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[dentaltreedentalclinic-1]

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[vasandentals]

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[berberriescorner]

“Loud and Wrong”

Characters: Kevin Atwater x Black!Reader.

Summary: Kevin and wifey have a minor disagreement.

Warnings: Fluff and a dash of spicy talk.

Word Count: 2,000+.

A/N: Well, lovelies. I've been having sleepless nights lately. Dealing with some ish. Life be life-inggg and it's keepin' my ass up at night *le sigh*. Tired of my mind racing. So to cut off intrusive thoughts I gave it a go and worked on some of my WIPS. My head quieted down enough for me to finish one. I've got some other things I've been working on as well. Fingers crossed I can finish some other works🤞🏾. This isn't heavily edited, but I hope you still enjoy it my loves🫶🏾. Here's to hoping I haven't lost my spark as a writer 😩😆🤷🏾‍♀️.

“The disrespect in this household is at an all-time high. Just going to sit there and eat in my face like that.”

Your husband called you earlier as he was leaving the precinct. He informed you that Halstead, Ruzek, and Voight wanted to watch the game tonight. Kevin called to see if it’d be okay for them to watch it at the house. Once he had confirmation that it was cool with you, he mentioned they’d be stopping for food. He offered to pick you up something as well, but you declined. You weren’t feeling well, so you didn’t have a taste for anything. Kevin asked if you were sure. After confirming, the call ended with “I love you.” Going against his better judgment, he found himself in the hot seat.

“What are you talking about, baby? How did I disrespect you?” Kevin’s senses prickled, and he braced himself for a lecture.

“So, you didn’t bring me any food? Give me some of your wings, babe,” you plead.

Not thinking it through, he let his temper get the best of him. Kevin fussed, “Did you, or did you not say you weren’t hungry? No, baby, you do this every time. You should’ve told me to get you some food. Why do you do that?”

Your eyebrows raised, “Am I not allowed to change my mind?”

“Don’t answer that,” Adam fake coughed, “loaded question.”

Ignoring his best friend, you smirked as Voight’s hand met the back of Ruzek’s head, and he whispered an apology.

“I’m not even that hungry. I just want a couple of wings and some fries.”

“Which means you want all my flats and the crispy fries. That’s the best part of the meal. If you changed your mind, there was plenty of time to call me back and ask for something. Why not do that? Am I right, or am I missing something here,” he directed the last question at the guys. They had been sitting in uncomfortable silence, trying to remain neutral. Neither Ruzek nor Halstead wanted any part of the exchange.

“Kev, give that beautiful woman some food. Always keep your wife happy,” Voight replied.

“I’m not in it, Bro,” Jay replied, while Adam held his hands up, wanting no part of the conversation.

“You should listen to Voight. Besides, I did text you.”

“No, you didn't. I had my phone on me the entire time, love.”

“Oh, so now I’m a liar? Okay, bet,” you responded, tone clipped. You sat beside Kevin with your arms crossed, giving him the silent treatment.

It had only been a few minutes when it started driving him crazy. “Here, ma. Just take some. I guess I can order some more food.”

“I’m good. Liars don’t get rewarded. Right?”

“Man, whatever,” he responded, kissing his teeth as he shook his head. “I’ll gladly enjoy my food.”

His phone signaled a text from Halstead. The men made eye contact as Jay’s facial expression signaled for Kevin to read it.

“Bro, are you crazy? Don’t argue with a pregnant woman. She’s growing your child. The least you could do is just go with it, even if she’s acting a little dramatic. It’s not her, it’s the hormones, brother 😏.”

Kevin sighed, knowing Jay was right. Not even bothering to respond, he backed out of the message. His movements halted as he noticed an unread message. Turns out you had texted him an order.

Feeling like a jerk, he locked his phone, sliding it back into his pocket. Not saying a word, he grabbed his to-go box, gently placing it in yours. His lips left a juicy kiss on your cheek, trailing up to the left temple before he spoke, “You're right, baby. I should’ve ordered extra food, just in case. Eat this, and I’ll just order some more.”

“Mm, am I right? Or did you finally see my text message? Jackass.”

He couldn’t even be mad because you were right. The doorbell sounded, leaving a confused look on your husband's face. Dumping the box back onto his lap, you turned to Voight.

“Could you help me up? Please,” you asked, voice soft and angelic.

Kevin quickly placed his food on the coffee table. “Stop playing, mama. I can get the door.” You rolled your eyes, “I’ll get it,” you snapped. Kevin stood there tilting his head to the side, burning with attitude. Voight inserted himself, “You two play nice and put this to rest. I’ll get the door.”

“Nonsense, you’re our guest,” you responded, but Voight was already up, halfway to the door.

Hank was only gone a few minutes. He returned to the family room, smiling and chuckling to himself. “Mrs. Atwater. I never want to be on your bad side. Kevin–Bro. I don't know how you'll pull yourself out of this one.”

Kevin looked at Voight quizzically. He watched as his boss laid a fatherly kiss on his wife's temple. It fully registered for him as he witnessed the man hand her an Uber Eats bag. The same logo they had all gotten their dinner from was written in big, bold letters on the receipt attached. The two of you glared at one another as you dug in and devoured a handful of fries.

The room erupted in laughter as Kevin rolled his eyes. Unlike the other men in the room, he found nothing funny.

“When did you order food?”

“The minute you called me a liar.”

Kevin pinched the bridge of his nose.

I love the hell out of this woman, but she gon’ drive me crazy.

“You cannot be serious. Let's not pretend you didn't know I’d give in and share my food. Why must you be so damn petty, woman?”

“Just hush. It’s over. Sit down, eat your food, and enjoy the game. I know I will,” you responded with a devious smirk.

Kevin groaned in irritation as he reclaimed the spot next to you. You felt his pillowy, soft lips press against your cheek, moving to that spot behind your ear. He smiled at the shiver his actions pulled from you. Fighting back a grin, you playfully rolled your eyes. With a mouthful of chicken, you responded, “Still not forgiven. You'll have to do more groveling than that, boo.”

He leaned close, whispering in your ear, “That's cute. Trust me, love. I have my ways. Daddy knows how to make it up to you. Wait until I get you alone.”

“Bro! We can hear you,” Adam complained.

“I’m beginning to wonder how this isn’t your second or third baby, Kev,” Voight teased.

Hank joked as the other two sat there, blushing like crazy. Covering your face, you awkwardly laughed with embarrassment.

“I’d get up and leave you to fend for yourself, but I can’t exactly make a run for it these days,” you ribbed Kevin.

As you were about to shrink into yourself sheepishly, the doorbell went off, and you left Kevin to deal with taunts and teases from his work family. With a firm grasp of his forearm and shoulder, you lifted off the couch. Looks of admiration rained upon you as each man watched the cute waddle you made toward the entrance.

Damn near breathless from the short distance, you took a moment to catch your breath. “Baby? Are you good?” You waved him off, telling him to calm down, and pulled open the door. Burgess and Upton’s eyes shone with excitement as they started to make a fuss over your growing baby bump. You chuckled as they questioned why you’d been the one to answer. The minute the three of you entered the living room, Burgess crossed the room, bopping Adam and Kevin upside the head as Upton chastised Halstead and Voight.

“Ladies, please. Don’t be too hard on the fellas. They all offered, but I refused,” you waved your hands. “You guys know I’m stubborn.

“As hell,” Kevin interjected.

“You want static with me so bad,” you sassed.

Kevin threw his hands up in surrender and bit his lip, slightly turned on by your attitude. Behind that sexy smirk was playfulness and something else you couldn’t quite figure out. Adam cleared his throat, “Ladies, not to be disrespectful, but can you stop giving us a hard time? We promise to behave if you just let us watch the game.”

Kim rolled her eyes, mumbling, “You’re making it very hard to like you right now. The couch is calling your name.”

Before Adam could dig himself into a deeper hole, you directed the women toward the kitchen where your peace and sanctuary awaited you.

“I’ll take this,” you said, snatching your wings from Kevin’s grasp. “I’m not sharing either,” you mocked. He nodded his head, sucking his bottom lip in. “Alright, ma. Keep it up. I’m keeping a tally.” You chuckled, turning to head further into the kitchen. You had to have the last word.

“When will you stop with these hollow, empty threats, dear sweet husband?”

Kevin’s head pushed back into the couch cushion behind him as he watched you walk away. He groaned to himself, or so he thought.

“Leave that poor woman alone, bro,” Adam joked.

“I can’t help it. That woman knows how to keep me on my toes, and I live for it.”

Every man in the living room had been hyper-focused on the game except for the man of the house. The sassiness you had given him earlier had heat simmering inside him. Your attitude always sparked a desire in him. His hands vibrated with a need to grab a handful of you. Kevin wanted nothing more than to have a moment alone with you.

Pulling himself from his lustful thoughts, he cleared his throat, “I’m going to go grab another beer. Anybody want one?”

The crew nodded “yes” in unison, eyes still fixated on the television screen. Kevin leaned against the kitchen archway, listening to the animated conversation among the women. You could feel his eyes on you, and a smile pulled at the corners of your lips.

“Is there something that you need, Mr. Atwater,” you questioned with a playful edge.

Your eyes connected with his before slowly trailing down to his bottom lip, tucked between his teeth. Hidden behind the lip bite was a sinful smirk that screamed trouble. Kim and Hailey’s stares bounced between the two of you. Clearing her throat, Kim stuttered, “You know think I hear Adam calling? Hailey, you want to join me? We’ll meet you two in the living room, yeah,” she questioned, both women not giving you time to respond.

“Traitorous heifers,” you mumbled under your breath.

You stood behind the kitchen island, arms crossed, watching Kevin make slow, calculated strides toward you. He stepped behind you, gently grabbing your waist and turning you to face him. The giant man towered over you, licking his soft, plump lips. The action alone caused you to bite back a moan. He bent lower as his mouth ghosted over your own.

“You still mad at me, baby?”

“Mad? No. Irritated, yes,” you finished, neck rolling a bit.

Kevin chuckled lightly, and in a flash, he grasped your hips, lifting you and depositing you onto the counter. Standing between your parted thighs, he leaned in and trailed his lips from your chest to the side of your neck. It slipped your mind that the house wasn’t empty, and a moan escaped your lips.

“Shhh, mamas. Don’t forget we have company.”

“Then let me down,” you gasped as his lips gently suckled your flesh.

“Not a chance in hell. Got you right where I want you now.”

“K-Kevin, seriously. You're getting me all wound up. The baby finally settled and stopped kicking me every five minutes. Don't get her started up again. Down. I want too get down,” you whined like a toddler.

“Tell me you're no longer irritated. I don't want to beef with you anymore, love. If you promise we’re good, I'll let you down,” he smirked.

“You're so irritating,” you responded playfully, rolling your eyes. “Fine, we're good!”

His hand cupped your chin as he pecked your lips continuously. It sent you into a fit of giggles. Your hand daringly wrapped around his throat to the best of its ability. Kevin groaned, pulling his plump lip between his teeth.

“I know that look. What you tryna do with a house full of guests, Mr. Atwater?”

Before your husband could reply, Voight’s voice boomed from the living room, “You two aren't as discreet as you believe yourselves to be. Atwater, halftime is over. Leave that sweet woman alone.”

“Yes sir!”

His lips landed a kiss on your forehead as he promised, “I'm taking your fine ass on a date tomorrow night.”

Kevin swept you off the counter, helping you find your footing as your swollen feet met the hardwood floors. He leaned in giving you one last sensual kiss, promising to ravish you once the two of you were alone.

