysianmuse @prayedtoyou @letsjustdieeveryone @good-things-do-happen-dean @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover @theninthdutchessofhell @madronasky @famouspsychicpizzabandit @multifandomdisorder @arcticfox007  @improvedpeanut @castiel-is-a-cat @harmonyhelms @thetrueliesofafangirl @dean-you-assbutt-cas-loves-you @confusedisaster @welcome-to-crowleys-hellhole @celestialcastiel @wormstacheangel

let me know if you’d like to be added or removed from the tag list :)

[theyscreamjade]

Mkay, since I’ve seen you do big butt and small boobs or big boobs and small butt, let’s go the extra mile bc I KNOW I’m not the only one with big boobs (and I’m talkin DD’s) AND a big butt. Can you do this w/ Bakugo, Todoroki, Shinsou, and Kirishima?

The Double Whammy

WE ARE ENTERING SOME DEEEP SHIT! I mean deep! Extremely deep, please put your big girl pants on because I'm gonna get into the subject as deep as I possibly can because I can relate to this on a thousand levels. Let's go.

DISCLAIMER: NSFW AND CURSING.

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Eijiro Kirishima

* (I swear, I simp this man too hard.)

* Please acknowledge the fact that he’s a firm believer in respect, manliness, and more. So regardless, he’s going to love you for you and respect you as well, even with that disrespectful body god blessed you with.

* He’s the ultimate simp for you honey and you just don’t know. You see him for more than his insecurities as well and that’s more of a fuel within the relationship.

* Now, Don’t expect him to just let anyone say anything about your body, this includes even his Bakubro. You’re his pebble, he’s gotta protect you.

* Those guys who randomly try to ask you out at parties, restaurants, or even when you’re just inside the store and you’re just grabbing a few things, Kirishima will quickly shut that down.

* The only thing I’d worry about with him is his insecurities getting the way, the mere fact that he might not be enough for you. I mean, look at you. Can you blame him?

* This Red Riot isn’t as innocent as you think though, he loves it when you’re as close to him as possible. For example, when you’re hugging him and you’re breasts are pressed against his chest. It drives him insane while he can admire that gorgeous smile of yours.

* Strapless outfits are his go-to favorites on you, why? That chest is on full display yet your neck is open where those bites he creates a few days ago are being seen as well.

* Speaking of bites..you think they’re not going to be included? When it comes to samwiches, he isn’t picky but the fact that you have the best of both worlds just makes everything so much better.

* Just expect a lot of biting, the constant changing of positions, and more. You’ll be in a missionary first and then you’re somehow on the floor, getting carpet burn on one side of your elbows and knees while he’s holding your other legs, pounding you from behind.

* His favorite place for you two to do the nasty? His gym..but that’s for another headcanon.

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Shoto Todoroki

* This might be the first time I go the left with Shoto. Trust me, He loves you. He really really does.

* He loves you for you and everything but he might be a bit hesitant about the relationship at first. Why? Because you’re wanted all the time by many guys.

* I know he’s wanted by thousands of girls everytime he simply walks into a room but you’re a real eye candy. With that, his father did the same thing with his mother. (Besides the fact that she was crazy powerful.)

* The another issue you two would have to face is basically him letting you handle yourself. Remember, he doesn’t want to push his boundaries and pause your independence because he knows you can handle yourself.

* That doesn’t mean he wouldn’t step in if he has to for a guy who doesn’t know when to take no for a answer, just hope he doesn’t commit a full blown murder in front of you.

* His favorite thing on you will still be tights, but remember you have a double whammy now. Top wise? V-Necks or really low shorts. Like the ones that are still sexy yet professional that makes you look like as if you’re Jessica Rabbit in a teacher’s uniform.

* If you want to kill him, during the next winter trip you two take, wear a pair of tights and a top that shows your cleavage. As soon as you attempt to put on your winter boots, you’ll be pulled right back in.

* IcyHot is still a fucking boob guy, don’t think he’ll ignore that junk you got though. He’s going to grip each part of your body while trying to control himself.

* Everyone’s going to wonder why he’s covered in scratches and hickeys.

* While you’re over here with frostbite and slight burns, covered with hickeys and lastly can barely sit down, all because of what you wore.

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Hitoshi Shinso

* (They seriously need to use this guy more, he’s fucking great.)

* Please understand another fact here, he’s going to be skeptical about the relationship at first. You’re talking to a man who was told his quirk would be perfect if he was a villain.

* That’s insulting enough, but you know he was constantly judged and tormented as a child because of it. That and you’re an absolute pleasure to eyes.

* So, when the relationship first starts, he’s skeptical about your feelings and how you truly feel, don’t let that hurt you.

* Just reassure him that your feelings are genuine and true, then he’ll start to fully believe you.

* Of course, he’s going to defend you, but there’s going to be times where he might have to use his quirk.

* Which are for the guys who don’t know how to take no for an answer.

* Off-Shoulder shirts or sweaters. He loves it when it hangs off your shoulders but with those shirts, you’re often wearing a tank top underneath? That’s the true prize to him.

* Another thing he loves to see you in? Fishnets and stockings. He honestly prefers you to wear those instead of thigh high socks, the turn on of ripping them apart before he can have you begging for mercy with him.

* Samwiches with Shinso is every brats dream..

* He’s not stopping until you’re shaking uncontrollably, unable to say anything other than his name or pet name, and sweat is coating your body. That mattress will be SOAKED.

* I see that scarf of his being put to good use withholding those arms over your head and blinding you. He’s a trailer and not the park. He’s leaving his mark all over you, trailing all over your body.

* I mean everywhere too, from your thighs to your neck.

* That pretty neck of yours will be gripped while your ass is slapping against him from his hard thrusts.

* While the neighbors are wondering is this man killing you and where can they get one too.

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Katsuki Bakugo

* This Silent Simp here is enamored by your personality..but was reeled in by that body afterward.

* Please also understand, when he’s supposedly ‘jealous’, it’s not because of you or even them. He’s just skeptical of those guys.

* You have his heart and he wouldn’t want anyone to woo you away from him, it’s one thing he doesn’t want.

* This also includes friends as well, meaning guy friends. He’s a guy and he knows how some will do to get to you. There’s no limit.

* Enough Angst though, let’s get to the good parts, Remember how I said booty shorts are something he loves? That and jeans. Skinny jeans to be exact. The way your ass looks phenomenal in them and yet there’s a little tiny slot of air right around you waist. Oof!

* Tank-tops! TANKTOPS! HONEY! I DOUBLE DARE YOU TO ATTEMPT TO WALK OUT THAT DOOR WEARING JEANS AND A TANK TOP, YOU WON’T EVEN MAKE IT OUT THE ROOM.

* Lastly....fight me on this, I’m ready for it. I’ll say it. *claps* leotards, like lounging bodysuits. You know the ones you usually wear under a pair of shorts but you just decided to stay home and wear socks with them?

* That’s gonna be your funeral. That’s it.

* Now, Samwiches with him..is like a combination of Hitoshi and Shoto as one.

* He love to bring you to your limits and go beyond. (I immediately thought of All Might and I’m disgusted.)

* While caring at the same time, one thing he’d never want to do is hurt you..but..he wants you to remember just who the hell he is.

* I hope you have soundproof walls because that clapping noise is staying like that until he’s done with you.

* And you’ve got five more rounds to go.