#I do not make the rules but he eats cheese and needs a little top hat and bow tie

[thedreadpirateholmes]

The gremlin energy has overtaken me

I must scream

Must

SCREAM

[ladykailitha]

The Au Pair Boy Part 2

We interrupt your regularly schedule "Of Butterflies and Backstrokes" for another chapter of the nanny AU. I just need to cut down on the amount of backlog I have on this story and bolster OB&B while I work on the Halloween-esque metal band sequel "Around the World".

I am living for the responses to this fic. It makes my heart so happy!

In this we have a correct Robin, well... a mostly correct Robin and they all get to know each other a bit over dinner.

Part 1

~

Steve walked into his apartment feeling like he was walking on air. He never thought he would get his dream job, in his dream house, with his dream guy, who was gay. Like what did he do to warrant such a windfall?

The first thing he did was call Robin.

“Are you sure he isn’t some mass murderer?” Robin asked after he had explained the job. “Because that sounds too good to be true.”

“Well unless major rockstar and music producer, Eddie Munson is a mass murder,” he snarked back, “I high doubt I’m going to be murdered in my sleep.”

“You could be being catfished,” she warned. “He could only be pretending to be Eddie Munson just lure handsome young men to their deaths.”

Steve laughed. “Uh...no. The pictures online matched all the way to the cute dimpled smile he gets when he’s feeling super happy.”

“Ooh...” Robin teased. “Hot musician got it bad for the au pair boy.”

“No...” he whined. “He was looking at his daughters when he smiled like that. No dating the hot parents. That’s the number one rule. You know this.”

She burst out laughing, too. “For the married ones! But he’s single. It’s been a year since his very public break up with ex Ethan Giovanni. He’s trusting you with the two cutest girls ever. Like why not tap that?”

“Because I want to keep watching said little girls,” Steve huffed. “Plus he’s going on tour for three months in two days. Not going to happen.”

“Yeah,” Robin said. “For now.”

He told her about how they wanted to him to start that night and how this was the final test on whether or not he would be good fit.

“Knock ‘em dead, babe,” Robin said. “You’ve got this.”

~

Steve opted for a chicken lasagna with white sauce. He could sneak some vegetables in there and see if he could trick them into eating them.

He shredded the chicken and blended spinach and basil into the sauce. Added lots of shredded cheese as well as a well seasoned ricotta and popped in the oven.

While it was cooking he went up to the room that would be his if he got the job. It was large for some place where the help would be staying, but small in comparison to the girls room. Which they shared for now. Once they started school, Eddie said that they would be given their own rooms, but with them being so young it was good to keep them together.

Steve agreed.

He was close by, but he also had a baby monitor with camera that the app would be downloaded to his phone.

The house was well fitted with security measures that had only been tightened since the girls were born.

The room had that same Gothic, spooky feel, but wasn’t over the top with it. Instead of reds and blacks the room was dark browns and deep blues. Steve felt like he was floating on a ship on the high seas. He scratched his cheek thoughtfully.

He wondered if he could go a little harder on the nautical theme. There was an en suite bathroom that could also lean toward the nautical with its soft blues and teal color of the tiles and walls.

Eddie had given him a budget to decorate his rooms and now he was planning a shopping trip with Robin.

Steve knew he was getting ahead of himself, but he wanted the job so bad. Surely the universe wouldn’t be so cruel as to taunt him with it only to take it away.

He checked the timer on his phone and saw that it was almost time to check on the lasagna. He trotted back down the kitchen, again admiring the decor of the place. Everything felt antique but timeless at the same time.

He really did love it.

The kitchen was even stylishly antique in look and flavor, but all the appliances were state of the art. Only nothing was connected to the internet here. It was honestly freeing in that regard.

He hummed to himself as he pulled the dish out of the oven and set it on the stove top to let it firm up a bit before serving. He started to get down plates and cups for dinner. He quickly set the table for three adults and two children. Noting that one plate had a pink kangaroo and the other had a blue ballerina.

Steve correctly guessed which plate where as each girl came running up to the seats that they were sitting in for lunch and gasped in surprise that the right plate was in the right spot.

“Daddy, Daddy!” Joan cried. “He didn’t put my plate in Jannie’s spot!”

Eddie grinned down at his youngest. “So he did. Say thank you.” He turned to Janice, too. “You too, little miss.”

“Thank you, Stevie!” Joan and Janice said together.

Steve practically melted on the spot. He wanted to scoop them up and hold them forever. “I hope you’re all hungry, I made enough for an army.”

He set the dish on a couple of hotplates and everyone, yes even the girls, oohed and awed.

“This looks amazing, Steve,” Eddie said, positively salivating. “You didn’t have to go this far. Something simple would have been just fine.”

“Yeah, Steve,” Chrissy said, leaning forward to smell the lasagna. “I might have to haunt this place while Eddie’s gone if you’re going to cook like this, sweetie.”

Steve blushed as he dished out the lasagna, before serving himself a slice. He picked up his plate and silverware (which looked like actual antique silver, he was not looking foward to handwashing them later) to move to the kitchen.

Eddie looked up at him with his big puppy dog eyes. “Where are you going? You’re going to eat with us right?”

Steve looked around the table and no one said a word against it. “Oh. Um... I’ve never eaten with the whole family before. I eat with the kids when it’s just us, but usually when the parents are there, they want me to eat in the kitchen.”

“Sit.”

Steve set his stuff back on the table and next to Eddie. The only other open on the far end of the table. He dug into his lasagna.

“So you want to break down their evening routine for me?” Steve asked after his second or third bite.

“No business at the dinner table!” Joan cried, kicking her feet in protest.

“Yeaahhhh...” Janice chorused. “That’s the rule.”

Steve raised an eyebrow at Eddie. Who coughed into his fist and looked more than a little sheepish. There was definitely a story there and judging from the sly grin Chrissy was giving him, Eddie was no doubt the reason for said rule.

Eddie cleared his throat and set down his fork. “I’m, was a music producer for a very prominent metal label and before that I was the lead singer of ‘Corroded Coffin’. One of the few and I mean very few valid points my ex had was that I wouldn’t be present at the dinner table.” He twisted the rings on his fingers nervously.

“I would either be talking some band or another, messaging different people about the record I was working on or even just on the phone with former members of my band. So when I quit two years ago to try and save my marriage I still had people calling me and asking for my opinion, so the rule no business at the table was born.”

Steve smiled down at his plate. “No business at the dinner table then.” He paused and tilted his head to the side. “Would be asking you girls what you like business or just being friendly?”

Both girls looked at Eddie for guidance. “I leave it up to you, girls. I think it falls under being friendly.”

Joan cocked her head the side and instantly Steve was struck on how much like her dad she was. “I think it’s business,” she said with a pout. “Like in preschool.”

“I think it’s friendly,” Janice said, just to be contrary to her sister.

Chrissy and Eddie shared a knowing smirk and Steve realized this was a new thing and they might need those separate rooms sooner rather than later.

“How about we compromise,” Steve said gently. “I’ll tell you something about me, and if you want to you can share your favorite thing. Like if I said my favorite color was yellow, you could tell me what your favorite color is. But you don’t have to.”

“My favorite color is pink,” Janice said proudly. “Daddy says my room will be pink.”

Joan stuck her tongue out at her sister, because she knew she was had. “My favorite color is blue.”

“My favorite color is black,” Eddie said, joining in. “And red. Can’t forget red.”

Chrissy giggled. “Well, I guess if everyone else getting in on this, mine is green. I love that it’s the color of fresh cut grass, and spring, and how hot I look in it.”

Steve snorted as he was bringing his glass up to drink. Thankfully he wasn’t quite drinking when she said that. “Green’s a great color.”

Eddie and Chrissy shared another smirk.

“Ooh, I know why don’t we go around in circle,” Eddie suggested. “Like my favorite movie is ‘Lord of the Rings: Return of the King’.”

Steve smiled around his cup and then set it down. “I like that idea. My favorite movie is ‘The King’s Speech’. Colin Firth as King George VI and learning how to overcome his stutter? Amazing.”

Janice bounced up and down in her seat excitedly when she proudly cried, “Paddington Bear!”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “Yep, and now there always has to be marmalade in the house at all times.”

Steve chuckled. Poor Dad. “Have you seen the second one yet?” He knew there was a second one, but not when it came out.

Janice nodded fiercely. “Poor Paddington!”

“Barbie and 12 Dancing Princesses’!” Joan replied next. “There are so many pretty dresses in that one!”

“Ooh,” Steve cooed. “That’s a fun one. And there are so many Barbie movies to chose from, have you watched all of them yet?”

Joan nodded as Eddie shook his head sadly. “So, so, so many times. Same with both Paddington Bear movies. So have fun.” He flashed Steve a smile that was half between a grin and a grimace.

“Well I haven’t seen any of them yet,” Steve said with a wink a Janice. “You’ll have to show them to me tomorrow.”

“My current favorite is ‘The Quiet Place: Day One’,” Chrissy said. “Lupita Nyong’o is just too gorgeous for me to not watch every movie she’s in. I even watched Marvel movies for her and I’m a DC girlie all the way.”

They went around the table learning favorite books and other things about each other. Joan forced to participate so she wouldn’t be left out of the conversation. Then after they were all done. Steve cleaned up and put the leftovers into the fridge.

Then he watched as Eddie put his girls to bed. They got baths on Tuesdays and Saturdays unless they were super messy that day. They brushed their teeth to Daniel Tiger song and got into their pajamas.

Well...pajamas for Janice and a nightgown for Joan. Each one got a different story complete with all the different voices. He was assured he wouldn’t have to do the voices. That was only a Daddy thing.

Then the lights were turned off leaving the glow of the bumblebee nightlight to lighten the room and find its way into Steve’s heart.

~

Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Tag List: CLOSED

1-@mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @cryptid-system

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @justforthedead89 @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji

5- @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss

9- @sadisticaltarts @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @dolphincliffs @steddie-as-they-go @steddieislife

10- @kultiras @morallyundefined @ollieolive

[mlqueen89]

One | Flyboy 

so cross your thoughtless heart  she's the albatross  she is here to destroy you 

The Albatross by Taylor Swift | TTPD |     

pairing: jake “hangman” seresin x f!oc (top gun: maverick) 

rating: 18+ (minors dni) 

w a r n i n gs : smut, mentions of masturbation, oral (f receiving), fingering, p in v sex, multiple orgasms, one-night stand, jake being a cocky, self-assured man who leaves no crumbs after he eats. 

word count: 8,997

summary: in affairs of the heart, eleanor rigby has one strict rule: no pilots. Less than 24 hours back in the US, she breaks it. 

A/N: this whole entire fic literally started with the (full) name of eleanor. i also have a radar tech in the family, so that helped a bit. snowball met a steep hill and picked up speed. i've planned for ~10(ish) chapters, but it may be open ended with a few more random scenes/chapters here and there.  

proud to say that this one was beta read by my bestest friend, so you know she was mean to me helpful. 

also! i saw the asks - super excited to dive into those, tysm. ♡♡

❥ playlist ♡ masterlist ♡ taglist ♡ next chapter ❥

Eleanor Rigby hadn’t wanted to go to the Halloween party, not really.    

The boxes stacked in the spare bedroom of her friend Nicole’s four-bedroom house desperately needed unpacking and the 10-hour time change from Western Turkey to San Diego was kicking her ass. She’d done about as much unpacking as was required to find a suitable outfit for her new job in the morning, folded them carefully and set them out.   

When Nicole had invited her out, Ellie had fallen asleep, mid-unpack of the rest of her belongings, waking only when the bubbly blonde burst into the room and jumped onto the foot of her bed, dressed in all her glory as Barbie.   

“Ellie does San Diego! Let’s goooo.” Nicole tugged at Ellie’s arm as Yanique flicked on the light in the ensuite, reapplying a purple-ish shade of lipstick as Ellie blinked against the sudden light in her dim room, her arm jiggled aggressively by an enthusiastic Nic.   

Bleary-eyed, her voice just a croak, Ellie politely declined, muttering something about starting her new job early the next morning and making a good impression. Nicole eventually relented with a huff and left, a little less than impressed, with their other two roommates, Yan and Sophie, in tow.   

Within 45 minutes, her phone buzzing against the hardtop of the nightstand, the voice messages started flowing in.   

Nicole’s first voice message was short, 12 seconds. Ellie’s thumb jabbed at the play button as she gathered the dishes from her girl dinner of toast and coffee and used her elbow to push down on the paddle door handle, making her way to the shared kitchen.   

Ellieeeeeeee... Eleanor Rigbyyyyyy ....   

There was a dull thud of base in the background somewhere, behind the long, pronounced whine of Nicole’s voice as she sang the beginning of her namesake Beatles song, horribly off-key.   

Ellie, please you have to come out. It’s Halloween, the most magical night of the year! Just make an appearance. An hour, tops. Please?   

Ellie moved through the kitchen, rinsing out her cup and placing it on the drying rack. Her head was in the fridge, scrounging around for an apple in the crisper drawer, when the next three messages came in.   

Please, pretty, pretty, pretty, please with like, a million cherries on top, even though I know you hate cherries.    

Bradley’s not here yet, Yan already left with a weird guy in a Frankenstein costume—do we know what kink that is? That has to be a kink, right? I’m not kink shaming though, I promise. He was just like... weird. Do you think I should get her to drop her location? Like, just in case?   

Soph is requesting Chappell Roan for the like, twentieth time, and I think she’s going to start a fight with the DJ about being an anti-feminist incel if he doesn’t play “HOT TO GO!” again... did you know that she broke up with that witch, wiccan girl from Hinge? HingeWitch? The one that had that study of cheeses in her bio, that blue cheese description—Ellie thought she heard Nicole pause to gag—anyway, I think she thinks she got cursed or something...    

The voice message cut off even though Nicole’s tone suggested that she wasn’t finished talking about Sophie’s ex.   

There was a garbled message in between the last one and the next, one in which Ellie could hear Nicole begging the DJ not to leave and promising to talk to her friend about the excessive requests for Chappell Roan.   

Don’t abandon me in my time of need, El. Desperate need. Like, jumping off of very tall somethings desperacy.   

Ellie smirked. Nicole, her very best friend in the whole wide world, quite possibly the vast universe, was, in fact, very dramatic.   

Quickly, before another voice message could roll in, Ellie hit record on her own before she bit into her apple, wrestling the third box out of a teetering tower of boxes in the corner of her room and hit send.   

Fine. I’ll be there in twenty.   

The response pinged back quickly.   

Ohmygodohmygod, thank you! Remember, the theme is Icons through the Ages!   

Wear something sexy. Iconic sexy. Iconically sexy? But not Hawaiian Barbie. Or whatever Soph is dressed up as. I want to say is either Frida Kahalo or Mama Imelda from Coco. Basically, avoid anything with a Mexican gothic vibe.

Once Ellie had managed to pull her vintage leather aviator jacket from the box, the one she’d mislabeled in her hurry to pack everything up, the rest of her costume came together fairly quickly.   

When she found the venue, a small bar off a main street, she still had around 30 seconds to spare on her twenty-minute promise to Nic.   

Eleanor had always known that Nicole was popular, but the Halloween party, a party which Nicole had demurely announced was just “a small thing” with “a few work friends” was in actuality, not quite a small thing.  

Weaving her way through the crowd, Ellie scanned the room, trying to pick out the hot pink of Nicole’s costume or the flower crown Sophie had carefully woven into her voluminous red hair.   

Squeezing her way through a group of Spanish Conquistadors (notably with less armour and more exposed skin than was historically accurate) Ellie paused short of the small DJ booth in the corner of the bar, her eyes still scanning for Nicole when her eyes fell on him.  

Sandy blonde hair peeked out from under a neon sweatband, shoulders stocky and solid in a sleeveless denim vest over a t-shirt that read, No Shirt, No Shoes, No Problem. The white sneakers, short shorts, and that unmistakable lanky sway to the beat of Footloose pumping through the venue that could only belong to one person.   

It was Ken.  

Specifically, the Ken to Nicole’s Barbie.    

“Bradshaw?” Ellie called, squinting.  

Ken spun around with the beat of the song, a lopsided grin already on his lips as he faced her. “Holy shit, Rigsy?” Swiftly, Bradley Bradshaw was over to her, scooping Ellie off her feet, squeezing her tightly in a bear hug, shaking her frame slightly with a growl, before she groaned and he set her back down, feather light.   

“You didn’t say you were back stateside.”   

“My flight got in last night.” Ellie shrugged, straightening her jacket and adjusting the thin white scarf around her neck, “Just wanted to surprise you, Rooster.”   

“Well, damn it,” Bradley nodded in approval, all dimples and easy charm, “colour me surprised.”  

It was no wonder Nicole had fallen for him, head over Barbie heels. Even Ellie liked him, and that was saying something.   

Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw was less pilot and more golden retriever, a good heart wrapped in an all-American charm with an easygoing, dopey grin that made people feel like they’d known him for years. He was the kind of guy who’d lend you his jacket and forget to ask for it back or show up at your door with takeout and Sleepless in Seattle cued up on a streaming service he had to pay an arm and a leg for, because he “just had a feeling.” The Batman who responded to the Emotional Needs and Mercury Retrograde Bat Signal™. The hero the people deserved. Ellie was pretty sure she caught him watching videos of a baby hippo getting into shenanigans at a zoo in China on loop for 14 minutes while Nic tried to pick an episode of Keeping Up With the Kardashians that would really pique his interest and get him invested enough to make it his “new Roman Empire”.  

Ellie remembered the night Nicole and Bradley had met with perfect clarity.   

Nicole had been in the middle of swearing off all men for the foreseeable future, her voice thick with the brand of determination that came with a prosecco-fueled resolution. Ellie had watched as her friend declare a new era of singlehood and Taylor Swift before turning to Sophie, slurring out a request for “gorgeous, single women willing to humor an experimental phase.”   

It wasn’t two minutes later that Nicole lurched forward, losing all her resolve—and her prosecco—in a sudden, graceless bout with the sidewalk.  

As Ellie rubbed her back and tried to get her standing, a group of pilots had come down the street—Bradley Bradshaw among them, flanked by two others they’d later get to know as Phoenix and Bob. Bradley had been the one to stop, eyes quickly scanning the situation, assessing and then moving in with expert precision. He’d peeled off his jacket immediately, holding it out to Nicole as she moaned her embarrassment and weakly gestured at the puddle of what had once been bubbly and appetizers a few feet away.  

“It’s okay,” Bradley had told her, voice soft and reassuring. “If you throw up on this one, I’ll just get another jacket tomorrow.” When she’d protested, he’d grinned, shrugging in that effortless way of his. “Honestly, they just give these jackets to anyone,” he’d joked, as if he hadn’t spent years earning the right to wear it and every single patch stitched on it.  

Nicole had blinked up at him, mascara smudged, his jacket draped over her shoulders, looking at him like he was some knight out of one of the many cheesy rom-coms she loved. And for once, Ellie hadn’t blamed her for it.  

That night, Bradley Bradshaw had seen her best friend at her worst and treated her like she was worth sticking around for.  

And that was Rooster in a nutshell—a steady warmth that lingered long after he was gone, the guy who would do just about anything to make Nicole smile, including, but not limited to, dressing up in the ridiculous costume he was currently wearing.  

Nudging her, Rooster grinned. “So,” he drawled, “does this mean I finally get the best friend stamp of approval?”  

Ellie rolled her eyes, feigning a reluctant sigh, but she couldn’t help the small smile tugging at her lips. She didn’t want to tell him that she’d approved of him long before now. “Don’t let it go to your head, Bradshaw.”  

“Too late,” he laughed, mimicking his head expanding dramatically before throwing an arm around her shoulders. “Already there.”  

Rooster grabbed his drink off the small table bordering the dance floor, draining the glass. “Love the costume, by the way," he sucked his teeth against the burn of the whiskey he’d downed, “I’ve not seen one Amelia Earhart here.” He craned his neck, searching in the dimly lit room.  

“You think the goggles are too much?” Ellie adjusted the strap on her head, pushing a loose strand of hair up underneath the band. “I think they might be cutting off circulation to my brain..."  

“An aviator is only as good as their headgear,” Rooster tapped the top of his head. “You’re just missing your call sign.” 

