#//has he gotten himself into a pickle here. time will tell

[doomxdriven]

".................."

"Unless your idea of entertainment involves you being exsanguinated by countless blades, absolutely not. Now I reiterate, where is the Jailer, I am here for him, not you--"

" WON'T YOU ENTERTAIN ME ? even a little ? "

open to mutuals . 💙

[redrose10]

Here is the second and final chapter. Thank you for all the feedback. I hope everyone likes it!

Idol Husband Yoongi x Female Spouse Reader

Warnings: Swearing, angst, body insecurity, hints of cheating, jealousy, anxiety, panic attacks, slightly smutty but nothing crazy

Part 1

Part 1.5

🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒

A few days had passed since Yoongi left your home. You needed some space to process everything that had happened and he was willing to give that to you. Luckily, Hana was used to him being gone for periods of time so she didn’t question it too much and went about her days normally.

Yoongi seemed to be handling everything just fine too which only upset you more because you couldn’t understand how he wasn’t a mess. If it wasn’t for Hana needing you then you wouldn’t have gotten out of bed.

If he truly cared about you he would’ve been begging for your forgiveness. It had you questioning a lot of things. Why did he give up so easily? Why hadn’t he tried harder to explain himself? Why did he still have to text you every day to remind you to take your vitamins and drink enough water? Why did he still have to have your favorite breakfast delivered to you every morning knowing you’d be too tired to cook for yourself? Why did he have to remind you about your doctors appointment today when even you forgot about it? You hated that he was still so thoughtful and involved even when he wasn’t there because it made it harder to hate him.

Before your appointment you dropped Hana off at your parents place. She was spending the night there because you wanted her to do something exciting plus you just needed a night to yourself. Your appointment went great. The baby was healthy and you were too so you decided to reward yourself with one of your biggest cravings and a night of relaxing on the couch trying not to think about anything that had happened in the last week.

You had just gotten home with your large pizza covered in pineapple, pickles, and onions with extra anchovies on the side when there was a knock at the door. You sighed before putting the pizza down and slowly getting up to see who was interrupting your peaceful evening.

“Jimin?”, you questioned seeing the smiling man standing in front of you holding up a tub of ice cream. “Hheeeyyyy Y/N. How’s it goin?”, he sang as you stared at him before turning to walk away. “Yoongi’s not here.”, you said knowing that he was just going to follow you anyways.

“Yeah I know.”, he sarcastically said before placing the ice cream into the freezer, “He’s currently moping around on my couch driving me crazy.”

“Sounds like a you and him problem.”, you said taking a bite of your pizza while ignoring the dramatically disgusted face Jimin was making at the sight of it. It tasted like heaven to you thanks to your pregnancy hormones and that’s all that mattered.

Even though you acted indifferent to his news there was a big part of you that felt relief knowing he had been at Jimin’s and not hers.

“Please come get your husband.”, he whined before dropping down into the chair next to you, “Look I love him like a brother, but he’s sooooo annoying when he’s like this. He won’t tell me what happened, but he just keeps sitting there and pouting and if he’s not pouting then he’s crying AND I’m going to have to put a lock on my freezer. He ate my favorite ice cream Y/N. My absolute favorite. I was so excited to come home after a hard day of practice and eat some of my special ice cream but nooooo it was all gone and he didn’t even bother trying to hide the evidence.”

You continued chewing as you mulled over his words. “I didn’t know he was like that.”, you mumbled before taking another bite.

“Yeah tell me about it. He doesn’t even like caramel or white chocolate.”, Jimin scoffed.

“Has he really been crying?”, you questioned. You had known Yoongi a long time and you had only ever seen him cry once, on the day Hana was born and they were tears of joy. He certainly never cried over your relationship before, at least to your knowledge. That was not like him. He always wanted to come off as strong to you, even when he was struggling.

Jimin nodded, “Yeah he is a total wreck. He keeps mumbling something about being stupid and a divorce and then he starts crying again.”

“Divorce…?”, you whispered.

“Hey uh I hate to pry and I know it’s not really my place, but what happened between you two? I’ve never seen him like this so it must’ve been pretty bad.”, he hesitantly asked.

“He cheated on me.”, you answered deciding to just rip the bandage off.

Jimin laughed which made you quickly throw a glare in his direction so he stiffened up and cleared his throat. “No he didn’t.”, he simply said shaking his head, “Yoongi is a lot of things, but cheater is not one of them and he definitely would not have cheated on you.”

“Yeah well tell that to the woman who pulled his tie out of her purse because apparently he left it at her place.”

Jimin’s eyes widened in shock, “WWWHHHAAATT?”

You nodded, “Yep, we were at Hana’s talent show and this woman came up to us and handed him his tie from her purse. You know that cherry tie I gave him for our anniversary? She said he left it at her house. What other reason would there be for him to remove his tie other than sleeping with her?”

“I don’t know. Maybe they were eating and he didn’t want to get it dirty? He loves that tie.”, he shrugged.

“Okay then why was he eating at her house to begin with?”, you rolled your eyes, “And he just left. He didn’t even try that hard to explain himself. Maybe he didn’t want the truth to come out.”

“Y/N you know how he is…He’s all about letting things cool down. He probably just didn’t want you getting even more upset and then things would be made worse. He did mention something about the baby and stress and how it’s bad. I don’t know. He’s the one who reads like every baby book ever published.”

Nodding along you started to agree, “I guess...”

Jimin turned to look at you with a raised eyebrow. He tried to speak, but you cut him off, “I don’t blame him to be honest. I mean look at me Jimin. I look like I swallowed a beach ball. I have stretch marks and my boobs are saggy and uneven and that all happened before I even got pregnant for the second time. That woman…she was perfect. She definitely didn’t spend her Friday nights sitting on the couch eating a whole pizza by herself. Why wouldn’t he choose to be with her over me? I bet he doesn’t even find me attractive any more. He probably hasn’t since Hana was born so this was a long time coming anyways.”

You could feel the familiar burning sensation in your waterline and you began to sniffle. Jimin reached over and took your hands into his. Lightly he gave you a squeeze to remind you that he was there for you. “Y/N, deep down you know none of the that is true. Yoongi loves you. He loves you more than anything in this world. He loves every part of you. Trust me. Yoongi loves to brag about you…sometimes a little too much. I still can’t look at a can of whipped cream without feeling weird. And DO NOT even get me started on that cherry neck choker thing he likes you to wear.”

You laughed a little thankful that he was there to help you work through all of this.

“Hey do you remember what that woman’s name was?”, he asked suddenly like he had just thought of something.

You shook your head, “I don’t know. Sarah or Aera or something like that. I kind of blacked out a little.”

Jimin softly chuckled to himself before breaking out into a big smile, “You need to talk to Yoongi. Let him explain and then the two of you need to discuss all of this. Tell him how you’re feeling. It’s not good to bottle this up…for either of you.”

You nodded and whispered a small okay before Jimin grumbled something about going home to save the rest of his ice cream and quickly scurried out of the apartment leaving you to process everything alone.

You were nervous. Hana was spending the second night in a row with your parents and you weren’t sure which one of them was more excited about the extended stay, but you were happy it worked out. Because currently you were pacing around the kitchen waiting for Yoongi to come home. When Jimin came over yesterday he had made it seem like there was a perfectly good explanation for everything that had happened so you texted Yoongi at 3am asking if he wanted to come home for dinner and talk. He responded immediately with a yes and a light scolding for being up so late, but it wasn’t that easy for you to get to sleep.

There was a beep at the door before it opened and shut quickly. Yoongi’s socked feet padded into the kitchen shortly after. The familiar smell of your favorite noodle spot quickly filled the air. He held up the bag with a shy smile and the two of you ate in awkward silence. And when you were done and cleaned up and you couldn’t stall any longer you moved over to the couch to get comfortable. Yoongi took a seat next to you, but still made sure to leave some space unsure of how you would react to him and it killed you that things had gotten so uncomfortable between you both.

“How have you been Y/N?”, he asked.

“Good. You?”

“Alright I guess. I’ve been better.”

You nodded unsure of what else to say.

“I miss you Y/N. I miss you and Hana.”, he said after a while, “I want to come home.”

“Yoongi…are…are you…are you cheating on me?”, you finally questioned wanting to just get it over with. Your bluntness shocked you and him both, but at this point you were tired and you figured what else could it hurt.

You watched his body tense at the question which brought instant tears to your eyes knowing the truth.

Frantically he began wiping away those tears. You wanted to shove him away and tell him not to touch you, but you couldn’t. Having him so close to you. Smelling his cologne that usually signified safety and comfort. Feeling his skin on yours after so long was too much to bare and you needed it.

“Y/N I didn’t cheat on you. I swear on everything I have.”, he whispered trying to keep you calm.

“Then who is she Yoongi? Why did she have your tie and why were you at her place to begin with? Why are you so close with her son?”

He took a deep breath and ran a shaky hand through his hair, “Her name is Aera Kim. She is the new Director of International Relations for the company. She helps coordinate things for us outside of Korea like tours, promotions, merchandising, things like that.”

All you heard was not only is she beautiful, but she’s also really successful and powerful too which didn’t help. Yoongi could see the drop in your demeanor so he turned to look at you so you could see how serious he was.

He continued, “We were at her place a few weeks ago. All of us. All of the guys, our managers, and a few others on the team. We were discussing the upcoming album release and world tour. Things were fine and then she said that they decided to add more tour dates. Five more in the US, three more in Europe, and they want to add a whole leg of the tour in South America plus all of the promotions and interviews that come with that. AND they want Namjoon, Hobi, and I to release an EP for a rap thing.”, he took a deep breath trying to collect his thoughts, “That’s going to add on an extra six months to the tour which was already going to take almost nine months to begin with. Then if we do release this EP there will be EVEN MORE work on top of all of that. Y/N I’ll be gone for well over a year and who knows how much longer. There might be a little break here and there, but not a lot. I’m going to miss so much. I won’t be here for you or Hana or the baby. I’ll miss the baby learning to crawl, maybe even their first steps and first words. Hana already tells everyone how I’m always gone on “bwusiness” and this will only make that worse. It kills me every time I hear her say something like that. I was already struggling with going on this tour to begin with and now it has me questioning everything. I…I just…I don’t know if I can do this any more Y/N. I’ve been thinking about leaving the group. I can just write lyrics or maybe just produce. At least I get to be here more often if I I do that.”

You felt bad for him. You knew it was tough on him at times, but you didn’t know it was to this extreme.

“The more I sat there and thought about it the more I began to panic. If I back out of the group then I’m letting down the guys and the label and of course the fans. If I go on the tour then I’m letting down my family. I got so worked up during the meeting that I had a full blown panic attack. I walked out onto the balcony to get some air, but I still felt like I couldn’t breathe so I took my tie and jacket off because I felt like I was suffocating. Namjoon came out to try and calm me down and after a while they called a car to bring me home. I swear I thought I put the tie in my pocket when I grabbed my jacket so when I couldn’t find it I assumed that I dropped it somewhere or left it in the car, but I guess I left it at her place. I…Y/N I didn’t sleep with her. I promise. I barely speak to her. Her son is a huge fan of mine and he’s friends with Hana at school. Sometimes I let him hang out in my studio so I see her for like thirty seconds while she drops him off and picks him up, but that’s like the most I interact with her outside of business situations.”

Either from relief at getting this off his chest or reliving the stress again or maybe a little of both his shoulders started to shake and he buried his face into his hands. He cries shattering your heart. Your cheeks were fully soaked with your own tears now so with nothing to loose you leaned in and nuzzled your face against him pulling him as close to you as possible, “I’m sorry Yoongi. I’m so sorry. I should’ve let you explain from the start. I’m sorry I didn’t trust you. I’m sorry you feel like this. You’re not letting anyone down no matter what you do. Please don’t think like that.”

“I never should’ve given you a reason to think that I was cheating on you to begin with.”, he shook his head, “I hate that I let it get to that point. I’ve just been feeling like everything was closing in on me and I didn’t know what to do other than ignore it and hope it all gets better, but it just kept getting worse.”

“No it’s not your fault. I’ve just been so insecure and things have just been kind of weird between us and I really thought you weren’t attracted to me any more and then I saw her and how perfect she is and I panicked because I thought you had moved on to someone better.”, you said through your own tears.

Yoongi surprised you when he moved to get down on the floor to kneel in-front of you. He gently supported himself on your thighs. The warmth and pressure of his hands sent a tingling sensation through your body.

“Y/N, I…fuck I’m sorry I made you feel like that. I’ve just been so stressed and tired and then any time I did want to initiate something I felt like you weren’t into it and I didn’t want to push you or make you feel like I expected something. And you know I’m not the best at speaking my feelings so without being able to show you how I felt I didn’t know how to proceed. But you have no idea how much love I feel for you. And how attracted I am to you. Every little thing about you drives me crazy in the best way possible. I can’t get enough of you and I’m so incredibly sorry that I ever made you think any less.”

Your heart swelled as you grabbed onto the collar of his shirt pulling him up onto the couch with your lips searching for his. He laughed trying to catch himself from falling over before reciprocating the action. He straddled you enough to make sure he wasn’t putting too much weight on you as your fingers furiously undid the buttons of his shirt having it removed within seconds. It didn’t take much longer for your shirt to also end up in the same pile on the floor next to you with your bra following right after.

Even though you were burning up Yoongi’s touches left goosebumps on your skin as his fingers trailed down your side to the band of your shorts. He hooked two fingers inside. He teased you just enough to get a desperate whine out out you begging for more. You could feel him smirk against your lips because he got just the reaction he was looking for. He rocked his hips against you searching for any kind of friction and also making sure you could feel how badly he wanted you. Your brain turned into mush with thoughts of him after that.

You pulled away just long enough to catch your breath, “Bedroom?”

“Fuck yes, please.”, he said already picking you up in his arms and carrying you down the hallway while you giggled loudly in response.

Yoongi dropped down onto the bed next to you. “Are you hurt? Was it too much? I wasn’t too rough was I?”, he questioned trying to steady his breathing while pulling you flush against his body and looking you over at the same time. “No”, you shook your head, “You were perfect. I think I…I think we needed that.”

“Yeah.”, he laughed, “It’s been a while huh? Let’s not do that again.“

“Yeah I uh I guess I was afraid to let you see me like this, but it still hurt that lately you never seemed to really even try which only made me feel worse. And everyone’s always talking about how handsome you are and I just felt like I wasn’t good enough. And then I was worried that you found someone el-“

He silenced you with a kiss, “Y/N there will never be anyone else. Not in this lifetime or the next. You’re it for me.”

You smiled and relaxed into his warmth while he soothingly ran a hand over your belly as your baby happily kicked away excited to come into the world soon.

Between the relief you finally felt and his steady heartbeat lulling you it was only minutes before you had nearly fallen asleep in his arms. But then you startled awake remembering a special treat that was waiting for you in the freezer. You and the baby definitely wanted a late night snack and you were thankful it was there.

“Where are you going in such a hurry?”, Yoongi chuckled watching you closely.

“To get cleaned up.”, you grunted as you scooted off of the bed, “Jimin dropped off some ice cream yesterday and I was saving it.”

“Really?”, he asked following you into the shower, “I could go for some ice cream right about now. What flavor?”

You relaxed letting the warm water run over your sore body as you looked up at him with a cheeky smile, “Cherry.”

[elysianstarfall]

miscellaneous phantom busters hcs

(pre-dating or dating, i have no clue so read however you want)

summary: the title, basically—this is also a chapter on wattpad so check it out (same name as tumblr)

characters: shishikuno mogari, korekishi eugene, kanzaki kaoru, tamon kotaro

s. mogari

✧ randomly sends you the stupidest memes/insta reels/youtube shorts/tiktoks he can find

- he is DEEP into the brainrot (korekishi has no idea what he's talking about)

- considers it part of the "youth experience"

✧ begs you to try weird food combos with him

- "pickles... and nutella."

- "what the fuck?"

- "it's good, trust."

✧ lowkey has a sleeper build

- once you were bored in class and wanted to see his biceps (real)

- "mogari, can you flex—WHOAAA?!"

- he loves when you compliment him because it feeds his ego like crazy

✧ does the thing where he taps you on the shoulder and then looks away and pretends it wasn't him

- fails every time because he cannot keep a straight face

- "there is literally no one else around. who, besides you, could have possibly done that?"

- "...a ghost?"

✧ has, multiple times, handed you his phone and told you to record him doing something "really cool" only to eat shit or wipe out

- "first try!"

- "more like eighth. also, you scraped your knee. come here."

- at least you take care of him when he gets hurt (maybe that's his plan?!)

- when he actually succeeds he expects you to glaze him

- "THAT WAS SICK AS FUCK! RIGHT?!"

- "it was pretty cool, i guess."

- "YESSS!"

k. eugene

✧ stays up on call with you if you need help with schoolwork

- explains topics really well (chatgpt who?)

- is super patient and wants to make sure you understand everything

- somehow never oversleeps even if you both stay up really late

✧ randomly fixes your uniform for you

- adjusts your collar and stuff

- "what are you doing?"

- "making sure you don't get in trouble."

✧ has insanely pretty handwriting

- it actually looks printed

- "can i see your notes, korekishi?"

- "of course. but, i thought you took your own notes?"

- "yours look nicer..."

✧ lets you do whatever you want with his hair

- it's so silky and smooth

- sometimes you braid it during class and he just leaves it like that for the rest of the day

- he carries hair ties around and lets you use them

✧ knows there are dating rumors about you two but purposely doesn't correct people

- defends you with his life if anyone talks shit about you though

- "korekishi, why do people from class c think you're my boyfriend?"

- "blimey, i wonder why."

k. kaoru

✧ sends you out of context manga panels, and when you ask what's going on he just tells you to read the manga to find out

- "wait, that's so funny... what the hell is happening, though?"

- "here's the link. it's chapter 239."

- "fuck off."

- you still read all 239 chapters and beyond

- he's gotten you into like 15 new series this way

✧ sometimes you just watch anime while video calling

- he has to rewatch episodes by himself afterwards because he just zones out staring at you instead of watching with you

- infodumps randomly but makes sure you don't get spoiled

- straight up lies to you if you come across spoilers so you don't believe them

- "he DIES?!"

- "no, what are you talking about? someone totally made that up."

✧ has really long eyelashes and lets you stare into his eyes for however long you want

- you love having "staring contests" with him (totally not an excuse to look into his eyes)

- he definitely knows but just lets you do it so he can stare at you more

✧ talks about you to his sister way too much

- she's sick of hearing about you but still wants you to come over

- you make him happy, so why wouldn't she like you?

✧ lets you trace over his scars and draw on him

- still avoids getting touched by the other guys though

- comes to your classroom during break or lunch just to sit with you so you can use pens to draw stuff on his hands

- he likes how focused you look while drawing

t. kotaro

✧ texts you sometimes but mostly prefers voice calling since he likes how you sound

- occasionally tries to do video calls but starts tweaking after a while from the eye contact

- "y/n, please, please, please turn off your camera."

