#Also AO3 was down and I wanted to read h/c and had to make the thing I needed to read

[weloveakechi]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Persona 5 Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Akechi Goro & Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist Characters: Akechi Goro, Persona 5 Protagonist Additional Tags: Fluff, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Canon-Typical Violence, Status Effects, Freezing, Cold, Goro's having a rough day, Akechi Goro is Bad at Feelings, This is literally just an excuse for Akira to take off his coat and put it on Goro, nothing else really, Just a soft little moment between them, mild edits, we die like mne Summary:

Joker turns, face a mask of fury for a moment before he sees Crow and the look is wiped away with relief, “You’re okay.”

It’s said like that’s the only thing that matters. Like that is all he could think of in the moments between attack and cure. Like his world stopped when  Crow just ended up incapacitated in his stead. Like he's going to do something about the fact that Crow is going to spend the next half hour just trying to stop shaking and be useless if they come up against anything else.

Quick shoutout to @vulpesorion for inspiring this with this little gem. I know I threatened to write a fic in your tags earlier, and this is not that fic (that fic is coming) but enjoy! 

~

Crow growls, flinging his saber up to block an attack from Scathach, shoving the Shadow back. As he does, Violet leaps forward, Cendrillion flashing behind her, blades spinning in the fluorescent light of Maruki's Palace.

He takes that moment to cast his attention around him, swearing under his breath at the number of Shadows remaining. He hates it when they’re ambushed. It wouldn’t have happened at all if Skull and Oracle hadn’t been arguing about some inane show they’d been watching and distracted the group with actual yelling.

Not that he’s complaining about an actual challenge. He can handle far worse than this on his own. No, the problem is it’s a waste of time. They need to be working their way through Maruki’s Palace, not standing around here dealing with a third wave of enemies trying to pick away at their health and resources.  

The Thieves are clumped in groups, even their rear guard joining the fray as the heavier hitters like Panther and Skull find themselves worn down. Crow’s doing his best to support Violet, and keep her standing as they face off against the Scathach. To be honest, she's doing a lot of the work, since his own curse skills are null in this instant.  

“Debilitate!” He calls on Loki to fire off the spell, using this as an opportunity to help Violet get more experience rather than just hanging back and supporting the others. She tosses him a smile, and aims her gun at the Shadow, firing off a few shots in quick succession to send it tumbling to the ground.

Crow lets himself grin, and considers aiming his own pistol to finish it off when he hears Oracle.

“Someone help Joker! He’s stunned!” Her voice comes from above them as she examines the field of battle.

Crow’s attention snaps up, eyes going to the last place he saw their leader. There he finds Joker on his own, slumped onto the ground, stars practically spinning around his head. He hisses with frustration. The fool probably split off to try and deal with the Alilat all on his own, like the martyr he is.

“Finish it off with a heavy hit!” He snaps at Violet, “Then join Panther and Noir!”

That’s all the direction he gives her before bolting in Joker’s direction. None of the others are even close enough to get to him, let alone ready to abandon their own fights. That would only end up either leaving their teammate alone or they’d have Shadows trailing them to their rescue.

The monolith like Shadow is already spinning, glowing as it prepares to fire off a spell at Joker.

“Loki!” Crow yells, sending his Persona ahead of him, bursting forward and blasting it with a Riot Gun by way of distraction.

The Shadow stops spinning for a moment, wobbling in the air as the attack lands. Still he feels like he’s attempting to fly across the whole room, even if it’s far less than that in reality. The burst of damage only manages to eat up a few seconds before Alilat is spinning again. Crow pushes himself harder, attention half on the Shadow, half on Joker, still on the ground.

The Alilat pulses, charging a little into its spell, and giving Crow just enough time to make it to Joker’s side.

“Idiot!” He yanks the boy to his feet, “I take my eyes off of you for one second and this happens!”

Gray eyes blink at him for a moment before a smile slips up over Joker’s lips. As he’s coming back to himself, Crow feels the temperature around them drop, the air snapping with power for a moment before the blow comes.

“Move!” He yells, shoving Joker back.

Joker stumbles, then leaps as he catches onto the spell, flipping backwards just in time.

Crow attempts his own escape, but the burst of air is too fast, and his momentum is in the wrong direction from shoving Joker. Mist wraps around him in an instant and his world stills, the air particles almost hovering in place. It moves like it has a mind of its own, encasing his arms and legs, toroso, and whole body, firm and freezing, so cold it burns .

Then it snaps into place, and Crow can’t even scream through the pain as he feels ice overtake his lungs and throat. Everything’s frozen, limbs locked in place, air solidified into something solid, too firm and unyielding. It’s like he’s looking out through glass, his eyes burning with the effort of trying to blink. Everything around him should be silent, but he can hear the rush of wind, the crackle of ice snapping as it eats up any liquid around it.

He’s stuck like that for an eternity. Part of him knows that it is moments, but to be frozen and unmoving feels like far longer. Chest screaming at him to take in a breath. Heart sluggish against his chest, like the ice around him wants to stop that too. Then the air glitters in front of him, like stars raining down, and then the ice is gone, his limbs free as a gentle warmth brushes over him. ‘Amarita shower’ , his sluggish mind supplies. Joker’s favorite skill when they hit any type of effect lately.

Crow drops to his knees, body wracked with violent shaking. He coughs, feeling the way the ice in his throat breaks up to splinter out against his glove. His lungs feel raw. Noise returns in a rush, the fight still going on. He thinks he can hear Joker, but he can’t quite lift his attention from the floor, vision still wanting to waver like he’s still looking through ice.

He has to get up. He needs to keep moving, but he’s so cold.

Finally, he shoves his hands against the ground and stands, blinking at the empty space where the Shadow was. Joker’s right there too, hands clenched into fists by his side, Raul fading behind him.

Joker turns, face a mask of fury for a moment before he sees Crow and the look is wiped away with relief, “You’re okay.”

It’s said like that’s the only thing that matters. Like that is all he could think of in the moments between attack and cure. Like his world stopped when  Crow just ended up incapacitated in his stead. Like he's going to do something about the fact that Crow is going to spend the next half hour just trying to stop shaking and be useless if they come up against anything else.

He tsks, “I’m fine. Worry about the others.” The words come out as cold as he feels.

They have almost wrapped up the rest of their fights. Shadows dissipating across the room as the various groups find victory. Crow is happy to see that Violet did indeed join the others, and wasn’t still dealing with the Shadow he’d left her with.

Too soon they’re on the move again. Crow hangs back further than he normally does, pretending like he’s keeping an eye on their backs. In reality he’s simply trying to stop shaking. His bodysuit might cover him head to foot but it is not warm. Not like a coat or proper cloak would do. He’s not sure even those would fix the way he feels the chill even in his bones. Like that spell had not just encased him in ice, but turned him into it too.

“I sense a safe room!” Oracle’s voice is singsong as she announces her discovery.

Crow is not the first one through the door, though he’d like to be. He slinks over to a row of cabinets away from where the group has huddled around a research table and lets himself slip to the floor, too chilled to bother with standing anymore. No one notices his dip from sight, they’re all far too busy passing around cans of Starvicks or Earl Green and digging out the bandages to patch up after that ambush. He’s not the only one to walk away banged up.

His mask feels cloying, stuck to his face in a way he hates. He can’t quite breathe right with it in the way so he shoves it up, atop his head instead. Theoretically he knows it’s not the source of his problem, but having it gone helps somewhat. He curls forward, arms wrapped tight around his raised knees, heedless of what the others might think if they see. He’s long since stopped caring how anyone views him. He’s still shaking, and wants it to stop, that's all that really matters. It’s bound to clear up soon, he knows that. He’s been frozen before and it’s never fun, just another thing to push through. He only needs a few minutes without the sound of idiots in his ears or the threat of a looming fight. Then he’ll be fine.

Something heavy drops over his back and shoulders, warm and weighty. He looks up as Joker flops down beside him, his own arms bare without his jacket covering them.

Crow scowls and moves to shove the jacket off, but Joker just shakes his head. He pushes his own mask up so his face is clearly visible, exhaustion lines his face in contrast to the alert look he normally wears.

“Just let it warm you up. As thanks for, you know.” He shrugs.

“For saving your ass?” Crow raises an eyebrow.

White teeth flash at him, “Exactly.”

The temptation to throw the jacket in his face is real, but even draped over his shoulders it's doing wonders chasing away the chill. He drags it tighter around himself, letting Joker’s leftover body heat still stuck to it seep into his own skin. It smells like him, curry spices tickle his nose just hovering over warm, familiar, coffee.

“This too.” Joker says as he fishes a thermos out from one of his seemingly never ending pockets. The Metaverse truly is a wonder.

The Leblanc coffee is something Crow wants, but doesn’t need. He pushes it back, “I have plenty of SP.”

"For the chill. It’s still warm.”

He hesitates, They don’t really use recovery items for everyday needs in the Metaverse. They’re too valuable, especially if they run into more problems like the ambush they just dealt with or a particularly powerful enemy. As adept as Joker is at making coffee, there’s only so much he can brew and pack for them ahead of time. But his chest is still rattling, and he can’t forget the taste of ice on his tongue.

At last, he takes it, and unscrews the top. Just the scent threatens to thaw the rest of the ice in his veins. His first sip feels so hot against his throat he almost spits it back up as the liquid eats away at the chill he hasn’t been able to shake. Stubbornly, he swallows it, and downs another gulp, hoping to force himself into adapting to the heat.

He’s just tilted the cup up to his lips for another, much smaller, more reasonable, sip, when he feels the brush of weight on his left shoulder. He turns his head down to see Joker leaned over, eyes shut, chest rising and falling in deep, even, breaths, hands limp in his lap.

Crow freezes again, stilling on his own this time rather than as part of an attack designed to kill him. He’s not sure he’s ever seen Joker fall asleep like this, let alone against him. Perhaps one of the other thieves, like Skull or Panther. But not him. Never him.

Not with what’s between them.

His grip on the thermos is tight, air rattling against his ribs, freezing air on the window of a room only just starting to warm up. Gentle heat radiates off Joker, his bare arm brushing Crow’s covered one, warm puffs of air from his lips weaving their way into Crow’s collarbone through his suit. It’s like Morgana has decided to sleep on his lap, or the kitten who hangs out on the set of Good Morning Japan, he can’t move for fear of ruining this moment.  

He shouldn’t trust him like this. Accepting him back onto the team was enough. More than enough after his betrayal. After he’d tried his very best to kill him not once but twice. They are, were , enemies. No sane person would get angry over him the way he had. Would offer this much comfort against a temporary discomfort with his jacket and valuable supplies.

And they’d certainly never fall asleep against him.

Joker hums, not really saying anything in his sleep, and nuzzles a little closer, hair brushing at Crow’s collar. He kind of wishes he’d taken that off too now, just so Joker wouldn’t accidentally scratch himself on the metal.

“Fool.” Crow finds himself whispering gently, too much fondness laced in his voice.

It takes a little work, but he tugs the end of the coat out from under Joker’s shoulder as gently as he can to stretch it over the other boy. It’s not quite big enough to engulf them both even huddled together, however Crow has warmed enough he doesn’t totally need its full weight. Not with living warmth settled against him.

He watches him for a long time, coffee between his palms cooling as it’s exposed to the air, but he doesn’t really mind. Finally, he takes a slow sip, eyes locked on Joker in case even that much movement shakes him awake. When it doesn’t he lets his head fall back against the pristine white cabinets to finish off the drink. It’s still warm, not burning hot like it had been. Either that or he’s acclimated finally.

Too soon now and they’ll have to get up and move again. Keep picking their way towards the center of Maruki’s Palace. To the end of this whole charade. Too soon will he have to say goodbye to Joker again, let him in on the secret he’s been cushioned from so far. Too soon he’ll have to pray that weight doesn't crush his friend, or freeze him with indecision. But all of that is still in the future, even as rapidly as it approaches. And for now, he’s content to sit here, slowly warming up as the closest person in the world to him gets some much needed rest.

[whoopsyeahokay]

Alphabet Soup

summary: prompt fill. the journey of a clandestine love affair at several stages because Wally Clark craves what he can't have and refuses to keep his hands to himself. and you live for it.

(AN: this'll be a multiple-oneshots deal—out of order—with daily additions until it's complete.)

🛎️prompt - Wally Clark NSFW alphabet.

pairing: Wally Clark x fem!reader

warnings: smut. AU - modern setting. romanticized toxic behavior. grey!Wally Clark. cheating. egregious use of the word 'baby'.

bon reading, frens

___________________________🧿

Alphabet Soup - P

P is for the personalized pleasure Wally loves to dote on you. He's a giver like that. What makes you happy makes him happy and he never holds back once he has you alone. Wants to treat his pretty little passenger princess right.