“Guess you must not be a very good one, then.” Ellie smirked, snapping the neon sweatband on his head with a laugh.  

Rooster levelled her with a narrowed gaze, but there was no heat behind it, “one day someone is going to love that you’re kind of mean.”  

“Sorry, Bradshaw—” Ellie pointed at her ears, shrugging as she stepped back, a smirk on her lips, retreating into the crowd “—I can’t hear you.”  

Rooster flipped her off, in an affectionate way, she assumed. “Sit and circumnavigate, Rigby.” 

With another laugh, Ellie turned and set her sights on the bar, squeezing her way through a grouping of zombies and a Michonne, who stood shoulder to shoulder with a Negan, complete with Lucille, tugging her scarf out of Zombie #1s grasp on the other side. 

The last tug, sharp and forceful, sent her stumbling over the tattered chiffon hem of the La Llorona’s dress at her back.  

Ellie braced for the rough landing as she attempted and failed to steady herself. She felt the fall in her stomach, the way it pitched as gravity pulled her down. She figured it served her right, the swift intervention of karma coming for her after she’d insulted its favourite pilot — Rooster was going to have an absolute field day over this. 

Ellie had been so lost in the idea of bracing for the impact of the ground, hard and sticky, she didn’t notice that she hadn’t fallen until she looked up and saw a lopsided smirk and green eyes, looking down at her. The realization there were hands hooked under her arms, holding her up came quickly after. 

“And here I was thinkin’ that Amelia Earhart had a reputation of staying upright.” The man was all smirk, dimples ghosting his cheeks, as Ellie blinked up at him, processing the situation. 

“Guess I’m overdue for a refresher course on emergency landings.” Ellie cleared her throat, righting herself with his help before she tugged her bomber jacket back into place. 

When she glanced up from her improved angle, Ellie could see just how striking he was—sharp jaw, confident eyes, and a natural swagger that suggested he knew it, suggested he knew women sized him up in more ways than one. 

“What are you drinking, Amelia?” 

“Nothing, yet.” 

“Let’s fix that, shall we?”  

The music pumped anew, the DJ spinning a Thriller remix, as she approached the bar, the presence of the man at her back as she weaved her way through the crowd. She could feel the hover of his hand at her lower back, ready to catch her if she took another tumble. She hadn’t been expecting much from the night—just a few drinks, maybe some small talk with Nic, a short discussion with Sophie on Chappell Roan’s representation of duality in the midwestern identity to prove that she’d come out and spent the appropriate amount of time there. But as she took the beer the bartender slid her way and the man leaned against the bar next to her, she couldn’t help but smile. She definitely hadn’t been expecting this. 

“Let me guess,” Ellie’s eyes scanned his costume then, taking a moment to take stock. Carefully, she scanned the skull patch, dagger in its teeth, VFA-151 stitched in below, the chevrons, patches, carefully piecing the images and small details of his costume together before she replied, eyebrow raised, “you’re a pilot—” she paused to sip her drink, her eyes falling on the patch on his bicep, “—Navy.”  

A grin pulled up the corner of his mouth as he gave her a slow once-over, a scan he didn’t bother to hide, before he leaned casually against the bar beside her. “Hangman,” he said with a smirk, and Ellie’s eyes dipped to the patch on his chest, the golden wings stitched above the call sign. “Best pilot you’ll ever meet.” 

She tilted her head, gaze sliding from his call sign back up to his face. “Best pilot, huh?” She gave him a once-over that was part skepticism, part intrigue. “You Navy guys really know how to sell it.” 

Ellie leaned into the bit hard. Tonight, she was Amelia, and he was Hangman, the name stitched into hundreds, if not thousands, of storebought costumes. If she were Navy, she might have been insulted. 

If he heard the skepticism in her tone, he ignored it and chuckled, not breaking eye contact as he matched her smirk. “Only because it’s true. Besides,” he said, letting his voice drop lower, “don’t have to sell anything when you’ve got it all.”  

Ellie raised an eyebrow, meeting his challenge head-on. “Big words for someone who still hasn’t proven a thing.”  

“Oh, don’t worry, darlin’,” he drawled, leaning in just close enough to lower his voice to a rumble, “I’m very good at proving myself.”  

She laughed softly, a glint in her eyes as she set her drink down. “Okay then, why don’t you start with this—” Ellie leaned in, her finger tapped lightly on the golden wings over his heart, her touch lingering. “Explain why they call you Hangman.”  

She waited, waited to see if he’d squirm, held his gaze and paused for the story that was sure to come. Some feeble attempt at role playing for an unpracticed character, just a call sign with no real bite, no real story.  

He smirked, clearly used to that question but still savoring her attention. “I’ll leave that for you to figure out,” he teased, straightening, “after all, you strike me as a curious type. And I’d hate to ruin the mystery.”  

Ellie chuckled, leaning back as she looked him over. That was his game, wasn’t it? A tennis match, a steady volley and lob. Two could play at that game. “Maybe I’ll get bored before I do.” Ellie added a shrug to punctuate her words for effect.  

“Somehow, I don’t think so.” His voice held a hint of challenge, his gaze lingering, his grin lazy but sharp. He straightened up, hand resting on the bar, close enough that she could feel the warmth radiating from him.  

“Guess we’ll see,” she murmured, lifting her drink to her lips, her gaze unwavering as she took another sip. She looked away for just a second, but not before she caught his confident grin widening.  

“Believe me,” he said with that maddening confidence of his as he leaned in, so close that his voice was low, the heat of his words warming the shell of her ear, “I’ve got plenty of ways to keep you entertained.”

Ellie had barely unlocked the front door to Nicole’s place when he was on her, his hands on her hips as he pressed her into the wall at the bottom of the stairs. He kissed her like a man starved, his fingers reaching up to tangle in her hair at the base of her neck, anchoring her to him.  

This was the culmination of the barely veiled innuendos, the heavy-handed flirting that had gone on all evening.  

When he’d slipped out of the bar and onto the street with her, Ellie knew what would happen. He knew what would happen. She could tell in the way his eyes raked over her, all want, pupils blown wide. He wanted her and she wasn’t shy to admit, maybe not out loud, but to herself, that she wanted him too.  

“Maybe we should—” Ellie’s breath was uneven, her mouth missing his the moment they broke apart, just long enough for her to tip her head in the direction of the stairs.  

“Yeah—” his reply was equally breathy, his eyes on her lips even as she spoke, his tongue jutting out to whet his lips. A thrill shot through her, one that dipped low and pulsed between her legs.   

She was wet already, she could feel the slickness of herself, the material of her panties weighted with the evidence. In response, in a swift motion, he picked her up and Ellie instinctively spread her legs so that they framed his waist, her ankles locking at his low back. Ellie didn’t need to be told, she gripped him with her thighs, squeezing tight as he chuckled.   

“Good girl,” he smirked against her mouth before he kissed her again, deeply, his tongue pushing inside to taste hers.  

When they reached the top of the stairs, she broke from him only just long enough to give directions to her room in as few words as humanly possible, reaching out to grip the door frame of her room as he carried her down the hall and almost walked past it.  

Shutting the door behind them with his foot, he wasted no time in pressing her up against the wall. His fingers worried the buttons, slipped each from their place, starting from the bottom up as Ellie took her bomber jacket off, tossing it and the goggles to the floor before she joined him in working on the buttons from top down.  

“So many—” his breath came out with an edge of frustration and Ellie gave up on her buttons to tug the zip of his flight suit down to where her hips met his waist.    

“Just rip it,” Ellie huffed out, voice unsteady as his lips dipped to her neck, teeth grazing the spot where her collarbone met the base of her throat. One less thing between his mouth and her skin warranted the sacrifice of a shirt.  

He didn’t waste time, didn’t question and the sudden coolness on her skin and the sound of the buttons hitting the floor, scattered, had her grinning. She liked a man who followed orders. “You owe me a new shirt, Captain.”  

“Lieutenant,” his voice rumbled into her skin, making quick work of her bra next. By the time it hit the floor to join the other articles of clothing, his hands were on her breasts, teasing her nipples, every pinch and pressure, every touch of his lips, every nip of his teeth sending surges of raw pleasure pulsing down.  

Ellie hated the way he ripped the sounds, raw, unabashed, desperate, from her. Hated how she’d folded under his smooth charm — she could have stopped it, could have said good night and left him at her door. Touched herself, alone, in bed, thinking about the way he’d been so eager to prove he was the best, picture how his touch would have felt, how he would have filled her as she coaxed herself over the edge and leave it at that.  

But she hadn’t, she’d wanted him —she’d own that. She wanted him to fuck her stupid. She could feel him, the hard outline of his cock pressing against her as he held her to him. 

“Easy, darlin’,” he chuckled lowly, rough around the edges as she shifted, reaching to touch him over top the Nomex. “We haven’t even started yet….”  

He was across to her bed in a few easy strides, carefully setting her back so that she sank into the pillows, his hand lingering at her waist as he leaned over her, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. His gaze held hers, steady and unhurried, as he let his fingers trace lightly over the edge of her jaw, his index finger coming to rest under her chin, his thumb smudging her bottom lip.  

As his thumb traced her lip, smudging her lipstick, she caught his hand and pulled his index finger into her mouth, closing her lips around the digit, tongue tracing purposeful patterns as she slowly dragged it out. Her eyes never leaving his as he huffed out a heavy breath, a thrill running through her. 

“You should know that I have a rule, sweetheart.” He murmured, leaning over her so that his arms framed her, so close that his nose brushed hers as he spoke, his voice low, deep, edged by the hard edge of desire. “Ladies first.” 

Her pants were off quickly, leaving her in nothing but a whisp of material separating her from the man who wanted all of her. She heard the jingle of dog tags as he lifted the white shirt that had been under the flight suit over his head and abandoned it. 

Before she could sit up to see him, stripped down to his boxers, he was back on her, lower.  

Softly, he kissed her inner ankle, the next kiss trailing higher, her calf, another on the inside of her knee and the next, on her inner thigh, so close to where she wanted him, she was sure he could feel the heat radiating from her core.  

She was a wreck, a hot, wet wreck and she was barely holding onto the part of her that was ready to beg him to touch her. The part of her that wanted all of him in a way that was driving her mad every moment he wasn’t touching her.  

“What do you want?” His voice was steady, measured as he touched her over her panties, his rough fingers brushing over the dampened spot of the material. The sound that left his lips, a quiet hissing intake of breath, told her he knew what he was doing to her, knew that he had her right where he wanted her.   

In response, Ellie writhed, sensitive to even the smallest brush and despite herself, a small moan left her lips, one she couldn’t have contained even if she had wanted to. What was the question again?  

He moved up from the altar between her legs, nipping a sensitive spot on her side where her ribs ended before he remedied it with a soft kiss, blazing a trail up her body with his mouth. Carefully, holding himself just above her, he bent to tease her nipple with his tongue, whetting the already hard peak, before he closed his lips around one and then moved to the other.  

Ellie was barely holding on, her vision edged with haze as he looked up to finally locked eyes with her. If he kept it up at this rate, he wouldn’t even need to fuck her.  

“What do you want?” His voice was husky, his body propped up over her as Ellie tried to order her thoughts, process them into coherent words. “You going to tell me or am I going to have to guess?”  

She could feel him against her thigh, hard, ready, the thin material of his boxers the only thing between her and all of him. There was some small satisfaction, a thrill that swept through her and coiled low in her stomach, that there was a part of him he was barely controlling a part of him that wanted to be inside of her now. The wet spot of precum on his underwear ghosted against her bare skin and she swore she could feel him twitch.  

Hangman, she’d asked at the bar, explain why they call you Hangman.   

Mystery solved.  

“I want—” she started, barely a whisper as he kissed the corner of her mouth, kissed her jawline, his fingers slipping under the top waistband of her panties as he continued to nip at the most sensitive spots on her neck.  

“You want…?” He prompted, waiting, even as his hand slipped lower, slow, calculated.   

“I want you to—,” Ellie lifted her head and muffled her moan into his shoulder as his fingers found her slick clit, massaging lazy circles, steady, calm, “Mmm.” Her nails bit into the muscles on his back as her head fell to the pillow, arching into his touch.  

“Guess, it is then.” He murmured, that infuriating smirk in his words as he pulled his hand away from her slick, stopping the steady rhythm she’d just gotten used to. She whined after the loss, but he didn’t give her much time to mourn before he was down between her legs again, his fingers dragging her panties off.  

Swiftly, he pulled her to the bottom of the bed, throwing her legs over his shoulders. Ellie gasped, her hips bucking up into his tongue as he swept it up through her folds. Calmly, as she inched closer to unravelling completely, ascending the slope at dizzying speed, he gripped her hips, controlling her movements as she pressed down against his mouth. 

She could feel the pressure building with every expert movement of his tongue over her, through her. Reaching down, she combed her fingers through his hair, gripped into it and tugged him over, directing him to her need.  

“Oh, god….” Ellie whined, the words just barely words as they dissolved into a moan, her free hand gripping the mess of sheets underneath her.  

“Hangman’s fine, gorgeous.” The response was quick, cocky. The response of a man who knew exactly what he was doing to her and taking his time. 

“Wait,” Ellie’s hips chased after his mouth, a groan on her lips as she threw her arm across her eyes. “Don’t stop—.”

He was torturing her now, bringing her just to the edge and then allowing her to come down just enough to bring her back up again. He was fucking good and he knew it. It was going to drive her insane with want. 

“You have to say please, sweetheart,” he murmured, the heat of his breath on her inner thigh almost too much, carefully, he touched her with his thumb, a light pressure as he teased her. Ellie could hear the smirk in his words.  

Words. What were words? Ellie's mind was short-circuiting. Short-circuited, past tense. Already gone. Wires crossed— leads jammed in the wrong place, signals crossed.     

She hadn’t wanted to fall apart under his touch so easily, she'd wanted to seem like she wasn’t desperate for him, but his touch was a warm fire on a cold night.    

“Ple—fuck,” Ellie moaned, her words dragged out, long and torturous as she felt his thick fingers slip inside her, slow and deliberate.     

She didn’t even know his real name, wasn’t even sure if she could manage to say it even if she did. He was undoing her carefully, piece by piece, sensation by sensation, she was malleable under his touch.    

“What was that darlin’?”    

Ellie might have been embarrassed at the squelch of her wetness as his fingers stroked in and out, excruciatingly measured, but she couldn't think about anything. Just the way he filled her while still leaving her wanting more, more, more.    

“Please—” her nerves crackled like livewires as she moaned, her hips moving against his fingers with each stroke, her movements almost involuntary, the wild need in her chasing the high, just out of reach.     

“Well, since you asked so nicely…” his voice was husky, lower now. He gripped her hip, holding her, steadying her rhythm before he added another thick finger, three deep in her now, his thumb moving in circles around her swollen clit.    

“Jesus,” he breathed, taking a moment before his mouth dipped to her hot center, alternating between sucking and the slow caressing tip of his tongue, creating just the right amount of excruciatingly perfect sensation, his fingers stroking and curling inside her. “You're so tight, sweetheart. Might not—” 

He might not fit. She finished his words in her mind, a secondary thought, one that made her mad with want. 

She breathed through the sensations, jolted and writhed as his pumping digits searched for the spot that made her see stars. She felt drunk, high, soaring, just on the edge of release, her muscles aching to reach the peak before she tumbled over, completely undone.    

When she finally broke, her back arching off the mattress, her hips grinding harder into his hand, she moaned into her forearm to muffle the sound. 

That air of self–assured cockiness he carried himself with at the bar, the swagger. It was all well–earned, she was coming to realize. Pun intended. 

“You know what they call a pilot with at least five confirmed air-to-air kills?” His voice was low as he drew his fingers from her, slipping his arm behind her still arched back as he leaned over her, his heavy cock pressing up against her throbbing pussy through his boxers, hard, ready.  

She was hyper aware that she still wanted him, inside her, filling her, spreading her to her limit in a unique mix of pleasure and pain. 

“Hmm—Ace?” Ellie’s mind was still hazy, vignetted around the edges as her heart hammered against her ribs. 

It happened in a moment, a quick change of position, as he lifted and turned, positioning himself under her so she straddled him. Smooth and calculated, precise and fast, an expert maneuver.  

Ellie could feel her bare wetness against him, her hands bracing on his chest, feeling the defined muscles beneath her touch. In the dim light of the room, she could see the glint of his dog tags hanging off to the side, a small detail of his costume she wished she might have looked at before, in the bar.  

“Ace.” He smirked up at her before he shifted her hips up and he pulled her down over his face. 

Ellie gripped the steering wheel tightly, the worn pleather creaking under her hands as she leaned forward and angled the rearview mirror sharply so she could get a better look.   

“Fuck,” Ellie hissed, her fingers hovering just over the purple mark on her neck, just above her collarbone. How she hadn’t noticed it in the mirror this morning, she wasn’t quite sure.  

“Seriously? A fucking hickey?” She was already digging around in her purse as she huffed, her fingers blindly searching for the concealer she knew wouldn’t be there because she could see it in her mind’s eye, sitting on the edge of the porcelain countertop in her ensuite bathroom. “Are we fourteen?”  

This was definitely topping her list of things she didn’t need her first day on a new job site, especially not Miramar.  

When Ellie had woken up that morning, the sun barely peeking through the half-shut blinds, she wasn’t surprised that she was alone in bed. There was no note, no forgotten sock, no evidence, save for the dull ache between her legs and a tender, purple love bite on the inside of her right thigh as evidence that last night had even happened.  

That was what one-night stands were though, right? One night.  

Even under the hot stream of water from the shower in the ensuite though, Ellie closed her eyes and let her thoughts drift back, only shaking herself from the thought of him when the alarm from her phone buzzed it right off the counter.   

Groaning, Ellie blew out a noisy breath, abandoning the purse search when she found nothing other than a stray mint.  

Guess today was going to be a hair down kind of day.  

It wasn't the look she normally felt comfortable with on military bases with all the formality of rank and protocol, but she was a civilian contractor, it was unlikely anyone would notice. Hair down was better than the talk that might follow her around if anyone saw the mark on her neck.  

Sighing, Ellie pulled the pins out of the bun she’d spent her morning perfecting and allowed her hair, dark, still damp and wavy from the shower, to fall around her shoulders. Carefully, she pulled the tresses forward, over the rouged mark on her skin, peeking just out from under the collar of her white blouse.  

It wasn’t the best, but it would have to do in a pinch. She made a quick mental note to head off base on break to stop at a CVS to grab some concealer before she twisted the rearview mirror back into place.  

Tony Cudmore, the Crew Staffing Supervisor she had been coordinating with solely through email before now, was already waiting for her just outside the gates, his eyes on his wristwatch as Ellie approached. “Rigby, glad to have you on board. Heard we snagged you from your work on base in Turkey.”  

“Yeah, well. When Uncle Sam comes knocking, right?” Ellie snagged a tress of her hair as it lifted from her shoulder in the wind, carefully patting it back into place.  

“Don’t I know it,” Tony chuckled, his white, push broom straight moustache blustering as he waved at the officer stationed in the booth by the gate before he scanned his security pass. “How’s your old man?”  

“Ah, you know the type, Tony.” 

Ellie had perfected the art of sidestepping questions about her dad and Tony didn’t push further, seemingly content with the non-answer. 

As they reached the security clearance office, Tony slid a few documents under the glass and Ellie stepped up in front of a camera, the flash going off quickly before she had a chance to adjust.  

Whoever thought DMV photos were bad had clearly never had their photo taken by a Naval Officer a few months away from retirement.  

“Given name?” The man behind the glass murmured, so low that Ellie had to strain and lean toward the hole at the bottom of the glass to hear him.  

“Eleanor.” 

“We have a lot of work here that could really benefit from your expertise. The boys are flying Super Hornets nowadays, so the tech is good, but the improvements from your research could really give ‛em the edge.” Tony continued at her side, distractedly flipping through emails on his phone as he waited, “Now of course, those Super Hornets are far and away from the Tomcats your dad would have been flying in his heyday here, let me tell you….”  

“Surname?”  

“Neven - but you can just put Rigby.” It was Ellie’s turn to murmur now, edging closer to the slot in the glass, her voice just loud enough to be heard over Tony’s absent chatter behind her.  