Hope you all enjoyed it! Feel free to love, reblog, and leave a comment, lovelies🩵.

Tagging:

@darqchilddaydreamz @4everbrookemarie @starrynite7114 @nightlywords7 @amorestevens @sunshine-flower @boomclapxox @astoldbychae @percosim

@skyesthebomb @tbugger01 @thatbrowngruul

[alluringlight]

Sunday x (Gender Neutral) Reader

Warnings: nothing really, ig maybe a little bit of angst but more hurt/comfort, you are the Astral Express medic, you're supposed to be a fallen angel but that's not really necessary to understand this and will p much only become relevant if I ever follow up this one-shot w the same reader x Sunday (which I might bc I love this idea of fallen angel x Sunday), also this is not intended to be canon to Sunday's true form or anything since it's unconfirmed if Halovians have multiple sets of wings or not

Word Count: 1726

As the de facto medic of the Astral Express, since you were the only trained doctor, you made it your top priority to always know how every one of the passengers was doing, physically and mentally. Currently, your most challenging case sat before you; Sunday, former head of the Oak Family and newest passenger aboard the train. 

He sat stiffly, spine straight and hands crossed together neatly in his lap as he sat on your examination table. His head was facing straight but instead of looking at you, his gaze was on his hands. You’d always felt a kinship with the Halovian, whether it be due to your own (miserable) past, or the fact that you both shared avian features. Your own wings twitched, feathers fluffing slightly as you tried to puzzle out the best way to help him. Getting him to even admit he needed help was akin to pulling teeth, but you were determined to be patient. 

“Sunday, I just need to look them over, okay? I won’t do anything you don’t want me to,” you said, your voice soft as you tried your best to coax him. 

He squeezed his hands tighter together, his voice barely audible as he spoke, “I know. I-” He cut himself off, pressing his lips closed as he refused to say anything else. Instead, he uncrossed his hands, and began disrobing his top half, unbuttoning his shirt and sliding the material off until his torso was bare. 

His wings, a dark purple akin the nightingales you’d seen on Penacony, were on his lower back, further down than your own black wings which sat between your shoulder blades. His sat around his waist, and they were very obviously neglected. They were tightly wrapped around his torso, and the feathers were dull and in disarray, it was clear they needed to be preened. Most alarmingly, his flight feathers were clipped on his left side. It made you wonder if the piercings on his upper wings weren’t of his own volition, if they were perhaps a reminder that he was a flightless bird. 

You made your way behind him so you could observe the wings fully. Sunday himself was exceedingly skinny, and you made a mental note to talk to him about that another day; when he wasn’t so shaken up. The connecting muscles to his wings were underdeveloped, making it apparent that even if his wing wasn’t clipped he still would be unable to fly. 

“Is it okay if I touch them?” you asked. Sunday gave you a shaky nod. Instead of immediately beginning a more thorough examination you spoke, “I’m going to try to stretch them out, okay? I’ll be gentle, but it’ll probably be painful or uncomfortable. Please let me know if I need to stop.” 

A rush of breath left him, before he nodded again, his hands gripping onto the edge of the examination table to brace himself. You started with his left wing; it would be the most troublesome to deal with. 

You took it slow, gently prying his wing away from his torso, stopping whenever he’d hiss in pain. It probably took the better part of a half hour to get the wing fully stretched out, but once it was, Sunday heaved a sigh of relief. 

You examined the wing more thoroughly, trying to give him a break before you worked on his other one. His flight feathers were in worse shape than you first thought; many of the primaries had been clipped, including the ones used in landing. It was quite barbaric. You briefly wondered how many times the feathers had been clipped, how long it took Halovians to grow them back in, how many times had he endured such treatment? 

The muscles in the wing were atrophied, and you knew you’d have to help Sunday set up a strict physical therapy regimen if he had any hope of ever flying again. You massaged the joints, helping to relieve the tension from being so cramped. 

You gave him another moment’s reprieve, gently kneading the area where the wing met his back, before you began working on the other wing. This one didn’t take as much time to straighten out, and you gave it just as much care as the other one, rubbing away the aches and pains that lanced through him. 

Hearing a bang, your wings shot out, wrapping around Sunday’s form before you turned to the door. “Hey- oh! Sorry, sorry.” March said, scratching at her head as she realized she was interrupting something. You could feel Sunday tuck into himself, his wings twitching as you felt him barely stop himself from wrapping them around himself. Thankfully, your wingspan was larger than his, mostly covering him from March’s view. “Um, I was just going to ask if you’d seen Dan Heng, but I’m guessing not, so I’ll leave.” she said, giving an awkward laugh. 

“See you later March,” you said as she ducked out the door, giving it a firm shove shut. You could hear her voice carry through the door, speaking to the Trailblazer, before the two wandered off, presumably to find the elusive archivist. 

Your wings settled back into place, tucking them against your back as you sighed. “Sorry, Sunday. Are you okay?” 

His breath was shaky as you peered down at him, his face flushed from embarrassment. You weren’t sure if he was embarrassed at the thought of March seeing him in such a vulnerable state, or if it was because you’d wrapped him in your wings. After a long moment, he responded, “Yes, I am…fine. You may continue.” 

You hummed in acknowledgement before giving his wings another once over before you pulled away. “I won’t lie to you, they’re in rough shape.” You moved back to the otherside of the table so you could look at him as you spoke. “You need to stop constricting them immediately. The blood flow is severely damaged, and your joints are in less than ideal shape from the abuse. The bones themselves are doing well, but the muscles are atrophied.” You took a deep breath before continuing, “It’s going to take a lot of work to get them healthy again, but after strengthening them, and once your flight feathers grow back in, it could be possible to fly again.” 

His face seemed to crumple at your words. This…was not an expression you’d ever seen on him before, especially considering he’d tried his best to appear perfect, hiding away any perceived flaw away from prying eyes. You had to stop yourself from reaching out, uncertain if he’d be appreciative of any physical contact, even if all you wanted to do right now was comfort him. All at once his expression dropped, his eyes downcast and gaze dead as he spoke, the whisper so low you weren’t sure he meant for you to hear, “Do I even deserve…?” 

You sighed. “Forget whether you deserve it or not, do you want it?”

Sunday raised his head, looking you in the eyes, though his gaze remained far away as his lips parted. “I don’t know.” His expression turned pained as he licked his lips, nervous, as he finally seemed to see you again. “Can you help me fix them?” 

You smiled, nodding. “I have some general ideas on what needs to be done, but I’ll do a bit more research on Halovians specifically to help, just give me a day or two to figure out a plan. For now though, we’ll need to get you some better fitting clothes, and the feathers need to be preened. If you’d like, I can do that, or I can leave you to your own devices.” 

His cheeks slowly flushed again, the wings by his ears fluttering nervously, and you had to suppress the desire to cup his face in your hands. He was so pretty it was unfair, but you wanted to help him, and it wouldn’t do to admit any budding feelings you had for the Halovian. It was obvious he needed a friend, and you didn’t want to jeopardize the fragile trust built between the two of you. 

Sunday cleared his throat. “If you truly would not mind, your help would be appreciated.” 

“Do you want tea or anything? This may take a little bit of time,” you said. 

He shook his head, “That is unnecessary.” 

The two of you situated on the examination table, you had your own legs crossed together as you found the most comfortable position. You began your work; gently opening pin feathers and brushing out old feathers that were stuck, all the while carefully avoiding any blood feathers, lest you injure him. 

As you worked, tension seemed to seep out of Sunday, and every once in a while he breathed a sigh of relief. You wondered when he’d last been preened by anyone else; his smaller wings by his wings were taken well care of, his own handiwork you presumed, and the way he shuddered at each gentle touch of yours, each delicate caress as you dutifully worked through the plumage, was telling enough. 

It took over an hour to completely finish, and your hands and fingers ached, but it was well worth the effort. You stretched your hands, your joints popping as you did. “Alright, you’re good to go,” you said, sliding off the examination table to once again stand in front of him. 

“Thank you,” he murmured. 

“Of course.” You smiled at him. “Just ask if you want me to preen them again, okay?” He nodded at your words, giving you a small smile in return. “Plus, if you’d like, you’re welcome to return the favor one of these days.” 

His eyes widened at your offer. “You would trust me to preen your wings?” 

Your brows furrowed as a slight frown made its way onto your face. “Yeah. It’s not that surprising is it? I trust you, Sunday. We’ve all done things we aren’t proud of, and I’m not going to condemn you for yours. The Express is about starting over, about not letting your past weigh you down. Instead, blaze the trail, see the stars, do what you want.” 

A soft smile seeped back onto your face as you spoke once more, “Trust, and be trusted in turn, by your fellow passengers. There’s a whole universe waiting for you, Sunday.”

[popodoki]

Hey, teacher! Part 8 (Catwin motorcycle au)

Thomas to the rescue x

"My God… is that your friend, Edwin?" Esther sneers, horrified.   

"Oh yes," he acts casual. Like this isn't completely bizarre. "It appears he was able to make it after all." Edwin politely excuses himself, pointedly doesn't walk away at full speed like a man escaping a death sentence.   

By the time he reaches Thomas on the street, at least 7 children have gathered around the shiny novelty of his bike, some of them are actually touching it. One child is gripping the handle bars and making 'vroom' noises. Thomas stands by, looking amused, answering their overlapping questions as best he can. When he notices Edwin, he smiles broadly, winking mischievously.   

Edwin comes to a stop, lifts one eyebrow at him.  

"I've come to rescue you, ghostie." Thomas announces, like its an obvious answer to a question Edwin didn’t pose. "This is real shit, isn't it? There isn't even any music. What kinda picnic is this?" Some of the children giggle at the curse word. "Also, babe, you’ve been here less than an hour and already you look fuckin' miserable." Edwin visibly deflates. He had been under the impression that he'd done a faily good job of hiding it. "Don't curse in front of the children." Is all he can think of. Right after, the realization that Thomas just called him babe comes barrelling through, and that is now all he can think of. 

"Well, come on then." Thomas throws his leg over, sits back on the motorcycle, pats the seat behind him.   

Edwin stares. 

Thomas stares back. 

Edwin’s mouth opens but it takes a second try to form the "What." 

"Come on, we're going home. There’s wine in the kitchen, and I’m pretty sure I saw a real nice vintage record player in the living room." 

"Thomas, I." Edwin shrugs helplessly, at a loss for words. "I can't just leave. And definitely not on that." 

"Course you can leave. Come on, say goodbye to- oops, here she comes." Thomas, vagrant that he is, can't even bother to hide the absolute glee spreading over his face. 

Heart in his throat, Edwin whirls around, sees Esther breezing towards them, a look of murder in her eyes. He braces himself, then deflates like a punctured balloon animal, with a slight wheeze he can’t quite smother behind a hand, when Thomas beats him to the punch, loudly. "Good afternoon! I remember you, tittering about yesterday, yeah? Never quite got your name, mine’s Thomas, Thomas King.”   

"Charmed." Esther clips out, curt, glancing at Thomas’ outstretched hand with disdain. 

"Pleasure's all mine, ma'am." Thomas quips, smoothly pulling his hand back, turning the motion into a tip of a hat that's not there, leans forward. "Say, you had a good look at her yesterday, I got her all cleaned up just earlier,” Thomas pats the bike’s seat, smiles wide, on the edge of too much so, "can I interest you in a ride around the block?" He pats the seat again, tilting his head just a bit to the side, towards her, making sure that Esther catches the challenge, the confidence in the invitation. 