- "damn, am i that ugly?"

- "what—no!"

✧ speaking of calling, calls you late at night when he can't sleep

- you're literally his asmr

- you don't mind because his sleepy voice is so, so nice

- likes it when you ramble so he can just close his eyes and listen

✧ has a spotify blend with you

- listens to every single music rec you give him but is way too scared to recommend you anything

- made you a playlist, sent it to you, didn't check his phone for the next 12 hours in case you didn't like it

✧ most used apps are the weather and calculator apps

- uses them to look busy and get out of talking to people

- "we're literally outside, you do not need to check the weather right now."

- "...yes, i do."

- "and why are you putting random numbers into the calculator?!"

- "i just... really like math."

✧ has no idea how to start a conversation so he just sends you cat pictures

- wants you to say something so he can talk to you

- every time, it's a different cat... you have no idea where he gets all those pics from

- "tamon, you know you can just say 'hi' or 'hello'?"

- "my bad."

[thexsilentxwordsmith]

A comprehensive list of all my fics in order from most recent to oldest with summary descriptions for each.

18+

Crossing Lines

Summary: You've just gotten your hands on some important documents and that means payday. At least it will if you don't get caught. Too bad you're about to have a reunion and it might just be with someone that knows you well. What happens when you see that old face again, especially now that you find yourselves alone again? What lines will be crossed?

Confessions in Rain

Summary: Simon has a secret, one that is making him push you away. But after being given an assignment that will keep him away for months, he knows that if he doesn't tell you now, he will lose you. So, here he is, sitting outside your work, trying to work up the courage to get you to talk to him...just as a storm rolls in. Now it looks like he will have to make his confession in the rain.

Room Assignments

Summary: A change of living arrangements means you and the lieutenant are going to be sharing quarters for a bit. All would be fine, if you two could actually stand each other. Is that really it though? Neither of you will tell. But one night, an impromptu confrontation leads to something explosive.

Chosen

Summary: Your relationship was all a lie and the confrontation about it happens in front of everyone, including a certain lieutenant that has a secret. Seeing you so upset has him following after you with a need to help and after a confrontation, there is a confession that happens that changes everything.

Two for One

Summary: Friends and coworkers, Sgt. Mactavish and Lt. Riley have one thing in common: how much they want you, though one is less vocal about it. During at night out everything comes to a head and suddenly you are leaving out of the bar with both on the way to a night of intense attraction coming to a head.

Rumors

Summary: A fight about a rumor, a confrontation, an admission, and suddenly your in the back of your car with no pants on.

Sleepless Nights

Summary: A bout of insomnia keeps you awake, so you decide to go for a midnight walk. To your surprise you find that you aren't the only one still up as the sound of the shower running in the communal bathroom catches your attention. Who is it and what are they doing in there? Why does it sound like your lieutenant and why is he moaning your name?

Closing Time

Summary: A military lieutenant closing in on retirement, a younger, beautiful bartender, when you and Lt. Riley meet there is an instant chemistry, though it doesn't really go anywhere as he thinks himself a little too mature for you... until one night he stays at the bar later than he ever has and gets caught in a storm. What will happen after closing time?

A Lesson Well Learned

Summary: Tired of your antics regarding how cavalier you take your sexual relationship, your lieutenant cuts you off and that has you immediately plotting. You know you can get him to break and all it'll take is one purchase. How can he keep his resolve when he sees what you've bought? And how will he act when he catches you?

Smoke Break

Summary: Lt. Riley sure has been taking a lot of smoke breaks lately. Strange that you always seem to disappear at the same time too.

Meetings and Temptations

Summary: A new relationship means excitement, an uncontrollable craving for each other. When an early morning romp is interrupted with a scheduled weekly meeting, will you be able to keep your hands to yourself when Price begins to drone on? And if you can't, what will your lieutenant lover do once the meeting is over after you've tempted him for far too long?

A Risk Worth Taking

Summary: You and Simon can't keep your hands off one another as you come home one night, but a slight problem has you in a pickle: your birth control has just run out and you are all out of condoms. Not to worry, Simon assures you that he will pull out. But as you ride him you begin to question if you really want him to. Will he stick to his promise or will he give in to your need?

Can't Let You Go

Summary: Two personalities that clash, you and your lieutenant rarely get along, but when it comes to light that Lt. Riley has been messing with things behind the scenes of your life, what will happen when you confront him? Is it really hate that makes you stay in the argument the ensues...or is the tension a little too heavy to ignore?

A Ride You'll Never Forget

Summary: Seeing Simon on his motorcycle is something that awakens a new yearning inside you, but when you get your own bike and start riding alongside him, the way he gets you hot and bothered makes it worse. You need him to fuck you on his bike and you hope your plan will make it happen.

A New Form of Pleasure- Part 1

Summary: Simon is struggling, he can't get off and he doesn't know what to do. As his sergeant you are one of the closest to him and can see something is up. An impromptu visit late one night might just be what he needs... And the way you are suddenly making him bow to your authority and turning his brain off might actually make him come.

A Need for More- Part 2

Summary: There is something that happened between you and your superior, something that unlocked a new side to both of you that neither of you knew about, but Simon may not be as keen to accept it as you are. However, after a bit of silence on his part, a late night visit might just fix everything.

Breakfast in Bed

Summary: Only a few more days are left of his short leave and Simon is determined to make every last second count with you. What better way to start the day than buried in between your thighs, helping you wake up by the feeling of his tongue alone and then overstimming you.

Truth or Dare

Summary: During a game of Truth or Dare, your lieutenant is dared into giving you a kiss, but something about the way he has been acting lately may mean this is going to be more than a quick ordeal. And the way you have been feeling towards him won't be helping.

Truth or Dare 2: Dare To Tell the Truth

Summary: After a game of Truth or Dare leaves you and your lieutenant breathless and yearning for more, will you both be able to leave things alone or will one of you not be able to hold out? And what happens when you meet again?

Truth or Dare 3: How Truly Do You Need Me

Summary: After being so rudely interrupted in the middle of you and your lieutenant's tryst, but he made a promise. "This isn't over." You hope that he plans to keep it, but when? Things might have to wait as you are assigned to a mission with him. But when being close proves to much, will both of you be able to hold off on your lust or will you succumb to all that tension?

Truth or Dare 4: Dare to Take It Further

Summary: Something has changed; no, actually everything has changed as you and Simon forget the world a moment finally let that passion run its course. The thought was that once you both had each other it would make things calm, but now you're not so sure. Maybe he is willing to risk more and maybe you are too. Having to sneak around isn't so bad, right? Maybe it could all work out... At least you hope so. But things don't always go according to plan.

Truth or Dare 5: No More Games

Summary: Things are getting complicated, truths are being revealed, and a decisions are going to have to be made regarding the future. So much hangs in the balance and emotions are high as reality makes this about no more games.

A Special Dinner for Two

Summary: Such a good little wife you are to your military husband, ready to welcome him back home after he returns from deployment. This time you've even prepared a meal of all his favorites, but when Simon gets back early than expected and catches you flitting about the kitchen in nothing but his t-shirt, it isn't food that he wants.

I'll Crawl Home To Her

Summary: Simon is away on a mission and you are on his mind. Having to extend his stay, he is going to miss Valentine's day, but coming across a recent trend on TikTok, he may have a way to say just how much you mean to him.

Don't Touch What He's Claimed

Summary: A night out at your favorite local hangout is what he promised you after being away on deployment for so long, but one small incident throws him over the edge into full on possessive episode. Something about the way he is pulling off to the side of the road might mean he can't make it home before reclaiming his prize.

Simon Riley: Girl Dad Extraordinaire

Summary: From a request about Simon being more hands on with his 3 m.o. daughter.

You Are Beautiful

Summary: When a movie night has you questioning your bodies worth, Simon catches you in the shower to show you that your body is perfect just the way that it is.

Simon fingering you under the table during a night out at the bar with the Taskforce

Summary: With the drink flowing and the atmosphere right, Simon cannot seem to keep his hands off of you. There is a need, a need to touch and to play.

Let Me Talk You Through It

Summary: While on deployment far away, Simon takes a little time one night to video call you and talk you through you touching yourself to the sound of his voice.

Simon needing to hold you after a bad day

Summary: After a day where nothing goes right, Simon only wants to come home to the one person he trusts- you.

Cockwarming Simon as you two make out in his office

Summary: From a request for Simon getting so worked up during a cockwarming session that he ends up having to pull out because he is going to come.

Drunk on You

Summary: Simon comes home from deployment, hungry to have his pretty girl all to himself. Things get heated quick and before long you are both drunk off the feeling of the other.

Bringing in the New Year with Simon

Summary: Short one-shot about how it would be spending NYE with Simon at the stroke of midnight.

Simon waking up in the middle of the night horny and unable to get back to sleep. There's only one thing he wants to fix it.

Summary: A little sleepy cuddle-fucking to get Simon back to sleep.

Wanna Make You Mine

Summary: Simon is out at a stag party for Prices upcoming wedding when he comes how early with something important on his mind that he needs to see you to say. Is he just drunk or is it something more?

Simon making it clear that you are the only one he wants

Summary: An incident with a new recruit has you questioning things, but not to worry as Simon is here to show you that you are the only one he could ever want.

Simon is so worked up all day that he rushes home, telling you to meet him at the door because he cannot wait to have you

Summary: He has been needing you all day and as soon as he gets home he wants you waiting ready for him so that he can fix that ache that has been driving him insane.

I'll Take You Filthy

Summary: Being the leader of your platoon and fucking you at the same time isn't something Simon wants paraded around, for both of your benefit as trouble could come from such a relationship. But keeping it a secret has become a problem as you've been out on a mission for a couple months with no physical contact to be had. The moment you return Simon has to have you...even though you are both filthy as fuck.

His Heart, His Light, His World- Dad!Simon

Summary: The birth of his first child changes everything for the rough around the edges military man. A small glimpse into his life now as a father.

A Bit of Fun At the World's End

Summary: Being on the run from the undead doesn't leave much time for more intimate things, but once things start to settle a little an ache begins to form that you haven't felt in a long time. What will you do when the only other person you are with is your former lover turned zombie.

Joining the 141 had one hard rule: no relationships of any kind between members, but that is something proving to be too much the closer you and Simon get

Summary: Simon cannot help but break the rules when it comes to you.

Body worship with Simon

Summary: Simon taking the time to make sure you feel like the goddess he thinks you are.

Simon desperately eating you out after a rough day

Summary: It has been a terrible, no good, rotten ass day. There is only one cure for it and that is for that hulking military man to find his way between your legs to eat you out until he can't breathe.

Getting so worked up during a celebration for Price's birthday that Simon has to take you in the bathroom of the bar

Summary: You just couldn't wait until you both got back, could you? No, not when you and Simon are screwing like bunnies every chance you get. So what's Simon to do? That's easy, take you in the bathroom and fix the problem of course.

Think of Me When You Cum Later (Part 1)

Summary: Simon is missing you like crazy while being away on a mission, but he has a clever plan to make sure you miss him too. So, perhaps a little video of him stroking himself will do the trick.

Something to Make it Worse (Part 2)

Summary: You get Simon's video and it leaves you wanting him something bad. Well, two can play at this game, so why not send him back a video of your own?

Something to Break the Tension (Part 3)

Summary: All the buildup, all the teasing, finally leads to this: Simon is back and ready to act on all those filthy things you two had been teasing each other with. Will you make it home before you both explode? Or will the car have to do to break the tension?

Late Night Texts (Part 1)

Summary: Nothing good ever comes from a text after dark... or does it? Guess it depends on who it is and what they need. If it's a certain Lieutenant, then it's bound to be something worth your while.

Mid-day Texts (Part 2)

Summary: Simon is getting more and more obsessed with his little friend who constantly finds herself in his bed. But when you are off on a quick mission for a few weeks, Simon begins to grow restless and this no strings attached messing around finds itself being turned on its head. What happens when you get a text from him the day you get back, in the middle of the day?

Life Changing Texts (Part 3)

Summary: After your explosive homecoming where everything seemed to fall right into place, Simon begins to get cold feet about his feelings and what they could mean for the both of you. All seems bleak until a text about someone harassing you while you're on a night out makes him come to your aid and solidifies a decision he has already made.

Spending the night at Simon's for the first time and him waking up to you in nothing but his oversized shirt

Summary: From a request about Simon seeing reader in his shirt for the first time.

Simon and you screwing in the shower

Summary: What's better than sex with Simon? Add some steam, some hot water, and some solitude and you have the recipe for a very good time.

Having Simon pick out lingerie for you

Summary: Coming up with the idea to take Simon out so that he can pick out a couple pieces of lingerie he wants to see you in, his choices really surprise you.

Simon has a favorite item of clothing you wear and you wear it since he's having a bad day

Summary: Simon has one favorite piece of clothing you wear and of course when he's having a rough day, you just have to wear it for him.

Simon fucking you brainless and then rubbing your head as you pass out beside him

Summary: Simon is not shy when it comes to sex, it's the more intimate things that he has a problem with. But after a round of rigorous screwing, he wants to show you a bit of extra care.

Desperate Times Call for Filthy Fantasies (Part 1)

Summary: As a new recruit, you should not have the gall to talk back to your superior officer like you do. He's tried it all, trying to work the insubordination out of you, but to no avail. Your antics have really gotten under his skin lately, but is it really because you won't listen and follow orders...or is there something more to it that he can't admit? The way his cock throbs might indicate the latter and what he thinks about as he touches himself might just speak to that as well.

The Brat and Her Beast (Part 2)

Summary: After a certain Lieutenant allowed his fantasies to run wild, there was only one thing left to do: make them a reality. Opportunity presents itself one day as your brattiness has reached new highs and he follows you into the communal bathroom and locks the door behind you both. You're all alone and now what? Seems you've bitten off more than you can chew, but you both know now that was your plan all along.

Silence on the Line

Summary: You and Ghost have always gotten through missions by keeping in constant radio contact when possible. On one fateful mission, he sends out the call but there is no reply. Only silence. As time goes on his greatest fear is realized and all that he knew is now turned on it's head. What happens when reality hits all at once? And what does it do to the once stoic man who is no stranger to death?

The Lieutenant's Whore (Part 1)

Summary: When a one time sexual encounter leaves you wanting more, but the rules were set the moment he entered you and now he does his best to avoid you, what is a girl to do to get what she wants? That's right, make him jealous. And if it works a little too well maybe he will give you the night of your life. Good thing you have a flirty Scotsman to mess with, perhaps if you can't get your way, you can still have fun. Only time and a bit of effort on your part will tell what goes down.

What's Mine You'll Never Have (Part 2)

Summary: Hearing what he shouldn't have, Johnny is rightfully angry and what does he let that anger lead to? A bad attitude that leads to even worse decisions. As you confront him about this sudden change in demeanor, things start to heat up. What happens when Simon finds out? Actions have consequences and Johnny is about to learn that you will only ever belong to the man behind the mask.

[lunarsturniolo]

Happy New Year

“Hey babe,” he says. 

“Hi, baby,” I respond with a smile. 

His hand snakes around my waist and gently tugs me down to sit on his lap, “I missed you,” he tells me. 

“I was in the kitchen,” I tease.

Or

Matt and Y/N host a New Years Party

masterlist

“Oh my God!! Show me again,” my friend Kim asks, holding her hand out to see my wrist. 

“God, that’s so pretty,” Julian mentioned, turning my wrist slightly to get a proper view of the bracelet Matt got me for Christmas. 

The bracelet was dainty and gold, with a small chain snaking around my wrist. There was a small, circular charm that looked almost like a ring attached to the chain. Matt had gotten his favorite phrase to tell me engraved on the inside of the circle: “Let’s grow old together.” I hadn’t told the girls about that engraving and planned to keep it a secret. 

Kim lets out an adoring gasp, “And your anniversary is engraved on there?” she asks, motioning to the outside of the ring. Our anniversary date is there with two diamonds on either side of it. 

I nod, “Yeah, he really outdid himself.” 

A few minutes of nonsensical chatter pass and midnight slowly approaches. The drink in my hand has been empty for about 10 minutes now, but my mind is wandering too far even to consider refilling it. 

Madi roams into the kitchen, frantically sifting through the fridge next to me, “Y/N, babe, do you guys have my grapes?”

My eyebrows furrow, “We should, why?”

“It's this thing, apparently,” Madi says, “You’re supposed to eat 12 grapes at midnight for 12 months of good luck or something,” she finishes. 

I nod, “Did you ask any of the guys?” 

She nods, “Nick said the should be ‘where all the fruit is’” She lets out a dramatic sigh, “I don't think he knows where that is.”

With a laugh, I nudge her hip, “I know where that is,” I rummage through the fruit drawer, pulling out a bag of grapes, “Here you go.” 

“You’re the best,” She says. I smile and give her a short hug before glancing at my phone.

It’s approaching midnight, and I am yet to find Matt in the slew of people who are constantly moving in and out of the house. I say a quick goodbye to my friends before wandering into the living room to find Matt, Nick, and Chris on one of the couches, surrounded by a bunch of their friends and their partners. 

Chris catches my eye and nods for me to sit with them. With a smile of acknowledgment, I look at Matt, who is empty-handed, and step back into the kitchen to get him a Root Beer. Along with Matt’s drink, I grab myself a seltzer to sip on until midnight. 

Stepping back into the living room, I notice their circle has gained a few people, making it impossible for me to find a seat. The arm of the couch next to Matt is free, and I beeline in his direction. 

Matt barks out a laugh, “There’s no way,” he says, a look of amusement growing on his lips. 

“Yeah, I spit it out immediately. It was horrible,” Nate responds with a small laugh. 

Perching myself on the arm of the couch, I hand Matt his drink. “Are you talking about that nasty chamoy pickle?”

Nate gives me a look, “Yeah. Biggest regret of the year.”

I shoot him a smile before looking down at Matt. 

“Hey babe,” he says. 

“Hi, baby,” I respond with a smile. 

His hand snakes around my waist and gently tugs me down to sit on his lap, “I missed you,” he tells me. 

“I was in the kitchen,” I tease.

He lets out a dramatic sigh, “Yeah, that was cringe.” 

I laugh, “Yeah, horribly cringe. Get out of my sight.”

His arm tightens around my waist, and his lips make their way to my neck for a soft kiss, “Never.”

I turn my head to him before properly kissing him. We knew we wanted to host a New Year’s party, but we struggled to realize that our two separate groups of friends would be there, too. I had spent most of my time with my friends, who I rarely get a chance to see, as did Matt. 

“Having fun?” He asked me. 

I hum in response, “Yeah, I’m happy to see everyone.”