The Security Officer paused, fanning out Ellie’s passport and glancing up at her for a moment, eyebrow raised before he punched something into the computer. She offered him a tight smile a beat too late.  

When the man slid her the newly printed security pass, Ellie’s eyes scanned for any sign of the hickey and was thankful that, though her hair looked like a bird's nest and her eyes were half-closed in mid-blink, at least the hickey wasn’t memorialized in her security pass.  

As they stepped out of the security office, Tony untucked a manila folio from under his arm and passed it to Ellie as they walked. “I’ll take you around. Give you your bearings. You’ll be working with the tower crew lots. Some good people up there.”  

They were out of the outbuilding now, Ellie’s heels clicking across the tarmac, past the line of F18s lined up on the hardtop and gleaming in the early morning California sun.  

“The ground crew might ask for some help with the planes, so you’ll be in the hangars. I’ll take you for a quick flyby,” Tony chuckled to himself, pleased with the pun, “we’ll pick up the tour after since the meeting with Admiral Simpson and Rear Admiral Stark is at 0900 sharp and those suits don’t mess around.”   

Tony’s strides were long, and it took Ellie a moment to jog after him, catching up just in time for him to open the door for her.    

“If you’re not five minutes early—” Ellie started, half playing into the old Navy saying she had grown up hearing as she slipped into the hangar.  

The nostalgic scent of jet fuel and oil hit Ellie hard in the closed space — it didn’t seem to matter how long she did this, how long she worked around planes and crews, in different countries, different airfields, this part never changed. Part of that was comforting in an odd way. It felt like home to her. 

Tony snapped his fingers in response, the sound of agreement. Tony opened his mouth to speak when a loud peel of laughter echoed in the closed space. Tony glanced at his watch, confused for a moment before his face turned toward Ellie, excited. “Oh, well, will you look at that, lucky you, we’ve got some of our Flyboys here. Must have some free time before drills.”    

Ellie followed a few steps behind Tony as he rounded the front of a line of Super Hornets, a spring in his step. As they approached, she took in the group of aviators in their flight suits from a distance, casually talking and laughing — and then her stomach twisted, her gait faltering for a moment. 

There, leaning against one of the jets, was the last person she expected to see again, let alone here: Hangman.

He looked almost exactly as he had last night, though somehow the daylight amplified everything about him— his height, the confident set of his shoulders. He turned, mid-laugh and Ellie watched as his eyes caught on her, like he recognized her for a fraction of a second before the look was gone just as quickly. 

Hangman’s easy smile shifted when he saw her, an eyebrow shooting up, surprise flashing across his face before his expression settled into something like amusement.

The last time she’d seen that look, she’d been over top of him, hovering, before he pulled her down over his mouth greedily, his tongue painting pictures over her most sensitive nerve endings as she moaned. She was pretty sure she’d broken one of her fingernails as she gripped the headboard, biting into her bottom lip so hard she could taste blood, his other hand reaching up to cup her breast roughly.  

Yet here he was now, in the light of day, truly in his element, looking like he belonged here as much as the jets around him. 

Ellie felt her heart kick up a notch, a reaction she’d hoped she’d managed to stow away. She forced herself to play it cool, lifting her chin slightly as they neared the group. She didn’t have a choice – there was no running from this. The consequences of her own actions coming back around to haunt her. 

“Hangman, Payback, Harvard,” Tony greeted, nodding to him and the other pilots. “Good to see you guys. Just giving our new radar tech a tour.” 

Ellie felt her pulse quicken as his gaze slid back to her. He wasn’t going to say anything, right? They were strangers here, well, coworkers now. She wasn’t Amelia Earhart, and he wasn’t the pilot from the party, except, he very clearly was and Ellie had miscalculated, mis-stepped. A TOPGUN pilot no less. 

As she held his gaze, she could see the recognition flickering behind his eyes. He knew exactly who she was, but his mask didn’t slip, not for a second. 

“This is—”  

“Rigby. Eleanor.” Ellie interrupted Tony sharply. The introduction as herself, not as Amelia, would be on her own terms. At least she could control that. Here, at Miramar, she was Eleanor Rigby. 

“Welcome to the team, Rigby,” he said smoothly, holding out a hand as if they hadn’t already met in the most intimate of ways. The way he said her name sounded off, like he was testing it out in the context of their previous… encounter. 

Ellie held her breath, pausing only a moment before she forced herself to shake his hand. “Thanks,” she replied coolly, her voice even, though she was silently praying for the ground to swallow her whole. She refused to let him get the upper hand. Not here, not in front of people she had to work with.  

His grip was firm, his eyes amused. Ellie caught the brief flicker of his gaze to her neck, his eyes resting where Ellie knew she’d tried to hide the hickey, admiring his work, likely.    

Tony chuckled, oblivious to the tension. “Lieutenant Seresin’s one of the best we’ve got. You’ll probably end up working on his bird now and then.”  

Ellie forced a smile, though she could feel the bottom of her stomach drop out and she cleared her throat in an attempt to press down the nervous, incredulous laugh that threatened to escape her. Technically, she’d worked on it last night, right?   

“Looking forward to it,” she said instead, even though the last thing she wanted was to be anywhere near him right now.  

He released her hand, stepping back into the group of pilots. “Catch you around, Rigby” he said casually, before turning back to his crew, who began to stalk off, out of the large open hangar doors, not looking back.  

“Anyway, you’ll be working here between—” Tony continued, oblivious. 

Ellie let out a breath as Tony waved at her to follow him, continuing the tour. She kept her eyes forward, focusing on Tony’s voice, but she couldn’t shake the feeling of Hangman’s eyes on her or the memory of last night still lingering between them. This complicated things. This really complicated things. 

At least he’d set a standard: he didn’t know her and Ellie was only happy to play along with that pretense. She didn’t know him either. At least, that’s the story she was sticking to. 

The fluorescent lights in the conference room felt harsher than usual, and Ellie shifted uncomfortably as Admiral Simpson and Rear Admiral Ingrid Stark watched her closely, their expressions unreadable.  

Standing before two of the Navy’s highest-ranking officers, Ellie tried to steady her breath, tried to ignore the slow trickle of panic coursing through her. The same panic that churned the small bit of breakfast she’d managed to eat while maneuvering in and out of San Diego traffic all the way to North Island.  

All she had to do was focus, recenter her mind on the presentation. The presentation that culminated the last three years of her career, it was important, she knew – it had been the sole focus of her work in Turkey and yet, here she was, hiding that stupid hickey and thinking about the man who made it. Thinking about how he looked at her in the hangar not but twenty minutes ago, a glance exchanged that held a shared secret between them as he took her hand and treated her like a stranger. Cool, calm, collected, all charm.  

It was the same easy charisma she’d leaned into just last night, at the Halloween party, blissfully unaware of who he really was. Except now she knew he’d been telling the truth the whole damn time and she’d just called his bluff wrong. And now, now with all those thoughts running through her mind at Mach 2, she was standing here, in front of the highest-ranking personnel on base, expected to deliver a groundbreaking presentation on her research, trying to ignore the lingering flush of that unexpected run-in this morning.  

Ellie cleared her throat, tightening her grip on her tablet as she began walking the Admirals through her research. Running through her practiced script, she carefully outlined her new detection algorithm—a project that had garnered their attention in the first place, the same work that had pulled her back here, to Miramar.   

Truthfully, if they’d asked any probing questions, Ellie would have to confess that the technology was in its earliest stages but had the potential to counteract enemy jamming of GPS signals. In theory (because that was the key word theory), the algorithm she’d developed, on paper, had the potential to become an un-jammable navigation system.  

Ellie clicked through to the next slide, “The reason this algorithm has the potential to give our pilots the advantage is because the enemy would have -”  

You have to say please, sweetheart. 

The memory from last night, his words a steady command, sent a pulse through her, from her chest, down into her core, where it settled, hot and pulsing. 

Ellie’s voice caught in her throat, and she coughed, before holding up her index finger and pouring herself a glass of water from the pitcher at the head of the table. Quietly she sipped the water, her eyes landing outside the window at the tarmac as ground crew guided an F18 out of the hangar. She waited for a beat, measuring her sips as she calmed down. 

Get your shit together, Rigby. She coached herself, draining the last of the water as she caught Admiral Simpson checking his watch from the corner of her eye. You are not going to screw this up because you had sex last night.    

Incredible sex.     

The best sex you've had in the last two years... possibly in your entire life.    

Top tier sex... with your new co-worker. Who just so happens to fall into the off-limits category. 

If she could have shaken her head without it seeming strange, she would have, but she suspected she was getting into foot tapping territory. With Admirals, time was money. 

“I’m sorry, as I was saying—” Ellie straightened her blazer, setting the glass down and resuming her presentation, determined.      

When she finished, Admiral Simpson leaned back, giving her a thoughtful once-over as he drummed his fingers on the folder containing her research on the table in front of him. “Well, Ms. Neven,” he said, a slight smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “The best of the best. That’s what they told me about you. I suppose that must run in the family.”  

The weight of the comment hit her immediately, and her mind reeled again. This time for an entirely different reason. She hadn’t anticipated Rick’s reputation coming up so soon—or at all.  

She managed a quick nod, hoping it looked confident. “Thank you, sir,” she said, barely keeping her voice steady.  

Simpson’s smile deepened. “When we saw you were one of the top minds in the field, it was a no-brainer to bring you in for this project. Your research is intriguing.” His gaze softened slightly, just enough to give her a glimpse of the man behind the rank and she wondered if, for half a second, it had anything to do with the fact that he had a daughter her age. “You’re going to do great things here. Your dad’ll be proud, no doubt.”  

Ellie nodded again, murmuring her thanks, feeling an odd pressure bubbling under the surface. Truthfully, she had expected some bluster about her family, some comments about her father and his Radar Intercept Officer being wingmen for the late Fleet Commander Tom “Iceman” Kazansky. She hadn’t expected it this soon. 

“Admiral Stark and I will take a look over your documentation and see how best to get the testing started. I trust you’ll let us know if you need anything in the meantime?” Admiral Simpson stood then, and an Officer stationed outside the boardroom opened the door from the outside.  

The meeting adjourned, and as everyone began to filter out, Ellie felt herself unraveling by the second, anxiety pushing its way to the forefront. She wanted to scream or laugh, possibly both. Instead, she was rooted in place, unable to decide whether to escape to the nearest empty room or brace herself against the wall and breathe. If she didn’t leave this room for the rest of the day, what were the chances she’d run into him again? Probably slim. 

This was her first day here. The first day and she was thinking about how she’d been laid bare and fucked out of her mind by a man she’d never thought she’d see again, much less work with. All in the middle of one of the most important presentations of her entire life, in front of the people who could make that research into something tangible, a finished product, a cornerstone of new technology in aviation, a reality.   

The lights in the boardroom automatically flicked off and Ellie sighed, gathering up the last of her things before exiting the room. She could hide in the women’s bathroom, right? 

“Ms. Neven.” RADM Stark’s voice approaching from the hallway behind her startled Ellie. As she turned, Ellie watched as Stark appraised her with a mix of curiosity and approval. “Impressive work. It’s good to have some estrogen in the room for once.” Her lips curled into a slight smirk, and Ellie let out the measured breath she’d been holding.  

“Thank you, ma’am. I’m—excited to work here,” Ellie's voice was a little steadier now, a bit of genuine enthusiasm breaking through her nerves as she reminded herself why she was here in the first place. Her work. Her career. Her tech.  

Stark raised an eyebrow, amusement flickering in her eyes. “Don’t get too excited,” she said, producing a small stick of concealer from a crisp tan pant pocket. She held Ellie’s gaze, a message or a warning behind her cool eyes, Ellie couldn’t be sure, as the ranked Officer handed the makeup to Ellie. “I think we might be the same shade.”   

Ellie’s heart stuttered as the realization hit her, broad-sided. Her hand shot to her neck before she could think, the heat in her cheeks flaring brighter than before as she accepted the concealer, mumbling a mortified thank-you.  

Stark gave her a knowing smile, a curt little nod as she tapped the side of her nose, before walking away, her stride as calm and confident as when she’d approached.    

Ellie waited until the RADM was clear from sight before making a beeline for the bathroom, practically stumbling into the mirror over the sink. She tilted her head to confirm what she already knew was there: a very visible, very damning mark on her neck. The scarlet letter.   

Great.    

She didn’t waste a second applying RADM Stark’s concealer, muttering under her breath as she blended it carefully with the tips of her fingers, dabbing. “One day at Miramar, Ellie. One day.”    

As she swiped on the secondary layer of concealer for good measure, she felt the rush of everything hit her again. The tension of the presentation, the equal parts pride and pressure from the Admiral’s praise, and him—Lieutenant Seresin, Hangman, with his easy, cocky grin and the piercing eyes that, despite everything, she could still feel on her.  

tags: @mrsevans90 , @avengersfan25 , @hookslove1592

taglist if you want to be added/removed!

[inkspiredwriting]

Flirty Business

Five Hargreeves x Fem!reader

Warnings: none

It was a typical Sunday morning at the Umbrella Academy mansion, and the Hargreeves siblings were scattered around the living room, each engaged in their own activities. Luther was lifting weights, Diego was cleaning his knives, Klaus was draped over the couch, Viktor was reading a book, and Allison was scrolling through her phone.

In the middle of it all, Five and Y/n sat on the loveseat, utterly absorbed in each other.

“Hey, Five,” Y/n said, her voice low and playful as she traced her finger along his collar. “Did I ever tell you that you look incredibly sexy when you’re planning how to save the world?”

Five smirked, his eyes twinkling. “Well, Y/n, did I ever tell you that you make the best coffee in the universe? It’s the only thing keeping me sane.”

Diego, who was closest to the couple, groaned loudly. “Oh, come on! Can you two stop with the mushy stuff? We’re right here!”

Luther set down his weights, his brow furrowing. “Yeah, seriously. Get a room or something.”

Y/n giggled, leaning in closer to Five. “But why would we do that when we can enjoy each other’s company right here?” She planted a kiss on Five’s cheek, making a loud mwah sound.

Five grinned, turning his head to return the kiss. “Exactly. Plus, I love seeing them squirm.”

Klaus, who had been quietly observing with an amused expression, finally burst out laughing. “Oh, you two are priceless! Keep it up; I’m loving this show!”

Later that day, the Hargreeves siblings gathered in the kitchen for lunch. Y/n was bustling around, preparing sandwiches, while Five leaned against the counter, watching her with a smitten look.

“You know, Y/n,” Five said, his voice carrying a teasing lilt, “you’re really amazing. Who knew someone could make a sandwich look so good?”

Y/n blushed, her eyes sparkling as she glanced over at him. “Flattery will get you everywhere, Five. Do you want extra cheese on yours?”

“Always,” Five replied, his gaze lingering on her.

Allison, sitting at the kitchen table, rolled her eyes. “Really, guys? Sandwiches now? Is there anything you two won’t flirt over?”

Five shrugged nonchalantly. “Nope.”

Y/n handed Five his sandwich, her fingers brushing his in a deliberate move. “I can’t help it if he brings out the best in me,” she said sweetly.

Diego, chewing on his own sandwich, looked like he might choke. “Ugh, please! I’m trying to eat here!”

A little while later, Five and Y/n were walking down the hallway, deep in conversation. Five had his arm casually draped around Y/n’s shoulders, and they were laughing about something.

“You know,” Five said, stopping to lean against the wall and pull Y/n closer, “if you keep laughing like that, I might fall for you all over again.”

Y/n’s eyes gleamed with mischief. “Only if you promise to catch me.”

As they leaned in for a kiss, Viktor, who had just come around the corner, sighed dramatically. “You guys, again? How do you not get tired of this?”

Five and Y/n looked at each other, then back at Viktor, and shrugged in unison. “Why get tired of a good thing?” Five said, smirking.

By the evening, the siblings had gathered in the living room for movie night. Five and Y/n, predictably, were cuddled up on the couch, whispering sweet nothings and giggling softly.

Klaus, sprawled out on the floor with a bowl of popcorn, couldn’t resist. “Okay, okay, I’ve had enough. We need to set some ground rules. No more flirting during movie night. It’s distracting!”

Y/n snuggled closer to Five, a playful grin on her lips. “But Klaus, how else are we supposed to entertain ourselves during the boring parts?”

Five kissed the top of Y/n’s head. “Don’t worry, Klaus. We’ll try to keep it down. Just for you.”

Allison threw a pillow at them, laughing. “You guys are impossible!”

Luther, trying to focus on the screen, grumbled, “Seriously, do you guys ever stop?”

Diego, shaking his head in disbelief, added, “I’ve seen less PDA in rom-coms.”

When the movie finally ended, Five and Y/n were still wrapped up in each other, much to the ongoing annoyance and amusement of the others.

As everyone was getting ready to head to bed, Five stood up, stretching. “Well, it’s been a great day. I’m going to get some rest. Y/n, care to join me?”

Y/n stood up, linking her arm through Five’s. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Klaus watched them leave, shaking his head with a chuckle. “You know, as annoying as they are, I gotta admit—they’re kind of cute.”

Diego groaned. “Yeah, sure, whatever. Just don’t let them hear you say that.”

Allison smiled, leaning back in her chair. “They’re happy. I guess that’s what matters.”

As Five and Y/n reached their room, Five turned to her, his expression softening. “Thank you for helping me to annoy my siblings”

Y/n smiled, brushing a lock of hair away from his face. “It was fun. And besides, I think we got to them. They’re all talking about us now.”

Five laughed, pulling her into a gentle embrace. “Mission accomplished then?”

“Definitely,” Y/n replied, leaning in for a kiss. “But next time, maybe we should give them a break. Just a little one.”

“Agreed,” Five said, smiling against her lips. “For now, anyway.”

[m1dnyt3-w0lf]

Chapter 5: In A Month's Time

2,638

Ch 1, Ch 2, Ch 3, Ch 4

After the near mugging, I followed Miguel's rule to be accompanied by someone when I went out. Either by him or by Jess. It was usually Jess since she was taking me to different stores to apply to. I hadn't heard back from anyone after three days of applying. I was a bit bummed out, but it was expected that I would not get a job immediately. I still had the rest of the month to get a job, though. No sweat.

“Maybe you're not looking in the right places.” Jess offered after a bite of french fry. “Maybe try an office job.”

“I like being on my feet, and this may be the only social interaction I'll be getting. The last thing I want is to be sitting for hours staring at a computer screen when I'm already going to be doing that for my classes.” I told her.

“Fair point.” She agreed. She didn't let me pay for the meal.

I haven't spent a single dime since I've been here. Neither her nor Miguel would allow me to pay for anything. I was sure it was some kind of motherly thing for Jess. Miguel, however, I had no clue why he wouldn't let me pay for anything. He insisted he'd buy whenever we ate out, which was basically every dinner we shared. I had enough after the fourth day he paid.

“Miguel, I have money. Let me pay for it this time!” I crossed my arms.

“Save your money for school. That's more important.” He simply said as he handed the waiter the booklet that held the bill and his card. I huffed at that.

“That's why I’m getting a job. So I could pay for both necessities and fun stuff like this! And rent!” But he wasn't having any of my reasons, so he continued to pay for everything. It was mildly infuriating.

It wasn’t the only infuriating thing Miguel did. He seemed adamant that we shared at least one meal together. If it wasn’t breakfast, it’d be dinner. Never lunch since I was out job hunting, and he was…working. I think.

“What do you do at work?” I asked him over breakfast.

“Well,” he started slowly. “I engineer stuff.”

“What do you engineer?” I felt the space grow awkward.

“Biological stuff.” I frowned at his answer. He was being so vague, like he was hiding something.

“What kind of biological stuff?”

“Ah, that I can’t tell you. Top secret research, company contracts, that whole ordeal.” He sounded more confident than before. I pouted a bit at his answer.

“Aw, come on, not even a tiny bit?”

“Wish I could.” His weird watch lit up at that moment. He was quick to look at it, a deep scowl appearing on his face as he glared at his screen. “I have to get going. I’ll have Jess pick you up some dinner before dropping you off.” Then he was gone.