Esther almost reels, recoiling with disgust. "That's a very emphatic NO from me, Mr. King. Edwin, dear boy, do come back when you're,” she waves her hand in the air, gesturing in the vague direction of where Thomas is practically preening, perched on his shining bike, arms crossed, “done, with all this." Her message is clear. Get rid of him.  She stalks away, every muscle in her body so tense, Edwin is surprised she can walk at all. When he turns back to Thomas, he sees him offer a cheeky fingerwave at her retreating back. 

When Edwin gives in to the urge to swat his arm, Thomas laughs and laughs, giggles like a child that's just pulled off a particularly dirty prank, looks just as faux-ashamed only when he fully refocuses on Edwin, and his wide-eyed stare at him. "You do realize, I'll pay for that later?" Edwin whispers from behind his clenched teeth. 

"Ghostie. What's she gonna do? Come on, now's your chance. Hop on." He scoots forward, making room. 

"I told you, I can't. I, I just-" 

"Edwin." Thomas looks him right in the eye, expression serious. "Don't worry. It's just a picnic. It'll go on without you. Who cares about what Esther says anyway? Who cares about the people who would care about what an absolute witch like Esther says?"   

The sound of his name coming out of Thomas's mouth is what calms him. Yet at the same time, his heart rate triples, he feels a surge of adrenaline. "I won't fall off?" He eyes the thin strip of seat behind the other man. It doesn't look at all secure. "Not if you hold on." Thomas starts the engine with a wink, and the nearby hovering cloud of children all exclaim in wonder at the noise, laughing, covering their ears. Some of their parents look decidedly displeased. Edwin takes a deep breath, wipes his sweaty palms on his overcoat, forces himself to throw a leg over the motorcycle, tucking up close to Thomas, an arm around his torso. "Sorry." he apologizes over the din of the engine, though he's not sure for what exactly. For touching him? 

"S'alright, babe. Hold on, we're going to be making a quick exit. The wicked witch is decidedly not happy." Thomas pulls a pair of sunglasses out of his pocket, the motorcycle jerks forward, scaring Edwin half to death. He reflexively clings harder, pretending he didn't make a high-pitched yelp out of fear. He doesn't dare look back, to see people's reactions as the motorcycle roars away. He doesn't even want to entertain the thought of how Esther Finch is going to handle him running off without saying goodbye.   

They've gone through two corners, when Edwin realizes he's still clinging to Thomas, perhaps a little too hard. He tries to loosen his grip, he really does, but every time the motorcycle makes the slightest motion underneath his legs, he's worried that their equilibrium will be shattered and he'll go spiraling to the pavement. Also, it's an easy excuse to hold him without any guilt. This was Thomas's idea, after all. Edwin is blameless for clinging. He presses the side of his face against the leather-clad back in front of him. The smell of leather is divine, and he can feel Thomas's ribcage expanding with each breath. It's nice. It's very nice. Edwin almost wishes he lived further away. 

Thomas pulls to a stop, neatly, in the middle of the driveway. He cuts the engine, glancing over his shoulder with a grin. "See? World didn't end." Edwin releases his squid-like grip on that leather jacket, rather unsteadily dismounts the bike, trying to calm his quaking knees. "Actually, there were a few turns back there that almost proved you wrong." A bucket is placed against the garage door, probably used by Thomas when he cleaned his bike. Thomas laughs good naturedly when Edwin gives it a calculating stare, just for effect. Edwin can’t help but smile, a touch wry, marvelling just a bit inside, how easy he now falls into this, this kind of banter, teasing, with someone he didn’t even know 3 days ago.  

He looks at the bike once more, and it occurs to him, again, that he has just ditched Esther at the church picnic, in front of essentially the entire town. Not only that, but he did it clinging to the back of a man on a motorcycle. Edwin needs a good, big glass of wine, and he needs it now. He pinches the bridge of his nose. "Alright, let's have a drink, before I spend any more time thinking about what I've just done." 

Thomas slaps him on the shoulder with a smile, letting his hand drift to the small of Edwin’s back, and leads them both inside the house. 

[buzzyb33]

Sleeping.

Prompt: After staying up later to finish an edit, chip tries to get into bed without waking up his girlfriend, not to his knowledge she wakes up as he mumbles his wholesome thoughts to her.

Warnings: short, FLUFF, mentions of y/n,

Stretching his arms above his head, he edits the recordings of all the boys splicing the sidemen among us into one perspective of the video, it was already two in the morning, he was just doing the final round then it was time for bed.

Running his hand through his already messy hair, he adjusts his headphones, fixing his posture.

“Just a minute..” he mumbles to himself, splicing the clips and colour coordinating the clips fine.

Chip smiles as he does a run through seeing if there’s any mistakes, adding his own little inside jokes to the wallet part of the admin card swipe, no shame in giggling to himself as he adds a photo of Baldski on KSI’s part and Ethan when fat on his.

Even giggling when he adds an old photo of ChrisMD in his braces and stupidly big ears.

He adds his own little effects and finally decides to finish the cut down in the morning.

Heading to the bathroom he brushes his teeth, shutting his eyes as he accidentally obnoxiously stumbles next to his girlfriend, the mattress groaning under his weight as he wraps his arms around me.

“Love you..”

He says quietly, tightening his grip on her waist.

Getting frustrated with the fact he now can’t sleep even after struggling to keep his eyes open why not talk himself to sleep.

I shift slightly, mumbling out a quick: “Joshua..”

He clearly doesn’t hear me from all of his shuffling around.

After some silence I hear his voice again.

“You’re the best.. thing that’s even happened to me.. sometimes the boys call me names but- I don’t care.. I love you.”

He nuzzled into my neck as I keep my breath soft, he thinks I’m fast asleep.

“Struggle to show it sometimes.. we’re both busy..” he hums.

He holds me tighter as his breaths grow deeper.

The next morning, I wake up first and feel soft.

I wasn’t really used to such praise but as I look at his sleeping face I feel even more In love.

I climb out of bed and make two cups of coffee, mine with cream and one sugar and his with two sugars and more cream, his more frothy.

I smile as I hear heavy footsteps and soon strong arms around my waist.

“Sleep okay?” He asks, leaving over to kiss my jaw and then taking his coffee, looking down at me with tired eyes.

“Yeah.. I did.. you?” I say softly, looking up at him, feeling fuzzy.

He nods.

“Somewhat..”

I get on my tiptoes and kiss his lips.

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me..” I say with a small smile and my hands finding in his shoulders.

He smiles and scratches his neck.

“You.. too..” he clears his throat and kisses my forehead.

“You should be more quiet, josh..” I smile and his eyes flick to confusion to shock to embarrassment.

A/n:

I wanted to do a fluffy fluff you know? Anyway.

REQUESTS ARE OPEN!!

Masterlist!

[violetmuses]

Wicked - A. Aretas 🖤

Title: Wicked - A. Aretas 🖤

Fandom: “Bad Boys” Film Universe

Character: Armando Aretas

Pairing: Armando Aretas + Female Reader

Main Storyline: Following the events of “Ride or Die,” criminal Armando Aretas returns to Miami and confronts his unknown future.

Tag List: @nelo0wesker @yassbishimvintage @nobodygetsza @peaxhygirl @superstar-t20 @adoresmiles @klssngss @deja-r @hyper-trash-panda 🏷

=====

2024

The large-scale space of this crowded airport helped criminal and fugitive Armando Aretas gain coverage during his prolonged return to Florida.

Armando could stop hiding around the world. By this point in time, moving over and over again would've depleted countless resources.

When Aretas looks up, Detective Mike Lowrey grinned while choosing famous sunglasses.

After facing terrible secrets or holding various questions, Mike would take responsibility here and now stood as Armando's biological father.

“What's up? I'm parked outside.” Kind for obvious reasons, Mike pointed outdoors and led his son near Miami's warmth.

______

As Mike took his Porsche, silence greeted this ride home. Lowrey wouldn't even play music out loud while Armando joined that passenger seat.

“You good?” Mike handed that brief yet genuine question after reaching the driveway.

“Tired.” Armando clipped through slightly accented English.

“I get it. C'mon.” Mike completely understands Armando's point before entering the house.

Inside, Mike's wife Christine smiles.

“I'm glad you're here and we've already organized our guest room upstairs.” Christine gestured near the staircase of this beautiful home. “Take your time.”

“Thank you.” Armando nodded to Christine and rolled his small luggage, able to sleep without disruptions.

*****

Sunlight returned when Armando Aretas woke up the next morning. Both soft blankets and gentle pillows welcomed his exhaustion this time around.

Pulling himself together, Aretas then straightened up the guest bedroom and headed downstairs, joining Mike and Christine for breakfast.

“Good morning.” Christine and Mike greeted Armando by the kitchen table.

“Hey.” Aretas nearly sounds coy when sitting down for this meal.

Peace brightened at last.

_______

“Ready to go?” Mike stepped near the driveway once more.

“That's why I'm here, right?” Armando shrugged while joining this passenger seat again.

“Not always.” Mike cleared his throat before air conditioning started up and this Porsche left.

_______

When parking near the Miami Police Department, Mike looked toward his estranged son.

“Ripping off that band-aid.” Lowrey wouldn't offer jokes and revealed this truth instead.

“Yeah, let's go in.” Aretas braced the inevitable moment because there's no other choice.

Entering this well-known precinct, Armando trailed his steps behind Lowrey just in case people started to ask questions.

Detectives and other staff members welcomed Lowrey without realizing the presence of his “guest” until both men reached that briefing.

“Mike! Why didn't you tell me that Armando was here?” Mike's longtime partner and best friend Marcus Burnett displays theatrics while leaving his seat.

“Marcus, don't start crying. C'mon!” Mike nearly rolled both while everyone else chuckled around the room.

Even AMMO weapons expert Kelly and tech genius Dorn smiled for a moment.

But when Captain Rita Secada joined the podium this morning, everyone silenced.

No more foolishness.

******

This upcoming case involved neon paths of South Beach.

“Monsters keep running around.” Driving with Marcus and Armando, Mike takes out his Porsche by nightfall. “Let's knock these fools out. Deal?”

“Armando better not act up tonight.” Marcus grumbled warnings over Aretas.

“Shut up, Marcus!” Mike gritted his teeth while pulling to the club. “We should blend here anyway.”

“It's just your sly way of getting Armando out of the house.” Marcus just kept ranting as all three men passed this bouncer.

On the other hand, Mike stepped back and watched Armando “network.”

When Aretas joined the party, this woman smiled and Armando whispered in her ear, nearly flirtatious.

Bingo! Still watching everything, Lowrey then realized Armando's plan and headed to that VIP section once Aretas left one of those barstools.

_____

“Sup?” Mike caught Armando without hesitation en route.

“There's a drop tonight, but that leader keeps hiding.” Armando explained. Drugs would funnel around.

“Who was at the bar?” Mike snuck his personal question.

“I don't really know who she is yet. We just met each other.” Armando held back thoughts of you.

“Have fun, but don't be stupid.” Mike offered quick advice to Armando before Marcus showed up again.

“No chance. He's dead.” Marcus revealed unexpected news.

“What?” Mike and Armando scrambled down this hallway as tension grounded the night.

******

Red and blue overcasts immediately brightened the skyline this evening as neon lights still painted canvases. Law enforcement swarmed all corners.

Huddled among terrified patrons, you listened while several officers questioned everyone.

One dangerous man snuck with plans to bring garbage near the city. Drugs would have ruined everything.

Just when authorities cleared this scene and you would head home, one seemingly familiar voice called you name across the street.