Matt nods in understanding, turning to look at Chris. Chris had his arm around his girlfriend, whispering in her ear with a devious smile on his face, “I’m so glad Chris has someone this year.” 

I turn to look at Chris, “Yeah. They’re so cute together.” 

Matt nods before pausing. He looks back at me before turning and tapping Chris on the shoulder, “You do have a bedroom here, buddy.” 

Chris’s eyes widen in amusement as his girlfriend shoves her face into his chest, “Could you hear that?” He asks. 

“No,” I reply, pretending to gag, “But I didn’t have to, you freaks.”

He barks a laugh before caressing his girlfriend's face, attempting to comfort her. 

Matt pats my ass, asking me to get up. I do, and he follows suit, standing up and readjusting his pants. He grabs my hand and tugs me into a corner that has been left unoccupied. 

His hand reaches up and brushes a stand of hair behind my ear, “I wanted you alone.” 

I feel my cheeks warm and I look down with an acute understanding. It is almost midnight and Matt wants to kiss me properly. 

“I’m glad you got me alone,” I replied with a smile. 

He hums quietly, admiring my face. I take the time to do the same, drinking in his look. Donned in a Cherry LA sweater and white pants, he looked domestic. 

Around us, we hear everyone start chanting down for 10, ready to ring in the new year. 

Matt takes both of his hands and caresses my face, his thumb rubbing rhythmic circles upon my jaw as I wait to lean in. 

5 seconds. 

Matt runs his thumb over my bottom lip, flattening it out before leaning in and meeting me in the middle. 

Midnight. 

With a soft peck to begin, Matt exited 2023. His tongue darts out shyly, prying at my lips and gaining an entrance. He moves a hand to run through my hair as both of my hands make their way to his hair as well. 

I’m consumed in his kiss, and I have nothing but a smile on my face when he lets go so we can breathe. 

“Happy New Year, beautiful.”

[confused-mc]

MLQC Headcannons

Time Away, Communication styles and Voice Notes

Masterlist

♫︎ Kiro:

If you hadn't voice noted in the past, then once you do, you find that doing so could be opening a can of worms. You guys can't seem to go back to just texting and calls.

When Kiro is energetic, and when he's away, him voice noting you will occur often when you're in work and he has some free time. (usually he takes it to explore the city and try local delicacies he's in when he's away, and sometimes it's when he's on the sofa and finds himself desiring your company in a way only your voice notes can provide - at least, when you're not able to physically snuggle beside him as he tells you about his day).

One of the first times, it's inspired by the need to tell you his experiences! He'd stopped by a food stall on his time outside of the film set, and he's suddenly bursting with energy about his new favourite discovery and - you're not there and he feels like he might explode if he doesn't tell you.

"Miss Chips, I have had the most amazing thing. We have got to try this together one day! It's like this pork bun, but this crispy dough outside, and it has this sweet dip which is pickled and is absolutely delicious -" *a sound of a mouthful being bitten and groaned at in delight* "-and the owner tried to give me one for free if I posted a photo endorsing the stall! I wish I could take it home so I can see how you look when you try it and see your little cheeks chow down like a chipmunk - I know you'd love it even more than me!

"And oh - did you hear that - someone's dog just ran away with their food!" *laughs* "At least mine is all safely tucked away, in my stomach! Oh - and there was this guy who was busking by the fountain. I wish I had been able to bring my violin because we could have played an amazing duet... But I left it back at the hotel... -But it's probably a good thing - Savin might've gotten mad, considering I'm meant to be hiding from the media, rather than attracting it. I wish you were here, Miss Chips. You'd love the blossom here. At least when I look at it, I can imagine you are right here beside me... Oh and one last thing, make sure you eat well! I know your project right now is tough, but keeping healthy is important! And make sure to sleep well too! Can you say hi to Cello and Applebox for me, I miss their cute little faces. And yours too!"

Basically a kid with a very zippy attention span, jumping from one topic to the next like an excited grasshopper. His zest for life and desire to communicate with you is so expressed by his messages and that love of the world he wants to share as the partner by your side. It's like grabbing the corners of a camera and stretching it to widen to his. Him sharing his experiences that has made him happy is like a passage to his inner world and love.

He always makes sure to express his chirpy reminders to take care of yourself, and how he'd place you in his little world when he's away - imagining of you being on the couch typing away at a proposal, and how you'd love to try all the sweetie freebies the hotel gives him and the snacks from caterers from the filming launch party - what he'd imagine you would wear - and how he'd match his outfit to yours and come striding in with you beside him. He loves to visualise you on the sofa as he gets in from filming, jumping up and bear-hugging him before he even walks a foot in the door. These small scenarios keeps him sane whilst he's away, and he finds it so beautiful when it happens in real life when he comes back and refinds home in your arms.

Most of his voice notes are extremely fast paced - and you love how he unmasks for you, because he feels so comfortable being himself, despite his exuberance! You've told him yourself, that the most joy you get from being around him, is when he is totally himself - and that's the way he can express his love. Talking to you as if you were there, because inside, he knows you will always be listening, whatever he wants to talk about.

𖠌 Victor:

Victor is hard to pin down, because he prefers phone calls to really find intimacy in connecting. He wouldn't waste time recording voice notes, because he's 1) a workaholic and 2) he prefers to be 'in the now' (ironically). He doesn't quite get how people can babble for so long on something that is recorded to be listened at a later date - why not do it over a phone call? Seems like a waste of time, otherwise.

If you did a voice note, he would find time to listen to them, but would most likely ignore speaking back and instead, opt for a simple, sarcasm-laced or blunt reply. If it's based on an interest of his, such as discussing classical music or a new pudding idea for Souvenir, he might be daring enough and record a short, few word sentence reply. However, it probably would end so abruptly it would almost take you off balance to see The Victor Lee reply to a voice note!

You would find it most likely a bit silly and embarrassing, and decide to call him instead.

"Now you decide to call me? What happened to your sudden interest in filling up your break time with your incessant rambling prerecorded messages that are five minutes long a piece? If you dedicated this much time to your new proposals, then I wouldn't have to worry so much about you I imagine your current ratings would be better. "

You deliberate hanging up on him, just because he was completely wrong and yet he still had the gall to tell you off -

And yet, you can't help but feel amused at his grumbling. It was like the knawing of Puddings's teeth on the cat post, sharp and grating but comforting that some behaviours never changed. And knowing it was Victor, through and through.

"So you really don't like Vivialdi that much?" you decide to ignore him, iriterating the sum of what he'd replied in his curt voice note.

*sigh* "No I don't," his voice is filled with an almost ire, rising at the end of a sentence like a child lecturing an adult, "And why did this come up as a subject topic?"

Your laugh is muffled by your hand - unwilling to let Victor hear - , and it's easy to feel the banter returning, "We did a feature on some composers and we got invited as guests to a concert as a thank you. I guess I'll just have to find someone else to take up the spare ticket... I guess maybe Kiro -"

"As your investor, it is good practice, let alone it is wise, to demonstrate to us a good sense in your marketing strategy and expanding influence -" he sucks in a berating-filled breath "and then not offering at least one ticket to them," he pauses, "are you trying to make it seem like you're a total moron?"

His voice is so sharply blunt it would have burnt, a tone so scathingly arrogant it would have left your ear in scratches - if you hadn't felt the tricky, yet bubbling joy in your chest. It was probably the first time you could dare to imagine that your intelligence wasn't soley insulted due to the fact of marketing strategy didn't align to pleasing investors and perceived besmirched impudence.

Oh, are you trying to maintain a purely professional interest there, Victor?

Trying to remain professional yourself, you aimed to calm your unsteady giggles, and let out a breath of contemplation

"So you're suggesting that I cordially invite my main investor to the concert to preserve postive working relations?" you voice is coyly innocent.

His voice is flat, "Well ascertained. I'll come and pick you up tonight. Make sure I receive your formal email invite."

You blink, "But how did you know the concert is tonight?"

There's an exasperated smile in his voice, "I'm the one who recommended your film company to begin with, idiot." he paused, voice becoming dry, "If you read your email properly, you'd see that we had a previous association with them. I've already been 'technically' invited."

The flip of Victor already knowing about the concert, and already having and invited tossed your perfect teasing plans in the air, left you fumbling.

The one thing you forget to ask is,

If Victor had already been invited, was it really necessary to be needing your only invite too?

Victor had a whole adgena of his own, of course, because a professional invite is the only way to justify him inviting her to his box.

☕︎ Lucien:

It always made his eyes crinkle when he sees a new voice note pop up on his screen, the curiosity of what exactly inspired you to go on a spiel about something during that part of the day was always a fascinating phenomenon

The voice notes could be as random as finding a beautiful glass figurene in a window, to the cloud that reminded you the shape of a beaker, to a whizzy article about something new in the science field you wanted him to explain.

Sometimes, his favourites, was just when you were about your evening routine, the sizzle of some beef in the background, and were simply telling him about your day - the little tired sighs and little gaps between topics and letting the silence hang - a simply personalised background for when he was alone and was waiting for the paperwork, and current experiment, to end. Like a cafe ambience video, but one made specifically for him.

Honestly, it gives him an odd sense of comfort in the middle of the night, your voice echoing in his night-lit apartment or when it rebounding slightly off the white tile walls of the lab, the glow of the screen as he glances as the little green bobble on the line of the recording, signalling that your voice was currently ongoing

"Oh I walked past our-that movie theatre of yours last night - I saw um it had the one with Audrey Hepurn in it. I even went in! It was called Roman... Roman - Roman something. Agh I can't remember. Oh yeah, guess what! ... It wasn't a half bad movie - heh -" your voice quickly catches, as if caught in a lie, "Not that I hadn't watched it all when I - uh - came to find you that time! But anyway, I loved it. You know that moment where she rides on the back of his bike - it was so beautiful. Did you know it was actually filmed in Rome - actually you probably did know that -" her laughter is soft, "It... Reminded me of you, actually... How he showed her a new world, and - ah! I'm rambling. I'm going to go - it's late where I am, so it's probably early for you. Lucien, make sure you sleep okay? It's not good for you to sleep so little! Also, go find a snack, you probably haven't had much all day. Oh right, I was hoping to make some cream puffs soon! I found this different recipe - a macha inspired one, it's currently trending online! I have no idea if it'll taste nice, but I'm sure it'll be an adventure. Anyway, I'm heading to bed. Make sure you sleep. Oh - I said that already. Goodnight!"

His chuckle is soft, his pale skin wanly lit by the glow of the phone, his pen scratching lightly against the report, the clock ever-creeping towards the dawn.

Your voice was like the patter of the rain he'd missed when he was in England, during that night of study and the assignment was due. It was the feeling of existing in the same world, even miles away, being absorbed in your world was fascinating.

There was also.. something innately comforting in listening to you. Something he could concentrate on, while the files in front of him consisted of simple admin duties he should really have an assistant complete.

It was the sunshine in the dark, a bubble of joy between the moving of the night's clouds against his dimly lit desk.

It made him want home, he want - you. Despite doing work he knew would help the current state of the world, despite everything else, his home never strayed far from your arms. A voice still paled (literally ha) to what was really you. The way you reacted to him, that was where the magic truly came alive.

His voice notes, on the other hand, would come in the manner during his journey to the lab in the morning. Occasionally his voice rustling in the sheets as he readied himself for bed, slow and modulated, each answer a poetry unto themselves. It would make you marvel at how beautiful his voice was, to make such silly topics of conversations of yours into discussions that felt real. He'd never make you out as dumb, even if your observations were perkily mundane, or wacky or just plain silly. Because you, you never made it boring, because it was quintessentially you - and, just like he didn't mean to, he couldn't seem to find it disinteresting.

The voice notes worked especially well sometimes, because of your odd schedules. Whilst it could never beat a face time as you spent the evening watching a movie together, or how a phone call to tell the news of his arrival home, but it kept the emptier space filled in the times of silence.

༄ Gavin

Gavin finds it harder to begin a voice note. It's much easier, he finds, to reply to yours. Voice notes you make are like a springboard to find the thoughts going through his mind at the time, by replying to you.

His urge to say "over" at the end is nearly impossible to overwrite at first, but he manages to do so. He loves you, but would hate to feel like you thought you were some sort of work message was obligated to answer.

Also, your teasing game had stepped up lately and he wasn't just going to let you win with that ammunition.

It's harder to keep weariness out of his tone when he's away on mission though (on the rare occasion when it's not a communication blackout).

You find it rather hard to send him voice messages when you know he's tired. But you two do have a conversation to work out what was the best way to stay in contact, and decide that he finds the voice notes reassuring, like a status update confirming that you were still maintaining health, but with the knowledge that it was you, and you were sending him things that made you happy. Pictures and silly captions were encouraged too.

It became more about the knowledge of your happiness inside your world that made him pleased, and relieved, to see them. Like a touch on the back of his hand, confirming your wellbeing, telling him you were okay.

He especially appreciated your voice notes when you were sleepy, it was the cutest thing to hear your yawn. Sometimes his chest ached with such longing all he wanted was to lie beside you, stroke your hair with your head on his chest. To look at you like you were his world..

You were.

He prefers calls or texts to connect, it's easier for him to commit to shorter, more instant dopamine-laced interactions when he's on the move. The times that he would voice note you with confidence is when he knows you're in bed, and he's there able to watch the stars from his vantage point. He's looking at them, describing what constellations are in the sky, and if they would be different from yours.

Any unique stars or moon phenomenons happening in Loveland that night, you'd be the first to know. He'd likely send you a text, maybe even the link to the astrology journal if he has time between sleeping and eating before rushing out of the door, he'd send it to you.

Sometimes if there was a local shrine or history to do with the town or city he's in, he'd tell you and even potentially make a plan to go there with you - if it's safe enough after his mission is completed. He's a do-er, through and through. Making plans and being around you feels the most authentic and best use of his time, rather than an online presence. If there was a way to send little notes in the air on the wind to you, that would be his idealised form of communication. Short, sweet but completely romantic. Also, it'd be nice to give you a note without causing you a heart attack like when it had been damaged or stained with blood.

Your voice notes to him when you're on the way to work often lament the fact you'd rather be on Sparky, an acute adrenaline rush before work just the kick-start you'd need to get your ideas pumping. Or it's the flower boutique you stopped by on the way to work, and you'd gotten you guys tickets for a basketball match in a few week's time, or that you'd gotten a compliment from a stranger about your bracelet. A natural, almost organic way of storytelling - light, uplifting and with a hint of normalcy.

Sometimes he wished he could tell you about his day, that information didn't have to be classified, but he keeps it locked in his chest. Whilst it helped to keep his work life separated from the purity of the influence of your life, he sometimes could only admire how candid you were with him. That you could say something and laugh, just like that, and even if you felt silly, know that your words were safe with him. It brings him back to the real world, grounds him in a distantly positive way. With your voice, he can almost find himself refreshed when he gets back to the mission at hand. Having a break and a dose of talk from you, were some of the key things that helped him investigate and keep himself motivated.

Basically, you're his tiny motivational speaker in disguise. >_<

Also, if Eli sees your voice notes, he might get daring one time and send one back if Gavin leaves his phone unattended.

"Hey," *whispers* "Eli here. Currently undetected by our Captain, but -"

"Give it back."

"**** - hey I didn't mean to -"

*recording deleted*

"Sorry about that, Eli was just going to go and clean the locker room. Since it's obviously clear he has nothing better to do than snoop on someone else's phone."

A little "Aww man." could be heard in the background as you can almost hear the loving smile in Gavin's voice, as he said

"I'll see you later tonight, I shouldn't be too late home. Have a good day - uh, bye."

Minor would not even dare touch Gavin's phone after hearing a chilling story about how the last guy who had touched Gavin's phone without permission, didn't come out of the STF compound without needing three showers first.

Eli was never heard from again sure he just survived the wrath of a polar bear.

Bonus -

☔︎ Shaw:

He would not have the attention span to listen to voice notes. And he'd also be absolutely clear about this.

"You think I have time to listen for seven minutes when you can summarise it in two?

"Honestly, if I have to attend another lecture I think I would fall asleep."

"Hey, I'm not being a jerk. I'll listen to you if you call, you know. Nothing can be that important it can't be said in person."

"Stop throwing stuff at me. I'm being honest."

You continue to pout, until he flicks you on the forehead and you roll your eyes

"Fine. I won't then."

"Don't say I didn't warn you when I don't respond."

"I just said I wouldn't!" you huff, and when you see his smirk you throw another cushion at him.

He definitely can be best at texting. Low energy commitment, and he can still tease you with no actual threat of punishment. He will prefer you being sassy back over on the phone, and will enjoy the banter that way more and still leave you stuttering with indignation. It cracks him up.

It's a "she's such an idiot I love her" feeling for most of his calls that he makes to you. He hates that he's slightly addicted to your angry squeaks, like a very silly, angry little hamster he loves to keep on poking.

You hate that you love him teasing and mocking like that, because it was him, capcrious and untamed, loud mouthed and full of an attitude that could worry the frown lines off a therapist.

Stupidly, and beautifully himself.

Soo... Short and sweet, right? 😂

I love these guys. They're adorable. Thanks for reading! ฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅ

[beefrobeefcal]

Let's Get Physical! feat. Marcus Pike & f!Reader

a Marcus Pike one shot | Rated: 18+ | word count: 3,883 warnings: swearing, rougher p in the v unprotected sex, fingering, talk about weight gain, belly appreciation, self esteem issues surrounding weight, reader is assumed to be shorter and lighter than Marcus, reader has long enough hair for Marcus to grip,

A/N: Okay y'all... here's the mam himself! Thank you to @rebel-held for their dedication and holding vigil for his arrival, and for @yahtiwakitakos for their love of Marcus! Thanks to @strang3lov3, @noxturnalpascal & @neverwheremoonchild for their eyes & thoughtful insight.

As soon as you’d gotten the desk next to Marcus, he knew you’d be friends. He’d transferred out of being on the field and to the home office in your state after a personal matter had him decide to transfer. Since that point, you’d worked closely together, learning almost everything you could about one another.

You’d taken to him almost immediately, but his kind and aloof manner kept you from pushing further to see if there was something more. You’d eventually fallen into a content and friendly rapport that turned into a work-based friendship.

Marcus learned about your love of reading, allowing you to collect obscure information, and you’d learned that he did not cook, opting for take out at every meal.

You’d even earned nicknames from one another. You called him Pickles after a long-forgotten joke about his last name, and he called you Dex, short for Poindexter, given you aptitude for Trivial Pursuit.

You worked side by side for four years, and in that time, you’d noted that Marcus had gained weight, but it wasn’t that noticeable – it was gradual. His clothing had always fit. He'd never had an ill-fitting suit or a too-tight dress shirt or jacket. Yes, you'd notice his weight fluctuate and increase, but he camouflaged it well with his clothing.  Sure, he’d developed a bit of a softer jawline under the scruff on his face - it enhanced his pout with those big brown eyes; and yeah, his middle looked less trim, as did his thighs…

You’d told yourself that you really didn’t notice or care – Marcus was your friend.