And, damn, he can't hold back when it comes to you. Has to stop at Starbucks and grab your favorite drink before he parks up the street, away from prying eyes. There's a gift in the backseat; something that caught his eye at the mall on Tuesday when he and the boys went to the arcade. Spent his whole paycheck from Reggie's Auto Repair on it without regret.

He can't wait to see you in it. Can't wait to get his hands and mouth all over you, eat you out through the lace, grip the ribbon in a tight fist to deepen the curve of your spine as he fucks in to you.

You make such a beautiful picture under him.

Wally waits, leaning on the hood of his dad's convertible, and greets you with a lopsided smile when you finally sashay up to him, gorgeous, draped in chiffon his favorite color. He drags you into him with his hands on your ass and pins you against him so you'll never get away. Kisses you deep and dirty until he has to stop before he bends you over the nose of the car and treats your neighbors to a show.

He parts with a sweet peck to your lips, opens the door for you, and winks when you notice your drink in the cup holder.

Forty minutes later, Wally's got one hand on the wheel, the other two-fingers deep inside you, pumping tempo to the music as the car charges down a country backroad. Wind whipping your hair, mouth open in pleasure as you pant for more, oh God, Wally, don't stop.

"S'that good, baby?" He says, slow, dark with promise, "Like it when I get you wet like that?"

He's hard, excited for the reward he's planned for himself after he makes you cum. Park in the trees near Castor Lake, tear open the crotch of those cute, baby-doll briefs you opted for, and sink into you from below as he sits like a king in the driver's seat.

And then he'll dress you up, wrap you in the violet lace and ribbon he bought for you, and play out every fantasy he had when he slipped the cashier his credit card.

🧿___________________________

also available on AO3!

A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z

[mrs-russ]

NSFW Alphabet with Keegan P. Russ

Word Count: 1,493

Keegan x Fem Reader

Tags: Smut, Nsfw, P in V, Oral

Source

Inspired by

AO3

A/N: A little warning before you read this. this is my own interpretation of Keegan and how I see him. my opinion on what he likes and doesn't. My vision may be different from yours, so please keep that in mind while reading, but either way, please enjoy :>

A- Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

not too big on aftercare, but it’s definitely there. he’d stay inside you for a few seconds as you both come down, his eyes on yours, making sure everything is okay. “you okay, kid?” he asks with a slight smirk on his face. he’d lie next to you, pulling you to his chest, inhaling your scent deeply. “i hope i satisfied you”

B- Body Part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Keegan is OBSESSED with your thighs and ass despite the size. he could grab them all day, squeezing your ass as he fucks you from behind. “i just want to bury my face between these pretty thighs of yours, doll.” he’d kiss and nip at your inner thighs, watching you squirm as he teases you.

for you it would probably be his hands or arms, watching his muscles flex as he works or his strong hands gripping yours. not to mention he knows how to use those fingers of his. they’re not too thick, but he knows exactly how to curl them to get you to whine his name.

C- Cum (Anything to do with cum)

He loves it when your cheeks puff slightly as he fills your mouth with his cum, watching you swallow his seed is one of his favorite things. “atta girl, every drop” he’d coo, wiping your lips of his essence. “next time, i’m filling that cute pussy of yours”

D- Dirty Secret (Pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

he loves it when you take control sometimes, his hands on your hips as you bounce on him. “that’s it, just like that” while he thrusts his hips upwards. you’d keep him still, pushing him into the mattress as his grunts get more desperate “gonna make me cum so fast”

E- Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Keegan knows what he’s doing, although he hasn’t had a lot of partners, every touch he makes is catered to your needs, making sure to listen to and watch your cues. every time your moans get louder or your face contorts in pure bliss, he takes notes, loving the way you react to him.

F- Favorite Position (This goes without saying.)

any position as long as he’s inside you. but if he had to choose, he’d lift your ankles up to his shoulders, grabbing your thighs and driving into you as deeply as possible while talking you through it. “mhmm, that’s it, taking me so deep like a good girl”

G- Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

more serious in the moment, he takes being your provider and lover very seriously, making sure to satisfy your needs. but in certain situations he’s definitely goofy.

H- Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

he cares about being clean, so he’s well groomed, but not bald. he has a happy trail from his belly button all the way to his his crotch, nothing to messy.

I- Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

definitely intimate. he’d whisper assurances into your ear, holding you close and not wanting to let go. he’s not too sensual or sappy, but he can be.

J- Jerk Off (Masturbation headcanon)

he likes masturbating, but not as much as being buried inside of you. when he’s or away or overseas thinking of you, he recalls the way it feels to be inside you, the noises you make and the way you writhe with pleasure. his thumb stimulates his tip, spreading his precum across his cock, telling himself how badly he wishes to be inside of you.

K- Kink (One or more of their kinks)

knowing this man, a daddy kink. he looooves it when you call him daddy. “yeah? wanna say that again, princess?” as he smirks, loving the way you whine his nickname. “say you love it when daddy fills you”

L- Location (Favourite places to do the deed)

bedroom, couch, counter, anywhere. although he probably wouldn’t be too big with public things, if he gets needy enough he’d fuck you in the mcdonald’s bathroom, covering your mouth so you don’t make too much noise. “quiet, doll, don’t want anyone to hear my girl moan”

M- Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

when you tease him. sending him texts, pictures, or even just provocative movements/words. if it’s in public, he’d subtly whisper in your ear “just wait till your at my mercy” and then he’d pull away, smiling slightly as if nothing happened.

N- No (Something they wouldn’t do, turn-offs)

something that would hurt your feelings/you in general. he’s okay with ass slapping and biting, but nothing that could hurt you too bad like kn1f3/gunp1@y etc. degrading is okay sometimes, but it’d be hard on him if it were too much, thinking he’s hurting your feelings, not wanting you to think he’s using you.

O- Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

giving and receiving. pleasing you is his favorite things, and he’s damn good at it. he loves looking up at you as your hands grip his hair tightly, feeling your thighs tighten around his head and your hips buck into him. “so sweet, like honey” he’d murmur, his deep, raspy voice vibrating against your clit.

on the other hand, he loves it when your mouth is full of his cock. he watches your eyes water as he fucks your face, his hand gently gripping your hair. “you can take it” he’d assure, but he’d always make sure he’s not pushing you too much.

P- Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

both. he’s a flexible guy, (maybe not physically…) he can be fast and rough, slow and sensual, but he mostly enjoys fucking you until you shake.

Q- Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

keegan is okay with quickies, early in the morning before leaving, or late at night before sleeping. but he’d prefer to take his time with you, teasing you until you beg for his cock inside you. quickies aren’t too often, but if he needs you right then and there sometimes he can’t help it.

R- Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

down to experiment, but nothing too risky. like i said before i don’t think he’d like putting you in a position that could hurt you, or just anything that you wouldn’t like. but if your one to suggest it, he’ll probably be more then open to it, unless it’s too violent.

S- Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

Keegan has STAMINA. he’s in the military, after all. he could probably last a good 2 rounds. it takes him a decent amount of time to cum. he’d maybe even make you cum twice before he does once. “you can take more, just a little more” he’d pant, his thrusts getting erratic as he feels you tighten around him again.

T- Toys (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

doesn’t own any toys from himself, but he has some for you. maybe a vibrator or two, a blindfold, even.

U- Unfair (how much they like to tease)

keegan is a BIG teaser. he loves listening to you beg, your hands desperately grasping him as your breath quickens. “tell me what you want, babygirl.” as his hands slide down your body, tracing the edge of your panties. “you want me here? hm? beg for it.”

V- Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

he isn’t too loud, but he definitely makes noise. grunts, groans, maybe even growls.

W- Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

he adores it when you wrap your legs around him, slightly trapping him in place as he thrusts into you. “keeping me close, hm? my cute girl”

X- X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants)

8 inches even, (20.3 centimeters) definitely circumcised. he’s not too girthy, but definitely not skinny. he’s wide enough to stretch you just to the right amount.

Y- Yearn (How high is their sex drive?)

based off of everything i’ve said, it sounds like he has a high sex drive, but surprisingly, it’s not too high. probably a little less then average.

Z- Zzz (… how quickly they fall asleep afterward)

depends on how long of a day he’s had/how long you guys fucked for. if it was a quickie, he’s perfectly fine afterwards, maybe a little tired but good enough to go back to work. if it’s a normal session he isn’t too tired, but could go for a small nap. but if you guys were REALLY going at it he’d pull you close afterwards, probably falling asleep mid conversation within the next 20 minutes.

A/N: i’m going crazy.

[chosoguapo]

HOLLY JOLLY CHRISTMAS husband!choso x blkfem (s/h) ⤷ content warning: husband!choso headcanons (christmas themed), fluff, multiple creampies implied, matting press, dirty talk, squirting, pet name usage — bunny & baby, implied that y’all have kids.

signed mumu . . . this is apart of @hiraizens A WHITE CHRISTMAS collab. just to let you all know the reader is going to be described as black and having black features. yes, i am perfectly fine with someone who isn’t black reading this. all i ask is that you are respectful and don’t make me feel uncomfortable in my own space or black spaces <3 (also “s/h” refers to she/her pronouns). wattpad link — ao3 link.

HUSBAND!CHOSO that doesn’t like you having to work. its not that he doesn’t think you are capable of keeping a job. he just takes comfort in knowing where is precious bunny is at all times. coming home to the kids tucked in and you in the kitchen in that beautiful nightgown around your figure. just imagining you doing any kind of simply tasks can make him get a hard on at the office.

HUSBAND!CHOSO, who enjoys dressing up for christmas. he doesn’t particularly care for holidays in his own regard, but if it makes someone he loves happy. then he’ll go all out. of course you two would be mr. and mrs. clause while the kids were your elves.

HUSBAND!CHOSO, who likes to fuck you slowly while your dressed up in your sexy christmas themed lingerie. he doesn’t want you to have any visible markings while out in public — even though you’ve told him multiple times that it’s okay. he just doesn’t think it’s right to mess up a beautiful body such as yours.

HUSBAND!CHOSO, who comes home late after staying for a annoying three hour board meeting on chirstmas eve. coming through the door with stoic facial expression while wiping down his face from the amount of stress he was feeling. his mood immediately changes once he sees you and the kids snuggled up on the couch.

HUSBAND!CHOSO who loves teasing you. with the hassle of preparation that you’ve been doing for christmas. he hasn’t been able to tease you without the kids interrupting your private time. finally with them being away and he could be able to touch in all the places he wanted to put in the open.

“you feel so good bunny” choso cooed in your ear. it been a while since he felt how good your walls are around his dick. he had been fucking you for hours, not giving you a single break. “please choso, i c-cant” you begged, feeling your legs aching from the matting press position you were in.

“please what, baby? you know you have to you use your words.” he teased. choso knew exactly what you were implying, he’s just so intoxicated by how by how sensitive your body is from the multiple orgasm you’ve had tonight. “it’s too mu-“ you were cut off by another deep thrust from choso in the middle of your sentence.

he slightly grins from your reaction. “just one more for me baby, i know you can do it” he whispers. one of his hand grouped your boob, toying with your stiff nipple. his other hand rubbing on your juicy clit. choso was making you feel like you were on a ecstasy trip that you didn’t wanna come down from. a shaky nod at him gave choso all the affirmation he needed to keep going. “that’s my pretty girl.”

HUSBAND!CHOSO, who’s favorite thing to add into the mix of your pleasure is that toy you keep hidden in the bottom left drawer. your bare naked body lays on choso’s chest as he reaches for your pink dildo that he held as a special surprise. choso cuts it onto the highest setting, “you can handle this can’t you bunny?” he lustfully says.

you were too tired to even give a actual response to his question. opening your legs wider as a “yes” for him to enter the dildo into your pussy. your fists tangled around the sheets, with tears further ruining your already runny eyeliner. just from the vibrations from the you could feel your orgasm coming in a matter of seconds.

your body tensing while laying on choso, turned him on so much. he couldn’t help but also get his hands on that pretty clit of yours. “mmm baby” you moaned out. your fingernails gripping into choso arms while did thrusts to the movement of his fingers. he knew your were about to just fork how anxious he could tell you were.

cupping your face with his other hand, he leaned his face closer to yours. closing the gap by locking your lips together. your loud moans being muffled into each kiss, while choso rubbed your clit faster. you began feel dizzy as the overwhelming sensation you were feeling became to much. pulling away from the kiss, choso tells you “you’re doing so good baby” to encourage you to cum. without you even realizing jets of of squirt released on the bed and choso’s fingers. bringing his finger up his mouth, choso sucks all the juices from his fingers. “i love you” he says as he reaches for the towel on the bed side dresser to clean up the messy, messy sex you two had.