You learned his own name tonight: Armando Aretas.

The handsome stranger stood in black while this gold chain shined around his neck. Deep brown eyes glanced toward you with absolute concern.

“Are you all right?” Running down this block in your favorite shoes, you throw caution to the wind and check on Armando regardless.

“Yeah, I'm good. You?” His slightly accented English broke your heart this time.

“Scared.” You still kept telling him the truth at this point.

“I know, but we'll figure this out, okay?” Aretas wanted to settle your nerves. “Call if you hear anything else.”

“Okay.” You nodded, finding a ride shortly afterwards.

Who knows what could happen next?

******

“Reaching the morgue to identify this body. It's a rough case.” Returning to the precinct with Aretas, Mike set their next plan sooner than later.

“Aw, hell no!” Marcus turned away. “Leave dead bodies with the experts, man. I'm staying right here.”

“You found the body first, Marcus.” Mike seemed fed up. “Let's go.”

_____

“Be really careful when working through places like this, man.” Mike detailed protocol for Armando. “We should never contaminate anything.”

“Got it.” Aretas nodded toward Mike and locked down concentration. There was no other option.

“How are y'all so calm?” Marcus felt dramatic as usual. “I'm getting sick already.”

“Don't you dare start with that bullshit!” Mike warned his best friend.

“Detectives?” One expert acknowledged Lowrey, Burnett, and Aretas.

Here we go. Mike thought.

______

“Excuse Burnett. He's very squeamish.” Mike informed the team over Marcus.

“The man's body was found much later than expected. Not even embalmed yet.” One professional spoke up.

“Can we at least identify this man now? Our intel claimed his work as a drug dealer.” Lowrey tried once more.

“Verification will take more time, Detective. I'm sorry.” The professional declined further scope.

“Fuck.” Mike then clenched his teeth upon realization.

Progress almost moved ten steps back with the case.

Just when everyone bid farewell and reached that Porsche, Marcus finally vomited outside!

“I can't stand your ass!” Mike drove home for the evening.

“You know damn-well that I hate dead bodies, Mike!” Marcus shouted back to defend himself.

No breakfast tomorrow. Aretas casted both eyes toward the ceiling.

_______

Back home in the guest bedroom tonight, Armando took this much-needed shower and charged his cell phone before texting you.

Armando: Hey. 🚔

You: Hi. 😴

Armando: Did I wake you up? 🚔

You: Yeah. 😴

Armando: My bad. Check again soon? 🚔

You: Of course. Good night. 😴

Armando: Good night. 🚔

*******

Only taking coffee at the precinct, Armando watched virtual screens as tech genius Dorn highlighted updates.

“Our suspect ran this massive operation until we reached that nightclub.” Dorn explained.

“Anything like James McGarth?” Mike remembered the last case with Armando.

“Nothing like McGarth, but the culprit still made a name for himself.” Dorn shook his head.

“Names?” Mike continued offering his important questions.

“Still no confirmation from the morgue.” Dorn kept refusing.

“Aight. Let's go, man.” Mike gathered his belongings and pointed toward Aretas instead, leaving.

“Hey, where y'all going?” Marcus stood from his chair, puzzled.

Ignoring Marcus, Mike grabbed keys to the classic Porsche and rolled out with Armando.

______

“Take a break.” Mike parked in front of the house this time. “I'll pull more strings and we'll reconvene soon.”

“You sure?” Armando wanted to clarify the plan just in case.

“Yeah. We pushed a lot, regardless of taking dead ends.” Mike nodded. “Get some rest. We got this.”

“Fair enough.” Armando left the car, exhausted.

_______

While settled, Armando noticed your text message first:

You: Feel better? 🫂

Armando: Can't explain everything, but I'm taking a break. ❤️‍🩹

You: That's good. 😁

Armando: When this case ends, could we hang out sometime? 👀

You: Sure. 🫂

Grinning, Armando Aretas slept while thinking of you once more.

******

“Somebody has a girlfriend.” Marcus Burnett whispered to Mike Lowrey, joking.

When Armando sees you up close again, the case ends for good, as promised.

Warm daylight greeted one public park. AMMO joined this cookout with the Miami Police Department.

No more danger. Armando refused to see you worry again.

Standing at the grill, Mike looked over his shoulder to see you chatting up a storm with Armando. Even Dorn and Kelly joined your table.

Sighing with relief, Mike knew that the future wouldn't cloud anymore.

[queers-gambit]

You've Got A Friend In Me

prompt: ( requested ) after a close encounter, you turn to an unlikely source of comfort.

pairing: Joel Miller x female!reader

fandom masterlist: HBO's The Last of Us

word count: 2.8k+

note: yes this kinda centers around episode 5, but i stop myself before THAT scene.

warnings: cursing, canon-level violence (it's very mild in this), feelings of abandonment, Joel's awkward but def has a soft spot for reader. half-edited, more hurt-and-comfort than anything i guess. ❗️season one, episode five spoilers

It had been one of the scariest moments of your life, when the sinkhole opened and spewed rivers of Infected to charge at the living. Your job was simple: protect the kids while Joel went up to a vantage point to use a rifle and take out enemies around you. Yet, you failed. The commotion was too great to keep hold or track of everyone, and though it was selfish, you figured Ellie would be more all right than Henry and Sam.

You know, because of the whole "immune" thing. There was no telling if Sam carried the same antibodies and since he was so much smaller, you were just naturally protective of him.

So, when all hell broke loose, you lost sight of Ellie as Infected ran around but knew Joel hadn't. He kept an eye from above. You turned for the truck the two brothers were seeking shelter under and reached your hands out for them. It was time to move, it was time to go. However, just as Sam latched onto you, from the other side, two Infected had grabbed hold of the two lads, pulling, pulling, pulling, and then, gnashing their teeth.

You weren't ready to give up without a fight, so you did your best to free the brothers when an uncoordinated Infected barreled into your right side - knocking you into view of the others. You cried out as the creature snarled and tried to bite at you, arms wobbling with exertion and failing energy. Yet, you refused to let your life end like this and kept fighting with a hidden determination.

As quickly as your could, you reached for the knife in your boot to slash and hack and stab at the fucker - only to come up against two more that screamed more than anything. It was a frenzy, a fight for everyone's lives, and though you didn't originally want to go on this trip (like Joel), you knew now there was a higher purpose on the line.

So, with renewed energy, you forced the Infected away from you; knife slashing around to carve into their flesh and send them back into the depths of Hell. Behind you, Ellie was helping Henry and Sam to their feet, and they made their getaway safely - letting you refocus on the brutal fight at hand.

You knew if you didn't leave soon, you'd be stuck here like live bait and your knife would only do so much damage. This was a fight that you needed to run from, and so, with tears of fear filling your eyes, you turned away to run. You found a gun from a deadman, picking it up without stopping, and offering aim as you tried to find the others. There were shadowed movements in the distance and you took a chance to rush for it, feeling relief when you noticed Ellie first - but gasp when something screamed from behind you.

Turning, you didn't ask questions - you just fired. Two Infected had been on your tail, one falling easily from the spray of bullets but the other kept coming. "Ah, shit," you stuttered, trying to back up as it just kept fucking coming. With a gulp, you braced your feet, steeled your teeth, and snapped, "Go back to Hell!"

You emptied the clip into the fucker - and it finally went down. With a sigh of relief, you checked around you and saw another gun not far from you; checking around before slowly lunging for it. Checking the clip, it was mostly full but slippery from blood; making you use your shirt to clean off the grip. Another scream echoed and you knew, if you lingered even another ten seconds, you'd be overrun.

With a sigh of relief, you were allowed to once more pursue your party but just as you cleared the small dirt hill, the woman, Kathleen, was pointing a gun at your ragtag group of friends. This made you raise your weapon to take aim at the back of her head, but paused when movement caught your eye.

Your head turned slowly and you froze.

You watched silently as an Infected child leapt onto the woman, allowing you to sprint around them and rush off into the forest with the others, you and Joel taking the rear to encourage them all not to look back - but you both had to, to make sure you weren't being followed. There were no words exchanged, everyone's minds racing with what they had seen...

This was nothing like the Boston QZ or any surrounding area... Suddenly, just like Dorothy, you didn't think you were in Kansas anymore.

It was another mile (or so) of hiking before you came up to a rundown motel and Joel decided it was time to rest after the long night. Henry stayed with Sam and Ellie to let you and Joel check out the area, but to your immense surprise, there didn't appear to be anything. Not wanting to question your luck, you and Joel settled on a room and went back for the others to quickly usher everyone inside.

Luckily, the bolts still seemed intact but Joel insisted you still push furniture in front of it and the boarded-up window.

You were unusually quiet as you worked, but the truth was, you couldn't stop wondering if the others were going to leave you behind. They were gathered and at the mouth of the forest when you caught up, so, you worried they were really preparing to head out without you. It's not like you couldn't blame them, but you could Joel...

It'd been years since you knew the Miller brothers. Once upon a time, you were the cute single nurse next door to Joel's house and sometimes would babysit Sarah if scheduling permitted, being one of the very last things of "home" that Joel recognized. Yet now, after life fucked all of mankind, you've reduced yourself to smuggling drugs in and out of the Boston QZ.

Sam and Ellie settled in their room, looking over their comic book together for a bit of relief after nearly facing down death that evening. It was heartwarming to watch, and children had a way of reminding you of innocence during drastic, dramatic times of stress. For a moment, everyone was content just watching the two gush over their booklet; a very simple reminder everyone survived.

While conversation wasn't abundant between the three adults, Joel still took note of how shaken you appeared. How your eyes seemed permanently glassy. How you seemed far from rational thought.

"You think they'll be okay?" Henry asked you and Joel, sat on the floor to watch the kids in the open doorway with the other man leaning on an old furnace - eating.

"Yeah, I think," Joel answered quietly, glancing at Ellie and Sam before over to you, sighing. "It's easier when you're a kid, anyway."

This caught Henry's attention, still trying to get used to the man's cynical personality and words; get used to the way his voice sounded like it was drug over pavement. Noting the man's look, Joel explained, "You don't have anyone relying on you... That's the hard part."

"Well, guess you're doin' a good job, then," Henry offered Joel.

He nodded in appreciation, then nodded his head towards the kids, asking, "What's that comic book say? 'Endure and survive'?"

"'Endure and survive,'" Henry confirmed, then, scoffing a little in humor. "That shit's redundant."

"Yeah, it's not great."

"No," Henry chuckled, folding up his rations.

Joel paused a moment, then offered, "Look, I don't know exactly how we're gettin' to Wyoming," his thumb gestured between you and Joel, "probably walkin'. But... You know, if you want to..."

"Yeah," Henry accepted, saving Joel from his own strangled words. "Yeah. Yeah, I think it'd be nice for Sam to have a friend. I'll tell him in the morning. New day, new start," He told you and Joel.

"Endure and survive," you mused, nodding as you got to your feet. "Excuse me a moment, gentleman. But hey," your fingers snapped, pointing towards the room, "needs to be lights out soon. They need rest."

Joel and Henry nodded in agreement and gave you time to tug the single table out of your way and slip out the bolted door. You didn't dare venture far out of need for safety, but you still needed solidarity with your gun. So, you leaned on the rotting bannister, trying to stabilize your breathing - but each inhale only struck you with the stale stench of burnt bodies on the air.

Though a mile or more from the "battleground", you could still smell defeat in the air as it traveled over the wind.

"Hey," Joel muttered, approaching you from behind. "Didn't mean to scare you."

"You didn't," you sighed, honestly unable to react to much these days.