You repeated those lies every time he’d look up at you and ask if you were ready for lunch or pat your shoulder as he said you’d done a good job. You did notice his waistline increasing and you thought it was sexy and hot, but your own internal battle with self image and weight had tarnished your ability to admit you liked heavier men and watched to help them get heavier.

You so badly wished he was more than a friend. He was kind and sweet, and never swore, even going so far as to tell you to ‘behave’ or ‘watch your mouth’ when you left an f-bomb slip. The way his big brown eyes watched you, you wished they were imagining you naked and crying out for him, and as you’d lose yourself in this fiction, he’d bring you back to earth, asking if you’d read the latest case file.

You’d told yourself that you really didn’t notice or care because Marcus was your friend.

*****

“Morning, Dex!”, he called as he meandered to his desk. He had two coffees in his hands from your favourite coffee shop… the one that was out of the way for him to get to on his way to the office… the one he only stopped at when he either needed a favour or had bad news.

You narrowed your eyes at him and motioned to the coffee with a pointed finger. “Stop. What’s that for?”

“Just wanted to get my best girl a coffee. S’that a crime?”, he smiled, trying to force as much innocence from his eyes as possible.

You didn’t move from your position and raised your brow. He sighed and put the coffees on the desk and slumped his shoulders, letting his work satchel drop to the floor.

“I need your help.”

“I knew it.”

“But you can’t laugh.”

His last statement made you freeze. Looking up at him, his face looked slightly pained as his winced, waiting for the sign to continue.

“Out with it, Pickles.”

“They want agents to be in the field. I saw the sign last night as I was leaving, so I looked into it. Don’t get me wrong – love the office but I miss field work.”

He paused, eyes searching your face for approval. You could see the worry on him, the fear of rejection to his idea. You nodded, arms gently moving from their crossed position, and you reached for the cup closest to you on his desk and took a sip. It was good coffee and you hummed in approval.

Marcus let out a breath he more than likely didn’t realize he was holding and continued. “There’s a catch thought – I have to pass a physical.”

You just about spat our coffee out and swallowed it funny, causing you to start coughing. You waved him off, sputtering an ‘I’m okay.’ as you motioned for him to keep talking.

“Yeah… uh – so the physical.”, he said slowly, watching you carefully with a bit of worry.  “I have to pass the one I did when I was a rookie… the one we all had to pass. You sure you’re okay?”

You nodded again, trying to get the image of Marcus huffing and puffing on a treadmill, sweaty and just a plain mess… the same way you’d imagined he’d be on top of you… rutting and jack hammering you into your mattress…

“Yeah! Just peachy, Pickles!”, you croaked, the rasped out a laugh. “You want to go in the field and leave me behind? Be Mister Bigshot and meet some other prettier coworker to bring coffee?”

You were trying to tease him, but your words and the sharpness of your tongue sounded like they aimed to wound, and it wasn’t lost on Marcus.

“Well, why not come with me? We could be partners.”

Your heart fluttered at the thought of travelling with Marcus to different art crime scenes. You’d never been able to shake the stories he told about the weird things he’d investigated in the field. Yeah, there were the big things, but you were more intrigued by the obscure things he’d investigated, like the unnamed famous actor who’s inadvertently bought stolen vintage clown pornography, or the weird old grumpy suburban guy who cluelessly had a priceless - albeit mundane - horse painting hanging in his bedroom, or the time some government worker was caught at the airport with illegally imported erotic art from South America that reeked of cigarettes.

The idea had merit and you nodded, cautiously optimistic.

*****

"Look, I know what I said, but maybe...", Marcus called out from behind the bathroom door. "...maybe I am a little more out of shape than I thought." You stopped your advancement down the hallway and chuckled with a smile.

"What are you talking about?"

"It... it-uh... it fits... different."

You paused and as the cogs in your head turned, trying to decipher what he meant. It hit you and you felt heat bloom in your core and on your face as your smile exploded into a wide-eyed grin.

If what you were thinking was true, the gym clothing that was standard issue for all new FBI trainees - and would be the required outfit for his upcoming physical fitness test - would give you an eye full of how pudgy he'd really gotten. While sitting in your thoughts, your silence made Marcus nervous.

Deciding to just rip the band-aid off, he opened the bathroom door and stepped out.

Your jaw dropped.

You’d seen the pictures of him during training. The clean-shaven sharp jaw and trim toned body clad in a too big t-shirt and knee length shorts.

That was not who stood before you. His shorts, while tighter, still looked like they fit. But that poor t-shirt was pulled tight across his broad chest and shoulders, and the hem was unable to traverse his ample middle, exposing about an inch above his belly button down to the curve of his underbelly and giving you a full view of his love handles.  

His face was flushed, and his eyes pleaded with you. You cleared your throat and smiled, trying to hide the fact that your core was clenching on nothing.

“It fits!”, you managed to squeak out and Marcus look at you stupefied and held his hands open to his sides.

“Really?”, he asked in exasperation, raising his eyebrows. “You think this – “, he motioned to his middle. “- qualifies as fitting?”

“I mean, you got it on? That means it sort of fits?” You winced as you spoke, trying to keep a pleasant smile.

“Fuck!”

You jumped as he let out one the loudest ‘fuck’s you’d ever heard, and your eyes grew wide that it was him who yelled it. He threw his hands up in the air and stood with his hands on his hips, knee popped. His jaw tensed as he looked away, stuck in thought, and you took the opportunity to gaze over his body, noting the way his stomach moved with each frustrated breath and the way his shoulders pulled the absolute life out of the shirt’s seams.

You were lost in thought ogling him and didn’t notice that he’d turned his attention back to you. When you finally looked up at him, both feeling your faces heat up slightly and an awkward silence sat heavy between you.

You decided to break the silence first, clearing your throat again. “Pickles, you… you look great.”

Marcus stated to laugh, and you couldn’t help but join him.

“I know I look like a busted overstuffed sausage – “

“Oh, stop it!”, you hushed him, stepping towards him. “Okay, sure, it doesn’t fit quite the same, but nobody stays the same size their whole life.”

He rolled his eyes with a smirk and nodded. “Fine.”

*****

So far, all the equipment in his apartment complex’s gym were now Marcus’ sworn enemies. The last three hours had been filled with Marcus angrily sweating and using every curse and swearword under the sun. He was so focused on being angry that he forwent any self consciousness about his clothes not fitting.

After another failed attempt at trying to navigate the elliptical, he yelled “PISSING SHITTING FUCKING COCK SUCKING MOTHER FUCKER!!”  and stormed out of the gym. You quickly grabbed the things he left in his departure and followed him.

*****

“Fuck it! I’m not fucking doing this!”, he boomed, furiously ripping open his refrigerator and grabbing the carton of chocolate milk and chugged it.

You quietly tried to get him to water to hydrate, and contemplated asking why his swearing sounded so natural when you’d never heard him use anything harsher than ‘fiddlesticks’ prior to this. “Marcus… maybe some water would – “

He finished the chocolate milk then tossed the carton haphazardly into the sink, and his eyes aggressively looked you up and down. You closed your mouth and stood, light a deer in headlights, nervously fidgeting your hands as you felt heat bloom in your core and on your face.

“Don’t look at me like that! I know what you’re thinking!”, he barked at you, making you jump. “God dammit! You think I’m too fat and out of fucking shape to pass that physical! And you know what?”, he yelled, grabbing one of the giant pretzels he’d picked up yesterday from the kiosk in the mall. “You’re fucking right!”

He angrily bit into the pretzel and chewed, then huffed and ripped open the fridge again and grabbed a king-size can a beer. You watched, bewildered and bewitched, as he maneuvered between chomps and gulps of the pretzel and beer.

You’d never seen him this enraged and you couldn’t take your eyes off him. Sure, you’d seen him get snide or lippy when he was frustrated, but you had no idea he could turn his temper up to eleven and he had such a vast array of foul words in his vocabulary – and find it so hot. You were staring at him, seeing that once he’d finished the pretzel, his hand went to his underbelly, pitching and kneading it slightly as he downed the rest of the beer. Your eyes were then pulled to his crotch in the almost too-small shorts and the noticeable bulge that had developed there.

Your lips parted and your brows tented. Marcus kept his eyes on your face, seeing the reaction you were having to his meltdown. It egged him on, knowing that you were getting something out of this. He’d longed for the chance to get to hold you beyond the occasional side hug or shoulder bump, wanting to touch you and make you feel as beautiful as he saw you. But he’d assumed you were completely fine being friends, given the way his weight had creeped up. He didn’t want to lose you by making a move and wrecking the chance to get the pieces of you that you allowed him to have access to. He’d stayed respectful, and courteous, and friendly, all while desperately wishing he was yours. But all that went out the window the moment he felt rage course through his veins and saw you look at him like that. He wanted you to be his.

He threw the empty beer can aside, hearing its tinny landing by the sink, and stalked towards you. Taken slightly aback at how aggressive his body language was, you stepped back and were stopped by the counter behind you. Marcus crowded you, standing over you, his belly moving against you with every ragged, angry breath.

“Marc – “

His name was cut off in your mouth as his collided with yours. He roughly grabbed your waist with one huge hand while the other held your face. He dominated the kiss, his tongue pushing for entrance again your lips, and you let him in, tasting the hoppy beer and salty yeast of the pretzel. As the passion built between you, the kiss deepened, becoming more fervent and urgent. His hands roamed, pulling you closer, his fingers tangling in your hair. There was no rhythm to this kiss; it was him exploring and dominating and you submitting to him and your desperate needs.

You finally parted, panting and breathless. He looked beautiful; his eyes were dark with blown pupils and his lips were reddened.  The hand that had held your waist moved down to the crux of your thighs and pressed against your Athleisure legging-clad core. Your mouth opened and a soft, breathy whine barely sounded out. The fury in his eyes had ebbed and morphed into an aggressive and possessive need, but he watched you, looking for any sign to stop. You gave nothing but green lights.

He leaned his face closer to yours, his nose nudging your cheek. You let out a small whimper and nodded, tilting your head, and he grazed his teeth along your cheek to your jaw, then bit down softly. With his mouth on you, he growled through his teeth, “Mine.”

He pulled back and turned your around, pushing your palms onto the counter, and he stood flush with his front to your back. As he grinded against you and bit and kissed your neck, he pushed your leggings down over your ass with one hand, the other pushed between your legs in the front.

“Oh fuck… you’re soaked, baby…”, he growled, biting the back of your neck. His middle finger ran along your seam, pulling a mewling whine from your mouth.

“You want me? Tell me you want me.”

When you didn’t answer beyond a frantic nod, he said your name in a low snarl and his grip on you tightened. “I asked you a question.”

“Mar-Marcus! Please!”, you cried out, feeling his finger circle then tap your throbbing nub repeatedly. You felt him smile against your neck, his other hand palming and squeezing your tit, and he started fucking into your wet heat with his pointer and index fingers.

“You’re so gorgeous… so funny… so smart… and you’re letting this fat guy finger you in his kitchen…”

His thumb caught your clit in the haste of his hand’s movement, and you let out a surprised yelp and your body jolted. The hand gripping your breast came up your sternum and secured itself around your throat gently, forcing you upright and flush against him.

“Juicy little snatch… just gripping my fingers, baby… you - you gonna cum for me, Dex baby?”

You whined and nodded. His hand moved up and he pushed two fingers into your mouth, exerting the power he had over you. He did it because he could, because you let him. You were both learning more about the other: he wanted to dominate, you wanted to be dominated.

You came as he pressed your tongue down, almost eliciting a gag from you. It felt filthy and raw and everything you’d hoped but never thought Marcus could be.

“There is it… Good girl… You’re mine… I’m gonna fuck that into you.”, he grunted and pulled both sets of fingers from your wet holes, shoving you down flush with the counter.

You’d barely finished cumming, let alone gotten through the aftershocks making your cunt flutter as he shoved his shorts down and lined up his cock with you and pushed in.

“Jesus fuck…”, you groaned. “You’re s’fucking big!”

“You like me big… say it. Say you like me being a fat desk jockey…”

“Yes… god yes…”

“Like seeing me eat, too, huh?... like watching me get fat?”

“Yes! Please… Marcus, please!”

You felt the beginnings of another orgasm as he pounded into you from behind and filled your mind with the images of him stuffing himself stupid on take out at work while you sat on his lap and helped feed him. It was a guilt-filled fantasy that you’d never allowed yourself to fully process and accept until this moment.

Marcus pulled out of you suddenly. Fearing you did something wrong, you made a frantic and breathless ‘huh?’ sound. He picked you up, tossing you over his shoulder.

“Wanna watch your pretty face while you cum, Dex.”

You couldn’t help but smile; Marcus was ever the romantic.

He tossed you on the bed and crawled up to you, pushing your legs apart. He took a moment to look at your pussy, smirking with a smug head shake, then locked eyes with you. He leaned forward, one hand landing beside your head and his other hand grabbed your hips, pulling you closer to him, guiding his cock back into your desperate, wet cunt.

“Look at you… just gorgeous… “, he marveled with smug satisfaction as he pounded into you, watching your eyes close, brows furrow, and lips part to let out a soft pant.

His thumb came down on your clit, rubbing harsh, fast circles. “Come on, Dex… gimme one so I can watch… lemme see…”

“Marcus… I’m close…”

“I know, pretty girl… give it to me… come on… gimme one I can see…”

“Yes… right there! Right there!”

His thumb hit just the right angle and you fell apart as he pistoned you on his cock. Your hand reached up, gripping the arm above your head, and you arched your back in pure bliss.

“There it is… there you go… fuck, good girl… look at you… so god dammed pretty…”

The noises you made sounded alien coming from your mouth. You’d never heard this cacophony of whines, cries, mewls and moans come from your body before, and Marcus was revelling in it. He removed his thumb form your oversensitive nub, and he brought him body down onto your as he continued to thrust into you. His weight felt amazing; it was everything and ore than what you could have hoped, and you needed more of it on you. You hooked one leg on his hip, then brought the other one up, trying to lock your ankles. Marcus was too big, his love handled waist too wide and his thrusts now to frantic to get a good latch.

You raised your head and captured his mouth in a messy kiss, and he interlocked his fingers into yours. He panted into your mouth as you made eye contact; gone was the ferocious and angry man who’d fucked you in his kitchen and back was Marcus: sweet, funny, soft Marcus.

“Come on, Pickles.”, you whispered against his lips with a wry grin.

The surrendering groan that tumbled out of him matched perfectly with his out of rhythm thrusts.

“You gonna let me cum in you? Please?”, he panted, hips stuttering.

Nodding, you desperately whined, “Yeah… yes, please… please… c-cum in me!”

Marcus dropped his forehead onto yours. With a few more snaps of his hips with corresponding grunts, he let out a string of groans and panting breaths, then stilled in you.

You were both breathing hard, and his fingers flexed and relaxed repeatedly in yours as he came down from his high. Your mouth found his again briefly, then he pulled back and looked you in the eyes. His brows furrowed and his eyes softened further, as if the weight of what had just happened suddenly dawned on him and he was worried this was it for the two of you.

“Hey… hey hey hey…”, you soothed, hand coming up to cup his cheek, a soft smile on your face. “It’s okay… I’m okay.”

He nodded, still unsure, the blurted out, “I like you so much, Dex. I wanted this for so long…and I wanted it to be special, and – “

“It was special!”, you beamed with a smile, loving how adorably flustered he looked in contrast to before. “You hulked out and railed me in your kitchen!”

He stopped and looked at you, dumbfounded. Slowly, a smile peaked out on one side of his mouth. “You liked that.”, he huffed out in a laugh. “Dex, you kinky girl!”

You laughed and playfully slapped his arm. “Knock it off, Pickles!”

He pulled his softening cock from you and kissed you, both of you giggling.

Marcus pulled away and teased, “You liked getting railed by a fat guy… in the kitchen…”

“Yeah, I did!”, you challenged with a smile. “And I hope that fat guy does it again!”

His breath hitched and he swallowed, looking away for a moment. “So, you’re okay with…?”

He couldn’t finish saying what he wanted to. Years of poor self esteem and heart-breaking moments with other women wouldn’t let him, nor did that part of him want to hear your answer in case it was rejection. Your hand guided his face back to you.

“I wouldn’t have let you if I wasn’t.

His smile softened. “How about a date first?”

You couldn’t help the heat and shy smile that bloomed on your face, and he watched as you melted into his words.

*****

Marcus walked into the office the next Monday, carrying another two coffees from your favourite place. You were preoccupied with one of your coworkers but shit him a smile before returning your attention to the file before you.

He placed the coffees down, hung his coat and bag, then noticed the collection of tupperwear containers with a sticky note on them.

Getting takeout is fine, but this is a sampling of what I can do for you. Xoxo Dex.

He opened a few of the containers and in them were homemade versions of his absolute favourite take out meals. He brought one to his nose and inhaled, just as your coworker left the room. You walked up behind him and wrapped your arms around his middle, patting and squeezing his belly.

Marcus deciding he wasn’t ever going to need to pass a physical again.

No more tag list! follow @beefnotes for fic updates!

[mamawasatesttube]

an excerpt of the kon & cass genderisms fic im very excited about but still nowhere near done with:

The idea of Kon looking like a girl is kind of absurd, when Cass first thinks of the word. It brings to mind Steph, first and foremost. Brenda, too, though. And others.

But some of Brenda’s friends were tall, or broad-shouldered. Some of them dressed like Kon. The thought brings with it a pang, as always; Cass wishes she’d gotten to know them better, before…

Before.

But anyway. Not the point. The point is, Cass has seen Barbara call people without skirts or breasts girls or women, sometimes, too. So maybe Kon looking like a girl isn’t as weird as he seems to think it is.

She hums, cocking her head to the side. “What is a girl?”

“Huh?”

Next to her, Kon blinks. He frowns up at the stars, then rolls over and props himself up on one arm, and reaches over to playfully poke her nose.

“Well, I dunno exactly. You were Bat-girl, weren’t you? Shouldn’t you know?”

But that isn’t because of any… kinship with the word. No… what’s the word? Affinity. No particular affinity. Or is it connection? Something like that. Regardless, Cass shakes her head. “Barbara’s name. I just kept it.”

“Oh.” Kon frowns slightly. “I dunno, either, honestly. I mean, TV will tell you a girl is someone who likes girly stuff, but that’s stupid, ‘cuz plenty of girls don’t like girly stuff, and I mean, I do like so-called girly stuff, I guess, like knitting or baking, and I’m not a girl. So…” He shrugs, rolling back over onto his back. A moment later, though, he picks his head up and peers at her. “Are you—is this—I mean, are you trying to tell me you’re not a girl?”