🏷️: @sheluvshiro @xeniray @bimbx @getogasm @sintiva @takemichiluvr @prettygirlsloveprettypeople777 @venusflytrapstar @tsumuz @chrollohearttags @180-fuck-me @blessedfatui @gyarubunny @blakbleh @imnotevenhereagain @swinginprunegothcop @eddiebunnie @av-sos @dic3dt0mat03s @respectfullyangry @lavishmalfoy69 @spookyy-gracee @sat-rn @strawberriemuffins @mimi321us @narutofuck @igetchildsupport2 @si00p @harlequins-gambit @eclpsess @cretaceouss @hangeswife69 @magicalfiresoulland

[mayajadewrites]

Moth to a Flame: Levi Ackerman x Reader

C H A P T E R S E V E N: W A L L

chapter summary: You and Levi reach a point of no return. You need closure, and he needs to make a decision.

ao3

The boiling hot water hit your skin like grenades. The water trickled down your body, cleansing you temporarily of the filth you're feeling. You wish your thoughts were clouded with Levi. You wish you could have all of your attention solely on Jean.

Levi Ackerman proved that to be difficult.

It's your first day back at training since your injury, and Captain Levi did not let you have it easy. Showers after training are your favorite – you can scrub away all of the sweat, dirt, blood, and tears from your body.

You wrapped a towel around your body, slipping on your shower shoes. Its times like this when you wonder if there is anywhere else out there. Could you ever live a normal life? Is there a place where there are advances in technology?

The bathroom was only a few doors down from your room, so you could get away with just walking back in a towel.

Once you enter the hallway, you hear Commander Erwin and Levi discussing something in the hallway. Or, someone.

"She did great today, I'm impressed." Levi spoke. "It's almost like her leg was never injured."

"That's good to hear, Levi. I won't put her on the next mission, though."

"Thank you." Levi nodded.

Excuse me?

"But come the next mission, she's on. I can't lose any more bodies than I need to." Erwin gave Levi a pat on the shoulder.

"Yes, sir."

Why the hell was Levi worried about you like this? You signed up to be a soldier. Not sit around while your comrade's risk their lives.

Someone said your name, interrupting your thoughts.

"Jean! Hi." You fake smile, trying to act like you weren't just eavesdropping on a conversation between the Commander and the Captain.

"Why are you in the hallway? In a towel?"

"Since my room is so close to the bathroom, I usually just change in there." You realize this is the closest Jean has gotten to seeing you naked. Your tits were pressed together, creating cleavage. Jean's eyes bounced from your chest to your eyes, unsure of where to look. "Sorry, I'm gonna go change now." You kiss his cheek before running into your room.

"Wait-"

It was too late. You ran into your room, locking the door behind you.

Mikasa was reading a book when you walked in. "Did Jean just catch you in a towel?" She giggled.

"Yes, I was leaving the bathroom and he passed by. How did you know?"

"I can hear his nervous ass voice from a mile away." Her eyes went back to her book. Sasha was out, presumably with Connie, since you just saw Jean. The room the 3 of you shared seemed too quiet without her.

"Knock, knock." Someone said, while also pounding on the door. It was Jean – the only person that would knock while also saying he's knocking.

You put on a white long sleeve and pants quickly, answering the door soon after.

"Hi again." You smile.

"Are you okay? You're acting weird." Jean tilted his head.

"I'm fine, I just didn't want to be caught in the hallway half naked." You half-lie. The important part is that it's a half-truth too.

"Uh, okay." He shrugs. "You wanna go on a walk?"

"Sure." You agree, sliding your shoes on before following Jean outside.

The weather is getting colder, so you opt to walk inside. You and Jean walk around the headquarters, filling the air with small talk.

"Can I ask you something?" Jean asked.

"Of course."

"Why... why haven't we had sex yet?" He said it so... bluntly.

"I didn't know that you wanted to do it sooner." You stop walking, looking up at him. "We haven't talked about it either."

"Well, I mean, usually after like 3 weeks it just happens. With you... nothing."

"I'm not sure what to say to that." You cross your arms over your chest.

"I'm saying, I want to have sex with you. I want to do everything with you." Jean put his hands on your shoulders. "I'm sorry I just blurted that out, but it's been on my mind."

"Okay, well, I can't right now. I'm on my period." You lie. You had your period last week. "But now that I know, it's on soon, Kirstein." You smile, pecking his lips softly.

"Goodnight." Jean kissed you back, thankfully you were at the crossroads from his room to yours.

Jean's conversation was weighing on you. You've been putting off having sex with him for awhile for multiple reasons – 1. You didn't want to do it for the wrong reasons. 2. You want to be sure that you want Jean. 3. Your mind is still stuck on Levi.

Your nightly routine, tossing and turning, was no different today.

A sigh escapes your lips as you get up and quietly leave your room, careful not to wake up Sasha or Mikasa.

When you leave your room, you almost shit your pants.

Levi is standing out side your door.

"Could you get any creepier?!" You put your hand on your chest, trying to calm yourself down. "Why are you here?"

"I knew you would be getting up soon and coming to see me. It's been awhile, I'm due for a visit." Levi closed the door for you.

"I've been avoiding you for a reason, Levi." You turn your head to the side, avoiding eye contact with his heart stopping eyes.

"We both know you cannot stay away from me. Like a moth to a flame."

"I wish I could stop thinking about you, actually."

"Why's that?" Levi leaned against the wall, whispering.

"I'm not discussing this here."

"So let's go to my office." Levi's hands go into his pockets, leading the way to his room. You roll your eyes and follow him, observing his stature. So muscular and poised. You could almost see the muscles from outside his clothes.

"Now," Levi locked his door. "What were you saying?"

"You are in my thoughts daily. I wake up and I think about you. When I'm going to sleep, well trying to sleep, I think of you. I thought I was over you which is why I started seeing Jean. Now, I'm not so sure."

"Mm." Levi nodded as he leaned back in his chair.

"You are the most infuriating person to be in love with."

"In love with?" His eyebrow raised.

"Forget that I said that. I didn't mean it." You lie.

Levi got up from his chair, hovering his body of yours. "One thing you've never been good at is lying." He put his hands on either side of you, scanning your body with his eyes. "Which is why I never believed you about anything you said about Kirstein."

"I- what do you mean?"

He leaned into your ear, his breath warming your earlobe. "When I asked you to tell me things about him. You only told me lies. I know he doesn't know how to fuck you. If you did fuck him, I know you were thinking of me the entire time."

You stayed silent.

"I have no doubt in my mind that you liked the idea of him. Liked the idea of a man other than me consuming your life. But you will always come back to me." Levi's finger lifted your chin, his eyes meeting yours. "If anything, you're loyal."

"I wish I wasn't. I wish I could've gotten over you as fast as you got over me."

"Who said I ever got over you?"

"You left ME Levi. You didn't want to see me anymore. YOU made the decision for US. YOU wanted to hide me from everyone. I told you I would leave the scouts for you. I want to see the world. I want to have a family, a life, all that good shit. YOU didn't."

"I've been in love with you since I saw you on your first day." Levi caressed your cheek with his finger. "I broke things off with you because I love you so much. It was hurting me watching you have to stay hidden because of stupid fucking rules. And I didn't want you to give up your oath for me."

Levi's words resulted in silence. Your thoughts were everywhere – so it was as real for him as it was for you?

Levi took a breath. "If you want me to leave you alone forever, I will. Walk out that door and I'll do just that."

[nexysworld]

NSFW Alphabet 🖤GOW Heimdall (A-M) 🖤

Read on AO3 🖤 Requests are Open 🖤 Read P2 Here

Summary: I’ve never done one of these before and I had a few thoughts floating around so I decided to do one for Heimdall in between my other stories. 

🖤 Warnings: NSFW content, mention of bdsm related kinks

A = Aftercare  I think he’d be sweet in his own way. He’d do things like complain you’re making his bed a mess, but he’ll carry you to the bathtub and let you lean on him in the water while he rubs a washcloth over your back gently. Given who he is, he has a hard time just being soft so he’ll take care of you, but not without coming up with an excuse or tossing a comment your way first.  B = Body part   His favorite body part would be your lips. From the way they swell when he kisses you roughly, to how they try their best when stretched around his — he even likes the little butterfly kisses you press over his beauty marks. He just can’t seem to get enough of them. C = Cum   I think he would love finishing inside of you. For him it’s both possessive and intimate knowing that you’re walking around with him inside of you. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t like the few one offs where he can mess up your pretty face, or when he pulls out right as you're about to finish so he can paint your pussy and listen to you whine about having wanted him to fill you up.     D = Dirty secret I think he would want to be dommed. Given his ego and pride I don’t picture him ever explicitly asking or bringing it up, but I do think he has moments where he thinks about how nice it would be to just be tied up, blindfolded, not having to think about anything besides someone else taking control. I also think it would take an enormous amount of trust for him to allow himself to be put in a vulnerable position like that, which is why he keeps it as his own little fantasy.  E = Experience He’s a god and he’s probably at least a few centuries old. I think that he has experience with sex, plenty of it, with both men and women. I’d say by this point he’s pretty good at it, knowing what people like and dislike (I mean even if he lacked experience he can read minds? So..) I’d like to think that after several bad experiences with the confession of feelings he has a few boundaries with his one night stands, no kissing on the lips, no cumming inside, etc. Those kinds of acts are only reserved for particularly special people (namely you).  F = Favorite position I think he likes anything where he can see your face, but his favorite would probably be when you’re riding him. He likes to throw you off your balance by thrusting up randomly, and watch your face contort as he makes teasing comments at you.  G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.) Well it’s Heimdall so… while I don’t see him being goofy per se, he definitely would be his usual sarcastic self. Even if he tried to rein it in there’d be a few comments that would slip through for sure. H = Hair I think he goes au naturale. He shaves his face clearly, but the rest of him I think he leaves as is. I don’t picture him having tons of body hair honestly, a happy trail of dark blonde hair that leads into his pubes left clean but in their natural state.  I = Intimacy  With Heimdall I suppose it would depend, even his sweet moments can sometimes not seem that way to an outsider. I think with someone he really cared about he would try his hardest though when feeling romantic. He’d coo at you and give you gentle praises while he littered your face and body with kisses. He’d remind you that only he can make you feel this way, that you’re his, etc.  J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon) I think he doesn’t generally do this often, unless he catches feelings. Then I think that he can’t drift off to sleep or be left alone with his thoughts without them wandering to the person he desires, that leads to awkward boners he can’t get rid of without some action.  K = Kink  I think he’d totally be down with some form of pet play/master sub dynamic, even if it’s just a collar and a few words like ‘kitten’ or ‘puppy.’ The only real affection we ever see him give is with animals, and I think that process of outthinking something and possessing he really likes. Having an obedient little lover who’s all his? Perfect. Fucking you while you bark or meow and there’s not a thought left in your head he can see besides himself? Perfect! Watching you desperately try to follow his commands and please him for praise? Perfect!!! L = Location Himinbjorg. Definitely his home. He’d want to be away from other people so his senses aren’t getting distracted by thoughts of everyone else. He would just want to focus on being in the moment with whoever he is with. I can also see a more romantic side of him wanting to make love out in the open, like in an Asgardian field so he can watch his lover bathe in the splendor of the realm he loves so much.  M = Motivation  I think something that he would find both annoying and boner-inducing would be when he can see himself in your mind. When you think he’s not close enough or not bothering to read your thoughts, and you’re picturing him and his own handsome features and soft pink lips, that would definitely prompt him to make a move. Or if you’re kissing his neck, it’s innocent for you that you like to pepper kisses on all his beauty marks, but for him it shoots blood straight between his legs with each contact of your lips. 

[purrgilpawkins]

Needle + Thread

Summary: Mac needs his wounds stitched up. Unfortunately for him, he and the team are in the middle of nowhere without painkillers. (Also available on AO3)

Pairings: Jack Dalton & Angus MacGyver, Riley Davis & Angus MacGyver

Part of the Comfortember 2020 series Prompt: Campfire

Warnings: non detailed wound stitching

Notable tags: H/C, stab wound, field medicine, hurt Mac, caring Jack, caring Riley, Mac whump

The sound of the crackling fire was the only thing heard amongst the chirping crickets, the chattering of Riley’s teeth, and Mac’s ragged breathing. At least, it was all Jack could hear, which was a good thing for the most part.