"You all right? Been pretty quiet."

"I think I've just been overthinking again."

"About?"

You shrugged, admitting, "How it felt so much like you guys were gonna leave me behind. I-I wasn't dead... I wasn't injured..."

"Hey, hey, no," Joel rushed, speaking your name as softly as he could. "No, you misread the situation. When I didn't see you, I was telling the others to get to a rendezvous point so I could go back - but then you showed up after Kathleen. I wasn't gonna leave you behind. Ellie wasn't gonna let it happen... She felt guilty thinking she needed to help get Sam and Henry to safety first. How can you think we'd leave you?"

"I just - you were all gone. I was alone, and for a moment, I-I just thought it looked like you guys were getting ready to leave me."

"That's the farthest thing from the truth, you know what you mean to me. I wouldn't leave you behind... Don't think so wrong of me, darlin', I wouldn't leave you behind."

You nodded slowly, unsure of the emotion you felt before admitting, "I guess that all j-just really scared me, Joel. I... I think I'm still scared." You stated trembling. "I-I mean, now, I just wonder what civilization they've made underground - there was so many of them, and they're advanced. They're adapting and morphing and fuck - "

Joel shook his head, "It's over now. Ain't doin' no good dwellin' on the past right now."

"I can't get it out of my head."

"It won't leave for a long while, darlin', but best we can do is... Well, as much as I hate to say it, we have to just endure and survive. Doesn't mean you're not allowed to be scared."

"It feels redundant now. Misplaced. Fucking useless."

"I think fear might be the one emotion that can bind us all together. It's the one emotion we can all relate to these days. Look, tonight was a taste of what could be out there, waiting for us. We just need to adapt - like before. So, you and me? We're gonna stick together and help each other out - not leave one another behind. We're gonna watch each other's backs and make sure we stick together. Hear me? You and me, girl, we're gonna see this to the end."

You nodded, "'S gonna get scarier."

"It will," he agreed, sighing before offering a side hug; content to hold your shoulders. "But you and I are a team, we don't ever have to endure anything alone. We're a unit. You're... You're not alone, darlin'. Not with me... Not with us."

Those were the magic words that shattered the cracked-remains of your emotional dam. You let out an impossible sob, trying to keep quiet by slapping a hand over your mouth, but Joel sighed and instantly tugged you into his embrace. He was at a loss for words, but in this moment, he understood you didn't need any words - you only simply needed to feel safe.

No matter how fleeting, you needed comfort. You needed safety. You needed a friend, the support of a friend.

Who was he to refuse and walk away? Leave you there, like this? There were years of dynamic friendship between the two of you and he knew, after the loss of nearly everyone you ever cared about, this was the simplest form of solidarity he could offer you - reassure you, he was here with you.

You hadn't cried over Tess.

You didn't cry over Bill.

You looked choked up at Frank, but no real tears.

Tears were useless and detrimental to survival - or that's what you like to tell yourself. Tears dehydrated. Tears could be interpreted as weakness. Tears made you small. Tears left marks behind to indicate to others what you felt. However, standing here, right now, you simply sobbed into Joel's chest as you held onto him - and he, onto you.

"I was so fucking scared," you whimpered, trembling. "I-I still am, Joel. I-I shut my eyes, and it's there..."

"I know," he sighed, but didn't say the words on his tongue where he admitted that he was scared, too. Yet, you still heard them. "But we're still here, darlin', we're alive." His arms tightened as his voice lowered, reassuring himself as much as you, "Nobody's hurt. Kid's are safe. You and I, we're safe. Henry's safe... We're gonna be okay."

"Yeah," you sniffled with a pitiful head nod.

"It's all right, darlin'," he frowned, tightening his hold. "You're gonna be okay."

"What if I'm not? What if I can't do this anymore, Joel?"

"Then you'll take a pause, try to breathe, and reevaluate what you can do. All you gotta focus on is getting to Wyoming with us and then you can figure out next steps. But let's get to Wyoming first... Right?"

You sniffled and nodded, "All right, yeah, sure, fine. Wyoming. Wyoming first, then we find Tommy. Yeah, tha-that's the plan. Wyoming and Tommy... I can do that."

"You can do that."

"Yeah," you whispered, feeling his hands almost awkwardly rubbing your back. He wasn't the most experienced in offering comfort anymore, but for a very brief moment, Joel admitted to himself it felt good to provide you this (however fleeting) feeling of safety.

"We should head back in," he whispered, letting go slowly to look down at your tear-streaked face.

"In a sec, I'll be right there." However, Joel didn't budge. "You can go in, Joel, I'm all right. Just need a second..."

"I'm not leavin' you alone when you're this upset. No, ma'am. So, dry your eyes, pretty girl, and come with me. We're gonna get some rest - we're safe for tonight. Right?"

"Right..."

"C'mon," his hand was offered, and together, slowly, you reentered the motel room. Your blood felt weighted, like your limbs were too stiff to truly move but you understood it was the adrenaline finally draining from your body.

Now, you felt sluggish, stiff, and slow; Joel never rushing you, simply guiding you back into the room as there seemed a permanent frown on both your faces.

"Y'all all right?" Henry checked, the kids door closed to indicate their resting state.

"Yeah," Joel nodded briefly.

"Just needed a breather," you whispered. None of you felt too chatty, so, you laid down in respected spots to attempt rest after you and Joel pushed the table back in-front of the door. However, before you could lay down, Joel waved you over to sleep next to him for the night; something he figured you both could use. You liked sleeping near him, it was a simple reassurance of not being alone or dead. So, you shuffled over, and laid beside him.

He sighed, gently caressing you chin, "You're gonna be okay. Stay with me, and we'll be all right, darlin', I promise you."

You nodded and reached for his hand to press against your cheek for simple warmth, eyes closing in relief. You took a long, sobering breath, but didn't open your eyes. He sighed and leaned in to press a quick, simple, and almost minuscule peck to your forehead. While wildly out-of-character, it was a nice gesture; something that dated back before the Outbreak. His hand lowered from your face to lay between you in the small distance, finding yours, and intertwining together for a tight hold.

As you slowly, very slowly drifted off to sleep, none of you ever fathomed that come morning, havoc would ravage your lives - and all effort you and Joel put forth into protecting Ellie from the harsher realities of life would go straight out the window.

Your little clan of four had thinned to three after Tess, and then with Henry and Sam, you, Joel, and Ellie became five... Come morning, you'd be back to three, and in earnest, that morning would haunt you all for months to come.

requesting rules and masterlist

TLOU masterlist

[daisychainsandbowties]

For Ava, piracy is Robin Hooding. Distributing ill-gotten gains is the best part.

For Beatrice, piracy is an escape. Being chased by the authorities has made her free.

For Suzanne, piracy is how she protects her girls. A means to an end.

For Shannon, piracy is a duty. Needs must.

For Mary, piracy is a job. A job with a built in soulmate.

For Camila, piracy is the family business. It is all about family.

For Lilith, piracy is the ultimate ‘fuck you’ to familial expectations. Found family is infinitely better.

god yeah i really do love the idea of ava, fresh-sprung from an orphanage and anointed with unholy power, fleeing through a maze of port city streets and running headlong into beatrice.

she’s got a pistol at her hip and a stack of books in her arms, smells faintly of magesmoke and blood, but she pulls ava into an alley, casts a simple ward and holds her there in the damp dark, alley cats wending around her boots.

one hand over ava’s mouth, the other trapping her arm against the splintery wooden wall until the guards (ava hopes that she thinks they’re guards) have moved on. then beatrice stepping back, appraising, going to collect her books from a neat pocket dimension she sketched into the air.

telling ava, because she follows, moth to a flame, “sorry about the rough handling. my name is beatrice, ship’s mage on the Cat's Cradle.”

she’s got the tattoos to prove it, almost consuming the skin of both arms as she tugs the cuffs up past her elbows; not down to hide them, but up, to reveal what she is.

at ava’s puzzled look she says, “it’s better, around here, to be seen as a mage rather than a woman.”

ava barely bites back on some loathsome quip, nods at her, then flinches at the sound of distant shouts.

beatrice casts a sidelong glance at her in her stained shirt, trousers cut at the knees. she's barefoot and bruised, staring like she's never seen buildings, or the sky, or a woman before.

she doesn’t even have a knife tucked into her trousers, or the slightest chance of making it through a night alone in this city.

there's a sigh trapped behind her teeth, but beatrice finds herself turning back. voice clipped, almost emotionless, “you look a little bit out of your depth.”

“no shit.”

but ava says it with a shaky laugh. she’s still more than a little preoccupied with how beatrice’s mage tattoos shift and slither in the interrupted light.

beatrice shrugs, “you know if you're interested, our surgeon needs an assistant.” her eyes travel hastily down ava’s body and then back up, “she says that small hands are helpful.”

“small hands?”

“to, ah, move around hers and to make stitches. i can’t say i really understand it, but, well-”

“magic doesn’t heal.” ava says this with bleak familiarity, like she knows the words by heart but would rather she didn’t.

she looks at her hands, tries not to think of what they can do, of the promise she made while half-asleep, to something that should not even be real.

“don’t you think that’s weird? you can do anything, but you can’t close a wound or... or fix broken bones?”

beatrice looks at her, shrugs uneasily. it’s just ink sitting under her skin, but the tattoos seem to shift and glisten wetly as she crosses her arms. “it’s not strange,” she says. “it’s the bargain we made.”

mages are oh-so-fond of trotting out that line. ava tries not to grimace at it. she is, after all, alone and penniless. she is being hunted.

“i’ve never done surgery or anything like that before,” she admits, looking down, braced for dismissal. her eyes stall on the books in beatrice’s arms. gods below i’m fucked. so fucked. i can’t even read, how am i supposed to-

“do you learn quickly?”

beatrice is looking at her calmly when ava rocks back on her heels and dares to meet her eyes. “you… what?”

“our surgeon can teach you, if you learn quickly.” beatrice pursed her lips, “if not, you could be one of the rigging boys, or… well, i’ll figure something out.”

ava stares at her, astonished. “but... why are you helping me?”

a raised eyebrow, muscles working under ink as beatrice clutches her books tightly. she looks odd and out of place in the dingy alley, with her tailored trousers and little silver buckles winking on her boots, through the dark.

“you look like you’re running from something.” ava clenches her fists at her sides, begging her abilities to stay under her skin.

beatrice seems preoccupied with her own thoughts, “someone helped me that way once, when i was… lost. you’ll meet her, i suppose. she’s my captain.”

“are you pirates?” ava blurts the question before she can stop herself, and beatrice’s gaze sharpens.

ava holds up her hands, “it’s just… two officers who are women and now your captain too. it occurred to me, is all.”

beatrice gives her a hard look, but she finds nothing in ava’s expression, beyond a measure of panic. maybe some fear, which is all for the better. "i suppose you'll find out." she's closed-off again, but not hostile.

yet, ava thinks. not yet.

“if you want, you can follow me. if not…”

beatrice frowns. already the sun is setting, dragging light back down along western shore, down into the ocean.

she turns away, starts walking, does not make a relieved sound when she hears ava start to follow. convinces herself that she doesn’t wish to make any relieved sound, at all.

one girl cannot be important, not in the scope of things.

“i’m ava, by the way.”

she speaks to the firm slope of beatrice’s shoulders. the day was too warm for a jacket, so it’s in her cabin, half-draped across the desk to hide her papers.

a half-turn, a nod of the head.

“pleasure.”