Many of my interactions were like this with Miguel. Conversations cut short, meals rushed, even being caught at midnight trying to eat shredded cheese just because he came home right then. I had no idea what being a bioengineer was like, but this didn’t seem right. He disappeared often outside his work hours. Honestly, it worried me to see him so overworked. I worried that paying for me forced him to need to make extra money. It made me more determined to find a job.

By the time the second week started, I had no calls, no acceptances, nothing. I was starting to get worried. I know things like this took time, but I was never good at being patient. I started finding myself pacing my room and willing an email or call to ring my phone. Obviously, that never happened.

A distraction had come in the form of a man. He was a little over average height with a long face, brown hair, and a bright pink robe. He had a child with him, a little girl with unruly, red hair and big blue eyes. The man had barged in and made himself at home.

“Is Miguel home?” He had asked. How many parents did Miguel know?

“Uh, no, he left for work about an hour ago. I’m sorry, who are you?” I asked. The man had his full attention on the child, so I wasn't sure if he had heard me. Right when I was about to repeat my question, he spoke.

“Aw, bummer! He always likes seeing Mayday, isn't that right?” He made kissy faces to her and made her giggle. “I’m Peter, by the way!”

“Okay…where’s Jess?” I asked him. He already established he knew Miguel, so he was good company.

“Jess is at a…baby appointment. Yeah, that's the thing.”

“Right.” I give a slow nod. Well, whenever you're ready, we can—”

“Oh, you wanna see some pictures of Mayday?!” Peter exclaimed, interrupting me.

“Well—”

“Ah, of course you do! Everyone does!” He interrupted again. Safe to say, I did not get to submit any applications that day.

He was very lively for a man who seemed to be in his late twenties, early thirties. He hovered over Mayday a lot and seemed so extremely aware of her all the time, even when he wasn’t looking at her. He moved with cat-like reflexes. No, he moved much faster. He was practically a blur. He moved almost as fast as his mouth did. He didn’t shut up the entire time he was over. Everything out of his mouth was either about Mayday or a joke. I wasn’t sure which I preferred to hear from him. He rambled so much that he was still talking my ear off when Miguel came home. He looked at my bored-out-of-my-mind expression and immediately kicked Peter out of the apartment, which still took another hour since Peter insisted Miguel should look at pictures of Mayday. Miguel had apologized with dinner, a fancier place than usual. For once, I didn’t complain. It wasn’t my only win of the night. I did, at least, convince Peter not to let me hold Mayday.

Around mid-week, my things started showing up in the mail. Three boxes had been delivered, none containing my clothes. I was a bit worried as the weather had started to cool sooner than I expected it to. With Jess's bike being my only form of transportation, I had to ask Miguel for a jacket.

“You don't have one?” He asked me past a bite of chow-mein.

“I have one, but it's too thin. I'd be a shivering puppy on Jess’s bike.” I told him. “I have jackets on the way, so I don't wanna buy another one. If I could just borrow one of yours, I'd be super grateful.”

Miguel had studied me for a few moments. I put on my best puppy dog eyes that would even convince my mother. He let out a defeated sigh.

“Fine, I'll see what I have.”

What he had was a dad sweater. The ones that zipped up to your chin and were nothing but fuzzy cloth. It kept me warm alright, but it also swallowed me. The dang thing went down to my thighs, and the sleeves were about two inches past my hands. I had to start wearing my belt over the jacket just to keep it in place. I had to roll the sleeves up at least three times just to have my hands peek through the holes. I had never felt smaller than I did when wearing his jacket. Jess tried, and failed, to hold back her laugh when she saw me. But it was all I had to work with until my box of clothes arrived. I checked with the front desk every single day for that box but came up empty every single time. No matter, I was sure the box would turn up eventually.

The third week finally rolled around, and I had nothing ready. I had no job, no furniture, and no clothes. The post office somehow lost my box of clothes. That was another two weeks' worth of clothes! I made calls and emails but came up empty. I didn't dare bring it up to Jess or Miguel. I didn't want them to worry about me. I could fix this. I just needed to buy more clothes…at some point. For now, I was stuck with my measly one week's worth and Miguel's jacket. I was glad I only packed pants.

Troubles aside, my first rent payment was due soon. I had money to cover it with no problem, but it didn’t stop me from worrying about next month’s rent or my school supplies now that I needed to buy new clothes. My funds would be taking a harsh hit if the prices I’ve seen so far were anything to go by. It worried me. A lot of things worried me. My worries began to build up in me and turn into anxiety. I wasn't getting sleep. I stayed up late and, in turn, got up late. I found myself bouncing my leg more often than not. I was getting distracted and lost in my thoughts during conversations. Jess had basically given up holding a conversation. Miguel, however, kept trying. He even went as far as—

SNAP, SNAP, SNAP

“Wha-?” I blinked back into the present and focused on Miguel’s snapping fingers.

“Are you listening?” He looked annoyed.

“Of course!” I lied stupidly. He didn't look convinced.

“What did I just say?”

“Okay, fine, I wasn't listening.” I huffed, giving in immediately. “What did you say?”

His eyes studied me for a few moments. The silence stretched a bit longer than what was comfortable. Finally, he opened his mouth to speak.

“Are you okay?” He asked with a strangely concerned tone. I was actually surprised.

“What? Of course I am. Why?”

“You're constantly spaced out, your shoulders are tense, you’re constantly bouncing that damn leg, and I’m sure your eyebrows need a divorce with how long they’ve been drawn together.” He stated. I was shocked with how attentive he was to my current behavior. I couldn’t tell if he was upset or genuinely concerned about it. He sounded like a cross between the two. “You’re anything but okay. What’s going on? Is someone bothering you?”

“No one’s bothering me! I don’t even know anyone here.” I said quickly. The last thing I needed was this giant of a man becoming my guard dog. A hot guard dog, but still the last thing I needed.

“Then what is it?”

“It’s nothing.”

“It has to be something.”

“No it doesn’t!”

“‘Nothing’ doesn’t force people into your state. It’s something.” It wasn’t even a question. It was a statement.

“I can figure it out. Don’t worry about it!” I argued.

“All you’re doing is worrying about it! You’ll worry yourself sick, let me help you!”

“I can do this on my own!”

“You obviously can’t if you’re this stressed about it!”

“I’m an adult, Miguel, of course I can!”

“That doesn’t mean anything!” Our voices had risen by now, our argument getting heated. Miguel’s hands had balled into fists, my own had started waving around animatedly.

“It means everything!” I shouted, slamming my fists on the table. The bang echoed louder than my voice in the small kitchen and silenced us both.The sting of the impact tingled the entire bottom of my fist. I glared at Miguel as if my stare could melt his skin off. His glare, on the other hand, disappeared. Something kin to realization crossed his face. His eyebrows had a different crease in them. He looked softer.

The silence stretched between us. It cloaked us and choked the air out of our surrounding space. In the silence, I calmed. The sting became a bit sharper. My heavy breathing now stuttered. My lip wobbled. The first tear fell from my right eye. Then another from my left. A sob barely left my lips when Miguel’s chair scraped the floor, and his arms were around me, pulling me into a hug. There was no room to push him away or to feel embarrassed. I don’t think I could’ve if I tried with how tightly he held me. I cried, no, wailed, into his chest and clung onto his shirt for dear life.

It was almost comical how, despite the obvious anguish I was exuding, I couldn’t help my wandering mind. I could feel every muscle of his body pressed against mine. Rock hard compared to my soft plush. He was also warm. His hold was comforting and enveloped me entirely. He was so gentle. I felt like a kitten in his arms. Something precious. It was an intoxicating feeling I wasn’t sure I was ready to indulge in. But, for now, it felt right. I found myself relaxing into his hold and calming down until I was only sniffling. I felt sticky and gross, yet Miguel continued to hold me.

Then, I heard it.

“Todo está bien.” I heard him mutter. My brain halted. Was he speaking to me? It was so quiet that I had completely missed it.

“Te tengo, chiquita.” He continued, rubbing his hand on my back.

Chiquita. It sounded so good coming from him. I listened to his reassuring words and let out a slow breath. I closed my eyes and leaned more into his chest. I heard his heart thump against my ear.

Thump-thump, th-thump-thump, thump-thump

“I’m sorry.” I mumbled.

Thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” He rumbled. The bass in his voice rumbled through his chest and into my body.

“I yelled at you. I’m sorry about that.” I said. “I’m…I’m in a bit of trouble.

Th-thump-thump, thump-thump, th-thump-thump

His hand found its way under my chin and lifted it so I could look at him. I was already missing the security of his chest.

“What trouble?” He asked with knit eyebrows. He’s only known me for a month, and he looked absolutely wrecked with worry. It made my heart flutter to see someone who wasn’t family care so much about me.

“Well,” I started with a huff of breath. “For starters, the post office lost my clothes.”

“We can get you more tomorrow.” He said immediately. I was a bit taken aback by his quick response but continued.

“I don’t have furniture.”

“I’ll get some for you. I didn’t mean to leave the room so empty, honestly, but I wanted you to decorate your room however you wanted.”

“I have to worry about rent.”

“Worry about school, let me worry about the rent.” He said with a caress of his thumb. I didn’t like the idea of him buying my furniture and paying both halves of the rent. That was so much money.

“I don’t have enough money for school supplies.”

“I can help out.” He replied. Now he was offering to help with my school supplies? How much was I going to owe him?

“I don’t have a job.”

Miguel’s eyes looked into mine, silent after my final words. He looked calculated. There was a funny crinkle in the corner of his eyes. His eyebrows finally eased, and instead, one of them raised. He tilted his head a bit as if to size me up. His gears were turning, and I wasn’t sure I was going to enjoy what he was going to say next.

“I have an offer.” He said. Dangerous words.

“What kind of offer?” I asked slowly, finally pulling away from his arms. I no longer felt safe in them if this talk was going down the road I thought it was going down. He let me move but held onto my arms, rubbing his thumbs lightly against them. He dropped the bombshell.

“Let me pay for everything.”

Translations

Ch 6

Tags: @crocs-blogs @madschiavelique @arithestrawberry @eveandtheturtles @obi-mom-kenobi @thelaundrybitch @symmetricalkazekage @raphsmuneca @tojishugetiddies @kazunewolfwood-blog

[jadeleechsupportgroup]

Envenomate - 2

“A party?” You give Ace your most suspicious look yet. Full-blown ‘Red is sus, vote him out’ energy.

“I will break this down for you in words of one syllable.” He even claps the words. “You. HAVE. TO. GET. US. IN.”

“Are you sure it’s not another weird insta rumor?”

Ace shakes his head fervently. “Nuh uh. Cater’s info is always good.”

Azul hasn’t mentioned a party. He isn’t the type to enjoy them as a guest, except the usual birthday things, since it’s the one day a year he gets whatever he wants without the hassle of making people work for it. During most parties at the Lounge, he waits in his office for the twins to shuffle prospective clients in and out during the cover of chaos.

Although, as usual, you are the exception to his rule.

“I guess I’ll ask.”

Deuce arrives as he usually does, skidding sideways into the booth like a one-man showing of Tokyo Drift. “Yooo,” he says as if he didn’t just crash into Ace, “are you guys ready for the test?”

“What, the one about octopuses?” Except Ace’s mouth is full of loaded nachos, so it comes out more like ‘offtofufef’ with a whiff of sour cream.

“God, I hate that word,” you add with a disappointed shake of your head. “What’s so wrong with ‘octopi?’ Or ‘octopods.’”

Deuce grabs the chocolate malt you always have waiting for him. “I thought it was octo-podes, like, toads.”

“As in, octopo-DEEZ NU-”

“Close, my guy.” Epel takes a handful of nachos. “It’s actually a Greek word, so it’s pronounced ‘oc-top-o-dees.’”

By the grace of god, Deuce manages to elbow Ace in the ribs hard enough to make him eat his words and choke down a glob of probably-cheese, with some fresh jalapeños for good measure.

You sigh. “I hate you all so much.” You figure you know the test material as well as you’re ever going to, so instead of cramming, you go find Cater’s instagram and tap through his story. He posts so often that it looks like a chain of dots across the top of the screen, most of them replays from whatever party he was at last night. But he does, in fact, mention a party at the Lounge. Tomorrow night, invite only.

You feel a twinge of pain in your chest at the idea that he wasn’t going to tell you about it, let alone invite you. But there must be a good reason.

“There is a good reason,” Azul murmurs into your lips, leaving behind a trailing chill. “I do not wish for harm to come to you.”

It’s hard to talk about business at a time like this, and not just because you’re still thinking about the venom.

“I figured.” This is all his fault, though, because he started it. You plant one hand into the couch cushions for support and kiss him more thoroughly. Actually, a lot of things are his fault. “But I also said I would ask.”

“Mhmm.” Azul tucks one finger beneath the strap of your tank top and caresses your shoulder blade. “I suppose if your friends were there, they could help look after you.”

You sit up a little, annoyed at him, even though he looks cute this way. “I don’t need looking after.”

He sits up beneath you and toys with a lock of your hair, curling and uncurling around his finger thoughtfully. He’s become so relaxed around you. He hardly ever wears his gloves anymore. “Of course not,” he says sweetly. “But anyone looking in from the outside would notice you far less in a group than if you were alone.”

You hook your arms around his neck and let your foreheads touch. “Am I going to be alone?” The question carries more weight than you intended for it to bear.

He notices, because he notices everything, but he pays it no mind. He wraps one arm protectively around your waist, hugging you close enough that his hip bones dent your inner thighs. “Never,” he reassures you. “Not as long as you are mine.”

Your next kiss turns deeply passionate out of nowhere. Yes, because he is exactly your type and you can’t believe this is real, but also because your heart swells every time you think about him, because the thought of losing him leaves you in the deepest despair-

You realize what you’re about to say too late to stop it.

“I love you.”

For once, Azul looks genuinely surprised. “Is that true?” Traces of his namesake color bloom through his skin.

“What? Of course it’s true.” You tuck his extra-long piece of hair behind his ear, as if the rest of it isn't thoroughly mussed from your makeout session. “I love everything about you.”

He recoils shyly, fending off a smile. “And here I was doing everything not to frighten you away by saying it first.”

You giggle and place both hands on his chest. You’ll take every opportunity to feel his muscles beneath the pads of your fingers. “You’re still allowed to say it.”

“Good.” He leans in close enough to speak against your lips again. “Because I do love you, my sweet.”

It feels like he’s pinching the skin on your back, though you quickly realize it’s not his fingers at all. His arm has shifted into that of an octopus from the elbow down, and the suction cups are clinging tightly to your skin. You wince uncomfortably at the feeling - not pain, exactly, but foreign and strange - but then he lets go just as fast and laughs lightly.

“Shall I take you shopping prior to the event?” he asks as if he did not just leave an octopus tattoo crawling from your shoulder blade up to your neck.

Your sigh is melodramatic. “I guess that would be okay.” You act like you’re going to kiss his lips, but you move to his neck instead. It’s only fair if you get to leave a mark of your own.

1 | {2} | 3 | 4 | 5

[erosauriarts]

Hello

There is not enough BEAST sskk or Kunisig/Kunima ((Kunikida x Sigma)) would you create some for the starving fans

I TOTALLY AGREE WITH YOU ON THE SSKK BEAST OMLLLLLLLL.

BEAST SSKK AND KUNISIG HCs

SSKK Beast Headcanons!!

Aku confessed first but it sounded more of a mission. Atsushi misunderstood and took it way too seriously. When Aku was able to find the correct words, Atsushi nearly imploded from embarrassment.

Atsushi love language is touch and acts of service. He does that thing that cats do and keeps giving Aku dead birds. Aku tells him to stop, it makes people uncomfortable, Atsushi misunderstood and started bringing live birds.

Aku likes to holds hands a lot. Atsushi assumes its because he’s clingey, but it’s actually because his hands are freezing. Atsushi is a little portable heater, and Aku just attaches to him like hair to a balloon.

Atsushi and Aku have no idea how money actually works. They keep trying to pay for shit with things and it gets them in trouble. Atsushi however manages to get things this way, and Aku doesn’t know what he’s doing wrong.

Aku convinces Mori to allow him to take Atsushi to the farmlands. Atsushi keeps threatening to eat the cow if someone tells him to leave Aku’s side. (He won’t, but that is one less cow lol)

Aku sleeps in wierd ass spots, usually up high. Atsushi finds him, and lays on top. Example: if Aku is laying in a tree, Atsushi will lay on top and his limbs will dangle.

Atsushi won’t wear other clothes. Aku has to basically box, cheese, and string him into the shower. Atsushi is more likely to bathe if Aku does it for him. (He can do it on his own, he’s just busy and wants Aku’s attention.)

Atsushi yowls when he’s mad. Only Aku has caught him doing it, and no one believes him when he tells them the White Reaper is more catlike then they think.

After Atsushi rehabilitation at Mori’s orphanage, he can finally work at the agency. He does really well with his coworkers but won’t leave Aku’s side. Fukuzawa ends up giving up, and that's when Atsushi decides that he doesn’t need to be stuck on Aku all the time. Poor Mr. President.

Atsushi does really well with the no-harm rule. If he sees Aku fucking shit up though, he will also cause havoc.

Kunikida X Sigma Headcanons

Note: I have not considered this at all. I took a lot of time to think about how they work together.

How they got together:

Kunikida at first was not interested. He would give Sigma a look and walk off. Sigma just assumed it was because he was an ex-rat. He just focuses on becoming a detective.

Dazai makes Sigma one of his underlings and often works with Atsushi the most. In some cases, Sigma needs to work with Dazai and Kunikida. They don’t work well at first because they keep tripping over each other. They do not communicate well. Kunikida doesn’t get mad at him, though he is a little frustrated it keeps happening. After the case, Sigma offers to get to know each other a little better. Kunikida offers to do some training together to try to find a middle ground so they can work with each other effectively.

They have a good understanding of right and wrong. Sigma opens up about being manipulated and Kunikida promised him he would never. It’s against his ideals. Sigma took that seriously, and had a strong respect for Kunikida.

The training they do actually works really well. Atsushi and Sigma are able to train together. Sigma asks Kunikida more private training to try to catch up and Kunikida obliged. It was all fine till Kunikida pinned him, and they stared at each other. This was the moment they caught feelings, and Ranpo walked in. They try to explain it, but Ranpo thinks it’s funny.

They got really awkward with each other for a bit. Kunikida starts unraveling that Sigma messed up his life plan. Dazai starts picking up that Kunikida is a mess, and starts picking on him. Kunikida blows up and basically has a nervous breakdown. Confessing that he likes someone, he wants to change his ideals and plans to consider the possibility of being in a relationship. Dazai did not do the right thing, and just teased him.

Kunikida keeps running into Sigma. Literally, he can’t stop tripping into him. Sigma accuses him of doing it on purpose, but in all actuality, Kunikida is fated to trample Sigma.

Dazai figures out that those two have this fling after Sigma helped Kunikida up. He sees them staring at each other and was like “:O these bitches gay… GOOD FOR THEM” and now has a twisted obsession to get them together.

Dazai convinces Kunikida that Sigma is in trouble, and Kunikida doesn’t question that Dazai told him to get the closet. Dazai locks them in. Kunikida and Sigma realize this is a trap. Dazai had switched the doorknob, so the lock was on the other side. Sigma pouts that Dazai manipulated him again, and Kunikida comforts him. (He is so gonna beat the shit outta Dazai.) Sigma is the first to confess, and Kunikida nearly blew up. His response was just syllables, and Sigma thought it was cute. Kunikida calms down and returns the confession. They start to plan their first kiss. They end up freaking each other out because they are getting ahead of themselves. It wasn’t till the next day they were released. (Dazai forgot)

Sigma sees Kunikida stress out, and ends up just kissing him there. The nerves start to die down. After the worst of the worst got out of the way, they were making a better effort to talk. Sigma enjoyed the fact that Kunikida was a good man. Sigma didn’t keep up his guard around Kunikida and it started to become aggressively obvious.

They start officially started dating. Regardless of Kunikida’s ideal rule to never date a coworker, he can’t separate from Sigma.

Cute things they do:

Sigma is not a morning person at all. Kunikida wakes up at 6 am every day. He notices Sigma struggles to wake. He gives soft kisses on his brow and makes his coffee.