They had to set up camp in the woods to lay low and wait for exfil. Unfortunately none of them were wearing appropriate attire to be camping during November, which left them all a little on the chilly side. Jack and Riley could handle it but they were both worried about Mac, who was currently bleeding out thanks to a gash on his belly when he decided it’d be a good idea to get into a knife fight with someone.

They’d started on building a small fire immediately and Jack was on a constant lookout in case anyone decided to bother checking out the smoke. Riley was doing her best to make sure Mac was warm and comfortable.

After doing another sweep of their makeshift campsite, Jack walked over to them and sat on the other side of Mac, “How you holdin’ up?”

Mac lifted his bloody hand from his wound and shook it, giving Jack a glare.

“Right. I guess you’re doin’ a little bad.”

Mac replaced his hand and groaned, “Understatement.”

“Well, good news,” Jack rummaged around in his jacket pocket, “I have a needle and thread here, so we could stitch you up real quick, if you want.”

“Why’d you pick up a needle and thread?” Riley piped up.

“You never know what weird shit Mac’s plans may call for. Good thing those terrorists were hiding out in an abandoned crafting supply store, huh?”

Mac groaned as he sat up to inspect the needle, “Yeah, I think I can do without the tetanus. Or the pain that comes with sewing up a wound with cotton.”

“Oh, I know not to use cotton, hoss. That’s why this thread is actually silk.” Jack showed Mac the end of the thread, a sticker that was labeled 99¢ with “SILK” just under the price.

“Whatever. Don’t want to do it.”

Jack frowned and turned to Riley, “What’s the ETA on exfil, Riles?”

Riley grabbed Jack’s wrist to look at his watch, “Two, maybe three hours.”

“Alright so it’s either extinguishing or risking tetanus and I’d rather take a risk than watch you bleed to death, hoss.”

“Okay, first,” Mac grunted, “it’s ‘exsanguination’, second, tetanus could just as easily kill me.”

“Yeah, but by the time you get it we’ll be back home and not in the middle of nowhere.”

“And that’s still if you get it,” Riley added.

Mac let out a long and pitiful groan, “Fine.”

“Besides, you’re more likely to get an infection.”

“Riley,” Jack whispered harshly, “why would say that after he just agreed to gettin’ patched up?”

“Come on, Jack, he already knows the dangers this might bring, right Mac?”

“Yep.”

“See.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Jack started to stick the thread through the needle while Riley helped Mac lay back down. After much trial and error, Riley eventually took the needle from Jack and stuck the thread in the first try.

“Need to bring your reading glasses next time?”

Jack fake laughed and took the needle back from her. He moved to Mac and started to lift up his shirt, “Now, you know this is gonna hurt like hell.”

Mac gave Jack a pleading look, “Let’s just get this over with.”

Jack sighed, having zero desire to hurt his kid, but knowing this’ll help in the long run, “Okay.” He positioned the needle under the gash and Mac squeezed his eyes shut before Jack pulled back, “Wait, hang on a sec. Hold this.” Jack handed the needle to Riley and started to unbuckle his pants.

“Um.”

“Don’t make it weird, dude. It’s just something for you to put in your mouth.” Jack stopped, Riley groaned, and Mac face-palmed.

“Way to make it weird, Jack.”

“Shut up! You know what I’m talkin’ about!” Jack angrily wrangled with his belt then handed it to Mac. He waited for Mac to fit it in his mouth and got the needle back in position when Mac gave him a thumbs up.

The needle pierced Mac’s skin and he inhaled sharply. Were the needle bigger than a sewing needle, the pain likely would’ve been worse. He briefly thought that this was nothing, it was something he could handle, but it pierced again and he couldn’t deny that it hurt.

He flinched at the next poke and Jack brought his free hand up to rest on the blond’s stomach. The delta gently brushed his thumb on Mac’s skin, hoping that his touch offered some kind of comfort when Mac flinched again. Riley took Mac’s hand in hers and didn’t protest when he squeezed it a little roughly. They both do their best to help Mac ride out the pain as Jack finished stitching him up.

The second Jack said “done”, Mac spat out the belt and goes to sit up but the hand still on his stomach prevented him from doing so.

“Whoa, hey, slow down there, hoss. This thread was designed to keep clothes together, not human skin.”

“As opposed to other kinds of skin?” Riley said. Jack gave her a look and she raised her hands in a shrug as Mac let out a quiet laugh.

“What I’m saying is, take it slow cause it’ll probably come apart real easy.” Jack removed his hand but Mac remained flat on his back.

“In that case,” Mac huffed, “I think I’m gonna sit here for a while.”

“Hey, you do what you gotta do, man. We gotcha.”

Riley moved to lay down beside Mac, hand still in his and Jack started to take off his jacket. The oldest agent placed it on the youngest, despite his protests, and laid down on the other side of him. “Don’t want you catchin’ a cold to go along with that possible infection.”

“It’s not even that cold.”

“Then why’re you shaking, Mac?” Riley asked.

Mac sighed and accepted his fate before leaning into Jack’s warmth and squeezing Riley’s hand.

The three basked in the comfort of each other’s presence as the fire continues to snap and pop. The woods are cold and uncomfortable and the youngest of them is suffering through a stinging pain in his side but there was no place he’d rather be than next to his family.

[peach-and-bugs]

🧡Vanessa "Van" Palmer NSFW Alphabet🧡 (18+, age in bio/pinned or you will be blocked)

🧡Read the SFW Alphabet here!🧡

Fanfiction master list

disclaimer: don't repost my work. I only post on Tumblr and on Ao3. anything else is stolen and should be removed immediately

Warnings: It's all dirty [AFAB Reader/anatomy used] (18+, age in bio/pinned or you will be blocked)

Word Count: 1,644

A/N: Yall wanted it soooooo bad, so here you go! As always, feel free to leave questions or comments in my comments or ask box, and happy reading!🧡

Vanessa "Van" Palmer Tag List: @blairfox04 @kyleeservopoulos

Yellowjackets Tag List: @frasersgf @minimickzy

General Tag List: @summergeezburr

-🧡-

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Van gets sleepy after sex and will fall asleep if you let her, but she enjoys some mellow intimacy as well when all is said and done. She seems like the type to enjoy a shared shower after sex or just cuddling, maybe even reading 

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

That’s a tits woman if I’ve ever seen one. Like, it’s not in an objectifying way by any means, but if she had to pick her favorite part of you that gets her off, it's your boobs. It’s a really common joke of hers to squeeze one without warning and make the stupidest honking sound, and no matter how much you may act like you hate it she knows that you’re lying. 

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

She loves making you cum. The tight, warm feeling around her fingers and the way you press against her, grabbing at her for support while she makes you feel that way. It always boosts her ego when she can get you going quickly and cumming even quicker. She loves that dopamine smile you give her and how you practically melt like putty in her hands when you finish

D = Dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

She’s into primal sort of (though she wouldn't define it that way) but feels guilty about it because it reminds her of how she was in the wilderness. She’s concerned it comes from a place of aggression from her teens and is even more concerned that she could go too far and hurt you in some way. But she loves the feeling of nails leaving white crescent indents on her skin and she tends to bite her hand when you go down on her. 

E = Experience (how experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Ms. Plamer is very experienced. She had a very colorful sex life in college (I think she went for a few years but didn’t graduate) and that continued into her adult life.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

She loves pinning you down to the bed while she fingers you and kisses your neck. Her favorite thing is when your wrap your arm around her neck and your hand finds the back of her hair, holding her lips to your neck. She also loves the close-up view of your face as your eyes squeeze shut and you bite your lip, trying to suppress the sounds you want to make, only to eagerly let them go when she tells you she wants to hear.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? Are they humorous? etc.)

She often attempts at being serious but she naturally jokes in nearly every situation, so it doesn't work out, despite her focus. 

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Girlfriend is all-natural. She’s never been the type to shave and she enjoys her body hair. She isn’t gonna tell anyone else what to do with their body, but she finds it strange when people actively talk about body hair like it’s a negative thing

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? The romantic aspect)

In an established relationship she’s all about romance, but kinda in a jobing way? Like, she of course loves you, and she's not making fun of that, not ever, but she does make fun of those sex scenes in those corny romance movies play out (you know, the ones she insists she doesn’t like but always ends up sticking around for). She’s the type to reference one of those scenes while getting intimate with you if you watched one recently because she knows that a cheesy oneliner is guaranteed to make you laugh, and that's what makes it intimate for her. She loves making you laugh because no one can do it the way she can, and no one else gets to hear that laugh slipping past your lips as they’re pressed against hers as she does. 

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

If she feels the need or desire to masturbate, she prefers getting off with her hands and knows what she’s doing but she doesn’t do it all that often. She’d rather have her needs met with another person over masturbating if given the choice

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Again, primal. But she doesn’t call it that because let’s face it, she’s not in on modern lingo in general, but especially not kink lingo. Other than that she’s not that kinky in my opinion. Sure, she likes being dominant, but not in a bdsm way. She prefers things more on the vanilla side compared to what some of the other girls might be into shall we say

L = Location (favorite places to do they do)

Not a location, but she loves morning sex, especially in the spring and summer when it’s warm and you wake up with the window open and the breeze coming in. She likes kissing you awake and seeing that pretty smile of yours dripping with sleep as you greet her with a horse, underused whispery voice that eventually turns into breathy moans and whimpers once she gets the go-ahead for her favorite activity. She also loves cooking breakfast after because you’re extra clingy with her

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Exposed skin. Something about you out in public wearing something that shows off just a little extra of the goods she’s used to getting her extra excited if she’s in the mood. Going swimming together is the absolute worst though because once you're home her hands are all over you, insisting that you both need a shower.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn-offs)

Ignore the words “no” or “stop”. Some people are into that and have a different safe word, but the second she hears either one she’s stopping everything she’s doing and insisting that you tell her what she did wrong so she can fix it and that’s completely nonnegotiable. 

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

She prefers giving just bc she’s a giving person, but she just loves eating out and she’s extremely talented at it. She likes smiling up at you when she’s done with a stupid grin and shiny chin. 

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Fast because she likes getting her reward, but she’s very gentle about it. She’s not gonna edge you unless you explicitly ask because she’s far too driven to get you to the finish line naturally

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Not big on quickies. Maybe in the morning before opening the store, but she’d rather wait and have more time with you than take a quickie 

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? Do they take risks? etc.)

She’s willing to experiment but she’s not keen on it. She’s completely satisfied with a routine sex life

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? How long do they last?)

With you she can go as many rounds as you like, but if it’s her receiving she gets overstimulated quite easily. She doesn’t like going back to back, so she needs time between orgasm 

T = Toys (do they own toys or use them on a partner or themselves?)

Not really into toys. She's too hands-on. She likes knowing that every bit of pleasure that you’re feeling is thanks to her rather than a toy. But if you really want to use one, she’ll give it a go. But it’ll never be her idea

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

She’s not a huge tease. She will start teasing, but she's far too eager to keep the act up and prefers getting what she wants over getting you hot and bothered because she knows she can do that much faster than she can from teasing you alone. She’s not good about being teased though. She gets easily frustrated and wants what she wants. 

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Not all that loud. Like, not screaming, but she’s not afraid to make sounds. More of a groaner than a moaner shall we say

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

I think Van could use marijuana for her own personal pain management for her cancer and sometimes that leads to sex while high, which she loves! But it’s always a lot slower, clumsier, and messier than your regular sex. There's a lot of laughing and getting distracted but it’s always a great time for the both of you.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Naturally, a more muscular build because she’s always been very active, and of course body hair + all of her scars. She has both burn scars that have faded quite a bit over time but she’s also got more scars like the ones on her face littered all over. She only says they’re from a dog attack when she was a teenager and nothing more and you don’t question it, though you know it's probably a lie. She finds comfort in the way you’ll run your fingers over her scars though. It reminds her that though the way she earned them might not have been very traditional, they’re still a part of her and her story like every scar is for every person. 

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Not that high. Sex isn’t a requirement for her honestly and it's not something she needs regularly but more like something she enjoys.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterward)

She can fall asleep very quickly if allowed and she falls asleep hard.

[suvidrache]

NSFW Alphabet - Dante

age in bio when interacting. minors do not interact.

Word Count: 678 / Read it on AO3 | Offline Version

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

— He would either go for another round or carry you to the bathroom to wash off. Would stay for another round, wash, or take care of the bedsheets.

B = Body Part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

— His chest and your ass.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

— Clear with lots of salt.

D = Dirty Secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

— Loves to get himself off in your lingerie. He would leave it somewhere by accident, forgetting what he had done. He would also deny having done something like that.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

— Probably has no experience but would act like he does. Until he reaches a point where he genuinely has no idea what he is doing, and at that point would say something to you.