[dentaltreedentalclinic-1]

Daily Life with Invisalign: Tips and Best Practices Living with Invisalign aligners can be a transformative journey toward achieving a perfect smile. While the process is convenient and less noticeable than traditional braces, integrating Invisalign into your daily routine requires some adjustments. Here, we'll explore tips and experiences to help you make the most of your Invisalign treatment.

Morning Routine Starting your day with Invisalign is straightforward. Upon waking, remove your aligners and give them a thorough rinse. Brush your teeth and clean the aligners before putting them back in. This habit ensures oral hygiene and helps in maintaining the clarity of your aligners.

For those in Pune, the Best Dental Tree Dental Care in Aundh Pune provides excellent guidance on maintaining Invisalign. Their expertise ensures your treatment progresses smoothly with minimal disruptions.

Throughout the Day Wearing Invisalign means committing to keeping the aligners in your mouth for about 20-22 hours a day. This allows them to effectively move your teeth. However, this also means removing them every time you eat or drink anything other than water.

Always carry a small dental care kit with you, including a toothbrush, toothpaste, and a case for your aligners. This way, you can brush your teeth and clean your aligners after meals, preventing food particles from being trapped and causing dental issues.

For those looking for the best dental implants treatment near me, it's crucial to maintain oral hygiene, especially when undergoing simultaneous treatments like Invisalign and implants. Consult with professionals like Dr. Ganesh, an esteemed implantologist in Aundh, for tailored advice.

Evening Care Before bed, remove your aligners and follow a thorough cleaning routine. Soak them in a recommended cleaning solution or use Invisalign cleaning crystals to ensure they remain clear and free of bacteria. Brush and floss your teeth meticulously to avoid any plaque buildup that could lead to cavities or other dental issues.

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Adjusting to speaking with aligners in your mouth might take a little time. Practice speaking at home, and soon you'll find that your speech returns to normal. For those concerned about aesthetic aspects during treatment, the best teeth braces and clips alternatives offered by Best Dental Tree Dental Care in Aundh Pune ensure minimal visibility and maximum comfort.

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Conclusion Invisalign offers a convenient and aesthetically pleasing way to straighten your teeth. By integrating proper dental hygiene practices and adhering to the recommended wear time, you can enjoy a smooth journey to a perfect smile. Whether you need the best dental fillings, best teeth whitening treatment, or are seeking wisdom teeth removal near me, the comprehensive services provided by dental experts like Dr. Ganesh in Aundh will support your overall dental health throughout your Invisalign journey.

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[mcl4r3n]

(wait) they don't love you like i love you

Dando, 800w, Mature (for @landoisokay)

---

There is a mole, right there, on Lando’s left ear, and another, just below it. 

There’s one to the left of his neck. Another, near his chin, hidden by his little patchy beard. Another, on his cheek. Another, by his nose. 

They are guides for Daniel to press his lips to, and he’s always been good at following directions. 

Lando’s body is mapped out with them, instructions on how best to make Lando feel good. Where to bite down on soft flesh so that Lando will close his eyes and sigh through his teeth.

His hips provide Daniel with the trail he needs to follow so that he can put his hands on hardened muscle, into the dip of skin that goes from smooth to rough, into the garden of hair where Lando’s cock lies thick and hard and hot. 

“Daniel.” Lando’s voice is only a measure above a whisper. Daniel loves the way Lando says his name in bed. He’s heard it, over and over—angry, full of mirth, clipped, demanding. The way Lando says it when he’s nestled in Daniel’s comforter is his favorite. “You’re going too slow.” 

“I haven’t seen you in weeks.” Daniel presses another kiss to Lando’s clavicle. He strokes Lando’s cock once, just to tease, before he brings his hand back to Lando’s nipple, takes it between thumb and forefinger, and pinches, sure and steady, while Lando’s back arches off the bed. “I wanna take my time with you.”

Lando’s cock leaks precum from that. Daniel loves to watch when it happens, loves the way Lando’s body responds to him. 

There’s no music around them, just the low hum of the hotel room’s AC and their steady breathing. Daniel braces himself over Lando and steals a kiss that Lando readily gives up, tongue sliding against his, insistent and impatient. He moans into it, and Daniel swallows it with his next breath. 

“Danny,” Lando whines, and this, of course, makes Daniel’s cock twitch against Lando’s thigh. It’s a conditioned response now, really. Lando whines, and Daniel gets hard. 

“What do I do with you, hmm?” Daniel skates his tongue along Lando’s sternum. “Always so impatient.”

Lando is ruinous, to him. Ten years his junior, bright and fresh. A fucking spark. 

Daniel’s tasted love before, held its shape and pressed him palms into it, but never like this, never packaged and presented like this. Lando’s hands claw at his back so that Daniel has no choice but to kiss him again, sucking on the tip of Lando’s tongue while he slots himself between spread legs. 

He hasn’t said it, yet, is the thing. He hasn’t pulled the vocabulary from his brain just yet to be able to transmit that information across with his words. The year has been hard, their relationship only really still very much in its early days, even if it’s been seven months since Lando first kissed him, like a calf getting on its legs and finding its footing. 

But Daniel loves him. Daniel spends days apart from him, and days near him, crossing paths on the paddock when he happens to be there for a race weekend, and they glance at each other over a sea of mechanics and the navy blues and papaya-oranges of teams he used to call home. 

Lando hasn’t said it, either, not to him directly. But instead, Lando posts photos of himself wearing Daniel’s clothing, hats he knicked from his suitcase. Lando gets interviewed and says, “I had dinner with Daniel in Monaco,” and, “I love Daniel,” to a crowd of people. 

But he’s never said it to his face. So Daniel waits, and bides his time. He isn’t in a hurry. 

They move together, slowly, undemanding, despite Lando’s protests, and Daniel chases every kiss with another one. He strokes Lando to completion before he even gets a chance to fuck him, and then does so again, when he’s balls-deep inside of him, unhindered by any sort of latex, Lando’s strong legs locking behind his back to keep him in place. 

There’s spunk that plasters their bellies together, after, having fallen asleep with their limbs pretzeled and bordering on uncomfortable. Daniel comes to, the sensation of fingers stroking through his curls coaxing him from slumber. 

He props himself up on an elbow and wrinkles his nose, and Lando giggles, high-pitched and kind of grossed out, the way they have to unstick from each other like they’re caught in those adhesive rat trap sort of things. 

The sun has set in Silverstone. Tomorrow, Lando has free practice, and Daniel will once again sit on the sidelines while twenty other men live out his dream. Except that he has testing the week later, and Lando’s staying to watch. 

The timing comes to him then, while they’re sticky and sweaty and wrapped up in each other. 

“I love you. I hope that’s okay.” 

Lando smiles, eyes colored like deep moss, crinkling at the edges, mouth stretched so his cheeks bunch up. “Yeah,” Lando sighs. “Yeah, that’s quite alright, Danny.” 

Daniel’s eyes find a mole to the right of Lando’s Adam’s apple. He kisses him there. 

[lackadaisy-headcanon-supply-unit]

Okay so can i get a oneshot of mordecai, nico, and serafine with a reader who gets kidnapped by them? you know how in the comic mitzi says they once kidnapped a tailor yeah like what if mordecai, nico and serafina had to do that with a gn reader who is also tailor. But the moment all 3 of them look away the reader manages to straight up yeet themselves out of the car, shakes the ropes off and is already running by the time they notice. like the readers already gone by the time they get out of the car. then the next time they kidnap the reader one of them is like "how did you do that?" and the readers like "i'm not telling you and if you really want my services you can walk into my store yourself like a normal person instead of kidnapping me!" and yeets themselves out again and runs. like this bitch can't be kidnapped and will only help someone if they go to the readers shop and pay for it like a normal person.

i'm sorry if that was long i just think i'd be a funny concept. thank you

So Rocky had a buddy in the circus. (Well–not quite a buddy, but he wasn’t the only escape artist.) Y/N was trained almost from kittenhood to get out of the tightest spots and the most convoluted things. They knew how to pick locks with only their claws, they knew how to break free from ropes, they knew how to contort just right to get chains to slide off them like they were made of oil.

They also knew how to sew and mend things. And after being repeatedly told that they were the best cat at it, they eventually decided to ditch the circus and make tailoring their calling instead. And they did pretty well for themselves, all things considered. Well enough to draw the attention of Asa Sweet. And for one reason or another, he decided that doing business with them would be in his best interest. You don’t say no to Asa Sweet.

Y/N did.

Which they presume is why they were now blindfolded and gagged in the back of a car beside a dour tomcat and two twins in front snickering and mocking the latter.

“Why does he even want me that bad?” Y/N tried to ask again through their gag. “All I do is make clothing, it’s not that big of a deal, I’m sure!”

“You are not helping your case,” the cat beside them spoke up. “I suggest you stay quiet until we are an acceptable distance away.”

Y/N pinned their ears back, but reluctantly obeyed. Where they were going, they didn’t want to know–but being blindfolded, gagged and ted up could only mean one thing. They weren’t a good swimmer at the best of times.

They started to wriggle. Carefully and slowly, trying to keep a cool head as they drew on past circus know-how. The ropes around their wrists started to slip free.

They paused for a moment, listening to the sounds around them. They had no way of knowing if their fellow passenger had seen what they were doing until he spoke to the twins, warning them about watching the road; which means he wasn’t looking at Y/N. ‘My first stroke of luck today.’

They ground their canines against their bottom lip as the wriggling continued. They had an escape plan in mind, they just had to hope that the twins wouldn’t shoot on sight and that they could move fast enough to free everything before they got pounced on.

Their paws shifted free. They were surprisingly steady as they ripped the blindfold off and lunged for their passenger’s opened window.

The car skid to a halt as they rolled on the asphalt, rushed to their feet and bolted off to the side. Running along the side of the road was a death sentence, so they could either climb a tree or try to fight off three armed cats with nothing on them but their claws and teeth. Tree-climbing was not their forte, but–

A bullet whizzed by their ear. Another clipped their arm and almost made them stumble. Climbing a tree it is!

Y/N scaled the first one they saw, digging their claws into the wet wood and praying to whatever god existed that the branch they chose to brace on didn’t break. One of the cats chasing after them swore and turned to the tallest and bulkiest of the lot. “We lost ‘em.”

The bulky cat chrugged. “C'est la vie.”

”This is no shrugging matter,” a black cat snapped. “If it wasn’t for–”

“If it weren’t for you leavin’ your window open, cher, we wouldn’t be in dis mess.” The female of the group shouldered what looked like a rifle. “How’d dey get away so quick?”

“Must’ve climbed a tree.”

Y/N’s blood ran cold as the bulkier cat looked up the tree they were in. They swore their heart stopped when his eyes landed on them, but the foliage must have camouflaged them because he shrugged and turned away.

“We will find them again later, I am sure.” The black cat looked conflicted even from Y/N’s distance. “Let’s go.”

“If we ransack their shop, do you tink we’ll find it den?”

“It’s a possibility.”

Their talking grew muffled as they left. Y/N sagged against their perch in relief. They were safe, for however long.

Though the queen cat’s question confused them. Find what? What did Y/N have that was worth killing them over?

Maaaaybe it’s time to move out of Saint Louis. Now how do they get down from this tree?

[icey--stars]

Stories To Be Told: PART 15

Series Index

A shadowsinger, a warrior, an Illyrian, that's what she was. Trained by one of the most formidable female warriors. Escaped the Illyrian camps and her clipping when she was barely sixteen and is now the holder of 6 siphons. What happens when she tries to sneak into the City of Starlight? And starts down a whole new road of chaos?

a/n: im gonna be honest ya’ll. im giving MYSELF backlash with this damn writing lmao. one second she loves az. the next second she’s back to cussing him out. i love it and hate it so much right now. but dont worry. itll end soon.