The way he holds himself makes it seem like that’s some kind of a big deal. Cass just shrugs. “Dunno.”

“Oh,” Kon says, again, more softly this time. “Hey, I mean—nothing wrong with that either. It’s cool.”

Cass shrugs again. “It’s just a word. To me, anyway.” It’s her turn to frown in thought. “What makes a boy a boy?” She lightly nudges his side. He’s warm against the slight night chill, and she scoots in a little closer with a hum. “You were Super-boy. Tell me.”

Kon blows out a breath. “Hoo, man. Now ain’t that just a fine pickle and a half?”

Cass wrinkles her nose. “What do pickles have to do with it?” She likes pickles. Ma Kent has a jar of crisp ones in the pantry, homemade from cucumbers grown in the garden out back. Cass likes the way they crunch between her teeth and splatter vinegar-juice on her tongue.

“Nothing. It’s… actually, I have no idea why that’s something people say.” Kon lets out a wry snort. “I came pre-programmed with slang and idioms, y’know.”

“I know,” Cass says, and pats his arm. “Pregnable.”

Kon lets out a bark of bright laughter. It reminds her of the stars. He seems so very at home here, under the night sky. The starlight matches the gentle glow of his eyes. When he isn’t wearing his glasses, it’s easy to see the inhuman blue.

“Aw, man,” Kon says, still grinning. “You remember that? I forgot I said that way back then.”

“It was…” Cass tilts her head. “New to me. Memorable, for that reason.” She grins mischievously. “A pregnable boy.”

Kon laughs again. Cass snuggles up to his side and throws her arm across his ribs. She likes to feel the rise and fall of his chest as he breathes.

[lillaydee]

In Time Part 11

Rancher Joel Miller / Reader

You lost your dear Uncle. Your TV Star boyfriend dumped you. You needed a job. You got one at a ranch in Wyoming. Where you met Joel. A very grumpy man. Grumpy man has issues.

WARNINGS:

Grumpy Joel, Hurt Joel, Grieving Joel, Joel is Bad at Feelings (The Last of Us), Joel Needs a Hug (The Last of Us), Joel Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (The Last of Us), Mentions of Hostage Situation and Shooting, Alternate Universe - No Cordyceps Outbreak (The Last of Us), Mutual Pining, Fluff and Angst

SERIES MASTER LIST

Part 10

---

You didn’t stop smiling since he asked. You smiled as you got ready for bed, you laid in bed smiling and kicking your legs in excitement. You smiled in your sleep. You smiled making tea the next morning.

You had breakfast at the hall that morning, leaving quite early as Tess and Penny had other tasks to run the next town over. You were still smiling when he came in, his thermos in his hand. You had to force yourself to not react when he sat down next to you with his plate, asking the three of you what your plans were. Your cheeks felt sore from trying not to smile. God, six o’clock seemed years away at this point. As you got up to leave, he gently touched your hand, telling you he’ll see you tonight in a low voice, before brushing the back of your hand slightly with his fingers, leaving a burning mark on your skin.

You couldn’t stop smiling all the way to town, all throughout your time at the dealership, all throughout lunch. Tess and Penny couldn’t figure it out. They had asked about your dinner with Joel, and you told them you got burgers and ran into David at the Bison, after which all their interest in what you and Joel did completely dissolved, asking instead about your relationship with your ex, and how you had met Cindy, or Cleo, as you knew her, in the first place.

It's not that you didn’t want to tell them about the date tonight. But as you had gotten to know Joel better, you knew for sure how private the man was. He hid a lot from his family, not because he didn’t trust them, or because they were busybodies, but simply because he didn’t want anyone to know. He wanted to keep certain things to himself, and if he wanted the family to know about your date, he would have told them. And if he didn’t, then he won’t. You didn’t mind either way.

The household was still shaken up by Cleo’s sudden appearance. But they were happy to see Joel move past it as well as he did. Their worry was that he would either Hulk-out or withdraw, and it seemed, he had done neither. It seemed that he was done letting her affect his life, no matter the circumstances. He wanted to move on.

The one thing that gave you pause about your upcoming date was the fact that your time here has an expiry date. Sure, you could stay, you were not tied to anything after your contract ended. But would he want you here? What would the point of staying be, if not in your capacity as a vet?

Tess’s phone rang. She picked up, talked for a few seconds, before getting up and talking a few yards away. She came back, an expression you couldn’t read on her face. Joel, she said. We needed to go to the store anyway, so he asked to pick up a few things. She pulled Penny aside for a bit while you paid for lunch, talking about something you couldn’t hear.

When you got to the store, Tess took her own cart and told you to take another, she needed to get something at the other end of the store, she said. Go with Penny. So you did, getting some groceries for yourself while she shopped for the pantry off a list Mrs Adler had given her. The two of you made idle chit-chat as you shopped, but you stopped when you realized she was putting ten jars of pickles in the cart.

“Why do we need so many pickles?”

“Five for the pantry, five for Joel.”

“Why does he need five jars of pickles?”

“He eats them as snacks. From the jar,” she said, moving on to get some anchovies from another rack.

Wait… that’s…

“Do you need anything else?”

“Erm, no. Let’s go.”

Tess was already closing the hatch to the bed of the truck when you got there, insisting that you place your groceries in the back seat with you rather than in the bed. Okay, weird, but whatever. She was about to climb into the truck when her phone rang again. She talked for a bit, before closing the door to go back to the store but stopped after a few steps.

“What?” She turned and looked at you, a small smile on her face.

You couldn’t help but listen to her side of the conversation.

“I don’t want to do that; I don’t need to know about that part of your life. *pause* Well, I’ve never actually gotten one, have I? *pause* Well that was different. That was an emergency. And… let’s not forget, that helped you get to this point, remember? *pause* Yes, it most certainly did. You’re telling me you’d have the courage to talk to her if I didn’t make you do that? *pause* Oh for crying out loud.” She walked back to the store. “Fine. Which one should I get?”

She came back about five minutes later, a paper bag in her hand. She placed the bag under her seat and began to drive.

At around five pm, you were sweeping the deck to pass the time until your date. You hadn’t been able to sit still since you got back, butterflies seemed to have somehow invaded your tummy and fluttered around rather aggressively. You heard a truck, and before long you saw Joel’s truck pass by, Tommy and Ellie with him. He saw you and winked. My God, the butterflies went berserk.  

At five to six, you were standing in your living room, waiting for him. You heard a shuffle on your deck, but no knock. You opened the door.

Joel was standing there, dressed in a dark pair of jeans and a black dress shirt, a huge smile on his face.

“Hi.”

“Hello.”

“How long have you been standing here?”

“Maybe five minutes. I was waiting for six o’clock.”

You looked around and didn’t see his truck anywhere.

“We’re walking,” he said. “Shall we?”

He held out his hand for you to take and gave you a soft kiss on the cheek, telling you that you looked beautiful. Your cheeks flushed, and when you told him he cleaned up well, his did too.

He didn’t let go of your hand.

“Hope you don’t mind, but I thought we’d stay here for our first date. More familiar.”

“I’m alright with anything.”

He led you to the Benny place, which you almost didn’t recognize.

Lanterns. All over. Hung off the oak trees, on the bench, on the ground, just… lanterns. His truck was parked by the bench, the bed, layered in blankets and cushions facing the view. A picnic basket laid on a small foldable table with two chairs, and he pulled one out for you to sit on.

You felt like you couldn’t speak. This, without a doubt, was the most effort someone had ever made for you for a date.

“Do we have lanterns on hand that I don’t know about on the ranch or something?”

He laughed, pouring a glass of wine for you.

“Nah, Tess got them for me today.”

“Oh? But she came back with a small paper bag.”

He blushed but said that was something else he asked her to buy at the last minute.

Ah… the separating to go shopping, the frantic closing of the truck bed hatch. Got it.

“This is impressive, Joel. You did all this by yourself?”

He shook his head, “No, Mrs Adler cooked,” you both raised your glasses at the mention of her name, “Tommy and Bill helped me put the lanterns out, and Ellie and Frank did the bed of the truck. Maria helped me dress.”

You were suddenly touched. They all helped him get ready for your date.

“Yeah…” he said, rather bashfully. “Been a while since I asked anyone out on a date. They all wanted to pitch in. Sorry.”

“Hey, don’t be. I’m touched that they would. Feels like, they approve, somehow.”

He laughed. “Approve? They love you, of course they do.”

Dinner was wonderful, the two of you talked about anything that came to mind throughout and moved to the bed of the truck when you’d finished. You lay next to each other, staring at the stars, soft music playing from his phone.

“Thank you for tonight, Joel. This was easily the best first date I’ve ever been on. Hands down.”

“Yeah?”

You nodded, turning slightly to face him. He smiled, turning to face you too, and tucked your hair behind your ear. God, he was a beautiful man.

“Thank you for saying yes.”

“Thank you for asking. I never would’ve asked you out, too nervous you’ll say no.”

“What? I was nervous you’d say no!”

“Oh, come on. Gaggles of ladies swoon over you. And they all are much better looking than me. I had no chance, Jhole.”

He laughed out loud.

“Well, I’m no Antonio.”

“Wait, what? Is that why you don’t want to eat Italian food yesterday?”

He scrunched his face in embarrassment and nodded.

“Oh. My. God. Were you jealous of Antonio?”

“Well, he looked like that and stuck to you like glue!”

You laughed.

The two of you laid in silence for a bit, hands entwined, before he raised your hand to his lips and kissed your knuckles.

“So, they all helped you do this, did you plan it?”

“I told Sarah about the date and dreamt of this. So, maybe she planned it?”

“Aww… Thank you Sarah,” you said, looking up at the stars.

“So, why did it take you this long to ask me out?”

His eyes closed in shame, “I was worried you’d say no… I was the asshole who made you cry… and you’re just… so… perfect.”

“What? No, I am not. I’m a prude whose boyfriend found so boring he cheated on me with the first person who’d have him.”

“You are perfect to me.”

“But you lied to me.”

He frowned, what do you mean?

“You said you didn’t like pickles much.”

“I don’t, I only eat them when they come with my food.”

“Penny just bought five jars for you to snack on.”

He closed his eyes in shame, smirking slightly, biting his lower lip, caught in a lie.

“Why’d you tell me you didn’t like them, Joel?”

“I wanted you to have them.”

“Why?”

He caressed the back of your hand with his thumb.

“I wanted to make you smile.”

You didn’t know what to say. You leaned in and placed your forehead on his, closing your eyes, just to feel him close to you.

The two of you lay like that for a moment, before Joel pulled away slightly, looking up.

“BabyGirl, Benny, I’m gonna need you to look away for a bit.”

Your heart stopped as he leaned in, and brushed your lips with his, taking your breath away.

He didn’t stop until breathing became a necessity. When he did, he looked at you, concerned that he had gone too far.

You pulled him back into you for another kiss. He moaned and pulled your body closer to his, his hand caressing your back.

You had no idea how long the two of you kissed. Time disappeared. Everything disappeared. Only him. All you were aware of was him. His hands on you, his warm body pressed onto yours, his lips, his breath. You opened your mouth slightly wider, and he rolled you onto your back, covering your body with his own, his tongue tasting yours. You wrapped your hands around his body, one travelling to the nape of his neck, toying with his curls, one of his hands travelled lower on your body, and brushed the hem of your skirt, before sliding underneath it, leaving a hot trail of goosebumps all over your body.

You opened your legs up for him, and his hand followed the opened path, all the way to your centre, his mouth trailing from yours to give open mouth kisses to your jaw, your neck, your shoulder, lowering to your collarbone, before capturing your lips again.

He looked at you for a second, seeking permission to go further, and your only response was a whimper, before pulling him back down to you with one hand, the other meeting his on your thigh, directing him to go where he wanted it to go. He slipped his hand underneath the fabric covering your core, groaning at how wet you were, putting his forehead on yours, his fingers moving on their own accord, as your hips rutted on his fingers, your breath stuttered, as was his, until you stiffened and shuddered in his arm, his name a struggled whisper in his neck, his mouth kissing your temple, a gentle coo of your own name whispered back to you, his low voice talking you through your first trip to heaven that night.

Now, you were not an easy lay. Never have been. It’s why David called you boring, and Cleo called you a prude. But right now? After THAT? Yeah… you’re not going home just yet.

You kissed him, and slowly pushed him onto his back, your hands wandering from his chest, down to his belly, before pushing slightly under his belt. You stopped, gave him a peck on his nose, and looked in his eyes for permission. He kissed you in consent, and your hand continued its journey, going under his belt, and the waistband of his boxers. The tip of your fingers brushed against his tip, and his breath hitched, fingers gripping your waist, his eyes shut tight, his mouth opened. You traced his velvety length to the stem and wrapped your fingers around him.

Damn… that’s impressive.

He moaned when you began stroking him, his hips rutting involuntarily, his head tilted back, his eyes scrunched shut, his breathing quickening. You pressed your forehead against his cheek, giving him open mouthed kisses on his jaw, his earlobes, his neck, as your hand did the best that it could to pleasure him, wishing that you were not in such an open place. His groans turned to moans, before disappearing into very stuttered breathing when he turned his head towards you for an all-encompassing kiss, whimpering and whining in your mouth as his hips stuttered, and hot, thick liquid covered your hand, his hands clutching at your waist and the back of your head. You kept kissing him, your hand continuing your strokes until he stilled it with his own and kept kissing him until his breathing relaxed.

He cleaned your hands and himself a little with the blankets, and the two of you just laid there in each other’s arms in silence for a while, before it got too cold for blankets, and he walked you home, your arm around his waist, your head on his shoulder, his hand around your shoulder, taking as much time as he could, not wanting to say good night.

---

Turns out, he didn’t have to say good night. You invited him in for a nightcap, and he eagerly agreed, despite knowing you didn’t keep any alcohol at your place. He woke up the next morning with you in his arms, his body sore from last night’s dalliances. It was as if both of you were making up for all the months you had spent together not doing the things you did last night. Neither left each other’s arms, Joel feeling glad he still had it, and so very glad for Tess’s help getting him… protection, which he had to run back to the truck for, praying to God the entire time that no one would run into him with his pants dangerously tented.

For every single time he thought he was in heaven, he was wrong. Last night, being inside you, that was heaven. The sounds you made, the way your body felt on his, the way you taste, your mouth, your hands on him, oh… Joel could die a happy man now.

He spent the first half hour waking up watching you sleep, happy that you said yes to a date with him, that you felt the same way he did, and happy for the oh-so-many-more-yeses that came out of your perfect mouth last night. He traced his fingers along your naked form, wanting to study every part of you. He panicked when he saw bruises on your hips. Shit, he had gotten too rough. He sat up, and leaned down onto your hips, trying to smooth them away with his fingers, when he felt your hands on his back, you shooting upright to smooth away the scratches you just realized was there as you woke up from his movements.

“Sorry, I was too rough with you,” both of you said to each other. He laid his head on your lap, laughing at your synchronization, giving your thighs sweet kisses as you laid back down and played with his curls, laughing at your sex injuries, before he crawled back up to you and captured your lips in a sweet, sweet kiss that quickly turned passionate.

It looked like you’d both be late for work today.

---

Joel had just finished making your cup of tea when a knock sounded on the door. You were getting ready for work, so, thinking it was Frank, he opened it, dressed only in his jeans.

It was David, whose face snapped shut at Joel’s appearance.

You peered at the door, wondering who it was. He asked if he could talk to you, eyes looking away, not really hiding his annoyance at Joel being at your place. Joel gave you your tea and went back inside to get dressed. You told David to sit in one of the lounges on the deck. He sat down, his elbows on his knees, waiting for the two of you to be alone before speaking.

Joel came back out, his thermos in his hand, and kissed you a sweet goodbye, telling you he’ll see you at lunch? You nodded sweetly at him, before kissing him again. Joel extended his hand at David, who stared at it, before taking a deep breath and shook it quickly before letting go. Joel left, going towards the Benny place, probably to clean up before Tess started hounding him.

You looked at David.

“I’m leaving Cleo.”

“Okay.”

“This whole revelation, it’s too much. I can’t be with someone like that. What kind of a person does that?”

“Okay.”

“Come with me.”

What?

“Come back to LA with me. We were so good together Sweets; we can be again.”

“Yeah, no. Thank you, though.” You didn’t even hesitate.

He stared at you for a while.

“What do you mean, no? We were great together.”

“What on earth are you on about? I was so boring to you, you left me for Cleo, remember?”

“Well, you put me aside for Benny! I was lonely.”

“He raised me! If you think I would ever put you before Benny, you clearly didn’t know me at all.”

He took a deep breath, defeated.

“Things haven’t been good, ever, with her.”

“And yet you cheated on me, with her. And asked her to marry you.

“Hmph… that’s just publicity. People love the idea of us together. Makes for a good story. She’s sleeping with the producer. How do you think she got this job? She can’t act worth a shit.”

“Wait, she was fucking the producer?”

“Still fucking him. We… erm, don’t have sex anymore. So, she has sex with someone else, I get the publicity I need to stay significant. Win-win!” he said.

You wanted to laugh. This was how low he had stooped? For fame? Wow. You were really glad he cheated on you right now. That’s something you never thought you would say.

“Also, my publicist called. Someone talked to the press. The world is about to find out Cleo’s past, and my… problem,” he said, his head down, a frown appearing on his face.

“What do you mean?”

“That old problem I had? The…” he looked around, leaned in and lowered his voice, “performance issue? Well, the drugs are not doing them any favour.”

“Did Cleo leak it?”

“No… I cannot prove it, but… that night I saw you at that bar? I had a… rendezvous with someone… I think it was her. I couldn’t get it… you know… and she asked for money in return for discretion. I didn’t give it to her… she got mad, I guess. My publicist said they paid her a lot of money for an exclusive. They’re trying to stop her, but… I don’t know, it’s a fucking mess.”

“I’m sorry. That sucks.”

“So, what do you say? Come back to LA with me? Please? I miss you. Cleo’s not you. She only thinks of herself. You are the only one for me, Sweets. Please say you’ll come back; we belong together.”

He took your hand in his, squeezing them, his eyes looking deep into yours. You cocked you head to the side, giving him your best ‘touched’ look, taking one of your hands and placing it on your heart.  

“David,” you said, your eyes boring into his.

He leaned in, eyes looking hopeful.

“Not even if you pay me.”

He let go of your hand, his entire body snapped back. He looked annoyed. How dare you not want him?

Just then, Joel’s battered, rusty, ratty old truck drove slowly by; the bed full of lanterns and folded table and chairs and cushions and blankets. He smiled and winked at you as he drove past. You blushed and gave him a shy wave.

“You’re with him, aren’t you? He’s the reason you don’t want me?”

“What’s it to you?”

He raised his eyebrows, “Never pegged you as someone who would hang around with his sort of people.”

“Excuse me?”