F = Favorite Position (this goes without saying)

— Lotus, missionary. Whichever ones allow him to see your face.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

— Would definitely tell jokes or not. Depending on your preference.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

— Doesn't trim unless you want him to. His hair is white.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

— Very romantic. Flower petals and candles lying around. He'll do anything to ‘win’ you over, despite being your partner.

J = Jack Off (masturbation headcanon)

— At least once a day.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

— Breeding, marking, stripteases.

L = Location (favorite places to do it)

— The desk in Devil May Cry. The kitchen counter, yes there's been times he's forgotten to clean it. Did Vergil know? After he ate the pizza. Intentionally? No.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

— You, in general. Lingerie. Short shorts/skirts.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turnoffs)

— Any place Nero will see.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

— Loves giving just to mess and tease you. However, he would for once be silent if you gave to him.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

— Can go slow but sometimes just loves pounding into you with his balls slapping against you. Your moans fill the air with his hands grasping you hard enough that you're sure there will be bruising tomorrow morning.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

— He's down for it, if you are.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

— He's down for just about anything that you are.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

— 3 for about an hour. Will need rest.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

— Surprisingly, he has none. The thought never crossed his mind until you brought it up. He would love to tease you with them. He may sometimes use them on himself if you're away.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

— Loves teasing you in any way that he can. However, when he's in the moment or about to cum, he stops.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

— Loud moans and grunts.

W = Wild Card (a random headcanon for the character)

— Underneath all of his porn magazines are photos of you that he printed off. Unlike his porn magazines, no one, including you, is allowed to see the photos. He keeps them hidden and will only look at them from time to time when he is alone.

X = X-Ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

— A solid 8. A prominent vein underneath. Cut.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

— Very high. He's ready to go at any time.

Z = ZZZ (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

— Pizza, sex, and you. Aside from those things, Dante loves sleeping. He would typically fall asleep directly afterwards, unless you needed something

© SUVIDRACHE — do not copy, translate, modify, or plagiarize my work. reblogs are appreciated!

Tag List: @sunmoongoddess / To join my tag list apply here!

[the-real-treasure]

Wish Wish! Drabble #2

Knots and Ribbons

Main Masterlist: Here

Drabble Masterlist: Here

Read on AO3: Here

Most everyone in Baratie can tie knots. That doesn't mean they can plait.

(Drabble #2) [Baratie Age 9 1/2] Normal/Reader's POV Word Count: 765 (Drabbles are only supposed to be how long? oops)

"What" Zeff drawled, "happened to your head?"

The head chef was wrecked. The Baratie had only been open a few months, and it had already garnered a reputation for being one of the best in the East Blue. Zeff's pride was only matched by his exhaustion.

"DON'T SAY IT LIKE THAT YOU RINGWORM INFESTED PILE OF SHIT!"

He was not mentally prepared to come up to staff quarters at the end of the day to find a distraught 9 year old -9 and a half! It scares him that your correction can rattle through his mind like that- in the presence of an equally upset Sanji and Patty. The blonde boy was the one who screamed at him as his question sent you another wave of frantic tears. The blue haired chef was fussing over your hair in a panic, the normal looped up ponytail turned into a rat's nest, curls tangled into huge masses of knots pulled tight as his large hands tried to untangle them. He wouldn't be surprised if a rat did pop out of it, as you had a habit of sneaking the pests into and around Baratie, acts that often left you confined to dish washing when you refused to give up the critter's locations.

"I was just asking. What is this." He came up beside Patty and looked over the mess atop your head. He watches your shoulders scrunch up to your ears. Whatever the reason, this whole thing had left you embarrassed enough as is. "Patty, Sanji. Out of here." The boy's face immediately bleeds bright red and his mouth drops open in a fury, desperately and aggressively defensive of you at all times. "Don't make me ask you again little eggplant."

His mouth snaps shut and you both hear the click of his teeth as he turns, marching out to the small balcony area, where Patty joins him with no complaint.

"C'mere little donkey. Let's see the mess you've made of yourself." He took a seat and pulled you in front of him. He was right, it was a mess. It looked like someone had gone through their hair with instructions to secure it like ropes. "How'd you even manage all this?"

"There was a lady in the dining room." Your voice was barely above a whisper as Zeff began to untangle your knotted catastrophe. "She had the loveliest plaits and I just..." your quiet voice hiccupped, your tears starting to calm, "...wanted to see... if it looked as nice..."

"On you?" Your shoulders were up around your ears as you nod and he's proud of himself for learning your mannerisms like this, "Just you by yourself aye? Or did you get some help."

"Sanji wanted to help." As always though he voice it, you never did like him and the boy arguing. You continued as he worked through your hair, separating the now loose hair into sections "And then Patty saw and asked why he was making such a pig's ear and tried to do one, then they started arguing and I just thought her hair was pretty, don't be annoyed at them."

You tried to swivel your head around to him, but he tutted at you and grabbed your head, turning you back round to face forward. The room stayed quiet and neither of you see Sanji and Patty peering back in through the small window in the door, eyes and mouths wide as they watch the loud, angry and gruff Zeff swiftly and easily braid your hair in his large hands. You don't see their eyes never leaving the pair of you as you stood and spun on the spot, face beaming up at the old man as your long braid fell like a h/c chain down your back, matching the ones marking up your arms and across your shoulders. You also don't see Sanji sneaking out of your shared room hours later to where Zeff was sat alone going over the till from today in his office. You don't hear him ask Zeff to teach him how to do that too, how to make you smile like that over something so simple. You don't see the lengths of cloth hanging in less and less messy braids on the coat hook in Zeff's study.

And weeks later, after you complain about how annoying your long hair is being, muttering under your breath about just cutting it off, you don't see the shared smile between the blondes as you twirl with your expertly done braid that Sanji had tied with a loop of aqua ribbon.

[musashi]

do you only enjoy sickfic for things like temporary physical illness, or do you also enjoy fics about things like chronic illness flareups, mental illness stuff (not sure if mental illness even counts as illness in sickfic tbh. i'm not super familiar with the trope)

i ask because, despite not being familiar with sickfic, i do enjoy fics about characters struggling with Symptoms and whatnot. having a friend or family member or partner take care of them when they're having a very bad mental illness episode. i was wondering if that counted, and if you did, any recommendations?

i'm like you in the sense that when it comes to that particular trope, i'm not super picky with fandoms. i prefer stuff i'm at least somewhat familiar with just so i can have context for who the characters are, what the setting is, their canon relationship, etc. but if you have any really really good ones i will read it even if i have no idea what the fandom is.

my sickfic fixation only applies to temporary & contagious illness. the low-stakes nature of it is a huge part of the appeal for me, as is the inherent danger of contagion. if i had to strip down why i like sickfic there would be a lot of reasons that are key, but chief among them is that sickness strips a person of a lot of their appeal and makes them actively dangerous to another party. the other party, then, choosing to love them regardless and unconditionally, is a huge aspect of it for me.

i still like things that don't fall within those bounds, but they don't give me 'butterflies' like 'true' sickfic does. obviously every form of h/c is lovely, but i'm only deranged about a very specific subset.

i do not really like reading about mental illness, personally. i get nothing from it. i would rather just write and read about neurodivergent characters existing, but i do not necessarily want to read about neurodivergence as the story itself, it just bores me because like. it's my actual life. so like i'd love to read a story where franziska is visibly autistic, but i don't want to read a story about her being autistic.

i would not personally tag either of those as sickfic, and i would probably be a little annoyed if i saw them in the sickfic tag, but it's ultimately up to the author.

i would reccommend using AO3's filters to search for fic of that nature~ check the 'chronic illness' / 'mental illness' and 'hurt/comfort' tags! you can go into the chronic illness tag and then add the h/c tag and run a search for only that. you can even search for a certain disorder or disability and filter that by h/c.

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Don’t Run

Prompts: hello hello hello i have a merlin fic idea (which you are Not obligated to write /gen) merlins been hiding his magic from arthur for ages (but arthur already knows about it, doesnt really care, and has just been waiting for merlin to tell him on his own terms). merlins magic gets revealed and merlin is Terrified. he basically begs aurthur to not burn him and instead banish him or something. arthur (who was not expecting this) decides hey maybe its a good idea to let all these emptions calm down before I talk about this with him because clearly merlin isnt okay right now. and so he leaves merlin to let him have a break. but merlin freaks (or gets kidnapped or something idk /lh) and decides 'fuck it time to run before he decides to kill me.' arthur now has to go find this magic dumbass (he's probably very worried about him) However, when he finds merlin, merlin assumes arthur is there to kill him and figures 'well if arthur wants me dead i suppose i'll have to die' or something.  arthur is naturally horrified and rushes to clear things up. again, if you dont want to write this/dont feel comfortable writing it, dont /gen (i know its detailed brain went brrrr at like midnight and thought this up lmao) have a great day!!! drink water or get bonked /lh - anon

me, as the angsty person i am, am a sucker for the 'Person A gets kidnapped or captured for a bit and when they're rescued think they're dreaming/hallucinating' trope. no pressure for you to write this ofc, feel free to ignore this /gen - anon

prompt: can you please do a Merlin gets betrayed by someone he cares about h/c fic? also can merlin be aroace and trans? - anon

Read on Ao3

Warnings: panic attacks, betrayal, anti-magic sentiments

Pairings: merthur, can be platonic or romantic you decide

Word Count: 3725

It was supposed to be a normal hunt. It was supposed to be a normal hunt. 

It was supposed to be this: they get out of the castle so Arthur can be less of a prat, the knights have that weird banter that they always do where it’s ‘we can make fun of him but if anyone else tries, you will be eviscerated,’ and Merlin gets to enjoy being in the woods because it’s nice outside and he doesn’t actually have to do that much. They only tend to hunt small things like rabbits and birds anyway. 

It was not supposed to be most of the knights having to stay behind for various reasons, including Gwaine who somehow got swept into helping Leon with a council thing. 

It was not supposed to be just him, Arthur, and three random knights. 

It was not supposed to end like this. 

Merlin grunts, hitting the ground hard as a sword slams into his back. He gasps, struggling to find purchase on the loose dirt as the sound of shouts reach his ringing ears. He turns over, trying to get up, only to have the point of a sword leveled at his face. 

“G-Gareth?”

Gareth, the knight who had actually been decent to him—which meant he’d helped put away his equipment, helped Merlin tidy up, and actually been nice to him—snarls down at him, sword still aimed right at his throat. 

“What—what’s going on?”

“Don’t play dumb, you wretched thing,” the man growls, the point of the sword perilously close to slitting his throat, “I’ve had my eye on you since I came to Camelot.”

“Your eye on me—what? What’re you talking about?”

“As if you don’t know!”

Merlin’s breathing grows ragged as the sword forces his head back down on the ground. Gareth leans over him, spittle flying from his lips. 

“You’re poison,” hisses the same mouth that called him kind, called him compassionate, called him hopeful, “you’re a plague that deserves to be wiped out. Scum and traitors, all of you, inhuman bastards that drag the rest of us down to your level.”

It’s the shock of the words that does it, bringing tears to Merlin’s eyes as the conviction in the man’s face drives the sword down further. “G-Gareth, I—“

“Don’t.” 

He winces as the sword digs in. 

“Keep my name out of your hell mouth,” the man spits, “don’t try and curse me.”

“What,” says the most glorious and furious voice Merlin has ever heard, “is the meaning of this?”

Arthur.

Arthur storms up to them, his own sword drawn, eyes like flame as he sees Gareth with his sword at Merlin’s throat. 

“Drop it,” he warns in a voice of steel, “and I might just let you keep your life.”

“He’s a sorcerer, sire.”

Merlin’s blood runs cold. 

No. 

No. 

No, no, no, no, this can’t be happening. 

Not like this. Arthur wasn’t supposed to find out like this. No, he was—he was going to tell him, promise, he was but—but after, after everything was fine and fixed and then—then he could—

Not like this. Please, not like this. 

“A sorcerer? Merlin? You must be joking.”

“It’s no joke, sire.” Gareth snarls again. “I saw him with my own eyes. His eyes glowed, he threw a spear halfway across the arena without his hands. He has magic, I tell you.”

Merlin looks helplessly at Arthur but all he sees is a stony face. The blade turns him back after a second, back into the face of contempt and hatred and all the things that hurt far worse than any sword. 

“We must kill him,” Gareth says solemnly, “to root out the poison before it destroys us all.”

And before Merlin can say anything, before Arthur can say anything, he lifts the sword and makes to swing. 

“Merlin!”

A blast and Gareth is flying back across the clearing, smacking against the tree and falling to the ground with a clang. 

It rings in the still air. 