Sigma often debates Kunikida about topics. They have a lot of things in common, but Sigma thinks Kunikida tends to be self sacrificing. This is often the main topic of their debates.

Kunikida actually really likes Sigma’s hair. He loves to brush it after a bad day. Sigma doesn’t quite understand why Kunikida wants to deal with that mess but loves the attention that he gets from it.

Kunikida taught Sigma to cook. (Something Sigma is embarrassed to admit has no idea how to do). Sigma likes it when Kunikida comes up from behind him and helps him cook that way. He plays dumb, and Kunikida is actually worried he has memory problems.

Kunikida’s love language is acts of service. He loves doing Sigma’s laundry. Sigma assumes it’s because he loves being able to smell him, but Kunikida just really like laundry.

Kunikida loves to guide Sigma with a hand to his back. Sigma will get upset and lift Kunikida’s hand to his back. Kunikida found it weird at first but later found it second nature to touch Sigma’s back when he started to read Sigma’s mood.

Neither are romantic. They actually really suck at it. They try to be romantic but it ends up going really bad and they end up just spending alone time together. They work better just existing together than trying to set up the scene.

Kunikida started using pet names, and Sigma gets flustered. If Sigma starts barking at Atsushi or Dazai, Kunkida will just tell him, “Hey darling, let's not.” And Sigma is tamed. Sigma can’t say anything verbally to get Kunikida to stop lecturing Dazai. He ends up dragging Kunikida to private and kisses him. Kunikida and Sigma would come back kinda scruffed up, and returns to work.

[mysticstarlightduck]

Food Questionnaire Tag!

I was tagged by @thelovelymachinery (here) and I believe that I was also tagged by @the-golden-comet a while back but I'm so swamped with tags that I cannot find it 🥲

Rules: Answer the food-related questions provided using the voices of your OCs. The yummier the descriptions, the better!

I'll go with Dylan Millihan, Liam Steele, and Christine Nespor from What Lurks In The Hollow for this one <3

what is one comfort meal that'll change your whole mood for the day?

Dylan: Eh. It takes a lot to change my mood for the better after a bad day if I can be brutally honest. I guess some pizza is always nice - might not change my whole mood for the better but it's my favorite food so, whatever. I'd take it over anything else.

Liam: Why do you ask? (he grumbles, eyes narrowed, before begrudgingly answering) Okay, fine. I like shepherd's pie, with as much cheese as possible. Uncle Nick is a pretty good cook, all things considered, and he makes some pretty good pies. I also love the cookies, especially the chocolate chip ones me and Savvy buy in the arcade, they're crunchy.

Christine: Oh! Oh, that's a good one! I love Mac & Cheese, but not the icky takeout ones that are always chewy like gum, or the store-bought ones that taste like plastic. I'm talkin' about the homemade ones! With that sweet, melty cheese goodness with some bacon sprinkled on top. That's the one. I also love me a good coffee - can't start the day without one, but don't come to me with that iced coffee BS, I like mine pipin' hot. Like so hot it feels like it was sourced straight from the earth's core or the depths of hell's fiery abyss. Yeah. Am I weird? (laughs)

what is an experience (good or bad) that has turned you off or on to a food completely?

Dylan: Y'know, I used to love those honeycomb toffee candies, the crispy ones and all. But then during a festival, Mrs. Draycott came up to me and was like (imitates the annoying 50-year-old 'female cougar' voice) "Oh my. Sweetheart, you're looking as SCRUMPTIOUS as a honeycomb fresh from the oven, aren't you?"

And I. wanted. to. die. Like not really but (mock gags in disgust) c'mon! What kind of fucked up, 'Karen' pick-up line is that? And, better yet, who even has the time to come up with shit like that? (sighs, wearily pinching the bridge of his nose) I might need a restraining order at this point, it's giving horror movie vibes. I can't have honeycombs anymore, thanks, Mrs. Draycott. Yay.

Liam: Okay, so when I was like 7 or something, my Uncle was having this garden party with his friends, I think, and they were having sushi. Thing is, 7-year-old me didn't know what sushi was, and me being a dumb little shit thought, wholeheartedly, it was candy. Like bonbons. For some odd reason! Cue me, who had been running around the yard all day, swooping into the patio table, picking one of the sushis, running off, and eating it whole before anyone could explain otherwise. I was expecting coconut candy covered in chocolate, or something sweet. What I got... was raw fish and rice. Long story short I ended up throwing up in the garden and I could never have sushi again after that. I tried once! I swear I tried! And it's okay that people like it. But even now the texture just feels...too slimy and it gives me the ick. Nuh-uh.

Christine: I think the time I ate a hot dog at an admittedly very shady establishment - looking back with hindsight - on the side of the road one time while traveling and got salmonella. Yeah, that hotdog was not a good idea on my part (chuckles). Spent the following week almost getting my soul exorcised from my body in the bathroom, in a metaphoric sense, if ya know what I mean. Now I can't even think about eating a hot dog again. It's a nah for me, bro.

if you could eliminate one piece of produce, meat, dairy or sweets off the earth what would it be?

(I'm not sure about this one but I think all three of them would answer onions, garlic, or stinky foods because those are disgusting and should be banned from the menu lmao)

and dessert is normally saved for last, but if you could what would you order for your entree at a restaurant?

Dylan: I guess, uh. I don't know, vanilla ice cream? I know you're gonna call me 'basic' for that, but I don't care. Vanilla is the best ice cream flavor out there and this is the hill I'll die on.

Liam: Hm. The chocolate chip cookies from the arcade. Gosh, those are just amazing. I could eat a whole packet! Or two, even!

Christine: Churros! The cinnamon and sugar ones with coffee sweet cream filling. That's heaven right there for me, yeah.

what are some food fusions that should never be mixed?

Dylan: Don't you ever mix savory, fried, spicy potato chips with marshmallows or melted ice cream or... god forbid, chocolate! That should be a sin or at least some sort of infraction because holy fuck.

Liam: If I see anyone else putting freaking pineapple or worse, watermelon on pizza I swear I will have a nervous breakdown and turn into a slasher movie villain. Not quite really, but keep FRUITS AWAY FROM MY PIZZA!

Christine: I'm probably gonna get hated on for this one. But avocados on a salty toast with eggs and pepper are a hate crime against humanity and I can't stand people who think that's a reasonable breakfast.

what food spot are you gatekeeping and why?

Dylan: My dude. I'm broke. I barely go out to eat in restaurants. I mostly eat at home or order cheap takeout pizza or something. And even if I wasn't broke, I just don't like eating around people whom I don't know in general, and I don't feel much at ease at restaurants unless I am in a really good mood.

Liam: I like 'Nana's Witchy Speakeasy'. The name might be odd or off-putting but it's just a nice little diner owned by this kooky old lady named Betty, who's one of the funniest people I know to be honest. Me and my friends love going there for a snack at the end of the day, the place's great.

Christine: Not sure, but there's this one milkshake place that sells the most wonderful chocolate frappes on earth. It's a bit far from my place but gosh it's so worth it.

cooking is a life skill, why haven't you started learning yet!?

Dylan:...Why haven't I learned it? I already have. I know how to cook. And quite well at that, though not perfectly - I'm my sister's legal guardian, do you think I would be able to manage having a moody teenager in my house all the time if I didn't know how to cook? No. I just don't usually have the time and patience for it, so I end up ordering takeout, but I always make us homemade breakfast.

Liam: 'Cause the last time I tried it I almost ended up setting the kitchen on fire, carbonized one of our best skillets, and was banned from the kitchen for a year (laughs). And cause I don't have the patience to learn, and already have other people in my life who cook really well.

Christine: Hey!!!! I know how to cook. Really, really well at that. I hate industrialized food and don't really crave fast food, but I love myself some good homemade food. I cook for myself every day, it's almost like a meditation for me - it makes me happy and calm, and at the end I get to eat something delicious. It's great!

Is there a smell that reminds you of something you never want to remember?

Dylan: Not really, I'm not easily shaken by smells unless it's something really, really freaking strong or pungent, or if its those perfumes that give me a headache cause I'm allergic.

Liam: My friends and I were exploring the woods to try and find out why the place's cursed and what happened to the ghosts trapped inside, but then we stumbled across some...remains? I guess it was the remains of someone who was killed and eaten by the Mayor's ghouls, and the smell of rotten flesh felt like it was stuck to my nostrils for a week. I hated that. I so hated that.

Christine: I'm not sure. I guess not emotionally, but I do hate the smell of salads and especially vinegar-based salad dressings. It makes me wanna puke - and the thing is it's not for any particular reason. It's not a trauma or anything. I just hate the smell, it's foul.

Tagging (gently): @sleepy-night-child, @kaylinalexanderbooks, @smol-feralgremlin, @wyked-ao3, @topazadine @littleladymab,

@winterandwords, @eccaiia, @sarahlizziewrites, @illarian-rambling

@agirlandherquill, @anoelleart, @ray-writes-n-shit

@writernopal, @anyablackwood, @unstablewifiaccess, @forthesanityofstorytellers

@i-can-even-burn-salad, @thecomfywriter

@thepeculiarbird, @clairelsonao3, @memento-morri-writes, @starlit-hopes-and-dreams @amaiguri

@cherrychiplip @thecomfywriter

@differentnighttale, @leahnardo-da-veggie

[maguro13-2]

Shattered Hero ~ Origins of the Ink Demon Episode Maka Pt.2

King Dedede : Look, it's like this! I've a got a treasure chest that contains a deadly entity named Dark Nebula that was imprisoned inside. I have no idea what are the damages it cost, but it's my suggestion that it's never going to be a fat chance. Even the UK will have something prove useful!

Escargoon : It's not like we can never steal someone's cake. So what if somebody else ate and had that little pink ball of fluff went on a bodacious rampage over cake! I'm sure that has nothing to do with us.

*SMASH!*

Waddle Doo : Your majesty! It's Kirby! He's on a bodacious rampage over cake! (gets knocked over by the star) WAAAH!

King Dedede : Kirby! Wait! I'm not a food thief anymore! I changed my wicked ways! I had nothing to do with your cake! Ask Escargoon, he'll rob for me!

Escargoon : What!? Why me, sire!? I'm not gonna rob you!

King Dedede : Well, how do you expect that to happen!? I need answers now! You want this chest? It does not contain food! It contains something very evil and Meta Knight told me that you would prevent it. Look I created copies of the chest that contains the prison of--No! Wait! (gets beaten up by kirby) Ouch! Hey! Ugh! Stop that! Oof! Watch the eye! YAAAAH! Oh, the pain! That tickles! O-O-O-OWWWW!

Escargoon : (to viewers) Am i seeing this, or you'll be watching him getting beaten up to a pulp by that pink marshmallow over there, isn't it?

King Dedede : (after getting beaten, weakly) For the love of God, Kirby. I'm a food thief no more.

Kirby : (does the victory dance) Hai!

Escargoon : Do you always have to do that when you defeat a boss in every level like that? But I wouldn't surprise that I wouldn't open that chest. It's a prison for that Pseudo ruler of the Underworld and he has been locked for a long period of time! Don't you even recognize that. Why would you go after a treasure that is a prison to an evil entity over a lousy cake?

*BOOM!*

King Dedede : My roof!

[Squeak Squad Theme plays]

Escargoon : Who is that cheese-eating freak with a top hat!? Are you one of Mouser friends or what?

Daroach : My name is Daroach and we are the Squeak Squad.

Escargoon : The what?

Meta Knight : The thieves! They're going after Dark Nebula's prison!

Daroach : We would demand you to hand over that treasure you got that your in hands. So hand it over. That there chest has full of riches and we would be millionaire with adults sized-and gorgeous hair. Not that in a particular order.

King Dedede : No way, asshole! Step off! You don't know what's inside that chest! It's not safe for anyone to go in it. And it better be not my porno stash! It's always my porno stash!

Storo : We're not talking about your stash, bozo! We wanted that treasure chest now or else we're gonna smash you limb from limb!

King Dedede : You can't have it! It's not for safety measures!

Spinni : (behind dedede) I wouldn't think so. You'll be giving me that treasure or I'm gonna make a cat scratch on ya. Whether you'll hand over that treasure for me or we gonna take it from you the hard way.

King Dedede : Oh yeah? Who's gonna make me? You, the cheese-loving freaks or these little squeak pest that can literally throw bombs at me...? (it is revealed that the squeakers are holding bombs with there ears) Why did I even bother being blasted?

(WHOOSH!)

King Dedede : Huh? (music abruptly stops) Hey! Where did Dark Nebula's prison go!? It's not in my hand anymore!

Meta Knight : Who swiped the prison that contains Dark Nebula in it!? Is it one of your squeakers that took it?

Mizune : Sorry, boys. But you were finding something in your hands that isn't yours.

[Fly in the Freedom by Tabitha Fair plays]

Storo : (in awe) Hey, who's that pretty lady?

Daroach : So we meet again, Mizune.

Mizune : Thanks for the treasure, guys. Too bad that you weren't expecting of having a chest like that contains the prisoner that ruled the Underworld for generations. So, you would want to know that how this ruler would bring infinite power darkness they say. But it wouldn't be that easy for a lady would never say no to anyone. It's what we treasure hunters are good at taking things that isn't yours. But I have keep it our your mousy hands. It's the prison of that pseudo ruler of the Underworld. I need that chest to be destroyed before that entity could escape and it can find a host that will be powerful and fearful. But you want to know more than that, then you gotta follow the truth! It's only the way that can be resolved.

Meta Knight : Believe in truth. How on earth did you know that?

Mizune : You tell me. I'll let you know. Anyways, see ya round, knight. I gotta stick around to find more treasures. And oh one more thing, here's a present for you. (throws smoke ball)

King Dedede : Hey! What's going on!?

Escargoon : I can't see a thing! Who throws a smoke bomb at the castle!?

Waddle Doo : There's too much smoke we can't see a clear thing!

Meta Knight : It's a Smoke Ball! I gotta get rid of this thing, right now! (destroys Smoke Ball to clear the smoke)

Escargoon : Crazy mouse lady. Who does think she is anyway!? (whispers into Dedede's ear) Lucky for you, she's definitely smokin for a woman to be the average size of a human mice. Who's crazy idea was it for her to be the Mouse girl to find a local cheese shop?

King Dedede : Them mouse freaks are gone! And so does the treasure!

Meta Knight : Kirby! He must've went off by himself! I've gotta find him and Dark Nebula's prison before he could find a host to make it powerful and will cover the planet in darkness! Celestial 9 might have a chance to find out Dark Nebula's whereabouts whethers he demands on conquering the planet or the Galaxy itself, I need someone that could help me continue my research. (dials phone) Tsugumi, is my ship ready?

[Endrum Collective - Hideaki Kobayashi]

Tsugumi : (on the phone) Yes, sir Meta Knight. The ship's ready and is all rebuilt. I even manage to get everyone ready to face the final frontier. Jupiter, the birthplace of Maka Albarn herself. And within in it is the sanctuary belonging the Phantonian race, a group of powerful and deadly beings that ruled the galaxy before the birth of us. Just wonder if we think that Maka has finally returned after she disappered? Let's all agree on that if she will able to see me again.

Meta Knight (via phone) : Possibly quite true. But if she did come back after being locked up for at least three years, she would've missed this one out. Make sure to tell the crew that Celestial 9 is making their moves.

Tsugumi : (on the phone) Yes sir. Sounds a like a good plan. Celestial 9 will be going to make their selves unbelievably curious when they find out that the real and actual Maka Albarn has returned. And then I will congratulate them in a fairly manner to see what they have us in store to know about Dark Nebula, pseudo ruler of the Galaxy, bringing darkness to the galaxy.

Meta Knight : (on the phone) That's the Tsugumi Harudori, I know, believe it that all things are necessarily in order. Just believe it. That is all what I wanted to hear. Now then, get the New Halberd ready, it's time that we must take actions on whether Dark Nebula alive or dead.

Tsugumi : Understood, sir. So true that I had to take the point. Well, continue on your investigations, sir.

Meta Knight : (via phone) Good, Meta Knight, out. (beeps)

[Preparation for Ritual - Jun Senoue]

Tsugumi : Maka...Darn you after all of that! It's been 3 years since never noticed me about why did I not turn into a weapon and see me like this as a hero? I would never be the instrument of death himself, Shinra's man-made son. I will never forgive for whatever they did to this world, If that's the case of being a hero to myself, I would never protect his legacy and move forward to be a hero so that I would rule the day after what happened to my friends, this will be my own justice, this will be my story, and to answer it to all...Justice against the hearts and souls of Heartless will be served!

~ Act 1 : A Never-Ending Story ~

[bitches-who-write]

Can you do headcanons siblings of the gang ? Like, how they act with them and how they treat them and how they let the gang act with them ?

Somewhat important note below~

So we know we said we take requests on a first come, first serve basis; however for the sake of time today (and due to the fact that we did not post anything last week) we decided to take on this request early. PLEASE do not be offended or upset if you are still waiting for your request! We promise we will be getting to them ALL. After this post now, we will go back to our fist come, first serve rule.

We have a few requests which we'll be writing longer stories for vs casual headcannons. Stories typically take us several hours to complete since your 2 lovely bitches who write do not live close enough to one another. We write together via FaceTime and Google Doc. We appreciate all your support and patience with us as we write you guys the best content possible! Enough rambling now, Enjoy these headcannons!!!

Patrick With A Little Sister-

Oh boy… Patrick is crazy over protective of his little sister.

Maybe the word should be obsessive and controlling instead~

He watches her every move. He even comes into her room as she sleeps just to occasionally check on her.

Whenever she gets out of Belch’s car heading to school, Patrick keeps a close eye on her again. Mentally noting everyone she talks to.

He makes sure everyone is in line. It doesn’t matter if it’s an adult or a kid. If they do something Patrick doesn’t like, they’re getting fucked up.

Patrick refuses to let guys talk to her. Only Henry, Vic and Belch are allowed to.

When Patrick isn’t around, he puts the other Bower’s Gang members in charge of her. And she knows well enough to listen to them.

He sometimes makes inappropriate comments about her, resulting in a smack off the head by the other guys.

Patrick LOVES to mess with her.

Always holding things over her head so she can’t reach.

Laughs as she tries to jump up and grab it from him.

He’ll lean down and rest his arms on the top of her head since she’s so much smaller than him.

When she doesn’t listen to Patrick, he will literally just pick her up and throw her over his shoulder and laugh as she struggles to get down.

Even though she’s a girl and a few years younger than him, doesn’t mean she’s safe from how rough Patrick gets.

He still wrestles her to the ground and puts her in a damn headlock.

Definitely gets a few bruises from Patrick playfully hitting her. (Patrick doesn't realize his own strength.)

One word… tickled. Patrick is always tickling the shit out of her to tease her.

It’s even worse when the entire Bower’s Gang joins in on torturing her.

Look… this is Patrick. So he still has a mean, sadistic side.

He gets off on fear so he loves to scare her anyway he can.

Whether that is by jumping out at her, or doing something dangerous and reckless like picking her up and dangling her over the cliff edge to the quarry. (she hates heights and doesn’t know how to swim.)

“Uh no! You’re slipping! Better hold on, sweetheart. I know you don’t know how to swim.” He chuckles darkly, smirking down at her as she grips onto his forearm tightly and cries.

Patrick doesn’t hesitate on the low- blows, either. Making comments that he knows will make her cry.

If she threatens to tell their parents on him, Patrick will grab her from behind agressively, making her gasp as he covers her mouth tightly and whisper tauntingly in her ear:

“Now, Now.. Just why would you say that? You know that only gets you in trouble, little one..” He chuckles darkly and tightens his grip in a painful manner.

Patrick With A Little Brother-

…… I think we all know how this ended…. Patrick disliked his little brother, Avery… a lot. You see, Patrick likes being the only male sibling. It’s less competition and less hassle for him. Only Patrick is allowed to make (more like break) the reputation of his family’s name in the small town of Derry, Maine. Bottom line, if Patrick had another little brother, it would result in the same outcome as Avery. Sorry.

Belch With A Little Sister-

Very protective. Does not let her out of his sight for a second.

Hovers over her when they walk in the woods so she doesn’t trip or fall down.

He brings her along when he goes out with the guys sometimes, unless he knows they will be partaking in illegal activities.