“Come on Sweets, ranchers? Pickup trucks? Middle of nowhere? What are you doing here? You belong in LA, with me. Come back to LA with me, please? We could start over. I’ll pay for whatever needs paying. Do you have a contract with these people?”

You shook your head, almost laughing at his belief that you would go running back to him.

“You’ve changed, Ames.” He got up. “If you want to spend your life in Hicksville, be my guest. Him? You chose him over me? Do you have any idea how many women want to be with me? And you chose that? Good God, Ames, how low can your standards get?”

He walked to the steps as his driver started his car. He turned around.

“Last chance, Ames. Now or never.”

“Goodbye David. Good luck with the dream career and… that…” you said, gesturing to his crotch.

He huffed and got into the car, giving you the middle finger as he did so.

Well, at least he could get that up.

---

Frank greeted you with glee as you went into the office. You cringed, thinking he was going to quiz you about last night. He showed you his phone instead. Headlines from a gossip column.

“Exclusive - Limp Landon and His Performance Issues”

“Cleo Savvant – Good Nanny, or Worst Mother Ever?”

Holy Shit. There were articles, videos, and the likes. You scanned the article for Cleo. “How ironic”, the article had said. “The woman who plays the good nanny who is the greatest mother ever turned out to be a heartless bitch who abandoned her own daughter in search of fame and fortune.” Damn… brutal. “The child unfortunately passed recently in an unimaginable tragedy, and our source have chosen not to disclose her name as a sign of respect.”

Thank God, you thought. You’d hate for the family to be subjected to the horrors that were the press. You felt a slight warmth for the source for not disclosing Sarah’s name. But if it was who you thought it was, your warmth for her only went so far. You wondered how much money they paid her? Knowing her penchant for money, it wouldn’t be a small amount.

You did feel bad for David, for a few seconds. But when you remember all he had done to you, and the things he said about Joel, yeah… fuck him. Out with you.

You placed your bag on your desk and turned around to get the tablet, ready for your round. But Frank was standing right there, a wide grin on his face, a cup of tea in his hand. Oh shit. This was it. He’s going to grill you about Joel.

“So, Dave Landon really couldn’t get it up, huh? Spill.”

You scoffed and made a face, come on, Frank, like you were going to tell him. You’re a lady. You wouldn’t talk about a man like that. That’s unkind. And extremely unladylike.

“That, or I hound you all week about your date with Joel, and if it’s got anything to do with how happy and sleep deprived you look right now. As does he today, just so you know,” he said, an evil smile on his face, sipping his tea calmly. “Your choice.”

Oh fuck.

---

You went into the chow hall, tired out from your lack of sleep and extracurricular activities, but also from your rounds. It had been a day. Chasing an injured rooster, wrestling your apron back from Callus and running away from Captain, the new stallion brought in for breeding who seemed to have fallen in love with you. It was awkward, that’s all you’ll say about it.

Joel came over and greeted you with a soft, lingering kiss, and you buried your face in his chest just to let your weariness melt away for a while, while he held you tight, his lips on your head. You finally pulled back, greeted by one more kiss from him, and happy, approving smiles from the gang, who kindly didn’t comment on your newfound contentment. Joel pulled a chair for you and went to the buffet to get you a plate of food.

“Joel?”

Everyone looked to the source of the voice. Cleo was standing in the doorway. She looked horrible. Her make-up free face was covered in tears, her shoulders shaking from sobs, her body all slumped and defeated. She walked towards him, sobbing her eyes out. She kept saying she was sorry, she was sorry, she didn’t mean to be such a bitch. She’s a bad mother, she’s sorry, she wasn’t there for Sarah, she’s so very sorry. She’s sorry she left him. Please forgive her.

You had to be honest. You felt for her. The woman seemed broken.

She ran to him, hugging him so tight he was taken aback, stunned at his ex’s action, he looked at you, not really knowing what to do. You were feeling so bad for her, trying hard not to imagine what it would be like to be in her place right now. In less than a few hours, the internet was abuzz with the story. There were already campaigns to cancel her, calls to fire her from the show. The poor woman.

You could see Joel softening, understandably. Even Tess looked like she felt for her. Joel placed your plate back on the table and put a comforting hand on her back. She pulled away from him, wiping her face with her hands, calming down slightly, albeit still shaking from her sobs.

And then she lunged at him, kissing him fiercely on his mouth, so much so, he fell backwards onto a chair. She straddled him, and began grinding on him, lips locked on his

Oh, Hells No!

---

Part 12

[tastic-in-its-finest]

Heyyyyy 💜💜

First of all I love your writing so muchhhh second I have a headcanon that Virgil would be emetophobic (fear of vomit) because of his time with Remus who kept teasing him about it (like making gagging sounds). Can you write Virgil getting sick when they're already older with the light sides and absolutely panics, and patton/Logan taking care of him??

Don't think about it

Thank you so much, I'm glad you love my writing <3 as for your prompt, I hope you also love this. I hope you don't mind that I continued off of the previous work (but this could probably be read as a standalone)

Summary: For years, Virgil’s had a fear of vomit. A fear that he would rather deal with by himself. However, luck is not on his side and shortly, everyone knows just how bad he fears it.

Word count: 6148

Warnings/Tags: LOT of mentioning of throwing up and actual throw up, descriptions of gross things, slight mention of bugs, snakes, blood, and guts. Also a panic attack

Ao3 | other work

...

The morning is quiet. An uncomfortably weird quiet that he has yet to get used to. But it's much better than Remus shrieking or destroying the house like he does every morning. So he really was just reveling in the perks of being accepted.

Who knew that when you’re less stressed you can actually enjoy the small things in life? Like his bed was abnormally comfy that he almost didn’t want to leave.

But he has family breakfast in the morning.

Virgil goes downstairs and stops at the last step to see a familiar scene in front of him. Roman often sat in his regular seat, shouting at a reasonable volume about his latest adventure or whatever recent escapade he had gotten Thomas into. Then there was Patton, diligently listening as he aided Logan with whatever’s on the menu this morning. Logan however, was always 100% focused on cooking, or if Virgil slept late enough, reading while sipping a coffee, cause unlike the other two, he didn’t talk while he ate.

Overall, pretty normal.

“Ah Virgil! Good morning. I need your opinion on something,” Roman turned around on his chair.

“Uh sure— What is it?” He was still getting used to people calling him by his actual name. It had only been a few weeks after all.

“Wellllll, Thomas was just talking to this cute fellow down the street, and I was just thinking that we should ask him out sometime. What do you say?”

Virgil blinks, “… Do you know who you’re talking to right now?”

“Is that a yes?”

“No! What if Thomas ends up breaking up with the guy, then it's just going to be awkward when he takes out his trash. OR not even that, what if he rejects Thomas and tells all his other neighbors that he’s a creep and they will never talk to him again!”

“Sheesh, alright alright! But…” Roman dramatically turns to the kitchen, “Specs! Do you believe that Thomas is at a good place in his life where he could start dating?”

Logan turns around confused, “Why are you asking me? I am not an expert on romance.”

“But if Thomas were to start dating, would now be a good time for him?”

“Well… I wouldn’t say anytime is a ‘good’ time. However, considering Thomas’ recent consistency to the schedule and his ability to complete tasks on time. Then yes, now would be a good time. It’s just a matter if he says consistent.” Logan muttered the last part.

“There! See Virgil? Thomas is ready.”

“It would still be awkward though…”

“Oh hush!”

Virgil huffs a laugh but quickly turns to get a morning juice from the fridge.

However, he stops before the fridge door hits him square in the face as Patton rustles in there, trying to find something.

“Oh, sorry kiddo. I’m trying to find some pickles but it's very jarring,” Virgil smirks, “Nah, you’re fine Pat. Didn’t you put it in the back corner?”

“Oh, maybe! But you know… while I’m digging through here, is there something you would like?”

“Just a caprisun.”

“Well, you’ve come to the ripe place.” Another witty eye rollable pun he must pretend not to like.

“Ha! I guessed it this time.” Roman hollers, “One extra sandwich please!”

Virgil rolls his eyes and smiles cause Roman has consistently failed to guess what he’ll drink in the morning. Thus, when he finally gets it, the extra sandwich is earned.

“Here you go!” Patton hands him a nice cold caprisun, which he wastes no time to open, “Thanks.”

With this Roman resumes his previous conversation with Patton, effectively taking the spotlight off of him which he’s joyous about. He also takes the opportunity to sit on an empty kitchen counter, sipping away.

When he gets a closer look into the kitchen, instead of Logan hovering over the stove and making sure it doesn’t burn down without him, Patton is. And he doesn’t leave the stove, not once except for his trips to the fridge.

It seems like Patton’s the one cooking this morning. Now, Patton wasn’t the best cook, he knew the basics, but he certainly wasn’t a cooking machine like Logan. While he was definitely learning with Logan teaching him every morning, he still neglected a few basic things like leaving the stove on after cooking. Virgil wasn’t one to judge though. The best he can do is manage the microwave and toaster which he’s mastered over the years. However, Patton was a fantastic baker, so maybe Virgil was a little hopeful to see cupcakes or cookies for breakfast like Logan would allow that.

He knew they were having sandwiches, leaning more into brunch than traditional breakfast. There was a lineup of tuna cans, a pickle jar, eggs, and slices of bread. Huh, tuna sandwiches.

They were trying to mix them in a bowl but the pickle jar was less cooperative. Virgil figured he should help out a bit, “You need help?”

“Oh, sure!” Patton handed it to him.

The lid was stuck tight but after a bit of tugging he managed to get it open.

Then a foul sour odor that he felt as if he could taste travels deep into his nose. He wanted to gag, he really did. How rotten were these? It made him feel like he was going to—-

Throw up?

He coughs as he puts a hand over nose and sets the nasty pickles aside. Patton takes notice, “Oh, do you not like pickles?”

“No, these just smell awful.”

Patton takes a sniff and cringes just like he did, “Agh, why does it smell that bad?”

“Possibly the fermentation?” Logan comments as he continues stirring, just like Virgil's stomach…

Patton and Logan continue discussing it, but he couldn’t exactly focus on the conversation because of the smell. Even though the pickles were far away, the smell continued to sting his nose and brew, like it was bubbling in his mouth as well.

When he stands up from the counter to sit away, he feels a wave of heat and dizziness upon landing his feet on the ground.

Oh no, he leans onto the counter for a little support, was he really going to do this?

A few steps in trying to get to the dining table, his stomach begins to drop. Great, the nausea is coming in. Don’t focus on anything else, just make it to a trash can (preferably away from anybody else).

The bathroom.

“They shouldn’t smell like that…” someone muttered.

“I think they went bad…” another mumbled.

”Hey Virge, where are you going?” He happened to make it halfway up the stairs until Roman had to say something.

“Uh, the bathroom.”

“Ah, alright?” Roman sounded suspicious. Why? He didn’t know and he frankly didn’t care.

After reaching the top of the stairs, with no one watching him, he runs to the bathroom and collapses over the toilet, right square, staring at the barrel of the bowl.

Just in case someone went upstairs, he waves his fingers which promptly closes the door and locks it next to him.

Alright, so, if he throws up, he won’t make a mess. That thought was both terrifying and slightly comforting.

~~~~

”Blegh! Blegh!!” Remus was gagging over the table, nothing was actually coming out of his mouth but Virgil couldn’t help but imagine it. Ever since Remus found out about Virgil throwing up for the first time, the boy wouldn’t stop asking questions about it and making those gross noises… he was starting to know why Dee told him to never tell Remus everything, but it was so hard not to. Especially when he had to explain why he wasn’t in his room this morning.

“Remus, knock it off,” Dee walked by, patting Remus’ head, who blew a raspberry in return. His gloved hands sets down a bowl of a brownish gray, gooey and clumpy looking thing… of food.

“Mmmmm, vomittt,” Remus grabs a spoon from the bowl and lets the vomit drop back down. A ping stabs his stomach, with that aching rumbling that he felt last night when he…

No, no, no, no, no, no, he didn’t want to throw up again. He really didn’t want to do that again. It felt so violating, like he couldn’t control himself. He couldn’t stop it.

“I don’t want to eat that,” he slid down on his seat so he didn’t have to see it anymore.

“It’s not actually vomit, Anxiety, it’s just oatmeal,” Dee tries to scoop some as it plops dead center onto his plate.

“But Remus said—“

Deceit sighs, “I know what he said but believe me, it's not that bad.”

“Yeah, it's not actually vomit,” Remus scoops a bit onto his plate, “It does look like it though,” he mumbled. Remus starts scarfing it down, and a bit of it drizzles from his lips, “Who knows, maybe one day you'll throw up and it'll never stop.” His stomach turns at the thought.

“And what would you throw up? Bugs, snakes, blood, or guts?” He covers his ears but he can still hear Remus’ loud volume through muffles. Dee says something but he feels too sick to hear it.

“I could imagine there would be a point where it wouldn’t be food anymore. Just pure spit, blood, and organs if you couldn’t stop it.” He didn’t want to imagine this, it didn’t make him feel good.

And then he’s hit with it. A wave of nausea… His empty stomach won't twist anymore and his mouth feels dry and icky, awaiting what's coming. He has no choice but to vomit again.

Virgil stumbles out of his chair and tries reaching a toilet, but he doesn’t get far before it happens right on the carpet.

~~~~

To keep his mind off of it, he summons Thomas’ IPod with his old music that he listened to during his emo phase throughout his teen years which wasn't all that bad. Maybe even criticizing the music will take his mind off his stomach and he won’t throw up all together.

But no, the music along with the current situation made him think of less important things instead.

~~~~

Virgil is slightly laying down on the couch, right at the end, so if anybody sits down he’s not sandwiched between them. Even so, he was reading a philosophy book so he's ‘cultured’ as Dee puts it. Like he needs to read this to understand why moral obligation is bad. Just say you don’t like Morality, Deceit.

Either way, he wasn't going to put himself through this without listening to his trusty Ipod that Thomas got recently. Not only that but Thomas had been dabbling in some emo culture too that he’d taken an interest in. And Virgil loved it. So he had also been wearing some of the makeup that Thomas experimented with. And it may look bad or hideous but if anybody had anything to say about it then they can—-

“Ooooo, cool makeup. Are you trying to die?” He peers from the book to see Remus upside down, sprawled over the rest of the couch with his legs hanging off the end, crazy unsettling eyes and smile as per usual.

“No, why did you say that?” He’s very close to kicking his head.

“Hehe, when people die, they put makeup on them to make them look less dead for open caskets. Is that what you’re doing?”

“No.”

”Why not?”

“Cause I’m not dying.”

“Not yet.”

Virgil sighs and tries to find his previous spot, but Remus reaches over with his finger and drags down the book.

“Do you know what we are having for dinner?”

Virgil shrugs.

Remus laughs, “Oatmeal.”

“Remus.”

“The grey one.”

“Come on,” Virgil huffs. The book won’t rise because of the finger.

“It was a little funny wasn’t it?”

“No.”

“The way you fell out of the chair was really—“

”—You really won’t let it go, will you?” The glare he gives does nothing. He doesn’t know why he expected it to. Remus does a small cackle, “Nope!”

Virgil sits up a bit on the couch, “I was like five or something.”

“Me too! And you really did throw up a lot. It was a little impressive.”

“Seriously, shut up.”

“No, I’m being serious too. You could throw up a lot more now,” Remus tries to poke his stomach but Virgil blocks him with the book.

“I wanna see,” his smile widened. However, Virgil was reserved to not ever under any circumstance, think or even try to throw up. Especially not for Remus’ amusement. Which made him sick in itself.

He didn’t want to think about… the bile, the smell, or the raspy throat afterwards.

“Uhhhhhh Virgie?”

Blink, blink, “Hm?”

“Were you considering it?”

“No,” he never wanted to. But he knew this wasn’t going to be the last time Remus brought up the subject.

~~~~

At this point, he should just do it.

It's going to happen. Anytime now.

He didn't know if he wanted it to be done quickly just to get it over with. Or if he wanted to prolong this because Virgil knows that with his luck it's going to happen when he least expects it. Not like this is the first time.

~~~~

He immediately regretted opening his door. A foul, and inconceivable smell floods his nose. And he would have sulked back into his room, but someone tugs at his sleeve.

“Virgie-poo, just who I need!” It’s Remus, dragging him by linking their arms together and skipping. Well, more like dragging Virgil who was resisting at every chance he got.

“What do you need me for? Why don’t you ask Deceit?”

“Cause, he’ll probably say no. But either way, I made this game especially for you and me!” Oh boy, this is going to be a disaster.

Remus stops at the foot of the kitchen which is where the smell has intensified. But alas, he lets go of Virge. By this point, he’ll just be dragged again if he turns around so he tries entertaining whatever Remus’ idea is just to make this a little bit enjoyable for himself. Cause he was either, 1. going to be subjected to something he doesn’t want to see/hear/touch/smell or 2. he was going to be the butt of the joke of whatever idea this was.

But for now, the only questionable part of the kitchen was a mysterious pot where the smell must be immiting from. Imagine spoiled milk, meat, and mold together while coming from a wet dog after a mud bath, is what it smelled like.

Upon closer inspection, he is dealing with option 1. and possibly option 2. He gazes inside at this concoction, which is as colorful and chunky as he expects. It’s even boiling too. It looks like vomit…

Virgil backs away and covers his mouth along with his nose to keep from smelling it anymore.

“Alright! Now, put on some gloves, don’t let it touch you. We need as much as we can so they can drink it,” Remus snaps latex gloves on both hands.

“I’m not drinking that.”

Remus blinks for a bit, “Well, I was going to hand it out to Roman’s villagers, but if you want to drink it you go ahead,” Remus seemed hopeful.

Virgil tilts his head, a little confused, “But… then why are you involving me in this?”

Remus begins to chuckle before settling down, looking amused, “Prince poops a lot has been a real meanie to you lately, so I thought doing this and seeing his face while his villagers implode would be fun!”

“Now!” Remus claps and turns around back to the pot, “Let’s get it ready so it doesn’t look suspicious,” Remus rubs his hands together, but Virgil cannot lift a hand without being attacked by the smell, not to mention the bubbling and colorfulness of the contents.

“I can’t,” Remus turns around and seems to grasp his problem. He could imagine how sick he looked, “Oh! It doesn’t smell that bad—” Remus couldn’t finish his sentence before Virgil ran away.

Now unlike the many other times something like this has happened, he managed to reach an actual toilet. It took him by surprise, one moment he feels like gagging, then he realizes something is actually coming up with it. He didn’t throw up much though, just bile. But it was particularly acidic in his throat.

“You look great.” Remus appears and leans on the doorway.

“Was this your actual plan?”

“Uh no? But this is a welcome surprise,” Remus is just as close to the toilet as he is, he peeks a look at the liquids. And he summons a spoon…

“Don’t. Seriously.” Virgil slams the toilet lid and flushes much to the disappointment of the duke.

“Are you ready now?” Remus asks. There was no way out of this was there?

He sighs. He was going to need a nose plug and some shades.