Merlin’s eyes widen. 

He doesn’t hear the cries of sorcerer, magic, evil over the pounding of his heart in his ears. He doesn’t see the light glint off of blades as they’re pulled from scabbards. He doesn’t feel the threat of others getting closer over the dread of what he’s just done. 

He’s killed himself. 

He used magic to hurt one of the knights of Camelot. 

He revealed himself in front of Arthur. 

What have I done?

“Sire, what do we do?” He hears the voice from a mile away. “I’ve never killed a sorcerer before.”

Never killed a sorcerer before. 

He’s asking Arthur how to kill a sorcerer. 

Arthur knows how to kill a sorcerer. 

Arthur has killed a sorcerer before. 

Arthur is going to kill me. 

Merlin shies away from them, curling up into a ball before realizing that could be seen as defiance and whimpering, throwing himself to his knees with his hands raised. 

“I’ll go,” he croaks, “I’ll—I’ll leave, you’ll never see me again, just—just let me go. Banish me instead.”

Please, just let me run. 

He can’t look at Arthur’s eyes, filled with rage and contempt like Gareth as he strikes him down. He can’t look at him like that, he can’t do it. He won’t survive that alone. It wouldn’t be the sword that kills him. 

“Please—please, I’ll go. I’ll go and you’ll never see me again,” he begs, “just—just let me go.”

“Pathetic,” another one of them says, “is that the best he can do? I’ve seen a dog beg better than that.”

Arthur still hasn’t said anything. 

“We need to kill him, sire,” Gareth says—oh, he must’ve gotten up— “who knows what he could do?”

Merlin finally looks up, if only to see how close they all are, and his eyes lock with Arthur’s. 

He can’t see any of the man he knows. 

“Return to camp,” says the stranger who wears Arthur’s face, “pack the supplies. We must make ready for a hasty retreat back to Camelot.”

“But sire—“

“Now.”

Two of the knights glance at each other and slowly begin to back away. Gareth remains for a moment longer. 

“Be wary, sire,” he says, “he’s tricky. Did his best to seduce me, he’s a wily one.”

“I can handle him. Go.”

Gareth shoots one last truly disdainful look at him before he retreats into the undergrowth, the sheen of his sword the last to vanish. 

Then it’s just the two of them. 

“Arthur,” Merlin gasps, “Arthur, please—“

“Shut up.”

The words are different. They’re not playful, not irritated, not—not Arthur. They’re cold. Impersonal. An order. They strike Merlin like rocks from a sling, making him flinch into a sharp rock that jabs right through the thin material of his trousers. His throat closes until only pained and pitiful whines can escape. 

They remain where they are for a long moment before Arthur begins to retreat as well, sword still held aloft, backing away until he’s far enough that Merlin can hardly see him. Only then does he turn. 

Merlin watches the single spot of red walk away from him until it vanishes into the forest. 

His magic tingles in the tips of his fingers and a soundless yell burns his throat as he shoves his hands against his chest, trying to make it go away, this is all your fault, you ruined everything, you always ruin everything!

He has to run. He has to run because sorcerers die in Camelot, they’re put to the sword or burned at the stake and he can’t look at Arthur while he kills him. He can’t. He just can’t. He’d sooner die of that than whatever execution they can dream up. 

With stumbling and clumsy steps that are dragged down by his traitorous magic that for some reason doesn’t want him to flee from the site of his execution, he scrambles to his feet and runs. 

If Arthur—if Arthur finds him after this, he can say he tried to run. He can run again, he’ll keep running. He’ll spend his life running if it means Arthur won’t kill him and he won’t have to see it. 

He runs harder and faster than he’s ever run before because Arthur is a warrior who’s been trained to kill since birth and he’s stronger and faster and can run for longer and if he catches Merlin—

He loses track of where he is. He just runs. 

But his magic, his damned magic, that has always loved Arthur more than it loves him, won’t let him. 

Like a tether from his navel that twists through the forest, he knows exactly where Arthur is. And exactly when he starts to give chase. 

A wretched sob tears itself from his throat and he pushes on, his magic dragging him back each step as Arthur gets closer, closer, closer, and he’s no longer just hearing his own breath and phantom footsteps as he crashes through the woods. He can hear the snapping of twigs, the rustling of leaves, and that voice. 

That damned voice. 

“Merlin!”

He can’t stop. If he stops he dies. If he stops Arthur kills him. If he stops he—he—

His magic all but throws him over a root and he yelps, turning into a frightened scream as he’s pitched down a hill and into a boulder with a crack. 

“Merlin!”

Leaves rustle as Arthur skids down the hill after him and he’s so close, he’s right there and Merlin has to run, he has to run now, but his legs are shaking and his arms won’t work and his magic keeps tugging him back toward Arthur and he just collapses into a useless, cowering mess at Arthur’s feet. 

“Merlin!”

“No—no fire,” he gasps out, “please, you—you can do it here, I won’t fight, I won’t—you can use your sword, please, no fire, I don’t want to burn—please, no fire—“

A strong hand grips his shoulder and pulls him in to—

No sword pierces his chest. No dagger finds a home in his gut. There are no hissed words, no glares, no low solemn speeches about magic as a plague. 

He can’t even see Arthur anymore. Just the hill. There are two tracks in it. One where he fell and one where Arthur skidded after him. Red fabric flutters in front of him too. Arthur’s cape. 

Why can he see Arthur’s cape?

Only when a head turns and breath starts to puff over his neck does he realize what’s happened. 

“A-Arthur?”

“Don’t you ever,” Arthur says in a rush, chest still heaving against Merlin’s where he’s pulled him flush against him, legs tangled in a heap, “scare me like that again.”

He’s…he’s in Arthur’s lap. Arthur’s holding him. Arthur’s hugging him. 

Arthur has his face buried in Merlin’s neck and he’s telling him not to scare him like that again. 

“Arthur?”

“You,” he says, and he sounds like Arthur again—a very angry Arthur, but at least it’s Arthur— “are the biggest idiot I’ve ever met.”

He pulls back and his eyes are still on fire but he’s looking at Merlin like a starving man. 

“Why did you run? You could’ve been hurt! You were hurt, you slammed into the rock like it broke your back.” He runs a hand over Merlin’s spine as if reassuring himself Merlin’s not hurt. “You idiot, I almost lost you.”

Merlin just blinks. Almost…lost him? Doesn’t Arthur want to kill him?

“Well?”

Oh. Arthur’s waiting for an answer. “Aren’t you going to kill me?”

Arthur’s face goes white, slack in horror, then contorts anew in red rage. “No, Merlin, I’m not going to bloody kill you.”

“B-but you—“

“I didn’t want the others to try, you absolute petticoat,” he says, still glaring, “because you’re a little lamb who rolls over whenever anyone is trying to fight you except me—which is rude, by the way—and you wouldn’t so much as lift a finger to defend yourself if they tried!”

…that’s why he sent them away?

Arthur rolls his eyes when he voices that thought. “Yes, Merlin. They’re under the impression that they’re to start back to Camelot without me to gather reinforcements.”

Reinforcements—the knights—no— 

“Calm down, you idiot, they’re not actually going to—oh, for the love of—Merlin.”

Merlin listens to that. He freezes in Arthur’s arms as Arthur’s hand comes up to cup the back of his head. He stares at him pointedly, gaze flicking from one eye to the other. 

“I lied,” he says slowly as if he’s talking to a child, “so they would leave.”

“You…you did?”

“Yes. Because then I could talk to you about having magic—hey,” he says firmly as Merlin tries to pull away again, “none of that. Stay with me.”

Another order. He can do those. 

“Right. I wanted to talk with you about having magic so that now we can work together to keep things like this from happening and—where are you going?”

“What do you mean now,” Merlin asks, eyes widening as he tries anew to struggle away from Arthur, “what does that mean?”

“Merlin, I’ve known you’ve had magic for a while now, and—“

“You what?”

“Come on, you’re not exactly good at hiding it all the—hey!”

Merlin had flailed, succeeding in loosening Arthur’s grip and sending them both falling over. He scrambles up, trying to claw his way free but Arthur is faster and he’s on him in an instant. 

“This isn’t working,” he hears Arthur growl to himself before arms like steel bands close around him, hauling his back against Arthur’s chest as legs lace through his and pin him well and truly. 

“N-no—“

“Shh,” comes Arthur’s voice, suddenly soft and gentle and Merlin hates the way he instantly relaxes, “easy, now. It’s alright. You’re alright.”

A truly pathetic whine leaves his mouth and Arthur hums. 

“I’m not going to kill you,” the gentle voice says again, “I’m not going to burn you and I’m not going to use my sword. You will not die.”

But he’s a sorcerer. Sorcerers die in Camelot. 

“I sent away the others to protect you. They’re not going to hurt you either. The knights—our knights—won’t let you be hurt and neither will I.” Arthur’s lips brush the shell of his ear. “You’re safe, Merlin. I’m going to protect you.”

“But,” Merlin gasps, “but I’m a sorcerer.”

“Yes,” Arthur says patiently, “you are. I’ve known that for a while. You are Merlin, you are a sorcerer, and I’m going to protect you.”

“Sorcerers die in Camelot. You—you should kill me.”

“I am not going to kill you. You are mine,” and there’s a hint of steel in his words now too, “and no one is going to touch you.”

His magic thrums in his veins and slowly, slowly his breathing slows. 

“If I let you go, will you run again?”

“N-no.”

“Alright.”

Arthur lets him go and Merlin doesn’t run. He lets Arthur turn him around and cup his neck again, the other hand on his shoulder. He doesn’t look mad anymore. 

“Is that why you ran,” he asks, still speaking softly, “did you think I was going to kill you?”

When Merlin nods, looking away in shame, he just hums again. 

“I’m not going to kill you.”

“I know that now.”

“Mhm. So when we go back—“

“Back?” Merlin’s head jerks up. “You’re not banishing me either?”

“What part of ‘I’m going to protect you’ did you not understand?”

“B-but I thought—“

“No, you didn’t,” he says in that soft voice that makes the insult almost an endearment, “you didn’t think because you didn’t realize that I could never kill you or send you away. I’d sooner leave with you.”

His magic hums as if to verify the truth in his words. “You…you would?”

Arthur frowns, but it’s not an angry frown. “You really don’t know, do you?”

“Know what?��

“How important you are.”

The forest seems to fall silent. 

Merlin’s eyes widen so much he’s afraid they’re going to fall out of his head. And Arthur’s just looking at him with his face all sincere and his voice is still soft and his hands are gentle where they hold Merlin like he’s something precious and—and—

“What?”

“All those jokes,” Arthur says, “about you and being replaceable and being the worst and a coward…I never really meant them. Never. Well, you are an awful servant, but none of the others. I don’t want you to leave.”

Slowly, like he’s coaxing a skittish animal to him, he pulls him closer. 

“I want you.”

Something in Merlin’s chest breaks and he’s sobbing into Arthur’s shoulder in the next moment, hands scrabbling uselessly at his cape, his armor, his hair, every bit of him that he can reach. Arthur weathers the storm like a castle in a gale, holding him tight enough that he won’t blow away. 

“I want you,” he whispers, sweet rain in the clouded sky, “I want you to stay, Merlin.”

————

He’s on his back. He’s got a sword at his throat. Arthur stares down at him like his glare is enough to burn him alive and he’s snarling out Merlin’s name. 

“Magic is a plague. You’re poison. You’ve betrayed me. How could you do this?”

Merlin can’t speak. His mouth trapped shut. Arthur lifts the sword. 

“You’re nothing but an inhuman beast,” come the words that hurt far more than any mortal weapon, “you, who cannot love, who are of twisted mind and body, you who do not understand what it is to be a human.”

All of the secrets he’d hoped to hide…exposed for the world to see.

“May all of Camelot curse your name,” he growls, “Merlin. Merlin, Merlin—“

“Merlin!”

Merlin gasps, jolting upright, trying to get away from the sword, just run—

“Merlin, calm down,” Arthur says, wrapping his arms around him and coaxing him to his chest, “it’s only a dream, Merlin, it’s only a dream.”

No, no, this must be the dream. Why would he be in Arthur’s chambers, at night, in bed, in bed with Arthur—this can’t be—

“Shh, shh, shh, sweetheart,” Arthur murmurs, lying back down with Merlin in his arms, “I’ve got you. It’s only me. You’re safe.”

“A-Arthur?”

“Yes, sweetheart. It’s me.” There’s a mouth on his neck. “Just me.”

He’s still panting, the run still pushing through his legs. Arthur hums, settling him into the blankets and propping himself up over him. 

“Where are you right now?”