Keeps snacks in his car for whenever she rides with him and always makes sure she eats 3 proper meals during the day.

Not only does he have extra snacks but he has a first aid kit, too.

He’s always prepared knowing she’s small, so there’s a good chance she’ll accidentally get hurt hanging around the guys.

And yes, it has happened on more than one occeasion.

He checks on her during school and makes sure no one is messing with her.

After school, Belch makes sure she does her homework but never really helps her with it. Why would he? He doesn’t even do his own assignments.

For the most part, he’s pretty sweet but sometimes the big brother power goes to his head.

He makes her do her chores and his around the house.

If she ever did something wrong, Belch goes right to blackmail.

“I won’t let mom know about that F on your report card… only IF you wash my car everyday the rest of this week.

Henry purposely spills his drink on the hood of the car right after she just got down cleaning it.

“Opps.. looks like you missed a spot. Better get to it, kid.” Henry says mockingly as he ruffles her hair walking by.

Belch always makes sure she’s safe in bed by the end of the night though.

He even kisses the side of her head when the guys aren’t around.

Belch With A Little Brother-

He takes him under his wing.

Loves to talk about cars- the makes and models, horsepower, you name it.

Even though his little brother isn’t old enough to drive yet, that doesn’t stop Belch from giving him driving lessons.

But bet your life he threatens him before taking off. “I swear to fuck though man, if you crash my car, I will end you. Okay, now put it in reverse. Let’s go”

Belch watches sports with him and even plays in the backyard, as well.

Belch acts as if he’s his coach to prepare him for the school’s team.

He also teaches him how to properly lift weights and spots him, too.

Belch told him “the ladies love a man with muscles, so to keep lifting bro.”

Speaking of girls, Belch was the one who gave him ‘the talk’... in very elaborate and explicit detail leaving his brother shocked, disgusted, and intrigued all at once.

Although he does hang out with his brother from time to time, sometimes Belch chooses friends over family and takes off for long periods of time.

Belch for the most part tries to be patient with him, but still gives his brother tough love as a form of preparing him for the real world.

Overall, Belch is a pretty decent big brother.

He means well but sometimes misses the mark.

Henry With A Little Sister-

Their father works long shifts, often resulting in an absence in their home life.

Henry’s dad basically tells him he’s fully in charge of his little sister.

Henry acts pissed off about that like she’s a bother and interrupts his life but deep down, it makes him feel important for once in his life.

Henry is both very strict and protective over her.

He’s also very controlling such as who she’s allowed to talk to or what she’s allowed to wear.

Nothing short or low cut is allowed. She better not even think about talking back, either,

Henry doesn't have much patience for anything and his temper is even worse.

For example- Her short legs means she walks slower than the rest of them.

Henry rolls his eyes and ends up dragging her by her wrist or sometimes just throwing her over his shoulder because he can’t stand waiting for her.

When it comes time for school, Henry makes sure everyone knows she’s a Bowers. If anyone (child or adult) even just so much as looked at her funny, Henry is throwing hands.

Speaking of school, Henry doesn’t help her with any bit of projects or homework. “Don’t fuckin’ ask me! You do it, or don’t, I don't really give a shit.”

When it comes time for dinner, Henry makes simple stuff like peanut butter & jelly sandwiches, mac n’ cheese, or sometimes just fixes a bowl of cereal. But he always makes her clean up the mess / dishes after.

If she talks back, Henry has no problems getting in her face and yelling loudly.

Sometimes when his anger gets the best of him, he’ll smack her across the face.

He stiffens up when he sees the tears form in her eyes. Sometimes he just walks away and doesn’t want to deal with it, and other times he stands there stiffly and gives her an awkward hug.

“Sorry kid. I didn’t mean to hit you. You just pissed me the fuck off.”

Henry would never let anyone ever see this but occasionally he gives her a quick kiss to the side of her cheek when he’s feeling extra guilty. 

Similar to Patrick, Henry loves to get on her nerves.

Tripping her as she walks by.

Embarrassing her in front of the other guys just to see her blush.

Smacking her off the head as he walks by- her angry face makes Henry laugh.

Tickling her to make her admit something or as a form of punishment because he knows she hates that.

Barges in her room without knocking first.

Warns her she's never, ever allowed to have a boyfriend. And if she has a crush on either Vic, Belch, or Patrick...she’s dead meat.

Won’t allow her to drink alcohol or smoke. If she sneaks and does it, Henry teaches her a ‘lesson’.

“Find you wanna drink? Then here, take it. But now you have to drink the entire thing.”

He smirks and watches her get sick from the alcohol thinking that actually taught her a lesson and will deter her from it in the future.

Speaking of drinking-

When their dad comes home drunk, Henry is the one to take all his shit just to protect her because deep down he does care about her even though he calls her a “little fucking shit” daily.

Henry With A Little Brother-

In Henry's warped mind, his brother is a guy too, so he doesn’t need to be coddled like his little sister does.

If Henry has to withstand hits and verbal abuse, then his little brother should too. “Why should he get a pass?” Henry scoffs.

Henry gives him a lot of tough love.

He tries to make him ‘stronger’ by saying some really rotten shit to him. “Builds character, get used to it, kid.”

Henry does teach his brother how to fight though. “Put those stupid fuckin’ books down pussy. Books can’t teach you how to be a fucking man, but throwing punches will.”

Henry gave his little brother his own knife for his birthday.

He told him since he’s a Bowers, he's a target so it will come in handy~

Gives his brother “advice” on girls and sex; telling him which girls around town ‘put out’ the most.

One day when his brother asked Henry about a particular girl Henry responded with: “Ooh yeah, (random girl’s name), the only thing good about her is her pussy. Face is busted.”

Overall, Henry isn’t too bad towards his brother but once again, when his temper is raging, no one is safe from him.

Vic With A Little Sister-

Overly cautious and protective of her. He’s basically like a helicopter parent.

When the guys are swearing around her, he covers her ears and tells the guys to cut it out.

“Guys! Language!”

“I’m only a few years younger than you guys, I’m not a child!” she retorts.

Patrick, being classic creepy Patrick circles around her. “Just give it a few more years babe. Based on how your mom looks...” Patrick licks his lips envisioning Vic’s mother until Vic smacks him in the balls making Patrick hunch over in pain.

Vic likes to keep her in sight so right after school, he goes straight to her locker and makes sure she rides home with them, too.

When they get out of the car to bully some kids, Vic tells her to stay put. He doesn’t want her involved in anything.

When walking through the woods to the quarry, He always has a hand around her upper arm for support when climbing down the embankment.

He watches her like a hawk when swimming, so paranoid something will happen. Again, think helicopter parent

While he’s sweet for the most part, there’s times he just loses his temper.

He’ll explode and begin yelling at her, only inches from her face.

Sometimes when she does something really, really out of line, Vic will shove her into Henry and Patrick.

“Here guys, teach this little bitch a lesson for me. And don’t go easy on her.” Vic says walking off to calm down.

A part of him feels a little guilty when he sees her cry but other times he feels it’s justified.

He isn’t overly affectionate with her around the guys, the most he does is put an arm around her shoulder.

Sometimes sneaks behind her and tasers her sides and laughs when she jumps and collapses to the ground.

But when no one is around, he 100% gives the best hugs.

When she’s going to a sleepover at a girl-friend's house, Vic tells her to be safe and mumbles, “love you.”

Back at home before bed, Vic will tease her for being paranoid as she makes her way around the house, triple checking to make sure all the windows and doors are locked.

“What? Afraid the boogeyman is gonna getcha?” Vic mocks.

If she’s having a nightmare and calls for Vic, he’ll come and sit on the bedroom floor next to her bed until she falls asleep again.

Vic With A Little Brother-

Vic isn’t as protective over his little brother as he is with their little sister; but he still cares for him.

He just feels that his brother is able to hold his own while his sister needs more protection/ guidance.

He let’s his brother tag along with the guys. They all don’t mind. If anything, they refer to his little brother as Vic number 2.

He genuinely listens to his brother’s interests. Okay.. sometimes he zones out when he drones on and on but he always acts interested.

Vic is pretty book smart so he helps his brother with school work, especially in math.

Tries to make his brother more confident when it comes to talking / picking up girls.

Basically acts as his wing man.

The guys try to give his brother tips on how to pick up girls...Vic usually tells him to ignore everything they say because all that's gonna earn him is a slap in the face.

Tells him not to listen to Henry or Patrick for girl advice.. EVER.

He does teach his brother how to fight though.

Just because Vic is one of the sweeter ones in the gang; that doesn’t change the fact that he’s in a gang to begin with…

When his brother told him he was being picked on, Vic taught him how to fight, but also got involved himself.

Nothing like sending an intimidating message to a few assholes.

When Vic and his brother fight with each other, he doesn’t hold back just because that’s his little brother.

Overall, they get along for the most part and Vic is a pretty decent older brother to his siblings.

[undersero]

sweet

please note: i’m aware this work was on the lovingshinso blog- i am the one who wrote it and posted it there. i am the author and i am sharing it to my new blog here.

pairing: hanta sero x fem reader

warnings: breeding kink (this is literally the plot), squirting, swearing, unprotected vaginal sex, overstimulation, feral sero, eventual pregnancy/pregnant reader at the end, labor and delivery is mentioned one time as written here

word count: 5.1k 

There were some things in life that Sero really enjoyed. He liked to eat bagels with the strawberry cream cheese, and he liked to nap on Sunday afternoons. He really enjoyed when the weather was nice and he could fire up the grill and make something delicious. 

Of course, there were thoughts that he enjoyed too. Being a loved, sought-after hero. Backpacking around the world. Climbing the hero charts. Making a difference. 

One such thought was above the others, though. 

Breeding you. Throwing his pretty wife’s pretty legs over his shoulders and pounding into your little cunny with no thoughts other than to breed, breed, breed. Feeling your cunt stretch around him. Pumping load after load of his seed into your gushing hole, hoping that it’ll take, hoping that soon, you’ll be full and round with his child. 

When this thought crept up on him, a blush normally settled on his ears. It was almost overwhelming to think about- beautiful, yes, but overwhelming. His brain plays the sensations in his head and he has to consciously keep himself calm, take steadying breaths and will his arousal to die down. 

Some nights, though… it festered inside him. Hanta felt his heart clench in his chest when he saw you come out of the bathroom, fresh from a shower. His t-shirt adorned your body, hanging off your frame adorably, the hem just brushing the top of your thighs. You smelled nice, like roses and vanilla- he caught a whiff as you crawled into bed with him. 

How could he not touch you? 

Gently, he tugged you near to him, and you smiled up at him, cuddling into his broad, strong chest. Hanta hummed in content, pressing his nose to your hair and inhaling your alluring shampoo, allowing himself to be caught up in you. 

Your skin was so soft, so smooth, smelled so nice. He wanted to squeeze it so hard it turned white, wanted to grope that soft area on your lower belly that made you mewl. That soft skin, when touched, always made you shiver and whine in the most beautiful way. You’d always shiver, pressing your head against him somehow. Were you showing submission when you did this? Or was it simply a need to be close? He never quite figured that out, but each time you did this, it unleashed something from inside him so possessive, so feral that he had to be careful to prevent it from taking over. 

But maybe he wouldn’t stop it when he bred you. There was a thought. 

What? 

Oh. 

He blinked in surprise, seeing your curious gaze meet his. You were talking to him, expecting an answer. He swallowed hard, chuckling a bit. His ears were red. 

“Sorry, what?” He asked, and you laughed, kissing his lips softly. 

“Didn’t realize you were so tired,” you said, mistaking his spacey behavior for exhaustion and not horny daydreaming, “I asked if you wanted me to bring you lunch tomorrow. You mentioned it was a paperwork day.” 

Hanta loved when you stopped by his agency, he loved when your face lit up when you saw him. He loved knowing that this work was what took care of you both. You didn’t have to work a day in your life if you didn’t want to- but Hanta, of course, never forced you to stay home. He wanted you to have the option to find your dream job anywhere you wanted- and if that job was to stay home and be his adorable little housewife, then so be it. If your dream job was to become a lawyer, so be it. He’d always support you. Always had, always would. 

“Yeah,” he said, smiling brightly at you. “Yeah, that would be nice,” he murmured. 

With that confirmation, you smiled, kissing him again, feeling your eyelids become droopy and your body feel sluggish and warm. Hanta’s arms felt warmer and more secure than any you’d ever been in before and you couldn’t help but want to stay there forever. 

Sleep came to you quickly. It didn’t come as fast for your husband; Hanta stayed awake after he clicked off the bedside light, looking at you sleeping so sweetly in his arms. 

That was the best way he could describe you. Sweet. Sweet in everything you did. You gave sweet kisses, and sweet advice, and you made the sweetest brownies he’d ever had. Your face was sweet… your hands were sweet, looking even sweeter when he put that ring on the left one not so very long ago. You smelled sweet… 

...and he knew you’d look sweet when he had you in a mating press. When he bred you and filled you up with his cum. Your face would be fucked out, red, eyes hazy and unfocused. Maybe you’d even be drooling- he loved when he fucked you that good. And he’d sure as hell do it when he knocked you up- he’d have you creaming on his cock so much, so often, that the only thing in your brain would be the only name falling off your tongue- Hanta. 

A shiver racked through his body. He blinked a few times, taking a deep breath. 

Settling back into the pillows, he pressed his nose against your hair once more, inhaling and smiling softly against your head. He loved you so much. But these thoughts…

Well, if he didn’t breed you soon, they might just drive him crazy. 

-

The next morning was pretty uneventful. Hanta woke up and went to work, kissing you several times, making you squeal and giggle with glee as you handed him a thermos of coffee to drink on his commute to work. When he arrived at his agency, his desk was nearly overflowing with paperwork, which surely would have put a damper on his day had he not known you were coming to see him. 

This knowledge didn’t do much to make the paperwork any less sucky, though. It was tedious. He signed and initialed so many times that he idly wondered if he could get stamps with his signature on them- that would make this whole, boring ordeal a lot easier on the wrist… might take a little less time, too. He wondered if there were any rules against that, and was still pondering this thought when his receptionist called into his office phone; the shrill ring scaring him nearly half to death. 

“Yeah?” He answered after taking a moment to compose himself and ignore the fact that he just shrieked like a twelve year old seeing a very large, menacing bug. 

“Cellophane, you have a visitor,” his receptionist relayed. “Should I send her up?” 

His heart soared. 

“Yeah,” he said, unable to hide the smile in his voice. 

Moments later, you came through the door, a bento box in hand, your bag slung over your shoulder. A blush was on your cheeks. Even after all this time, seeing your handsome husband, Hanta the Hero, made you so excited you felt like you could and would explode. 

A matching blush and smile on his cheeks, Hanta came around the desk and gave you a soft, loving kiss. You tasted like mint bubblegum, the blue kind, not the green kind, and it made him shiver, just slightly, with delight. 

“Hi, handsome!” you said, pulling him back in for another kiss and cupping his face. The cool metal of your rings pressed against his flushed cheek, only making his blush worsen. Sero grinned against your mouth and pulled you closer by your waist, giving you a little squeeze, before pulling away. 

“Hey, beautiful,” he said, gently carding his fingers through your hair and giving you a soft kiss on the forehead. “This paperwork has been kicking my ass. So glad you came.” 

You eyed the stack of papers on the desk behind your husband, making a squeamish face before looking up at him with sympathetic eyes. 

“Yeah that looks… like a migraine waiting to happen,” you said. Sero laughed. 

“I know. It is, though. Maybe I should make an intern do it for me,” he teased, wiggling his eyebrows. 

Scoffing, you batted his chest before quoting one of your and Sero’s closest friends.

“That’s not very heroic!” you scolded playfully before breaking into a fit of giggles. Sero laughed, pulling you in closer and kissing your cheek and neck, over and over, thus making you laugh even more. 

After several moments of kissing and giggling, Hanta stilled and inhaled, smelling that same alluring scent on you that he’d smelled the previous night when you got out of the shower. It was so comforting… if there was ever a time when he was spinning, out of control, losing touch with his surroundings and with what was important or not, that smell… well, he knew that smell would bring him right back. 

The problem was, though, that right now, that very smell was sending his mind spinning again. He had no control over it and his ears were turning pink.

His mind raced. He could take you right here, throw the paperwork aside, lay you out on his desk, press you in half, holding your knees nearly by your ears. The desk would give him such a good angle too, he’d be able to fuck into you as hard as he wanted with no worries of his thrusts being impeded by the soft, plushiness of your bed. All he’d have to do was tell his receptionist to cancel any appointments he had for the afternoon- he couldn’t even remember if he had any at that point- tell her to not permit any calls in… 

All this ran through his hot, overworked brain in about a second, and in that second, he just smelled your hair, being so relaxed and at peace outwardly while he was, inside, raging with uncontrollable arousal. He had to have you. Had to breed you. Breed, breed, breed. 

“Babe,” you said, your voice was quiet, soft. Almost unsure. His heart dropped for a moment, worried that in his haze, he’d somehow spoken or made his thoughts known to you some other way. He pulled back just enough to look at you, tilting his head to the side, willing you to continue. 

You were chewing on your lip so adorably that it hurt his heart and made him yearn to be the one chewing your lip. Your cheeks were redder, but your eyes were looking at him earnestly, almost shining with excitement. Clearly he hadn’t slipped and spoke his thoughts, otherwise you wouldn’t have been looking at him like that… 

“Hm?” he asked, tilting his head, “you look so serious, babe.” 

You smiled a little, looking down, bashful. 

“Yeah… um… so, like...you remember what we were talking about the other day?”

Well...that was vague. The two of you talked about a lot of stuff the other day, and every day before or since. Hanta’s confusion was evident on his face and you shook your head, giggling in spite of yourself, before taking a breath and trying again. 

“Okay… that’s not clear. I meant…” 

Why was this so hard for you to say out loud? Maybe it was because of the way Sero’s brown eyes bore into you, looking intensely, even though he wasn’t necessarily trying to do that. Just looking at you, curiously, wanting to know what was on your mind. Your husband...so caring. So loving. 

“I’m listening, Bonita,” he prodded gently, tucking some hair behind your ear. The nickname sent a shiver down your spine, and you smiled at him. 

“About starting a family,” you said, shy. 

Oh yeah. The conversation that started this whole obsession that was taking over Hanta’s thoughts. You’d been looking on Social Media, on a friend’s profile, cooing over her baby who’d just turned two. And then the conversation...turned. 

“I think it might be a good time to think about it,” you said, turning and looking at Sero with hopeful eyes and pink, blushy cheeks. “You’ve got your agency going...and we’re both still young. Seems to be working in our favor, don’t you think?”

Sero smiled at you, his own cheeks getting red; the tips of his ears were starting to pinken, too. 

“You think so?” he asked, delighted, butterflies in his chest akin to the ones he felt the very first time he’d seen you smile at him. You nodded enthusiastically. 

“I think so! I mean… that’s assuming you want to.” 

You had talked about it before with your husband, but in a passing kind of way. Like, ‘one day we’ll be parents’ and ‘we’ll have to remember that when we have kids’. It was never a fully serious thing, never something that the two of you really thought about or planned out. Until this conversation. Until now. 

“Yeah! Of course I want to,” Hanta said, giving you a kiss. And then, what started off as five simple words, became the source of his current obsession. Of his current need to breed you immediately and upon every surface of every space you’d been in. Five words that seemed totally innocent at the time but immediately had his heart racing, his libido rising, and his gut clenching in arousal. 

“You’ll be a beautiful mommy.”

Presently, Hanta had to consciously swallow to wet his suddenly parched mouth. He grinned at you, that same dazzling, sparkling Hanta Sero grin that made your knees weak and your heart flutter. He leaned in and kissed you, passionately, the lunch you’d brought for him all but forgotten about. 

Inhaling deeply and pulling away, you saw Hanta’s expression had changed. It was darker now, more… needy. He nipped your bottom lip, making you mewl in surprise and lean in closer to him;  his strong arms kept your knees from collapsing. 

“Yeah, I remember,” he told you, voice having noticeably dropped an octave, maybe even two. The change immediately made you blush harder- you were sure you looked like a tomato at this point, but you didn’t care, not when your husband, the only man who’d ever have your heart, looked at you that way.