~~~~

Either way, he's much safer here next to the toilet than anywhere else. One flush and he doesn’t have to smell it or deal with it like he would with a trash can.

No, that was much worse.

~~~~

It was just like when he was a child. When he woke up, the room was dark and non-navigational. His room was often messy too cause he hadn’t really been listening to Deceit scolding him over his disorganization. But at the time, it made sense cause even so he knew where everything was. At a time like this however, he wished he listened.

He trips over a pile of laundry as he ducks for his desk. He doesn’t let it bother him and throws his chair to the side as a result, feeling under the desk hastily with one hand and covering his mouth with the other. And the vomit wouldn’t stop, it was beginning to drip down his fingers cause it was slowly slipping out of his mouth. When he finally finds the trash can, he lets it all out, not like it was much, but enough.

The smell itself is enough to make him feel nauseous all over again, along with all the food he had thrown away in this trash can.

Great this is perfect, he wipes his eyes as he starts crying. Maybe it was the acidity of the vomit smell or it just sort of happened. But really, he felt gross. He is covered in vomit (on his one hand but still), and smelling it like it's a hobby. But god forbid he tries to clean up and gets the urge again. Then he has a mess on the carpet, which he doesn’t even know if he could clean up without constantly thinking about it.

But he wasn’t going to ask Deceit. He wasn’t going to be treated like an obligation. Or have Remus find out. He doesn’t need the extra energy.

And that by itself made him feel even worse. Because vomit or not, he was alone.

He was all alone.

~~~~

There's a small knock on the door which he can immediately tell is Patton.

“Hey Virge, are you ok in there?”

“Yeah.” He sounded way too pathetic.

“Oh, alright. Well, breakfast is ready, it’s egg-stra special!” That makes him smile a bit. Although, he forgot how oblivious Patton could be.

“Okay.” He mumbles as he hears the footsteps walk away.

He’s just going to sit here for a little longer. Just in case.

He stands from the toilet and his back stabs him as punishment. Bending over on the hard floor laying on his knees for a good ten minutes clearly wasn’t isn’t good for him.

However, the dizziness isn’t as intense as it once was as the smell and horrible thoughts eventually subsided. Nevermore, he leans on the sink and examines his face as it feels flushed and gross even without throwing up. And he wasn’t wrong.

His eyeshadow was smudged pretty badly from rubbing his eyes and even… was he crying? He looked like he did, the makeup lines down his cheeks were proof of it.

He remembered sniffing a bit and his face feeling wet, but he didn’t realize he was crying.

Virgil rolls up his sleeves and sighs, this isn’t healthy, not at all. What adult cries over throwing up?

But how is he supposed to stop this though? Just forget every single horrible experience he had throwing up? All that teasing and humiliation?

He turns on the facet and throws cold water on his face, which removes some heat from his face and provides a wave of relief.

Remus was just being Remus. But he was being a big baby about this. He should just get over it. Virgils not a kid anymore so he shouldn’t act like one. When was the last time Thomas threw up as an adult?

He summons a pallet and begins getting to work with a hasty makeup job.

This was just pathetic. He’s grown up. He’s seen and smelled a lot of things throughout the years (that may or may not have made him sick) so he shouldn’t be bothered by something as small as spoiled pickles.

When he looks back at himself again, he’s slightly happier. Not perfect, but not a mess anymore. And he isn’t going to cause a mess either, right?

Whatever, he’s probably been gone long enough, he shouldn’t keep them waiting anymore.

It seems as if Virgil didn’t miss much.

While Roman and Logan are already settled at the table, Patton is still messing around in the kitchen finishing up his sandwiches. While all of them are conversing, he tries not to engage to not draw any unwanted attention to himself because explaining why he was gone is more embarrassing than what actually happened. His plan doesn’t work however, because just going downstairs is enough.

“Greetings Virgil. How are you feeling?”

”Uh fine,” that was not convincing at all. You would think he would be a good liar by now since he was raised by one.

“How are you?” He responds back, and maybe Logan didn’t notice much because all he says is, “I’m satisfactory. However, I fail to see why creating another web series would be a good idea for Thomas. So I’d like your opinion to show why I’m right and Roman’s wrong.”

“Really!?” Roman interrupts mid bite, “The only opinion you need is mine because Thomas needs to let his creativity out there! He can’t just be sitting here all day doing nothing.”

“Thomas doesn’t sit around and do nothing all day. He already has plenty of creative projects and I can’t conceive why it would be a good idea to add another when he already has enough on his ‘figurative’ plate,” Logan concludes by taking a bite.

“I agree with Logan,” Virgil comments, and effectively leaves to the kitchen since Roman would ask why and he does. However, Virgil ignores him because Logan has already taken over in his place and Virgil’s already wasting his time.

The ticking time clock of his stomach isn’t going to wait.

Please just let him get a sandwich, eat, then retreat to his room so he can be prepared again if he feels the need to throw up.

Rounding the kitchen, the first thing he sees is the dreaded pickle jar, the same one that started this. They didn’t cook with it right?

“Um, are those the same pickles?” He points, and Patton perks up from where he’s about to leave with two tuna sandwiches.

“Oh! No. Roman summoned new ones, they’re much better!”

“Ok, cool,” Patton smiles as he leaves for the table.

Virgil gets a plastic plate, in case he wants to head to his room and finish the food there and so he doesn’t go back down for dishes. One sandwich, because two might make him feel sick and three is out of the question. And a piece of a grape vine, because fruit is good for you.

He sits down and absently listens to the conversation mostly dominated by Logan and Roman arguing about the same topic. This feels much longer than usual, like time slowed down for this moment only. Probably because he’s eating pretty slow and only focusing on that.

As much as he would like to scarf down his food, it would probably upset his stomach more which is counter productive. It's a balanced game of eating fast enough that he’s making progress but slow enough that his stomach isn’t further disturbed.

Even then he feels it building up, or maybe it's all in his head? Either way, it's not good.

Breathe in, breathe out.

Don’t think about it.

Breathe in, breathe out.

It’s all in your head.

Breathe in, breathe out.

Your stomach is twisting because you’re hungry, just calm down.

But Virgil’s stomach starts to turn in an all too familiar way.

He needed to stop this, and quickly. But his dinner was already coming up and it wasn’t going to wait for him to run to the bathroom. Hell no, he slaps a hand over his mouth, he was not going to throw up in front of everyone.

He gags down as it starts coming up, no, it takes everything in his body to swallow it down, as it grates down his throat and his hand is left shaking.

When he looks up, all conversation is gone with all eyes on him, extremely concerned. God, he looks down at his plate, he really wanted to crawl into a hole and die right now.

“Were you… just about to?” Roman motions with his hand acting as vomit and Virgil takes one moment to look up and nod. With so many eyes on him it was especially hard to look at and maintain eye contact, cause this situation was the pinnacle of embarrassment and he didn’t need their faces of disgust, especially Roman’s. “Ohhhh no, nope, I cannot deal with throw up,” he heard Roman get up next to him and walk into the living room, “Sorry Virge, it's nothing personal. If you throw up then I’ll throw up!”

Virgil scowls, “It’s not like I want to.”

“Oh, Virgil. If you’re sick, you can stay in your room and rest. Maybe give you something else to eat?” Nice offer, but Virgil was not going to let Patton coddle him right now.

“No, no, it's fine. It’s not this,” he gestured toward the food, “I just…” did Virgil really know why he was sick? No, he wished. But he knew where it started from…

“It’s just uh.. pickles?” Yep, just gloss over the years of fearing even the mere thought of throwing up. That is surely smart.

But how do you bring something like that up? Especially to people who just learned your name? “They didn’t smell that good and you know, it hasn’t made me feel good so I’ve been worried about…”

“Projectile vomiting?”

“God Logan, you don't have to say it like that!” Roman shrieked across the living room.

“Well, I think the both of you are taking this situation too seriously. Yes, the idea and action of throwing up is particularly unpleasant. However, simply thinking about the idea and action of doing so, will often make a person feel more sick and increase the chance of throwing up rather than doing so because someone isn't feeling well. Especially if there is a fear of vomit.”

“But wouldn't trying not think about it make you think about it more?” Patton questioned.

“Exactly. It's like—“ A hand slaps over Logan's mouth in a forceful way. Apparently, he was going to say something that he shouldn’t. Great, another reminder that Deceit is a control freak.

Logan is taken back but he seems to understand as he removes his hand, “Well, nevermind. It's like… when Roman has a consistent idea for Thomas but if you continue to force the thought out, the more repetitive and persistent a thought becomes like the new web series he wants to introduce.”

“But… this is the first time I mentioned it?” Roman chimes.

Logan sighs, “This was meant to be an allegory about your b-r-o-t-h-e-r, but I digress.” Well, that made sense. They are particularly close to Thomas’ consciousness and he didn’t know about the others yet. Like Virgil would ever want them to see him.

Virgil coughs, “Well, yeah. But it's not like you can just not think about it when you don’t feel well,” he tries to argue.

“Then why don’t we distract ourselves?” Patton said a little bit unsure, looking at Logan for assurance, who instead looks dead into Virgil’s eyes, “If you’re not feeling well then the best course of action would be to engage in practices to reduce any nausea and effectively rest.”

“Mhm,” Virgil’s stomach doesn’t agree.

“And Roman, you should do the same as well if you are beginning to feel any queasiness,” Logan stands up from his seat, gearing towards the kitchen.

Roman gasps, “I am not queasy! Just a little unsettled,” the prince huffs as he plops onto the couch.

Virgil takes a deep sigh, he can’t believe that just happened. He almost vomited in front of everyone. How embarrassing?

He looks at his half eaten sandwich that he doesn’t feel compelled to eat nor the grapes.

Just breathe. Your stomach hurts but so what? You can deal with it.

But maybe he can’t. And as much as he tries to swallow it again, it won’t stop. No matter what he does, when he’s sick, he vomits. And someone always has to see and never let him live it down. Always clean up after him.

Now is not any different than any other time.

But as he turns to his side anticipating to vomit, there is a trash can? He would have remembered if it was there before. There are hands at the side holding it to him and a watch on one of its wrists.

He isn’t given time to think about it anymore before he vomits into the trash bag and spits the remains of it as well.

“Breathe,” it's not his head saying it this time, but Logan. He looks up to see Logan’s the one holding the trash can but he doesn’t look displeased to be doing so.

Virgil huffs a laugh, “Nice save teach,” he can’t talk without feeling the urge again. However, it quickly leaves this time.

“Thank you. How are you feeling?”

He swallows, “It’s going to happen again,” his knee is bouncing.

“It’ll be ok Virgil. I need you to breathe for me.”

He tries and fails, like his breathing is on pause, “I can’t.”

“Yes you can… Please look at me.”

Virgil squints at Logan, he can’t focus on his entire face so he tries staring at his glasses.

“Okay, good. Now breathe in through your nose and out through your mouth,” Logan follows his own instructions as a demonstration. This should be easy Virgil, come on.

He breathes in through his nose, and as a result, gets a whiff of the vomit steaming from the trash can.

He coughs into the trashcan again, nothing comes out but he couldn’t help but gag.

“Sorry.”

“It’s ok Virgil, here… um,” Logan looks up to someone else who swishes by to get another trash bag. Virgil feels bad just staring at Logan like his life depends on it because it does. If he doesn’t, he’ll just hurl again. Ignoring the other pair of glasses that are changing the trash can, he thinks it's Patton who completely disregards the foul one. Now he has a fresh can. Perfect for another round.

He groans at the thought, shaking his head.

“Don’t worry Virge, it's just for the smell,” that wasn’t Logan, it was Patton.

“Mhm, we are going to help you breathe right now. Let's restart.” Okay.

Breathe in through his nose, and he takes in the fresh air and breathes out through his mouth which tasted absolutely awful.

“Uh, padre, teach? I got some water to rinse it out.”

“Thank you Roman,” Logan takes it from Roman and hands it to him. Before they explain why he needs it, he looks up to the prince shying behind them. While he expected him to be disgusted, he didn’t expect him to look worried but also not looking too good himself. He gives him a curt nod however which perks up the prince's mood a bit.

Washing out his mouth is as awful as an experience that he expects it to be, but he spits it into the new trash can.

And afterwards, he can properly breathe, without the guidelines he needed before.

And now the embarrassment has tripled to levels he didn’t realize he could experience.

Virgil sets the trash down and leaves it on the ground.

Logan spoke up, “This was more serious than I thought it was. I apologize, Virgil, for not realizing sooner.”

“You— you don’t have to apologize. Besides, you caught it before even I did.”

“Yes, but unfortunately, we could have done more for you.”

“Buuuuut! I have an idea,” Patton smiles, “Why don’t we make you something to help with your stomach?”

Logan hums, “Ok then. Patton, would you please ensure it's one of these options?” Logan hands Patton a newly conjured list, which he skims over and perks up, “Alrighty.”

Logan turns his attention away from Patton, “And Roman?” Virgil turns his head and realizes that despite Roman standing up earlier, he was sitting with him now.

“Um yeah?”

“You have more knowledge on Virgil’s favorite media so would you please pick something he’d enjoy. However, I perfectly understand if you would like to leave because of your reaction to vomit.”

Roman blinks, “Ohhhhhh,” he has a mischievous smile, “Thank you for worrying but no I’m completely fine.” Roman sings as he runs towards the couch.

”Wait, what are you guys doing?” Virgil croaks.

Patton passes them as he heads to the kitchen, “We’re going to help you feel better kiddo.”

“Uhhh how?” he waves his hand.

“By giving you a good ol’ self care day!” Roman proclaims as he flicks through the tv channels.

“Exactly,” with the snap of his finger, Logan has a unicorn onesie on.

“Is this really appropriate?” Virgil asks.

“Onesies are always appropriate.”

“No! I mean…” he takes a moment to breathe, “What if I just don’t get better? Like I can’t stop vomiting. It’s not going to be fun.”

Patton walks up and kneels to him, “Kiddo, we want to help you get better. No matter how sick you are. Family takes care of each other.”

“That was so cheesy… but Patton's right!” Roman snaps and materializes a beast onesie from Beauty and The Beast, along with that, the tv showcases lists of Tim Burton movies.

When Patton gets up he takes off his cat onesie from his shoulders and snaps it on.

They all look at him expectantly.

While he feels slightly pressured to go along, he is also aware that they probably won’t be mad if he says no. So he does the most reasonable thing he can do and snaps his fingers, “Fine…”

He wears his jack skeleton onesie and Roman shrieks with excitement, “Ok, perfect! Now, we just need some blankets and candles and Tim Burton.”

“Candles may increase nausea so it depends on if Virgil would like some.”

“Uh, that's a nice thought and all but I really don’t want to smell this anymore,” he gestures to the trash can as the acid begins to stink.

“Oh right.”

…

The couch cushions are quite comfortable (even though he was forced not to sit on the top of the couch) but at this moment he was glad. He was glad he was being piled with warm blankets and able to borrow Patton’s heating pad which he should definitely use more often. He was glad he had an empty trash can available in case, and Logan who was ready to change it with no issue. And Roman who provided a nice distraction through commenting over the movie, which he would challenge on occasion.

Instead of a tuna sandwich, he was given a banana, toast, and a package of applesauce which didn’t upset his stomach and tasted pretty good.

While he was skeptical at first, Patton gave him some peppermint tea and Logan of course listed the benefits of drinking tea, hydration, and assured him he had nothing to worry about.

And he didn’t. His mind was empty of things to exactly worry about.

So he was glad. Very much.

“Hey Virge,” Patton whispers to him.

“Yeah?”

“I just want you to know that you can tell us anything. We’ll always be here for you, ok?” Patton smiles.

Virgil returns it, “Ok...”

But more than anything, he felt lucky.

Lucky to be surrounded by people that he knew cared about him. They weren’t bothered that he was sick or ever scolded him for his fear. They were here.

He was lucky they were here.

[vilavi-2]

Day 2: LoA Damian x Hero Raven

Damiraeweek 2023 @damirae-week

I'm working on a continuation of my Nanda Parbat story from Chap 23 of Feather Collection. I've still got a lot to get through, but here's a sneak peek! (sorry it's a lil rough)

-

It’s the middle of Raven’s second winter in Nanda Parbat, just as fiercely cold and cruel as the first. With the Himalayas locked in an icy grip, most stewards and soldiers have been reassigned to warmer, more productive posts. Only a token force of loyal elites remains at the compound to keep the elemental damage at bay and protect it from anyone foolish enough to brave the snowed-in passes, icy climbs, and whiteout stormy skies. And should all those defenses fail, it would only bring them face-to-face with Ra’s and Qalb al Ghul, ready to defend their seat of power.

It’s the best winter of his life, Damian decides, pale green eyes locked implacably on hers. Raven narrows her own back at him before dropping them to the fan of playing cards in her hands. She bites her lower lip thoughtfully, and he can feel the slight tap of her foot next to his thigh. She has so many tells, it’s hard to pick his favorite. Still, he doesn’t let his gaze wander to appreciate the bare legs on either side of him, or the flash of Raven’s chest and collar through the loosened pankou knots of her blouse. He instead sits cross legged in front of her with deliberate stillness until she plucks two cards from her hand and lays them face down on the mattress. 

“Two,” she says with casual confidence. Damian deals them to her obligingly, smirking at the victorious glint in her eyes when she studies her new hand. It’s not that Raven is a bad liar, or easy to read. It’s that it never even occurs to her to hide from him anymore. As it should be, beloved. Damian looks at his own cards, and exchanges three of them, face devoid of expression as he returns to scrutinizing her.

“Well?”

“I’m in,” Raven replies in that same confident tone. “Robe.”

His lips tick up slightly and Raven betrays a slight hesitation, instantly looking back at her cards as if to make sure she saw them right. 

“Call. Shirt.” He motions to her to show her hand and she bites her lip again before slowly turning them around. A flush of diamonds. Damian gives an approving nod. “That’s good,” he tells her. But judging from her light frown and the accusation in her violaceous eyes, she knows she’s beat. He shows her his hand, finally allowing himself a victorious smirk. Full House. “But not good enough.”

Raven’s glaring — pouting, really — but she still undoes the knots down her front and lets him push the garment off her shoulders. Only four rounds in and she’s down to her bra and underwear. Damian hasn’t even gotten his robe off yet.

"How did I let you talk me into this?" she grumbles, hugging her chest and rubbing her arms. A hearth and several well-fed braziers keep the worst of the cold out, but her skin is still breaking out in gooseflesh, disrobed as she is. Raven’s practically sitting in his lap already, so it’s easy to pull her the rest of the way, settling her against his chest and curling both arms hard around her. She burrows into him, as she always does. 