↢ 『 ☾ 』 ↣

I didn’t sleep that night either. Nothing could quell these thoughts in my mind. The walk had done nothing. Azriel had done nothing. My thoughts were not only hitched on that stupid dream I had, but the few memories I had of… the event. Gods, I needed to find a way to refer to that. Rather than just the “event”. 

The next morning, with my eyes sunken in and my head feeling so incredibly weird, there was a knock on my door.

I stood up, limping a little bit less as I cracked the door. Azriel, of course, was on the other side of it. I opened the door a bit more, leaning against the frame as I stared at the hazel-eyed male.

“You look tired,” he observed. “Did you manage to sleep last night?”

I sighed, rolling my eyes. “If you’re coming here to check on my well being again, I’m fine. The fact I told you I was thinking at all is a miracle.” The thread in my check yanked again and I grit my teeth hard.

“I’m aware, I’m not here to push it. Cassian canceled training today, so I was going to invite you. Since you wanted to continue training and all,” he explained.

I cocked a brow. I did remember saying that. Az was here to actually make good on that promise?

“Why’d he cancel?” I asked curiously, opening the door a bit more as I moved to grab my leathers.

“Unrest in Illyria, Rhys went with him. And seeing as you’re already not taking Madja’s advice seriously, I figured training couldn’t be too bad, since you walked nearly 15 miles in the forest.”

I narrowed my eyes, jerking my head to meet his gaze. “How do you know that?”

“Shadows can do a lot more than you think.”

I rolled my eyes, strapping on my last dagger before following him through the halls. He didn’t go to the balcony, where we would fly up, instead, as if still concerned for my healing, he led the way up the stairs to the training area.

The fresh breath of air I got when we finally got up onto that little plateau, was relieving in the best of ways.

“Would you like to work with mitts first? Or something else?” Azriel asked, stretching out his wings a bit as a wind blew from the left.

“That sounds fine,” I replied, hiding a yawn behind my forearm as Azriel went to retrieve the equipment we needed.

“By the way,” He said, walking to me. I’d settled myself into one of the fighting rings. “You’re wearing your leathers for the Day Court meeting. Along with the other Valkyries.”

“Alright.”

Azriel seemed a lot different than a few days ago. We had been arguing before the event. And now he has gone a lot more… placid and compliant to my requests to leave things be. Which, don’t get me wrong, I appreciated it, but it just made me wonder.

Was he getting tired of forcing himself to deal with me? Or was I really just being that sensitive? Maybe I’d spent too long away from actual civilization. Maybe this was actually all totally normal. Maybe-

I cut off my thoughts as I wrapped my knuckles with a bit of cloth offered to me.

Azriel had protective sparring pads on his hands, and braced himself carefully, and then gave me a challenging look. “Let out whatever you’ve been holding. If you need to work off the strain working your body to the bone, we can deal with the fallout.”

My lips tightened, and then I settled into a stance and threw the first punch. Azriel didn’t budge, just had his arms out in front of him, preparing for the next. So I kept it up. I threw the next punch with more force behind it, and then another. I kicked high, my body basically splitting in half, and then righting myself quickly, punching skillfully again.

I didn’t focus on who was behind the pads, just… I just let go. Punching became the silence I needed. Kicking became my release. It almost felt like I was back with Rainne. Training with her again.

Distantly, I thought about what she’d told me right now.

“Little bird… you need rest.”

“I can’t rest!” I argued.

She clicked her tongue, pulling the pads back up. “Then hit. Until you cannot anymore. Until your thoughts are no longer too loud. Remember to breathe. Follow through. Whatever hurts you… let it flow through.”

I knew the shadows were whispering to me, telling me to stop. They weren’t always unkind. Sometimes they worked to keep me from losing myself. It just wasn’t common. The kind ones were never as loud as the ones who claim to have better decisions than I. 

The pads dropped. With it, my focus.

I looked up to meet Azriel’s eyes. “What?”

“Are you… alright? Your shadows are going insane or something. Even I can hear them from right here,” he admitted.

I glanced back. The shadows were large and flowing around me, and I heard them basically screaming. “Shut up,” I ordered quickly. “I’m fine you little pests.”

The shadows calmed after a few moments of placating. I pulled them closer and then turned back to Azriel. At least whispers of my failures hadn’t been coming through them, I thought distantly. That was always a good thing.

“I’m fine. How long have we been doing this?”

“Almost an hour.”

That shocked me, my eyes widening. “Didn’t mean to get so much into that,” I admitted. “Do you want a turn?”

“I’ll only take a turn if you’re certain you’ve worked off whatever is up with you.”

“I’m fine,” I lied and began unwrapping my hands.

Azriel put one of the pads to my hands. I raised my gaze. “You sure?” He asked.

I sighed. “I’m alright Az. Your turn.”

We switched equipment and I braced myself carefully, and let Azriel get in his own punching as well. My body ached distantly from all that I’d been doing. Goddamn. Ever since I got caught up with this Inner Circle, I’d have the most crazy ride of emotions and events. It was nothing like the forests, or the years that passed by in just the blink of an eye. No, I’d been here for a while, but it hadn’t even been that long. The days dragged instead of passed.

But you wouldn’t have met any of them if this hadn't happened. Nesta, Emerie, Gwyn, you wouldn’t have met any of them. Know them at all even.

Friends. I hadn’t had friends for a long time. And now I have three sisters. Not by blood, but it felt impossible. I’d lived the majority of my life either alone, with Rainne, or mourning for her. And now it was like a whole new life I had. Whether for good or for bad. So far, it's been both. Training and being with my friends was great. Azriel, work and the event had been absolutely terribly confusing or painful to think about.

“Be here,” Azriel said suddenly, breaking me of my stare with his wrapped fists. “You keep getting that look that you’re thinking about something that’s in the past.”

“How would you know?” I countered, taking his next blow with ease.

“I get the same way,” He admitted, looking up for a moment before sending a winding kick. “You keep thinking that much and you won’t like what you find. So be here. Right now.”

He flared his wings as he moved to punch again. I grunted as he hit true. Strong damn Illyrians, I cursed.

“See now you look frustrated. That’s better than the thinking look you have,” Azriel commented. “If you’re thinking about the events that have happened, you have to find a way to stop. Find a way to not… zone out or whatever. If you have to, use your anger to keep you centered. Or something, anything else. Thinking does you no good if you’re just upsetting yourself.”

“How do you know I’m upsetting myself?” I countered, moving to the side of him, forcing him to move with me. “How do you know? What if I’m just thinking about the creatures I met in the woods yesterday?”

“You get… a look when you’re upset. That’s all,” Azriel replied. “What creatures did you meet?”

“A lot of wolves,” I replied. “And something that was dangerous, but it was the one who can’t climb.”

“A Fright?” Azriel guessed. “I’ve seen a few.”

“I think that’s what they’re called,” I answered. “Only see them in the Night Court.”

“They have other creatures in other courts.”

Azriel paused after a bit. He and I kept sharing a few words. I shared a few about creatures I saw in the Winter Court. He shared his from the times he was tasked to check out reports of them and then deal with them. 

“Would you like to continue, or are you done?” He asked, unwrapping his hands as I slid the pads off.

I lowered my gaze to the sandy ground. Did he want to continue? Or was I once again burdening someone else?

“I’m good,” I answered. “I’m going to go find Nesta, see if I can do a dance lesson.”

He raised a brow. “Nesta’s teaching you to dance?”

I nodded.

“Good luck then. I’ve seen her skill for myself, so I hope you can keep up.”

I rolled my eyes and left him as he put back the equipment, wanting away. I just keep avoiding people, I noticed.

I spotted Nesta reading in one of the chairs of the common room. “Nesta,” I regarded as I approached.

She lifted her gaze, and her lips raised in a smile. “Y/N, how are you doing? Your injuries mostly healed?”

I nodded. “It’s only some slight pain. I was hoping to uhm- maybe do a dance lesson?”

She stood, placing the book on a side table. “Yes,” Nesta said, grinning. “Yes, that sounds amazing. That book was getting boring anyway.”

“Just pining after each other endlessly? Or ignoring each other's presence until the end of time?” I guessed.

She gasped. “How did you know!? Yes! That’s exactly what they’re doing! Both!”

I chuckled. “Their the most endless tropes I know of. Only reason I ever read them is because they tend to have a good confession scene.”

“You read romance, I like you even more. I didn’t even think that was possible,” She chuckled, walking towards me. “Alright, follow me, I know where we can start.”

Nesta grabbed onto my hand and began to drag me after her. I stumbled a bit but quickly jogged beside her quick pace.

“Have you never danced before?” She asked.

“Rainne tried to teach me one formal Winter Court dance once. I think we just forgot to practice. Or we decided to not go to the Solstice celebration that year.”

“Better than nothing. I learned all the formal ones, so I’ll teach them to you. In case you ever end up needing to know them. I practice with an instructor down in Velaris sometimes, but normally I just tend to steal Cassian.”

I scoffed, amused. “What are you stealing Cassian from?”

“Brooding, or paperwork. I don’t know- he’s the general, so general-y things.”

I chuckled. “Yes, general-y things.”

She hummed. “Do you want to learn the female side of the dances only? Or would you like to learn both? We can steal Az and get him to help with those.”

I shook my head immediately. “No- no, I’ll just learn the female ones. I can learn the male ones by watching.”

She and I walked into an empty room that was pretty large. Nesta walked confidently toward the middle of the room, pausing as she turned back to me.

“Alright. First order of business!” She declared. “Hand placement.”

Dancing, it seems, was actually quite complicated with the specifics like hand placement, and where you go with the dance and all the more complicated steps. But it seems that the grace I displayed with my footwork when fighting, actually was quite similar to these formal dances Nesta insisted I try. My thigh twinged uncomfortably on a couple moves, like the spins or dips, but I just grit my teeth and continued. Luckily, my wings proved barely a problem. Besides the dip, when a male’s arm generally goes behind your back. Nesta managed to work it in a way that comfortably rested on the small of my back. 

My shadows, however, fell in love with the movements instantly, swirling around me as if they were learning to dance themselves. Some still remained wreathed around me, writhing happily as I completed a movement successfully, while others tried to do it themselves in the shadows that my wings cast on the ground.

Nesta was stronger and more confident in her moves than me or my shadows. Distantly, I thought about what she would be like with a skilled partner. Probably very regal and graceful, I guessed.

“You did well on your first day!” She insisted as we walked out of the room. “It's just memorizing the dances now. Think of them like battle maneuvers. Except instead of fighting, you’re dancing with a partner.”

“Yeah,” I hummed. It was almost dinner.

“By the way- Rhys asked me to ask you if you were going to become a Valkyrie. Do you know?”

I smiled. “Yeah, I think I will. Azriel told me as well. I have to cut a ribbon, right?”

“Yes.”

“Shouldn’t be too hard. You think I can sneak into training tomorrow and get it done?”

“With Cassian banning you from training? No,” she chuckled. “Just wait.”

I rolled my eyes. “I can deal with Cassian,” I insisted.

“Y/N,” she warned. “Heal first.”

“Fine,” I grumbled. “But first day back and I’m cutting it.”

Nesta chuckled, smiling. “Yeah, you do that. We can dance again tomorrow if you lose that pain in your thigh you keep wincing from when you spin.”

I scoffed. She gave me a look. “Fine,” I conceded. “I’ll wait.” 