“I thought,” you murmur, voice sounding softer, like your body would surely be when you carried his child; softer, supple, stretching so beautifully around a stomach full of life, “I thought it would be nice to maybe start trying.” 

Hanta groaned, the words having an obvious effect on him. He pulled you  flush against his chest, roughly kissing against your jaw, nipping every few times to make you positively melt in his arms. You felt the need waft off him in waves- it was hot and potent, almost making you dizzy as you felt his unquestionable want, his need, to breed you. 

He opened his mouth to answer you, when at the exact moment, his office phone rang again, causing you both to flinch in surprise; thankfully, he didn’t shriek this time. That would have changed the mood. 

But he still sighed heavily, swallowing hard, before opening his eyes and giving you an easy smirk. He’d been brought out of whatever trance you’d put him in, it seemed. 

“I hate that damn thing,” he muttered, casting a disparaging glance at the phone.

-

He answered the call from his receptionist, and soon, you were on your way home. Hanta gave you many kisses and hugs for the road, leaving you feeling well loved and excited to see him that evening. 

But further, the entire visit left you...curious. You’d never seen Hanta act so...possessive. Almost… you couldn’t think of the right word. The way he kissed you, though. How dark his eyes had gotten. The way you felt your husband’s need roll off of him in the heaviest way you’d never experienced before. 

Your mind rolled the interaction over and over, prodding and playing and questioning and wondering. 

Certainly, you knew you wanted a family with him. Hanta would be an excellent father and you never doubted that for a second, never for a moment. Excitement tingled in your chest- this was a huge decision, of course, but it was one you knew you wanted. Based on his behavior back at his office, and the behavior he’d been displaying before, you could tell your husband was pretty into the idea as well. 

A familiar heat settled into your stomach, burning embers of arousal keeping you just warm enough to notice, but not yet scalding enough to make you squirm. 

That, like you, like your husband, would come later. 

-

It was an understatement to say that Sero was distracted for the rest of his afternoon. He likely wouldn’t have been able to hit the floor with his helmet, even if he was trying to. His brain whirled in excitement, spun in arousal and possibilities. It was maddening, dizzying. He couldn’t tell which way was up anymore, but that didn’t matter. He didn’t need to know which way was up to know he was the luckiest man in the world. 

Not only was he your husband, but he was going to be the father of your child, too. 

Sero never considered himself to be the fatherly type- not really, at least. He’d never discounted it either, but then… well. Then he met you, and his entire life changed.

When he first saw your eyes, your smile… heard you giggle… he knew without a doubt he wanted to be your husband, wanted to be your man. He wanted to hold you every night and wake up to you, bed head and morning breath, every morning. 

And the more time he spent with you, the more he knew he wanted to be a father. He wanted to be the father to your children, he wanted you to be the mother of his babies. 

And the time, finally, blessedly, was here. 

-

Dinner was an interesting affair that night. You couldn’t have been more spaced out while making it… you were only semi-sure that you’d included all the correct ingredients in all the proper amounts. It didn’t taste awful, so that was a good indication; you still would not have put it past yourself to mix up two spices, or forget something altogether only to add an unneeded ingredient. 

Sero didn’t complain, though, not that he ever did. But he looked distracted. His cheeks were permanently rosey, it seemed, and he kept looking at you, only to shyly look down when you met his gaze. It was cute, really, like you two were kids trying to figure out your feelings for one another for the first time. 

There wasn’t much conversation. Little broken bits of sentences passed between the two of you. Small laughs and hums filled the rest of the otherwise quiet atmosphere and semi-regular sounds of silverware scraping plates. 

After about half an hour, and after you both had managed to eat about half of what was on your plate, he finally spoke. 

“I don’t know why I feel so nervous,” he said with a shy, almost bashful laugh, cheeks blooming a brighter red. 

“I feel it too. I feel like a virgin,” you told him, to which he reached across the table and took your hand.

“I’m sure you were a cute virgin,” he teased with an affectionate squeeze, and you laughed out loudly, maybe a little more harshly than you intended with your shotty nerves. This only made Sero’s expression toward you soften even more. 

“Gee, thanks,” you said, leaning in, closing the gap between you and kissing him. The kiss came easily enough; you were pros at this point. 

“Should we… y’know?” Hanta asked, lips mere millimeters from yours, breath fanning across your flushed face. Another giggle left your lips, but this one was more high-pitched and nervous. 

“Yeah,” you said. You swore you saw the same apprehension mirrored in Hanta’s eyes, but he quickly stood and scooped you up before carrying you, bridal-style, to the bedroom. 

The walk there seemed to take ages. You were horny, that dull warmth from your walk home had turned into quite the all-encompassing heat, but your hands felt clammy and cold and were fidgety. 

You hadn’t been lying; you really did feel like you were a virgin. Like you’d never been fucked stupid by the man holding you. 

It was an exciting thing. A scary thing. An exhausting thing. But it was the start of your adventure, the greatest one you’d take, and it was with your loving, attentive husband. 

As you approached your room, Hanta’s body seemed to relax a bit, almost as if passing the threshold made this whole thing easier for him now that he was in an extra safe, comforting space. 

As he laid you on the bed, on your back, you didn’t see apprehension in his eyes anymore. They were dark now, nearly black, and just one look alone had your heart racing. The butterflies in your stomach were now the size of watermelons and it felt like there was no way, no reasonable way at all, for them to avoid bursting your stomach, but they never did. Somehow. Heat which didn’t exist before radiated between your bodies, and you were taken back to that same feeling that washed over you when you visited him earlier. Your cheeks flushed and you felt...submissive. Needy. Helpless. 

Hanta started rubbing his hands all over your pretty little body, rubbing your sides as he hovered over you, gazing down lovingly at your form through those dark eyes. One hand slid up under your shirt, fingertips gently grazing over your soft belly, the action and the intimacy giving you goosebumps. 

“Love you,” you whispered, looking at him with starry eyes, and he smiled back at you. 

“Love you too,” he murmured, leaning down to kiss you, “and I’m gonna fuck you full.”

-

The shivers in your body hadn’t subsided once you both were stripped down. You weren’t cold; there was no shortage of heat between you and your husband’s bodies- it was the thrill of it all. The knowledge that you were going to be bred by such a handsome, capable man. It drove you wild. His touches drove you wild. You wanted to jump his bones, but you were stuck, on your back against the comforter, with Hanta kissing down, down, down… 

Then, your legs were over his shoulders and he was lapping hungrily at your already sopping cunt. Long, broad strokes up and down your lips before he spread your folds open with his fingers. You heard his sharp intake of breath, though this was something he’d seen many times before. 

Your cunt, pink and pretty, like a tiny rosebud, was breathtaking. Awe-inspiring. Delicious. Hanta leaned forward as you held your breath in anticipation, eventually exhaling with a tiny whine as he licked through your folds with practiced movements. His tongue felt like heaven. He knew exactly what to do, how to swirl his tongue, how to lap at your hardening clit. And there was no room for teasing tonight, not as far as Hanta was concerned. He wanted you to cum as many times as he could. 

The first orgasm came quickly; his constant sucking and lapping at your clit, coupled with harsh, efficient swipes to the bud with his thumb, had you cumming in mere minutes. If you hadn’t been so fucked out, you were sure Hanta would have teased you about making you cum in a new record time. 

Pleasure pumped through every artery, every vein of your body. You felt warm and floaty, but Sero didn’t stop. Of course he didn’t. He was nowhere near done with you. 

A finger breached your hole, pressing inside up to his knuckle with ease. You mewled at the sensation, the slight burning, the overwhelming goodness of being so full. 

“Ffff…” you huffed out, cheeks red, squeezing your eyes shut as your toes curled in response to Hanta moving his finger into and out of you at a nearly agonizingly slow pace. 

Then, he added another. And a third. Three fingers pumping you open, scissoring inside you, curling to hit that little spot within your spongy walls that made you moan and cry and see stars. 

Sero looked like he was possessed. His head was bowed between your legs, watching your cunt suck his fingers in, feeling in delight the fact that you didn’t seem to want to let his fingers out. His eyes were dark, too. His cheeks were flushed. There was so much tension in his body- he held it in his shoulders, in his hips, in his hands...and most especially in his cock, throbbing with need, bobbing heavily between his legs. 

Your second orgasm washed over you without much fanfare, though it did feel incredibly good, making your toes curl so hard that you almost felt the muscles in your feet cramp in protest. Almost. 

And then, Sero was sitting up and your legs were falling off of his shoulders. His hands rubbed soft, soothing circles into the soft, flushed flesh of your thighs, and he smiled at you so softly that it nearly made you cry. Your husband. 

“Ready?” His voice was soft, surprisingly so, considering how rough he looked and how red his cock was. You nodded, smiling, feeling anxious nerves bubble up in your stomach and make your chest feel fuzzy, like soda. 

“We’re gonna do it,” you said, voice hoarse from your whimpers. “We’re gonna be parents.” 

A silent, intimate moment passed between the two of you; a moment in which eternity spread out before you. You could both see it; a child, growing in your womb, slowly at first, but then quicker than you could ever imagine. You envisioned a nursery, one with soft green curtains and a big, white crib with a soft, pastel baby blanket hanging over the side. Labor and delivery flashed through both your minds, but then, the warm, imagined feeling of seeing your child for the first time. It made both of your chests expand with a love so strong that it nearly consumed the both of you. You surmised, though, that actually seeing your child, in your arms, would be a much stronger event. 

Then, like a reel of film, you saw your child growing up. Learning to talk. Walking. Running. Playing, laughing, growing. Breaking your hearts and making them stronger at the same time. Developing a quirk, maybe, but developing a passion, definitely. Knowing how loved they were by mommy and daddy, knowing that they had a safe place to call home. School. Graduation. The real world. Weddings. 

It all stretched between you and Hanta, like the vast expanse of an unexplored journey; the greatest and most terrifying and exhilarating and challenging of all. 

This all happened within a second, but you both felt it. You saw the same things, you experienced the same feelings. Hanta’s eyes, still dark, but now brimming with emotion, stared into yours, and he touched your cheek. 

“Yeah,” he confirmed softly, with a nod. “Yeah, babe. It’s always been you.”  

-

First. Your legs wrapped tightly around Hanta’s waist, resting on the dimples of his lower back as he drove himself into you with practiced, hard thrusts. His hands dug into your hips, his thumbs pressing on that soft skin on your lower belly. You mewled at his presses on such a  delicate area. Your first orgasm with him inside you was like being submerged in a warm bath. It was slow, almost, not frenzied, and at this point, it was relatively calm. Sero’s orgasm followed suit. 

Second. Your left leg is up over Hanta’s shoulder, the right one pinned to the bed with his left hand. His wedding ring glints in the lowlights of your room as he fucks you, this time with more vigor. Maybe it’s the different position, maybe it’s the harder thrusts, maybe it’s the fact that you’ve already cum three times and he doesn’t seem to be letting up anytime soon, but everything feels amplified. Every swipe of his thumb over your puffy clit. Every drag of his thick, beautiful cock against your sensitive, gummy walls. Every squeeze to your thigh… 

Every look that you shared. Hanta’s eyes were even darker now, darker than they’d been earlier that day at his agency. More needy, almost feral. Your second orgasm with him inside you wasn’t as pleasant. It was hot now, not just warm, and sparks of overstimulation shocked you as your body jerked, almost convulsing as the pleasure tore out of you. Hanta came with a grunt of your name, his voice now so deep and gravelly that he sounded feral. 

Third. Hanta was feral now. His hair stuck out in a million different directions, his pupils were completely blown. Breed, breed, breed. He held your thighs down to the bed, on either side of you, your knees pressed down on the mattress in close proximity to your ears. 

Breed, breed, breed. Tears streamed down your flushed face, and you were babbling nonsense, mostly of your husband’s name and broken little whines.The headboard smacked the wall, the sound reverberating through the room as Hanta thrusted with his entire body weight into your aching, sloppy cunt. He growled, primeval in his need to fill you up- it was no longer a want. He needed to breed you. He’d simply go crazy if he couldn’t. 

Your third orgasm felt like an atomic bomb went off within your walls. Arousal gushed forward as you squirted, your entire cunt clenching violently, milking Hanta’s throbbing cock for all it was worth, painfully so, in your sensitivity. You cried out, sobbing, nails clawing at your husband’s bare back and arms. But he continued to fuck into you recklessly. The drywall behind the bed cracked. The bedframe groaned. A feral growl unlike anything you’d ever heard came from your husband as he came, driving his hips and his seed further and further into your womb. 

Breed, breed, breed. 

-

The day was sunny and clear. A warm breeze fluttered in through your open kitchen window, rustling the curtains and wafting the delicious smells from the stove throughout your home. A soft smile pulled at your face as you stirred and seasoned as needed- baby corn. Baby carrots. Baby back ribs. 

Of course, there was a theme. 

Hanta came home, calling for you, and your heart soared, fluttering in your chest and settling down into your belly.

“I’m in here babe,” you replied, turning, and picking up a small box. 

The box itself was nothing remarkable. It was yellow, small, and rectangular- like the kind of box one would put a necklace inside of, but this one held something more precious than a necklace. 

This box held your future. 

Inside, nestled in with sea green tissue paper, was a pregnancy test. The first pregnancy test you’d taken that showed those two sacred, life-changing, little pink lines. 

[teiasviago]

Signs

Episode: “Je Souhaite” | Rated M | @today-in-fic | Warning: if any of the symptoms of pregnancy are squicky for you, it would be best to avoid this fic. Also, a reminder that we use Fahrenheit in the U.S., so don’t freak out at the wonky temperature stuff, my Celsius loaves.

Scully feels a little guilty for sending Mulder home last night after teasing him all day about what she was going to do to him in bed, but she blames her upset stomach on being “forced” to skip lunch that day. Scully had waved him off after three hours of on and off vomiting, feeling like she sent the entirety of her pizza and soda into the toilet.

She’d sent him back to his apartment so he’d stop hovering, his incessant chatter only magnifying the headache beginning to build at the base of her skull.

Mulder had called as soon as he got home, leaving a voicemail for her to please not come in tomorrow if she’s still sick. Well, Scully had fortunately felt right as rain when she woke up, aside from the minimal gnawing feeling in her stomach.

She regrets eating two bagels with lox and her real cream cheese now. This must be her punishment for breaking the rule of saving it for the fair amount of bad mornings she encounters. Her stomach’s mutinying again at the smell of Mulder’s black coffee and she can feel another toilet session coming on.

“Oh, God,” Scully whispers, all intent to apologize and press a soft kiss to his lips going out the proverbial door as she sprints out the real one and hauls ass to the bathroom.

She must have a stomach bug, Scully reasons, trying to even out her breathing as she folds some paper towels and wets them before pressing them against her face and neck. She’s suddenly feeling strangely hot, evidence of her sick flushed away.

Mulder knocks three times on the bathroom door. “Scully?”

“Yeah?” she sends back, splashing her face with water. She groans as she feels another gag coming on.

“I brought you some ginger ale and—and some Pepto Bismol. And Tums. I know you don’t like the Pepto but, you know, I figured this called for all the stops.”

She can imagine the look on his face as he hears her vomiting again. Scully checks her watch when it’s over. It’s still only 8:27 in the fucking morning!? How the hell is she supposed to make it through the rest of the workday like this?

The door hinges creak and she looks over at Mulder. “I told you not to come in if you’re still sick, Scully.”

“I wasn’t! I felt fine this morning, and then I walked in the office and smelled your coffee and...”

He leans against the counter and crosses his arms, puckering his lips as part of his exaggerated thinking face. Scully stands up straight and shoots him a look. Mulder shakes his head and puts his hands up. “Look, all I’m saying is that it looks like the same thing happened last night. As soon as we got out the ice cream, you bolted to the bathroom.”

She sighs and shakes her head. “What are you getting at, Mulder?”

“Just that you should go home and at least take a nap or something. If you stay off your feet for a few hours and relax, I’ll be happy. Nibble on some crackers, catch a soap opera...” Mulder shrugs. “You’re clearly sick, Scully. If not for yourself, do it on the chance that it’s contagious.”

Scully places the wet paper towel on the back of her neck, holding it there. “Fine. But only because it might be contagious.”

“I mean—that doesn’t make it better, but thank you nonetheless. Do you want me to drive you? What if there’s a random smell that sets you off on the ride there?”

She rolls her eyes but tells him, “Fine.”

—

Mulder’s assertion that certain smells have been setting off whatever’s going on with her stomach seem to be proven true when she comes back to the office after a few hours of rest and relaxation to the harsh sight of a man whose... whose mouth suddenly disappeared and had to be surgically recreated. Not a twinge from her stomach aside from shock butterflies.

Scully’s relieved that she’s been able to keep down her lunch. To be fair, it was crackers with a little cheese and a full two cups of water to make sure she was hydrated, but any food is good food. She proudly announces to Mulder during their ensuing flight the next day that it seems whatever illness hit is gone.

—

It’s not cold in Creve Coeur, Missouri—certainly not in Spring—but Scully’s feeling every degree of the breeze through the open windows like it’s in the thirties. She’s shivering the entire car ride to the Mark Twain Trailer Park, and noticeably enough for Mulder to glance at her with concern before putting up the windows and turning the heat up.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just a little cold.”

He frowns at that but lets it go until they hit a red light, when he leans over and presses his hand to her forehead.

Scully quirks her lips in a smile. “What are you doing?”

“Checking your temperature,” he replies. “You don’t seem to have a fever...”

“I’m fine, Mulder,” she insists, leaning into his hand for the few seconds she gets the light turns green.

“Alright, but if you’re still sick, Scully, then you have to promise me that you’ll go back to the motel, okay? I brought the meds just in case, if you need them.”

She smiles softly and places her hand on his arm. “Thank you.”

“It’s what a good boyfriend does.”

—

Her stomach bug really does seem to be gone, which is a relief. However, she’s now insatiably hungry for two things: Mulder, and the bagels from the bagel place two streets over from her apartment. Well, she consoles, one is attainable, at least. And, boy, does she attain it. They’re both breathing heavily by the time Scully’s through with him, and even though they’re sticky with sweat, she curls her body around Mulder’s anyway.

Her breasts are tingly, which has never happened after sex before, but she chalks it up to Mulder’s harsh treatment of her only a minute ago as she nuzzles his chest. She inhales and sighs happily. “I love the way you smell,” she murmurs.

He laughs and she feels it against her cheek. “Coming from the woman who made me start using a different deodorant,” he jokes, squeezing his arm around her shoulders. “Your nipples are darker.”

“What?” Scully props herself up with her forearm to make proper eye contact as her brows furrow.

“Yeah. I don’t know. They’re darker. Feel a little heavier, too. You didn’t notice?”

She shakes her head and laughs. “Unlike you, Mulder, I don’t spend hours studying my boobs.”

He shrugs and rolls them over so he’s hovering over her on his forearms. “Your loss.”

—

“Fuck,” she swears, digging around in her suitcase, fresh from her shower. She’s only got one hand because the other’s holding her towel wrap together.

“What?” Mulder asks around his toothbrush, exiting the bathroom. His tie is slung behind his neck and his suit jacket is waiting for him on the bed.

“I don’t have any panty liners.”

“Do you want me to go out and get some?” he asks, heading back to the bathroom to spit.

“Yeah, that would be great.” Scully walks past him into the still-warm bathroom and lets the towel drop as she uses the one wrapped around her hair to dry the wet strands.

“Alright. I’ll be back in a jiffy.” She drops the hair towel when he takes the singular step needed in the tiny motel bathroom to invade her space in favor of pulling him down for a kiss by the ends of his tie. “Mmm, settle down or the plan’ll be botched.”

“I was just thanking you,” Scully says, affecting innocence as she does his tie for him.

“For buying you panty liners? What would happen if I surprised you with some ice cream?”

“I would eat the ice cream.”

“Damn.” Mulder presses a kiss to the top of her head before heading out to put on his suit jacket. “Do you mind me asking why you need panty liners? Also! What brand?”

“Any with wings. And I need them because there’s been an unusual amount of vaginal discharge in my underwear and I don’t want to ruin any more of them.”

“Right.” He steps back in view of the bathroom and takes in her naked body.