“Forest,” Merlin chokes out, “sword. You were going to—to kill me.” He swallows. “Said all of Camelot would curse my name.”

“You’re with me,” Arthur says gently, “we’re in the castle. I’m not going to kill you. Can you see?”

He looks around. There’s the desk. There’s the window. Arthur’s white nightshirt is shining in the moonlight. 

“…yeah.” He swallows. “I’m—I’m not abusing you, am I?”

Arthur almost reels back in shock. “What? What on earth are you talking about?”

“I—‘cause I can’t—I can’t love the way that—“

“Stop right there,” Arthur orders, leaning down and cupping his face in his hands, “don’t you give a damn about that, you hear me? I care for you, I’m fond of you, you care for me, you’re fond of me, yes?”

“Y-yes.”

“Then that’s all that matters.”

Merlin swallows again. “And I’m not…wrong?”

“‘Wrong?’”

“…you don’t mind—“ he blushes— “my—my body?”

“Your bod—goodness, Merlin, this must’ve been quite the nightmare.” Arthur shakes his head. “No, Merlin, your body’s yours. You do what you like with it.”

It says something about how rattled he is that he doesn’t reach for any of the jokes he could make right now. 

“Hey,” Arthur calls, leaning down and carding his fingers through his hair, “be gentle with yourself, alright? That was a horrible thing that happened, let it heal in its own time.”

“But it’s hard.”

“I know.” Arthur leans over to kiss his cheek. “Trust me, I know.”

Merlin rolls over, wrapping his arms around Arthur as he chuckles in surprise, pulling him into a proper cuddle. 

“You just have to stay, then, until it feels better.”

“Oh, Merlin,” he hears faintly as sleep begins to tug at him once more, “you don’t need to make reasons for me to stay. I’m staying with you, sweetheart, for the rest of our lives.”

[megslovesbooks]

WIP Wednesday

thanks @messyhairdiaz, @sibylsleaves, @spotsandsocks and @elvensorceress my beloveds!

I wont tag anyone because its officially Thursday here now.

I'm cheating this week because not only is it not Wednesday anymore here, this is also not a wip, I just posted it. But it was a wip this afternoon?? I dunno. lol!

Was feeling crummy today so decided to make Eddie feel even worse, have some Whumptober no. 13 'Hyperthermia' as the latest chapter in my odd little h/c collection.

read on ao3

The thing is, Eddie knows better.

He was a medic in the middle of the desert for Christ's sake. He’s been trained on what to watch for both by the army medical corp and the LAFD, heat stroke is no joke and the last thing he ever wants to do is put a patient or his teammates in danger because he’s been ignoring his own body. He’s more careful than that.

It's just–he hadn’t noticed, truly he hadn’t, or at least he’d just thought it was normal on the job overheating. Nothing he couldn’t solve with a bottle of water or two and a cool shower back at the station. Yes he’s been feeling overly warm today, its August in Los Angeles, its fucking boiling. And sure, his arms have been cramping a little, but he and Buck have also been hanging off this glass and steel building for nearly 45 minutes while they try to secure the window washer’s rig that had gone rogue and smashed into the plate glass windows of the boardroom mid meeting. Rope rescues always put a lot of strain on your arms and he’s not as young as he used to be (something Buck, an infuriating 5 years younger, is so quick to remind him). But now, as his vision blurs out for the second time in as many minutes, Eddie is starting to worry he might be in a little bit of trouble. Right on cue Buck glances over at him and raises an eyebrow.

“Hey.” He says, squinting against the glare of the mid-afternoon sun reflecting off the tinted glass that seems to stretch around them for miles. “You ok? You’re looking really flushed.”

So here’s where Eddie makes his first real mistake. Because he should probably just tell Buck he’s not feeling great, that his stomach has started to roil uncomfortably and he can feel his heart rate picking up. But they’re so close to being finished. The window washer with the broken arm has already been whisked away to the ambulance, the remaining board members trapped between the ruined scaffolding sticking halfway out of their office have been evacuated, and he and Buck only have three or four more points to tie off before the rest of the metal pipe and wooden slats of the rig can be safely removed. Ten minutes–tops–until he’s back on solid ground, or at least solid rooftop. So instead he just tries to make a reassuring face and says,

“I’m fine, just ready to be out of this sun.” He has to stop there and clamp down because his gut is clenching painfully and sour acid is creeping up the back of his throat. He focuses instead on the rig in front of him, trying to get his clumsy fingers to clip the final ropes in place, checking the soundness of the connection while Buck, who is still looking at him with a frown etching itself deeper and deeper between his eyebrows, radios up to tell Bobby they’re almost done.

Just a few more minutes, he tells himself, just a little longer–

“Eddie.” Buck says, and the sharp edge of his tone makes Eddie think maybe it's not the first time he’s said it. “Cap needs a verbal response.” Oh. Right.

“Copy.” He says, keying his radio, “Diaz here, good to go.” God is he ever.

It feels like it takes an age to get back to the top of the building, by the time the top ledge is in sight Eddie knows it's no longer a question of if he’s going to throw up, but when.

It's here he makes his second, and arguably biggest mistake. The top lip of the roof projects out eight or so inches so it takes a bit of effort to pull one’s body out and over the edge. He should wait for help, be sure the extra slack is out of his rope then let the others hoist him up onto steady ground. But he’s starting to feel a little frantic, he really doesn't want to vomit while he’s still hanging off the side of a building, so as soon as he can get hands on the lip of the roof he’s straining to push himself up, feet scrabbling for purchase against the stonework.

Maybe it's all the extra time he’s been putting into the gym lately, maybe it's the sick adrenaline making his heart beat so fast he can barely breath, maybe it's sheer desperation, but somehow he gets himself up on his hands and knees on the edge of the roof. It's wildly against protocol, and he can vaguely hear Bobby yelling at him to stay down, but he can’t do that. Nothing feels real and he can’t quite remember what’s so urgent now, but he knows he has to get up, has to–

He forces himself to his feet, his vision swimming, head spinning so badly he loses all sense of direction. His stomach lurches violently and he doubles over to be sick. Hands are reaching for him and he doesn’t know why, he doesn't want them touching him. He twists away, stumbling back a step and then–

Oddly the fall isn’t much more disorientating than standing still had been, his vision still a spinning blur, his insides lurching with the feeling of wrong wrong wrong, his ears are ringing so badly he can’t hear the cries of the voices around him, it won't be until much later that he even understands what’s happened. The fall is fine. It's the sudden stop at the end that nearly obliterates his consciousness for good. The line pulls taught so fast it takes any breath he has left, pain searing along the lines of his harness. He thinks maybe he swings into the side of the building, that maybe it's the impact that whites out his already spotty vision, but he can’t be sure. It's too much, pain and light and sound and heat, he can’t bear it. He thinks maybe he’s sick again, or maybe he just wishes he could be. For the first time in his life he wishes for unconsciousness but it refuses to come, leaving him trapped in a burning twilight he can’t seem to find his way through.

There are hands on him again, but these are familiar–safe–so he leans in, something like a sob wrenching itself out of him when he hears Buck’s shaky voice right beside his head.

“I’ve got you, I’ve got you Eddie, you’re ok.”

It's too much to answer, but he tries to reach for Buck anyway, there’s a thrumming in his bones that tells him no matter what’s happening to him right now, Buck will see him through it.

“Just stay still ok? I’m gonna get us back up, you just let me do the work.”

He has no choice but to comply, going pliant against Buck’s body, his forehead pressed to the rough fabric of Buck’s uniformed shoulder. Hands work to anchor them together then slide up his shoulders and pull him closer still, one hand cradling the back of his head while the other locks around his aching ribs. Then they are moving again, or maybe not–it's hard to tell when he’s still so dizzy–but they must because the next thing he knows he’s on his back on the scorching concrete of the roof and god its so fucking hot. His blood must be boiling in his veins. He doesn't want to be here anymore.

“Hey hey hey.” Buck’s voice in his ear again, frightened. “Stay with me Eddie. Open your eyes.”

“Here.” Someone else says, and suddenly the relentless beat of the sun is blocked. That’s better, it's still bad, but it's better.

“Come on Eddie, open your eyes.”

He couldn’t do it for anyone else, but it's Buck asking, so he pries his eyelids up, blinking tears and dark spots away. He’s still dizzy, but it's better than it was. Buck is there, crouched by his head, face panicked.

“There you are.” Buck says, a shaky smile curving up the corners of his mouth. He shifts and presses a wet cloth to the back of Eddie’s neck and it feels better than anything has ever felt in the history of everything. Someone is cutting his shirt open, Hen he supposes, because Chim is busy sliding an iv into the back of his hand. Rodriguez stands above him, uniform shirt off and held over his head like a tent. Eddie thinks it might be the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for him. He tries to say so, but the sounds that tumble out of his mouth aren’t even close to words. Buck shoots Hen a frantic look but her attention is locked on the pressure cuff she’s got strapped around Eddie’s left arm.

“Pulse is 173.” Says Chim, and the medic in Eddie’s brain recoils. Too fast, it's too fast and he can’t– “180.” Chim corrects, then meets his eyes “Try to breathe ok Eddie? We’ve got you.”

“Temp is pushing 106.” Hen says, then swears, “His bp is tanking, we’ve got to get off this roof.”

Everything is going white around the edges and Eddie knows that it doesn't matter how much he wants to stay, he’s going under. The thought should scare him, but he’s so tired, feels so bad, that the idea of not feeling that anymore is welcome. He wishes he could reassure Buck though, knows it’s going to scare him. His mouth simply refuses to work, but he does manage to tip his head to the side, pressing his cheek into the curve of Buck’s wrist where he holds the cool cloth in place. Buck’s other hand comes up to cradle his jaw, fingers brushing sweat soaked hair off the side of his temple.

“I’m right here.” He says, so softly that Eddie isn’t sure if he actually hears it or just knows…knows in his deepest self that Buck is always, will always, be there to catch him. It's the thought he takes with him into oblivion.

[chaotictarlos]

I’ve always dreamed of me and you, now here we are

ship: Tarlos | fandom: 911 Lone Star | author: chaotictarlos | read on ao3

Rating: Explicit | Warnings/Tag: Secret Dating AU, Social Worker!Carlos Reyes, Professor TK Strand, ex's to lovers, warnings to be added, smut in later chapters

Summary: It's a tale as old as time, meeting the right person but during the wrong time of life. TK Strand and Carlos Reyes dated in college but parted ways when they graduated, not knowing they would ever see each other again. Six years later, Carlos is working as a social worker in Travis County and TK has just accepted a position as a professor at The University of Texas at Austin. They run into each other when a mutual friend invited TK out for the evening.

Authors Note: Thank you to @noxsoulmate for beta'ing for me. I hope you guys are enjoying this fic as much as I am! Leave me a comment and check out my season 4 Fics!

Prologue | Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four

-

C H A P T E R F I V E

TK settles into Austin a lot easier and faster than he thought he would. 

He finds a favorite coffee place, a place that makes decent Chinese, and even a favorite grocery store. TK also finds a few AA meetings and starts the process of getting a sponsor because he knows that big changes in his life - and the stress that comes with being a teacher - can upset the balance and cause him to crave and he doesn’t want to give into any temptations that he might come across.

His therapist will be proud of the steps he’s taken without being told when he tells her.

TK’s also proud of himself. It’s been two years since his last slip up and he finally feels like he’s in a place where he has control of his addiction. He doesn’t want to mess that up.

He settles into teaching his classes and after the first two weeks it doesn’t feel as scary and overwhelming. His students seem to like him and he’s settled into a nice routine of teaching and giving homework. TK actually finds that he enjoys grading the homework and helping shape what people know about the environment. 

All in all, things are going well for him.

He just can’t get himself to stop wanting Carlos. 

TK spends so much time with his new friends that he ends up seeing Carlos most nights and while it’s nice and he’s enjoying getting to know him all over again, it stirs up old feelings and hopes that he had long since smashed down. 

He finds himself thinking a lot about the time they were together and how good they had been. It makes him ache for a time that he knows he’ll never get back, that he can’t get back. He’s not the same person he was when he was with Carlos, and the person he is now he’s not sure Carlos would even want.

TK’s more broken than he was in college and that was something nobody ever wanted - at least not for long.

TK’s ex made that plenty clear.

So he tries not to think so much about Carlos, and when they’re hanging out together he tries to make sure that everything stays in friendly territory. This is almost impossible because it’s Carlos and Carlos looks good and he’s just so kind that TK can’t help but start to crush on him again. 