↢ 『 ☾ 』 ↣

TAGLIST (see post for getting added)

@mis-lil-red, @bunnymallowo, @judig92, @biblophilefox82, @azzydaddy, @thegirlintheshadows101, @whatupmydudes01, @feyres-fireheart, @elizarikaallen, @xenlynn, @panzees-bizarre-adventures, @starswholistenanddreamsanswered, @baebeepeach, @nyctophiliiiiaaa, @brekkershadowsinger, @officiallyunofficialperson, @bookslut420, @margssstuff, @bluephoenix908, @goldentournesol, @rebloggiest-reblogger

[yuzuwakano]

Kurona Ranze isn't much taller, around 5’3. She has a bob and bangs that she cuts herself and two long strands on each side of her face that she ties into braids when she's bored of whatever you're saying. She has shark teeth and braces with blue rubber bands to fix her overbite. She has a collection of cat and slogan t-shirts and fun colored thigh high socks that get covered up by the same dark blue shark sweatshirt and pair of brown boots every day. She carries around the same plastic water bottle every day and goes on rants about overconsumption killing the ocean. She paints her nails with sharpies and pens and doesn't know how to use makeup but still carries around a bag of dollar store eyeshadow and clearance aisle lipstick. Her favorite movie is one that aired on television 9 years ago and her favorite song is one she heard in a grocery store one time. She doesn't understand poetry that doesn't rhyme but likes stories of women falling in love with someone that might be a man. She imagines that it's not. 

Kurona Ranze likes a girl. 

Kiyora Jin was a solid 5 foot tall. Her hair comes down to her mid back and she pins it back with too many hair clips. She treats her wine lipstick as blush and eyeshadow and her mascara as eyeliner. Her skirts all come down past her knees and she's been wearing the same pair of converse since her first year of highschool. Her bag is tearing at the seams and her oversized shirts are all hand me downs from her sisters. She has a red pen that she uses to draw up and down her arms, doodles of stars and swirls and intricate patterns she’ll never be able to recreate. She carries around the same poetry book everywhere, it's tattered at its corners and no one is sure where she got it but Kurona knows. She likes statues of dead people and her interpretive dance class. She's the most interesting person Kurona has ever met. 

She doesn't talk but if she did Kurona would listen to her all day. Kurona knows her favorite colors and the difference between her favorite songs even though they all kind of sound the same. Kurona Ranze has memorized Kiyora Jin the way Kiyora Jin memorizes poetry. She sees Jin when she closes her eyes and holds her hand when they cross the street even though Ranze was about 80 percent sure Jin doesn't like girls. Was. 

“I like you.” 

“I like you too, Jinnie. You're my best friend.” 

They were at the library again, it was the only place in 100 miles that they could get away from the howling jocks and laughing hyenas that called themselves their classmates. They were half whispering even though they were the only people on the floor. Jin was reading the same poetry book that she had last week and Ranze had found a new shark book on the kids floor. 

“No.” Jin's eyebrows were furrowed as she tried to find the words that she was looking for. Her brain thought in the form of the poetry she memorized and songs she vaguely knew the names of. It's hard to make your own sentence when all of the puzzle pieces are too big. She was searching her catalog of death themed rhymes and cryptic rhythms for romance, a genre that she never ventured into. 

“Like Romeo and Juliet.”

“I don't want to be Romeo and Juliet.” 

Jin whipped her head around, confessing was risky but the rainbow bracelets and pink and orange pins on Ranzes backpack made her feel safe. It was on a whim but she had been confident that she was right. Had she miscalculated? Or was the problem not that she was a girl but that she was her. 

“I want to be Virgina Wolf. You can be Vita Sackville-West. She was a poet like you.” 

“You almost killed me.” 

“Sorry, sorry.” They were laughing now, and though she didn't like poetry Ranze could write a million pages about the way Jin looks and sounds and feels in her hand when she laughs. 

“I like-like you too.”

“Like-like,” Jin mirrored back. 

“It's one way to say it, it's clunky, clunky. They don't use it in poems.” but she said it again. “Like-like.” She was memorizing it. Memorizing Ranze like a synth wave song and Edgar Allen Poe. 

“We should get married.” 

“I have dance class later.” 

“Not now.” Ranze laughed again, for as literate as she was she could be a little air-headed, she had her head in books and that's where it stayed when she closed the pages. “Just in general, like later in life, later.”

“Oh.” Jin thought about it, she imagined a wedding in a cemetery and shark themed cupcakes. In her head she started a new poem about white tulle covered in mud and frayed at the end by sea creatures made of bones and love. 

“I'll get us a dog, we can name it after a food.” 

“Oreo.” 

“Bagel.”

“I like bagels.”

“I know.” 

[twistafr]

Double On The Door

TedxSchlatt smut fic, pretty short thingy i made

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 1,012 Summary: "Holy shit, Ted," Schlatt whispers between a sound so high-pitched and drunk with giddiness that it could qualify for a giggle. He braces a hand against the wooden door he's leaning against, and flings his other arm over Ted's shoulder. "And I thought you were only into the chicks."

The party kinda sucked anyways.

It's not the best guest etiquette, but neither of them care. One of them has downed too many drinks and the other's smoked too much to care, after all.

And, well, maybe even without all of that Ted and Schlatt would still have locked the door of the bathroom with booming laughter that still wasn't louder than the generic music playing throughout the house.

They both suppose, sure, yeah, somebody might hold a house party and still not want people to get all handsy in their own bathroom. But they'd like to propose the fact that at least it's not somebody's bed, since the bathroom would be less gross and devastating to hear than two strangers going at it in the bed one wakes up in most of the time.

So it's the bathroom Schlatt and Ted are in, where Ted has a hand down Schlatt's shorts, making the other puff out hot air into his ear. Ted wraps his hand around his dick, and the headache Schlatt previously had formed due to the annoying laughter of anyone not named Ted suddenly wipes off from his head.

"Holy shit, Ted," Schlatt whispers between a sound so high-pitched and drunk with giddiness that it could qualify for a giggle. He braces a hand against the wooden door he's leaning against, and flings his other arm over Ted's shoulder. "And I thought you were only into the chicks."

Ted laughs with him. Or at him. Nobody really knows. He just smiles, and it's this genuine thing that makes Schlatt's head tilt back with a well endowed stroke from Ted's hand, palm warm and engulfing Schlatt who gasps slightly, then attempts to whack Ted.

"I could say the same," Ted says, huffing as he glances down, eyes hazed over with a whirl of desire and carelessness as he presses his lips to Schlatt's neck with absolutely no aim. Schlatt doesn't stop him, just glances at him in confusion, heavily judging the other as he parts his mouth against the bare skin.

"The hell are you-" But then Ted dares to bare his teeth, just opening his mouth lazily and tempting Schlatt's neck with a new possible design, canines tapping at the door. Schlatt scoffs, almost in disbelief, and feels a wave of arousal and disgust wash over him at the same time. This leaves him to swat Ted's face away, groaning with annoyance as he does. "Biting me? Get outta here, dude."

Ted chuckles, a slow and casual thing, but he can't seem to keep it there and bursts out into gradual fits of laughter as he shrugs, then sighs heavily. "My bad, bro."

With that Ted squeezes his hold, like a total weirdo, Schlatt can confirm, as his dick pusles and he reels in on himself, bumping his head against Ted's as the other's thumb swipes over the head.

"Well fuck you too, then," Schlatt tries to tell him, but his voice cuts off, sounding terribly weathered. All clipped and breathy, like just maybe the way Ted runs his finger across a vein is actually doing something to Schlatt as he gives a brief moan at the sensation purely provided by Ted's fngerpads.

"Oo, what's that you said?" Ted asks teasingly, an absolute jerk full of corny lines that can make anybody anywhere cringe. But he's good with what he's doing, so they both don't quit, and Ted hums as Schlatt lifts his hips, wordlessly trying to somehow upgrade his handjob intensity or whatever he's attempting, Ted doesn't pay attention as he grins all smug. "Did you say something that implies me fucking you? Cus it's a yes, one-hundo."

"You're so fucking annoying," Schlatt complains, but it's timed with efficient work from Ted's hand, and his cock twitches in his hold, and he bucks up into it. So his words of frustration simply end up sounding like a breathless lil moan from a voice of endearment. Not what Schlatt meant. But it doesn't matter when there's bundles of heat exploding with pleasure all throughout as Ted shifts his hand. "I-" He pauses, breath hitching as Ted uses his free hand to push Schlatt closer, hips angled upward. "Damn- look, you're not fucking me."

Ted frowns dramatically, heart stabbed by an event he knew was coming. "Right, you'll never be fucked by a dude-"

Schlatt leans up, craning his neck forward, and grasping to cuff Ted's face. "In a damn shitty bathroom, Ted."

Ted's spine straightens up for a second at the explanation, heart spiking with possibility as he flicks his wrist, causing Schlatt's eyelashes to flutter nearly. "Then the hell are we still doing in here? We gotta go to where you would let that happen, Schlatt. Dude, come on-"

Schlatt clutches onto him with both hands all of a sudden, and knocks Ted's calf with his heel. "Not tonight, pal."

Right before Ted can ask why somebody knocks on the door, so instead Ted is stuck yelling something about being occupied. Only after he gets back to work, big fingers wrapping around Schlatt who groans, the noise dragged out with satisfaction, punched out straight from his lungs, maybe even his soul as Ted moves.

 Ted inches forward, sucking in a deep breath as Schlatt moans once more, noises becoming more and more likely as he progresses into a more reactive person.

"This is so-" Schlatt pants for a second, bowing his head. He remembers to disregard this, of course, and rolls his eyes as he laboriously breathes. "This is unfair."

And well, Schlatt said it, even if either of them mean it because to be completely frank, Schlatt doesn't actually consider a handjob from his own Ted, his best friend, to be an unfair thing that happened to him.

It does, in fact, make him finish, leaving him to mumble out Ted's name and a bunch of half-assed insults as Ted soaks everything from him- Before he sinisterly takes out his phone and snaps a photo of Schlatt from chest up.

Schlatt tries to delete it, of course.

[trisshawkeye]

📝

📝 - tell me about a project you’re working on, or share something from a WIP

Have a sparring scene!

--

With a slam of his front foot against the ground Gan Xing darted into Zhao Yun’s space faster than he was expecting. A flurry of blows followed, and Zhao Yun spent a few moves simply blocking them, bracing against the power of every strike. This was a man who fought best with a podao, putting devastating force behind every blow with the single-edged weapon. Zhao Yun returned a few solid blows in kind, watching him stand his ground and block them as expected. Then he took a quick hop-step backwards, letting Gan Xing swing into the space left behind and jabbed one end of his staff hard into his unguarded shoulder. Gan Xing staggered back with a grunt of surprise and his scowl deepened. 

“One!” Zhao Yun called, and resumed his stance. Gan Xing left no time to pause before going back on the offensive. This time, he let fly a more varied sequence of slashes and thrusts, making Zhao Yun work to return the blows and successfully parrying them as he did, keeping his staff high all the while. Zhao Yun realised what he was planning in time to flinch backwards as Gan Xing smoothly switched his weapon hold from overhand to under and flicked it sharply up towards his jaw. 

He wasn’t quite fast enough—the end of the staff clipped his nose and the top of one eye socket. Zhao Yun felt the sharp shock of pain resound through his face as the watching soldiers gave a unified gasp, and tasted iron in the back of his mouth. He spat red onto the ground and grinned around bloodied teeth. “Hit!”