“I have no idea why you agreed,” Damian answers, smiling to himself. “You have no aptitude for games, ya amar.” She grumbles an incoherent, indignant sound. He drops a kiss on her bare shoulder. 

Nanda Parbat is on winter rations. Rice and millet, salted meat, pickled vegetables. None of her precious teas or anything resembling a delicacy has been able to get through in months. There’s a few cases of amber wine held in reserve to help prevent anyone up here from getting too bored or stir crazy. Not anyone’s idea of a good time.

Except that Raven's here, with him, and unlike last winter when they were still bound in secrecy Damian doesn't have to worry about a future where she might not be. Her crown hangs on one of their bedposts, glinting in affirmation of that fact.

Definitely the best winter of my life, he thinks.

[aajjks]

hair: https://pin.it/9XZXmstqa

four months preggo y/n: https://pin.it/7C3RumYGk

seol’s outfit: https://pin.it/4GWSRDGd4

what’s the name of your baby boy alina? 🙂

mommy issues!JK

you are four months pregnant and the happiest you’ve ever been. your belly has gotten a lot bigger and so has everything else. you had to donate a lot of your old clothes from your earlier term because now your jeans won’t button and maybe your ass got fat too because you can’t move them past your thighs. so, jungkook has been bought you a lot more dresses for your pregnancy but don’t get me started on your new sense of taste.

don’t judge but you’re a sucker for plain cream cheese. yes, the bagel cream cheese and you eat with everything. strawberries and cream cheese, cucumbers and cream cheese, pretzels and cream cheese, and the only chips you eat are lays cheddar and sour cream. you absolutely hate pickles, eggs, and yogurt because it makes you gag to the point of throwing up. how does jungkook handle it? easy. he just goes with the flow and buys you whatever your little pregnant-self desires.

you’re still hiding your pregnancy but now that your tummy is a lot bigger, it’s not easy to hide it anymore. your 4-month belly is playing peek-a-boo with your blue sundress, so someone is bound to find out that you’re pregnant and you have a feeling that’s what jungkook is going to ask you since he’s dying to tell everyone the good news.

“Baby..”

“yesss??”

“Seol will be with eunwoo so we can go to the doctor’s appointment, and maybe find out the gender???”

“it’s time already? okay. i laid his outfit on the bed. i just need to put my shoes on and i’ll be ready”

if you could, you would stay in this position forever—jungkook’s caressing your bump, your head is leaning on his shoulder, it’s all picture perfect. soon, you’ll be a family of four…

after seol is all freshened up, jungkook helps his son get dressed and curiously, seol asks his father “daddy? why is mommy’s tummy so big?“

~🫧

Jungkooks eyes widen and he feels his cheeks heat up at his innocence. Jungkook exchanges a look with you before answering.

“Mommy’s tummy is so big because she’s hiding a surprise for you in it.” Jungkook kisses Seol on the cheek before winking at you.

You blush, “okay sweetie let’s go to uncle and auntie hmm?” Jungkook picks him up from the ground and “yn- my love come on- we will drop him and then we will go straight to the doctor.”

And Jungkook has a surprise for you, that he can’t give you right now, but of course eunwoo knows about it.

“Hey babe where are you going? Your pendant is not in my drawer, okay? No you can’t go through it- we’re late let’s hurry.” Jungkook grabs your hand and takes you all to the car.

••••

“No yn you can’t meet A-Jin right now- look at you- they will know you’re pregnant and I want them to find out after we find the gender!!!” Jungkook excuses himself to drop Seol into the cha household.

Ever since you’ve been pregnant, your maternal instincts are through the roof quite literally you have been so affectionate with every single one of the babies you can find In Busan,

“HEY MY FAVORITE BOYS!” Eunwoo greets them with a huge smile on his face while carries his one month old baby in his arms.

“Is yn here with you?” Eunwoo asks as he kisses seol’s cheek while Jungkook snatches A-Jin from eunwoos embrace.

“yeah she is but you know I’m not letting her be here because I need to discuss something with you.”

Eunwoo nods in understanding. “Oh.. so is it the one from the picture you sent me last night?” He asks, making sure that even his wife cannot hear him.

Seol runs into the house as Jungkook cuddles A-Jin to his chest. He has missed holding a baby so much and now he will get to hold one of his own again soon.

Jungkook smiles, “ofcourse I think it’s perfect and it’s so pretty is it not?”

Eunwoo gives him a thumbs up. “dude she’s gonna be all over you.. we all know diamonds are a girls best friend.” He winks.

And jungkook laughs out loud before giving the baby boy back to eunwoo.

“Okay she’s waiting for me in the car. I’ll see you later!”

••••

The drive to the hospital is so much fun because you both keep on talking about your child and he can tell that you’re a little nervous because it’s your first time and frankly speaking. It’s like his first time too because he did not find out about Seol until he was born so this kind of experience is very new for him as well.

“Ahh yn I’m telling you we’re gonna have a girl!” Jungkook coos, his hand resting on your stomach

He’s just so obsessed with your belly he has a lot of pictures of you in his phone.

“We’re here at the hospital! Let’s go.”

[starcrossedjedis]

hiii hiii i am back (on my searching for opla oc crumbs voyage bc my exam-taking ass needs to live through y’all rn), and again i would like to screech abt Sun bc umm?? how could you give her so much pain?? also i need to know more abt her power?? like what does the sairen sairen no mi do and is it the fruit that gave Sun her full name or is it just a coincidence since it sounds very much like siren (if that was intentional i would like to steal your brain for naming oc purposes thank you /j); pls and thank you and i hope you feel better soon!! (if you’re still feeling under the weather that is..?)

Oh babe you can come here for crumbs anytime, it be keeping the hyperfixation going 🤩

I hope you're doing well aside from the exam taking. I'm actually alright, even though rn I am feeling more under the uterus than the weather 😂

Let's preface today's deep dive by me reassuring you that you do not - not - wanna be me when it comes to naming OCs. Literally, for like the first week her name was "either Lya or Sun", followed by a few days of her being "probably Sun but WHAT THE FUCK AM I GONNA DO ABOUT HER LAST NAME???" 🤣

And THEN as I proceeded to look for her special power was when it all came together -

I knew I didn't want to give her a Haki (mostly because she is a Shanks!OC and he already is The Conquerer's Haki Dude), so devil fruit it was. I spent a day or so going up and down and back up the list of known devil fruits and didn't find a single one that tickled my pickle. But - like so many times over the past weeks - it was @bravelittleflower to the rescue, because she pointed me to the mythical zoan devil fruits who basically turn people who eat them into mythical creatures and I decided that "fuck it, Imma just make my own"

By that time I had already gotten it in my head that I wanted "Lya or Sun Whatever-The-Hell-her-name-is" to be a more feminine, sensual character (maybe because Nami, at least in the beginning, was a little too Not Like The Other Girls for my taste ^^'), so sth of the nymph/dryad/mermaid/siren variety seemed like an obvious choice.

Google translate told me the Japanese word for siren was "sairen", making her fruit the Sairen Sairen No Mi and my brain just took the jump from there to "Sun the Siren / Sairen Sun" and since I still hadn't found a last name I liked, I thought a moniker that was actually given to her in the brothel at Shells Town would be a great place holder. It also makes for a pretty great pirate name tbh. ^^

(she has a last name btw, a last name we will learn later on and it comes with ✨drama✨ attached)

When we start the story, Sun doesn't know who gave her the fruit and she isn't really all that clear on the true magnitude of her powers. When we meet her, she simply has to touch men (and probably some women, too 😏) and tell them what she wants them to do.

(that did come in handy when teenage!Sun was looking to avoid chores at the bar or when harbour whore Sun left the less savory clients with the distinct impression that putting their hands on themselves rather than her would be the height of extasy 😈)

Her power doesn't work in active fight situations, which is why she is also able to hold her own with knives (although Zoro sees a lot of room for improvement and - much to Sanji's dismay - takes it upon himself to train her xD).

Maybe it's also her power that makes it easy for her to make friendships (one of the reasons Nami doesn’t like her at first is a kind of envy at how easy it is for Sun to fit in with this new group of people while she has to keep her distance). It could be that it makes people more open to her, but it's actually sth that makes her less self assured rather than more, because there is always that little bit of doubt about wether people care about her or if it's just her power at play.

I am also looking to expand on her powers as the story progresses (one version of the "Sun and Shanks reunite" ideas especially has great potential for Shanks trying to teach her to really tap into her ability).

"And how exactly do I do that?" - "You use it on me." 🥵

[fauna-n-fiction]

Bridgerton Watch Diaries S1E5

Welcome back to an unemployed, out-of-touch, charlatan watching Bridgerton for the first time. I am not part of the fandom. I haven't read the books. These are my first impressions, thoughts, and maybe even predictions about the show as I watch it. (I do know some things just because I'm chronically on Pinterest).

Season 1, Episode 5

I am very easily made to feel awkward and the scene of Daphne reaching for Simon's hand and him pulling away in front of a people who just said they'd make a fine family is KILLER!

It is so heartbreaking to see people with Alzheimer's/Dementia. I have people in my own life struggling with this and it is as heartbreaking in real life.

I still think the queen is weird but I am enjoying getting a deeper look into her. You can tell just from the shortest of conversations that her and the king were true love and I am sad for her that she is losing him.

Props to Colin for being a gentleman and a sweetheart. I can't much say the same thing for his brothers😂 Benedict has gotten himself into a slight bit of a pickle, hasn't he😂

It was a very romantic wedding night, to be sure... But... Why did Simon launch himself to the other side of the bed the second they were done?? Like, I would not feel good if my partner did that to me... Maybe it's just me.

And now, OUTFIT OF THE EPISODE:

Lady Bridgerton, as per usual, looking stunning. I love the delicate details and the pink ribbon. She is beauty, she is grace. I love her.

I also want to talk about Eloise's dress. It's a common idea, I believe, to dress the independent/do-things-on-my-own woman of a historical piece in clothes that push this idea. Some movies do it really badly, but it is done so beautifully here. I've been trying to put my finger on why Eloise always looks so different to the other girls and the fact that it took me this long to figure out is an ode to the wardrobe department's skill. Notice that, I believe almost always, Eloise is wearing something that calls to mind a suit and a cravat, like the men of the day would wear. She doesn't ever show her chest, she always has this cropped suit-like bodice with lapels and buttons and always has a cravat. It's just a beautiful show of her character without being OVERBEARING with it. Really wonderfully done.

Then, MOMENT OF THE EPISODE:

When Hyacinth asks Daphne how it feels to fall asleep and Eloise just jumps in with this banger.

I am not really a romance girly. The waxing poetic of how much someone means to you, it's just not for me. I prefer reading this kind of thing when it's something thought in one's head, not something said out loud. I don't know why but I do understand how one might swoon at the words Simon says to/about Daphne.

And, MVP OF THE EPISODE:

Rose is not only beautiful but she is faced with the promotion of becoming her lady's head maid and she is stepping up to the challenge. She isn't bulking and she is putting her lady's happiness above everything else. What a G.

[kinetic-elaboration]

January 25: Modern Miller 14.2

I've finally written enough for another installment of this fic (the word count bar is very low, but I still don't always cross it haha).

Miller-centric, Mackson, past Briller, previous parts on the tag #the hospital starter.

*

He’s just gotten another text about the totally out of left field character development in chapter ten when the bell above the entrance rings. The place is starting to get busy with the first wave of the lunch rush, so he doesn’t bother to look up. 

Then he hears a familiar voice: Dr. Jackson, chatting with the barista about the day’s special. 

Griffin, such a fucking meddler. And he’s worse for falling it--for wanting to be meddled with, despite his protests. 

The summer’s stretching out long ahead of him. It was easier to admit he wanted nothing of it, and nothing of him, when all of their meetings were just chance encounters, and maybe he should just own it now, at least to himself, that this one is not. 

Dr. Jackson catches sight of him, smiles that warm good-bedside-manner smile and waves. Miller raises a hand back. Then he turns back to his phone, as if this alone would make their meeting here appear casual and completely un-orchestrated and unplanned. 

A few minutes later, he hears that same friendly voice again, this time just above him, asking, “Can I sit here?” 

The place isn’t even that busy. But Miller glances around as if it were. Then he moves his half-eaten sandwich out of the way. “Yeah, of course.” 

“So this is... how many times we’ve run into each other this summer?” Dr. Jackson asks, as he sets his pickle aside at the far edge of his plate.  

Miller holds up his hands as if protesting innocence. “Hey, you sat down with me.” It’s exactly what a guilty party would say, but Dr. Jackson laughs it off. 

“Usually I just grab something fast to go, after making up some excuse about why I can’t just go to the cafeteria for lunch--” 

“Because hospital cafeteria food sucks,” he finishes, and Dr. Jackson pauses for a moment, and then grins. 

“It really does. But Clarke told me I should take a long lunch.” 

Meddler. Blatant meddler. 

He shoves his phone back in his pocket. “And you do everything that Clarke tells you?” 

“Don’t most people?” 

That's a good one. He’s quick.  

Miller concedes the point with a half-nod and a smirk, and Dr. Jackson continues, “She said she’d cover for me if I wanted to sneak out for longer. Her words.” 

What he should be doing is getting Clarke a summer fling, because she obviously has way too much time on her hands. But out loud, he just says, “You do realize she’s a sophomore in college. If some sort of emergency happens, I don’t think there’s much she can do.” 

[ragingbookdragon]

He’s in the middle of the checkout line when the phone in his pocket buzzes. He ignores it at first, but a glance towards the fifteen year old employee lazily scanning the items of the first of five in line, him being the sixth, tells him it won’t be any time soon before he’s there. He checks his phone, eyes widening when he sees, “SOS” written across the screen. And from Price’s wife no doubt. Three jars of pickles shatter on the floor along with a bag of chips and a pack of ground beef, and he sprints for the exit, car keys already in his hand as he prays nothing is wrong with her.

It’s about twenty minutes before he gets to Price’s flat and pulls into the driveway, already scanning for any signs of struggle or attack. There are none visible so far and he grabs the glock he has in the glove compartment for emergencies before he gets out and runs for the door, banging on it. Footsteps sound behind it followed by a baby’s cry and the door pulls open to reveal Price’s dearest wife, disheveled in dirty clothes and tangled hair (he’s like eighty-seven percent sure there’s baby vomit in it), with swelling tears in her own eyes as she holds a screaming eighteen-month-old.

She takes one look at him before breaking down much like her son, blubbering loudly, “I can’t get JJ to stop crying, Simon.” Tears are streaming down her face as she cries, “I’ve tried everything to get him to stop. I’ve tried feeding, burping, napping, changing his diaper, everything. He just won’t stop.” She reaches out with her free hand to him. “Simon, please, I can’t stop him from crying. Help me.”

SOS, indeed, he thinks and immediately puts the safety on his gun, putting it on the side table as he steps inside, takes the baby, and closes the door behind him. JJ stops crying as soon as Simon starts hushing him and muttering, “Giving your mum trouble, ay? What are we gonna do about you, Banshee?”

JJ’s cries subside as he coos at the masked man and she starts crying harder. “How’d you do that?” she bawls. “Oh God, I’m a horrible mum. I can’t stop him from crying ever. Only Jonathan can. He never cries when Jonathan is here. Only when I’m with him.” she’s almost inconsolable, rubbing harshly at her eyes as she blubbers, “He hates me. My babe hates me.”

“He doesn’t hate you,” Simon sighs and gently takes her in his free arm, putting his chin on her head to calm her more; he rubs her back. “It’s okay, mum” he murmurs. “Newborns aren’t easy. Gotta take it in stride.” He looks at her. “Why didn’t you call Price?”

“Because he’s so busy,” she cries into his black sweatshirt. “He’s so good with him when he’s home and I know when he goes into work, he’s busy and I don’t wanna disturb him.”

“He’s JJ’s dad. Besides, don’t lump the old man in with other men. He’s a good one.” Simon pulls back, free hand wiping her tears. “I’ve gotta treat you like Soap, don’t I?” she only looks at him as his fingers brush her under eyes. “Go eat and shower. I’ll take care of JJ for you.”

She quietly nods, lips pulled in a upside down “U” before she leaves, disappearing into the kitchen. He starts bouncing JJ lightly, talking to him. “Bub, you gotta stop being a banshee to your mum. You’re gonna drive her crazy. And if you drive her crazy, your dad is gonna go crazy and then I’m gonna go crazy.” JJ just laughs and tugs at the strings of his sweatshirt before seeing if they’re edible.

Simon walks to the kitchen and watches as she stands in front of the refrigerator and shoves food into her mouth. He almost laughs, almost, as the memory of a drunk Soap shoving roast beef out of the pack and into his mouth comes to mind. Still though, he watches as she eats until she’s no longer hungry, then bypasses him and goes to her bedroom. The shower starts after a while. It’s almost two hours before she comes out and peeks her head from the doorway.

Simon is there with JJ, playing with a stuffed action figure Gaz had gotten him when he was born, making up stories about himself taking out enemies. JJ is enjoying it, giggling along and she smiles sadly before closing the door.

***

Price gets home around seven-thirty and when he sees Ghost’s car in his drive, he’s confused and a little concerned as he walks through the front door. Setting his things down, he walks around the corner into the den and Simon is there on his couch watching some show about ancient warriors and weapons, JJ drooling onto his sweatshirt.

“Simon?” he calls, and the man lifts the remote in a greeting. “Where’s—”

“Bed. Asleep,” he interrupts. “Been asleep since two.”

Price walks into the bedroom and sees her curled up on his side of the bed, clutching his pillow; he smiles at the sight and closes the door, walking back into the den. “How long have you been here, Simon?”

“Since eleven-forty-five.” He rubs JJ’s back. “Little guy’s been driving her crazy. Crying on her.”

“Shite,” Price curses. “She kept saying everything was fine.”

“Oh no, she’s lying. Thinks she’s a bad mum ‘cause he cries so much with her.” He looks over. “I think he just likes us soldiers, yeah?”

The old man sits beside down on the floor and gently runs a hand through the brown hair on his son’s head. “Yeah, never cries when I take him in.”

“You want me to take him for a few days so she can rest?” Simon offers. “Me and the Banshee will have a good time.”

“I don’t think she’d mind that. Well, she might. She’s awfully protective of the lad.”

“Of course. It’s her babe.” Simon inhales and exhales. “Give me a blanket, yeah? May as well stay the night.” Price nods and rises, handing him a blanket before reaching for JJ and Simon swats at him. “Hands off my godson.”

“He’s my kid,” Price argues and Simon glares at him.

“And I’m holding him. Try tomorrow if you can pry him from me.”

Price rolls his eyes but raises his hands in defeat, content to kiss JJ’s head and, “I love you, son,” before he squeezes Simon’s arm and disappears into the bedroom to cuddle his wife and sleep peacefully.