READ ON AO3

tags: @strangefurychaos @sapphire11 @first-kanaphan @noxsoulmate @rangergurlgleek1211 @detective-giggles @tarlos-spain @lonestardust @bubblesandroses8 @thebumblecee @mooshkat @importantbailiffpaperpony @otter-love-asl @paperstorm

[unrivalling]

for the writing meme, 2, 6 for brush with death, 37

AH I can answer these

2. Go to your AO3 “Works” page, to the sidebar with all the filters, and click the drop-down arrow for “Additional Tags.” What are your top 3-5 most used tags? Do you think they accurately represent your writing habits?

You know I’m just gonna throw them all up here because I feel like the list tells a Story.

Additional Tags:

Post-Canon (22)

Angst with a Happy Ending (13)

Additional Warnings In Author's Note (11)

Suicidal Thoughts (8)

Established Relationship (7)

Hurt/Comfort (7)

Angst (5)

Alcohol (5)

Polyamory (5)

Grief/Mourning (5)

I mean I guess my first reaction to this is “I didn’t think it was THAT bad”. Guess I’ve been going hard on some fictional characters for like three years. 😂

Post-Canon, Established, and Poly all make sense just because those are the kinds of relationships I like writing most. I like after canon-after getting together things so I can just get into the meat of it.

The alcohol tag is something I try to warn for but forget maybe half the time. I’m sober though so I feel weird about how many times I’ve needed to tag a fic with it.

All the sad tags…well I just like writing really emotional stuff, danger, h/c, grief, and just generally getting into the reeds.

6. What’s one fact about the universe of [insert fic] that you didn’t get a chance to mention in the fic itself?

OH this is good, and I love that you’re asking about Brush With Death.

The biggest thing that I could not find a place for is that some cameras did pick up a faint shadow (Grell) on the screen standing over Adam and Langa during the funeral beef. It’s the kind of thing that could easily be dismissed as pattern recognition or a trick of the light, but some of the S audience thinks a ghost was caught on camera. Tadashi banned talking about it on the app (which only made people want to talk about it MORE), but he does think it looks strange.

37. Promote one of your own “deep cut” fics (an underrated one, or one that never got as much traction as you think it deserves!). What do you like about it?

I had a hard time answering this one. For the last three years I’ve tended to write and move on because I’m chasing those real short fic expiration dates, to the point where I sometimes just fully forget things I’ve written. And I also try not to get too stuck on “I wish this fic had gotten more attention”, because I’m usually pushing ahead to the next one.

I think maybe the easy answer is my TadaAi fic, “When I See You Again”. It’s a very extreme version of Tadashi, I think, but it was a neat experiment. I kind of upset myself working on it so, hashtag winning.

Fun fact that this older!Eden fic is a stealth sequel to it. It doesn’t Have to be and they can be read independently, but it was in my mind.

[cynicalone94]

Last Man Standing

Read on AO3 here.

Jay throws a wad of paper Hailey’s way as she steals yet another pen from his desk.

“One of these days I’m going to tally up the cost of all of those pens and have you charged with grand larceny.” he threatens.

She just laughs at him and he shakes his head.

Then he freezes, looking around and sniffing the air.

“Guys, we need to get out of here.” he says, standing up.

“What?” Adam says, looking over at him in confusion.

Jay coughs.

Shit, this is a high concentration.

“I’ll explain outside.” he says, shaking his head. “We need to go. Now.”

The team finally starts to move, trusting his urgency even if they don’t understand.

But they’re also starting to cough and he can see Kim rubbing at her eyes.

Adam is the first to drop, clutching his chest but the others aren’t far behind.

Kevin is the first to puke but he sets off the others and Jay looks around, looking for the source.

Who would have a reason to pump phosgene gas into the precinct? And what else are they planning?

He needs to find the source and stop the gas.

He makes his way back to his desk, coughing into an arm flung across his face.

They’d had to work through a gas chamber in boot camp, learning how to stay functional even when their bodies feel like they’re dying.

He can do this but that doesn’t make any of it pleasant.

He’d smelled it first, which might have been just because he knew what he was smelling, but maybe that means that the source is nearby.

Before he finds anything, he hears something on the back stairs.

Drawing his weapon, he moves in that direction, blinking his burning eyes in an attempt to clear his vision.

His team is down in the bullpen, all of them defenseless against whoever this is.

He leans against the corner of the wall, his body planted between his team and the oncoming threat.

His throat is burning, chest tight and nausea is twisting and turning in his stomach.

They’d been in the gas house for about thirty seconds in training. It’s already been longer than that.

And he distinctly remembers dropping to his knees and puking his guts out as soon as he’d gotten out of there.

Not to mention crying like a baby.

He’s definitely going to do that this time too.

The door creaks open and he swallows hard, pushing off the wall.

“C.. PD.” he calls, pushing through the tightness in his lungs.

A gun pokes around the corner.

“I didn’t expect anyone to still be standing.” a voice calls back, the muffled quality suggesting that it’s owner is wearing a gas mask.

“Sorry… ‘bout that.” Jay calls back. “Put… the gun… down.”

“Barely on your feet.” the voice calls back, laughing. “And I’m not alone.”

“What… do you…. want?”

“I’ll get that for myself just as soon as you’re out of the way.”

Tactically, he should wait for them to come out or leave. They can’t get into the bullpen without going past them and he has the advantage playing the defense.

And a major disadvantage stepping out into the open.

But he isn’t sure how long he’ll be on his feet and he won’t leave his team defenseless if there’s any other options.

He presses forward, leaning against the wall on his right side.

It’s three steps to the stairwell door and then he flings it open, diving into the fight.

There are three men in tactical gear on the stairs.

He drops the furthest back gunman with a bullet to the head, simultaneously grabbing the leader’s gun with his left hand and jerking it forward.

The man punches him in the face, knocking him back against the wall.

Jay holsters his own weapon and twists the gun they’re fighting for, slamming their hands against the wall until the weapon drops to the ground.

The man drives forward into him and Jay drives an elbow into the man’s face, slinging his arm around his neck and ramming his knee into the back of the man’s legs.

He’s perched with a knee in the man’s back, holding the choke hold as the man starts to slow his movements beneath him when the second man reaches him, pressing a gun against the back of his head.

“Get your hands off him, man.”

Jay hesitates, waiting an extra second for the man underneath him to go fully limp.

“I won’t tell you again.” the man snarls.

Jay drops his head and twists, driving under the weapon and pushing it up and away with his left hand.

He drives up, slamming the man against the wall with his forearm.

A knee catches him in the stomach and he stumbles backward, dropping to his knees and losing the fight against his nausea.

While he’s puking a hand grabs the back of his head, slamming his head against the wall.

He kicks back hard, knocking the man away from him and then turns, hooking legs to drop him to the ground.

He follows through, dropping to one knee to drive a series of punches into the man’s face.

He’s just rolling him over and pulling his arms back to put the cuffs on when an arm loops around his neck from behind.

He’s drug back, pulled off balance and his chest aches with the strain, eyes watering further as his face is pointed directly at the stairwell lights.

He throws his head back, crashing it against the face of the man behind him and then throwing a harsh elbow.

He lurches forward, flipping the man over his head.

He crashes to the ground, landing hard on top of his buddy and Jay lets himself fall, his knee colliding with the man’s head and sending him under.

He cuffs both men to the railing of the stairs, double checks the third guy on the stairs and then pulls out his phone.

“Control *cough*, this is *cough cough* badge number 56113. need back up *cough* to the 21st district.”

“We received a silent alarm from the desk sergeant but we haven’t been able to get ahold of anyone. Patrol units and SWAT are routing to your location, closest support is two minutes out.”

“Phos *cough* gene gas.” he manages. “Three *cough* offenders in *cough* stairwell. One DO *cough* A.”

“We’ll loop in CFD and update SWAT.”

He stumbles back into the bullpen.

The team is still on the ground, coughing and gagging but he can track everyone audibly breathing.

“Helps *cough* coming guys.” he says, staggering over to the windows.

They’ve never been opened in the time that he’s worked here but he needs to get airflow in here so he opens them as wide as he can before making his way over to the fan Adam keeps on his desk and turning it on.

“Hang *cough* *cough* on guys.”

He’s leaning heavily on the desk when the gate buzzes and patrol officers in gas masks make their way into the bullpen.

“Stair *cough* well.” Jay manages, nodding that way.

Once the two suspects have been secured, paramedics rush into the bullpen.

Jay waves them off, motioning them to the rest of the team and soon enough, the others are sitting up with oxygen masks over their faces.

Kim, Kevin and Hailey also have IV lines running with anti- nausea meds.

A paramedic turns to Jay who has an oxygen mask held over his own face.

“How are you feeling?” she asks. “Any nausea?”

“A *cough* little.” he manages. “I’m… fine.”

“Don’t *cough* listen to him.” Hailey says. “Always fine.”

“Not *cough* my *cough* first *cough* ro *cough* deo.” Jay forces out, despite his lungs feeling like they’re seizing up.

“You called it in, right?” the paramedic asks and he nods.

“After you took down the suspects?” she presses and he nods again.

“If you were moving around up here, you would have breathed in a lot more of the phosgene than the rest of your team.” her partner jumps in. “You should really sit down.”

“‘m fine.” he says, pushing off the desk.

Stars spark at the edges of his vision and he pauses, reaching for the desk to hold himself up. He doesn’t make contact and drops to his knees, hand coming up to clutch his chest.

The coughs have turned into unproductive wheezes and he looks up, eyes filled with panic as he meets Hailey’s gaze.

And then the haze closes in on him.

Hailey watches in shock as her partner is rapidly loaded up onto a stretcher and then raced out of the bullpen.

She’d known he was struggling more than he let on but she hadn’t thought it was this bad.

Everyone who was in the precinct are being bussed to Med for a checkup. Which, since there were over thirty people inside, means that they’ve brought a literal bus to transport everyone.

Hailey sits at the back of the bus with the rest of her team, strangely reminded of high school when she was not one of the cool kids who got to sit here.

“Have I mentioned lately *cough* how badass Jay is?” Adam says.

“We’ve heard *cough* about your man *cough* crush, yes.” Kim says, nudging him with her foot.

“We were down for *cough* the count, man.” Adam says, shaking his head. “And Jay was *cough* badass.”

“Military train for gas attacks.” Voight says, resting against a window and looking a little more old and tired than usual. “And Halstead doesn’t do anything halfway.”

“I’d hate to *cough* do this *cough* intentionally.” Hailey says, shaking her head.

“Yeah *cough* this sucked *cough* ass.” Kim agrees.

They’re quiet for the rest of the drive and then they are being herded off the bus.

Will is part of the receiving party helping to triage and Hailey frowns.

“How’s Jay?”

“Doctor’s are looking him over now.” he tells her. “Ethan didn’t think it was too serious, just a little more lung irritation. He was more worried about a concussion, actually.”

Hailey sighs.

“He got in *cough* one hell of a fight *cough* in the stairwell.” she says.

“So you’re saying I should see the other guy?” Will says, offering her a grin.

“Other three.” she points out.

His eyes widen slightly and she nods.

“Get *cough* to work *cough* doc.”

He nods, making a note on the triage sheet and handing her a tag.

“Hang in there.” he assures her, stepping away.

It takes two hours for everyone to get moved through the station.

Voight is getting an extra breathing treatment but the rest of the team have been allowed to hang out in the room, staying together while they wait for word on Jay.

They’re not talking much, all of their throats still a little irritated from the gas.

Will finally steps through the door.

“Hey.” he says, looking around. “He’s going to be fine. There is a lot of lung and throat irritation to contend with and he’s gonna be on oxygen for a couple of days, looking at several breathing treatments as well.”

“Concussion?” Hailey asks.

“Grade two.” Will confirms. “He’ll be miserable for a couple of days but no other concerns showed up on the CT.”

“Can… we… see him?” Voight asks.

“They’re getting him settled right now.” Will says. “Your treatment is almost done and then I can take all of you up.”

Jay is pale and exhausted but his eyes are open.

“You… guys… okay?” he gasps.

“You’re ridiculous.” Adam says, shaking his head.

He just raises an eyebrow and Hailey laughs, turning into a coughing fit.

“We’re *cough* good.” she answers.

He nods, letting his head rest against the pillow.

“Dude.” Will says. “You’re practically falling asleep on us, just give in.”

“We’re going to *cough* head out, anyway.” Voight says. “Sleep, kid.”

Jay nods, reaching for Hailey. She steps forward, taking his hand.

“I’ll stay.” she promises him.

He squeezes her hand and she leans forward, kissing his forehead.

“Sleep.” she urges.

His eyes slide closed and his head rolls slightly toward her.

The rest of the team inches slowly out of the room and Will settles into a chair.

His brother will be just fine.