Scully raises an eyebrow at him. “What?”

(Their books on pregnancy are buried inside their storage closets from a time best forgotten.)

“Nothing. I just like looking at you.”

She smiles at him, drying her hair again. “Get going, hotshot.”

—

Halfway through the flight home, Scully discovers something that makes her a bit worried. She’s not supposed to get her period until next week, so the blood on the liner she quickly tosses away with shaky hands can’t be because of that. She tries to forget about it as she walks back to her seat next to Mulder, but he must see something on her face that prompts him to ask if she’s okay.

“I’m fine,” she lies, managing to give him a smile. “Just tired.”

He seems to accept that and leaves her be. It’s not even a lie; she feels exhausted after everything that happened over the past few days. Scully makes a mental note to book an emergency appointment with her Ob-Gyn when they land, and closes her eyes.

—

“Dana,” Dr. Namin starts, disrupting her patient’s thumb twiddling.

Scully abruptly stands up as her doctor moves to stand in front of the exam table, computer and several documents in hand. “You don’t look concerned,” she says, following Namin to the exam table.

“Because there’s nothing to be concerned about at this stage except plenty of rest, hydration, and eating at least three good meals a day,” Scully’s doctor replies, opening up her computer and spreading out the documents. “We’ve done all the tests you asked for, but nothing came up. However, based on the symptoms you listed, I performed one more, and that’s where we found the culprit.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re pregnant, Dana. Plain and simple. Congratulations.” Dr. Namin slides one of the documents towards Scully, who takes it. “You’re about three and a half weeks along. You can take all the papers. There’s suggestions for all the prenatal vitamins you’ll need to take and how much water to drink in a day. Resources for managing symptoms, too.”

Scully nods dumbly, tears gathering in her eyes as she stares at the diagnosis. “Um, when should I come back?”

“Don’t worry about that right now, I’ll have someone give you a call with that information. Just relax and enjoy the news. I remember how much you wanted this, Dana. I...I don’t know how this happened, but the baby’s doing well. Minor bleeding is completely normal and you don’t need to worry. If it gets worse or doesn’t stop soon, then come back.”

“Okay,” Scully chokes out, smiling widely as she wipes away her tears and collects the documents on the exam table.

—

She spends a few hours at her apartment trying to figure out how to tell Mulder the good news but gets nowhere. In the middle of pacing around her couch, one arm unconsciously wrapped around her abdomen, her phone starts ringing.

“Scully speaking.”

“Agent Scully,” Skinner starts, and she immediately knows that Mulder’s done something stupid again, “could you check on Agent Mulder? He snuck into my meeting and was yelling at my chair.”

“Yes, of course, sir.”

“Thank you.”

Scully hangs up the phone and sighs heavily. Looks like God’s giving her a sign to just get it over with. When she enters the office, however, the woman Mulder keeps insisting is a genie is there, too. She licks her lips nervously and tries to ignore her.

“Skinner called me, Mulder. Is everything alright?”

Sitting at the desk, computer on, she has to wonder what he’s doing. “You don’t remember disappearing off the face of the Earth for an hour this morning?”

She gives her head a small shake as she tells him, “No,” truly starting to get concerned.

Mulder just shrugs with a little smile and gets back to typing with a nonchalant, “Well, I guess everything’s okay.”

Get it out, just say it, she thinks, trying to psych herself up. She sighs. “Mul—” But the woman’s still there in the office. “Could you give us a minute, please?”

“Sure,” the woman—Jenn, Mulder told her on the plane—says with a nod.

Scully steps closer to the desk, butterflies in her stomach. Jenn isn’t moving, and it’s making her annoyed, quite frankly. “Like, today?” she says, turning around, but the black-haired woman is nowhere to be found, not even in the annex. Scully turns back to her partner, extremely confused. “Where the hell’d she go?”

Mulder childishly imitates a genie disappearing and she feels the sudden urge to laugh at the thought that this man is the father of her child. “No...” she says, softening the guffaw trying to escape to a scoff-laugh. “It’s gotta—” She scoffs for real this time. “It’s gotta be hypnotism, or—or mesmerism, or something.”

And thus begins the verbal sparring. As he lists all the things he wants for the world, Scully thinks, again, of how this is the father of her child. Something suspiciously soft is trying to emerge from her heart as she responds, and she’s a coward to boot, so she leaves without telling him. Driving back to her apartment, Scully feels guilty at how little effort she put into trying to break the news to Mulder. She just—she doesn’t know what to make of the news herself, let alone how to explain it to him.

An hour into The Exorcist, hugging a pillow as she wishes Mulder was watching it with her, the phone rings. “Scully, do you wanna come over and watch a movie? I’ve got your favorite popcorn...”

She grins. “Of course. I’ll bring the drinks.”

—

They’ve both changed their clothes for the movie night, and when Mulder opens the door, they’re sporting matching grins. “Oh, zero alcohol content?” he faux complains, taking the case of six drinks into the kitchen. “Is this your punishment for me, Scully?”

She elects not to respond as she follows him and takes out the package of popcorn and a pot. “Can you grab the olive oil, Mulder?”

“Yeah, of course.” He puts four of the drinks in the fridge before reaching into one of the cabinets to grab the oil and put it on the counter next to the stove, which Scully’s turning it on.

“I’ll never understand why you won’t just microwave them. It’s faster.”

“Yeah, but if you do it in the pot, it tastes better,” she shoots back, opening the package and pouring the kernels into the pot.

“That’s just because of the oil.”

“Well, you can continue to eat shitty popcorn for the rest of your life if you want, but I’m going to eat my good popcorn.”

They turn to face each other as the kernels pop and hit the lid, a staring contest beginning. Scully wins when she licks her lips and distracts Mulder enough to get him to blink.

“Ha! I got you! I win!”

“That’s cheating!”

“I won!” she says in a sing-song voice, emptying the finished popcorn into the bowl.

Mulder shakes his head with a smile. “Why don’t you take the drinks and get comfortable. I’ll finish the popcorn.”

Scully nods and does as he suggests, but as she’s crossing into the living room, she pauses and turns around. “No butter, please,” she says, and he turns around with a scoop of butter in a bowl in his right hand, the handle of the microwave in the other.

“No... butter...?” She nods. “We always put butter on the popcorn, Scully.”

“Well, I don’t want butter this time,” she says, and makes her way to the couch, sitting down and placing the drinks on the coffee table. She hears Mulder sigh heavily and put the bowl of butter in the fridge before making his way to the living room, bowl of popcorn in hand.

He shakes his head as he grabs the movie case from the table and inserts it into the player. “Can’t believe you don’t want butter on your popcorn. Eugh. It’s un-American.” He steps around the table and sits down next to Scully.

She takes the case from where he left it and makes a face. “Caddyshack, Mulder?” she questions.

“It’s a classic American movie,” he insists, grabbing his drink and propping his feet up.

“That’s what every guy says.” Scully grabs her own and untwists the cap, tossing it onto the table. Mulder does the same, but his bounces off onto the floor, and she laughs into the bottle. “So, uh... What’s the occasion?” she asks, as if they still take the justifying movie nights thing seriously.

Last week’s was I thought you might need some help feeding your fish.

“I don’t know. Just felt like the thing to do. Cheers.”

Maybe it is time to turn over a new leaf, especially considering the baby growing inside her, cell by cell. They clink their bottles—“Cheers,” she says—and drink. Tell him, tell him, tell hi—

“I don’t know if you noticed, but I, um, never made the world a happier place.”

They nod together and Scully knows that this is the moment to tell him. She takes a deep breath. “Well, I’m fairly happy. That’s something.” A smile slides onto her face and she looks at him, a lot more than fairly happy now. “Actually, I’m ecstatic.” She gives a little laugh and reaches into her pocket for the piece of paper she’d stared at for hours earlier.

“Really? Is there a specific reason, or...?”

Scully pulls the paper out and looks at the blue highlighted text on the portion of the paper that’s not folded back for a moment before handing it to Mulder. “That’s why,” she says, voice trembling a little out of happiness.

She watches his face as the words sink in. He reads it again, murmuring, “Diagnosis: pregnancy (3.5 weeks),” as he does so, a grin spreading across his lips. “Scully...”

“I know,” she says, setting her bottle on the table, and before Mulder can say anything else, she cups his cheeks and kisses him, unwilling to fight the urge.

“Scully, this is wonderful!” He laughs joyously and kisses her again, setting the paper and his drink on the table. “I’m so happy.” He brings her into his embrace and buries his face in her shoulder for a long moment, both of them starting to cry. He suddenly pulls away and puts his hand on her abdomen under her shirt, his other arm still wrapped around Scully.

“I love you,” she tells him.

“I love you, too,” he replies.

[swtorramblings]

Second Chances-9: Nothing is Ever Just Right

Azula art by @fleeting-sanity​.

No Lionel art. I’ll think about it, but he’s not really central casting, is he?

Azula and Lionel have a talk about her room and board arrangements.

Note: Azula does deride Fusco for his weight.

“Will you stop fussing? So you hit me. I was going to do worse to you. Get over it.” He sighed. “I’d love to do that. You can take care of yourself. But they want me keeping my eye on you.” “They know you won’t beat me again, right?” He chuckled a bit. “Yeah, they know. I think they just know I can take it until someone else can help.” “Take what?” “A beating.”

She looked up from this “microwave” thing, was the noisy box really cooking her food? “And you’re all right with that?” He shrugged. “Nah, but I’m used to it. And I volunteered. Sometimes all you can do is put your head down and plow through. I’m good at that.” The oven gave a long whine. “Whatever. What now?” “It should be done. Check it to make sure it’s cooked.” She pulled the little box that said macaroni and cheese out of the microwave and yelped. “Ow! That’s hot!” “Well, yeah, what did you expect?” “I don’t know, you told me about it, but I don’t think I believed it. And I never used to get burned.” “Things change, kid.” Azula gingerly peeled back the top of the package. The contents looked disgusting. Some kind of noodle, covered in yellowish slime. She dipped a finger into it and tasted the paste. It was what she expected, and she made a disgusted face. “Yes, but some changes are intolerable.” She still started eating, though. She was so hungry it barely mattered, and it started tasting a little better as it cooled. She was going to need to get used to worse than this, she was sure. In between mouthfuls, she said, “I don’t know what it is, but you remind me of someone. I don’t like it.” “Oh, you’re breaking my heart, kid.” “It’s not your shape. Well, it’s not just your shape.” “Big guy, was it?” “Pretty big. Like you. Rotund. Corpulent.” “Yeah, I get the idea.” “But that’s not it. You don’t look like him. You don’t talk like him. He likes to sound wise, and you don’t even pretend to be.” “You’re just making me misty, now, I can’t stand the compliments much more.” “That won’t be a problem! But you’ve seen things, haven’t you? And done worse. You’re not here because you’re a good person. You’re here because you’re a bad one.” She paused, grinning to herself. “I never realized that about him.” “Yeah, you’re very smart. Are you done yet?” “Oh, I could go on for hours!” “I mean with your food.” She looked down and saw she was. She really had been hungry. She still was, but the edge was off. “Yes. I don’t think I want any more of this slop right now.” “It’s what we’ve got.” “The cry of those not born to rule.” “Sure, you’re a princess. This way, your majesty.” She raised an eyebrow at the sarcasm, shrugged, and followed him down the hall. “Looks like you’re down to two rooms, that one’s taken.” “What’s the difference?” “Not much. That one has a window, I think.” “Then it’s mine, I do love the sun.” “Great, go ahead. You can lock the door, there are some clothes, just don’t leave. And there won’t be a mint on your pillow in the morning.” “Why would I want a … You know what, forget it. I’m going to get some sleep.” “Sure, princess, you do that.” She closed the door, shutting him out, and true to his word, there was a working lock. But they had to have the key. That thought stayed with her, but she couldn’t keep her eyes open anymore. Too much had happened in too short a time. She sat at the edge of the bed, and almost immediately felt herself falling into the too-soft mattress. And then there was nothing but darkness and strange dreams.

[twst-bs]

TWST Vice Dorm Leaders and a Stressed-out MC

I couldn't leave out the Vice Dorm Leaders! I'm just used to working in chunks of seven because of my Obey Me! writing. I'll do a piece for all of the other characters as well!

Note: I wrote most of these to be ambiguous, but Ortho's in meant to be read as platonic. I just wanted to give the little dude some love.

-----

Trey: "Do you not like it?"

They only just barely managed to catch their fork before it clattered against the plate. With everything going through their head at a mile a minute, they had completely forgotten what they were supposed to be doing.

“No! I mean, yes, I like it!” they stumbled over their words, pasting a hopefully-convincing grin on their face.

“Really?” Trey fixed them with a knowing look and they felt themselves wither beneath it. “Because you only took one bite before staring off into middle distance.”

“Oh,” their grin turned sheepishly. “Sorry.”

“Something on your mind?” he asked, taking a seat on the stool across from them. “You’re awfully quiet.”

Damn it, they had really hoped Trey wouldn’t figure them out. Or at least take more than ten minutes.

The pressure had been mounting lately. Trying to stay on top of impossible classes, watching over Grimm, the ever-looming problem of them not being able to go back to their own world and the moral dilemma of if they even wanted to go back...they had a lot of things on their mind, and they didn’t even know where to start.

This was supposed to be a light-hearted little night in. Trey had found a new recipe he wanted to try out, and they were always willing to be the taste-tester. But, of course, good old anxiety had decided to drop in and ruin the fun, and the cute date night had turned south before it had even really begun.

“Hey, easy,” Trey’s voice cut through the fog that was slowly descending over their brain. “I know that face. Will talking about it help or hurt?”

“...I don’t know,” they mumbled, setting their fork down. “I’m sorry, Trey, I -”

“Nope.” he reached across the kitchen island and gently slipped his hand beneath theirs. They squeezed it back, letting him run his thumb over their knuckles as they tried to fight down the panic that threatened to burst from within. “No apologies are necessary. Take your time.”

“But I ruined our date,” they sighed, shoulders slumping. “Just because I couldn’t get out of my own head for a few hours.”

“Riddle couldn’t get out of his own head for almost two decades, and I’m still friends with him.” Trey chuckled. “Your mental well-being is more important than a silly date night. You can talk to me about anything, any time, anywhere, and I won’t be angry with you, promise.”

“...Can I still have the cake?”

“Yes, you can still have the cake.”

Ruggie: It had been another long night.

Sleepless nights were a pretty common occurrence for the Ramshackle Prefect, unfortunately. Even if they were dead tired at the end of the day, they often tossed and turned the whole night, managing maybe a few hours of sleep at best. Which often led to days like this.

They could barely keep their eyes open, even as they walked to their next class. They were on autopilot, going through their daily motions. The books in their bag felt like they might as well be boulders, and the thought of climbing the stairs made them want to cry. Their legs felt like lead.

“Gotcha!”

They definitely didn’t scream when a pair of lithe arms wrapped around their middle. No way, you have no proof.

“Sheesh, herbivore, you’re loud.” Ruggie snickered, hooking his chin over their shoulder. “You could wake the dead like that. Is that how you wake up the ghosts in your dorm?”

“Ruggie, you scared the hell out of me!”

“Your fault for not payin’ attention!” He gave them a fond squeeze around the middle before letting them go. “I’ve been walkin’ behind you since you left your class. You wouldn’t survive a day in the Savannah, walkin’ around with your head in the clouds like that.”

“Why didn’t you say anything, instead of stalking me like a creep?”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Ruggie cackled. However, his snarky grin dropped from his face when he got a good look at them. “Hey, you aren’t lookin’ so good.”

“Didn’t sleep very well,” they shrugged, readjusting the strap on their bag so it wasn’t digging into their shoulder. Ruggie scowled, eyes narrowing.

“Again?”

They stuck their tongue out at him. “It’s not like I do it on purpose.”

The hyena stared at them for a little bit longer before sighing. “I guess it can’t be helped. Come on.” he grabbed their wrist, tugging them in the opposite direction of their next class.

“Hey, where are we going?”

“Back to Ramshackle,” Ruggie said lightly.

“Oh, but you scold Leona when he skips?” they poked him in the side with their free hand, and he squirmed away.

“Leona doesn’t need three afternoon naps,” the hyena sniggered. “You look like you could use a coma.”

Jade: “Thank you again for helping out.”

Their arms felt like jelly. Their legs were about ready to fall off. Their face hurt from having to put on a fake smile for the past few hours.

“No problem!” they said brightly. The fake smile could last a few more minutes. “I guess Floyd can’t give you guys more notice when he decides to skip his shift, huh?”

“No, Floyd does what he wants, when he wants.” Jade chuckled lightly, wiping his hands on the towel draped over his arm. Friday nights at the lounge were always busy, so of course that was when Floyd decided he didn’t want to work. Mostro Lounge didn’t have that many options, so Jade had called and asked them if they would mind helping out.

Honestly, they should have said no. They were tired, they had a lot of homework to do, and they honestly just needed a night to themselves for once. But, the thought of letting someone down triggered a deep and primal fear in them, and before they even really knew what they were doing, they had agreed. And here they were.

“...would you like?”

They had to stop themselves from physically shaking themselves out of their trance. “What? I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you.”

Jade raised an eyebrow, but politely decided not to comment. “One of the rules at the Lounge is that those who work that day get a free meal after their shift. I asked what you would like.”

“Oh! Um, I’m fine, really, I wouldn’t want to -” their stomach chose that moment to disagree, grumbling loudly in protest of not being fed. How long had it been since lunch? Had they even eaten lunch?

“Both I and your stomach insist, it seems.” Jade pulled out his waiter’s pad. “You’ve earned a meal for your hard work.”

“But -”

“You aren’t troubling anyone.” Jade cut in, seemingly more in tune with their thoughts than they were. “And I wouldn’t have been angry with you if you had turned down my request for help.”

“How did you -”

“Now, what would you like to eat?”

The two of them stood at an impasse for a moment.

“...the tomato basil bisque and grilled cheese sounded good.”

Jamil: “You’re going to chop your fingers off.”

They almost hit the ceiling when Jamil’s hand covered their own. They hadn’t even realized their hands had been shaking until his warm palm steadied theirs.Gently, carefully, he brought the knife down onto the vegetables they were chopping in a nice, clean cut.

“You don’t have to help if you aren’t feeling well.” Jamil took the knife from their hands, setting it down on the cutting board. Kalim had spontaneously announced another one of Scarabia’s famous parties, and of course that left most of the prep work to Jamil. Although Kalim was at least handling the decorations this time. Baby steps.

When they heard the news a few days prior, they had offered to help, and Jamil had practically deflated with relief. Every time Kalim held a party at the dorm, Jamil felt like a zombie for at least the next day and a half. They had personally seen him take a basketball to the face because he had been so tired. Although that might have been Floyd messing with him.

But, of course, when they woke up the day of the party, something had felt off. Nothing in particular had caused them to feel strange, but it could have been a bunch of little things. Regardless of the cause, it was a day best spent alone, dealing with the random anxiety. But, they had made a promise, and even though they wanted to back out, said anxiety also wouldn’t let them for fear of inconveniencing someone even a little bit.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” they grinned, shaking their wrist out. “Just spent a bit too long working on Trein’s homework. I’m pretty sure you get better grades if you write long paragraphs.”

“The trick is to make them long and unnecessarily fancy,” Jamil’s lips quirked upwards as he hip-checked them out of the way. “And don’t think you can distract me.”

“Damn it.”

Jamil shook his head. “Don’t push yourself so hard.”

“Pot meet kettle, Jamil.”

“I’m serious.” he leveled them with a steely look that had them feeling like a child getting scolded. “Honestly, with all of the stuff you do for everyone, I’m surprised you haven’t cracked yet.”

“...Me too, honestly.”

“See? Give yourself a break every once in a while.”

“Only if you do, too, Mr. I-Don’t-Need-Any-Help.”

His stern look softened until he was smiling fondly at them, warmth in his eyes. “Deal.”

Rook: “Non, non, this is unacceptable.”

They had heard Rook’s footsteps as he approached, which meant he wanted them to notice him. Otherwise he would have been completely silent.

Hand still on the spine of the book they were attempting to ease out of the tightly-packed library shelves, they turned to look at him. “What’s unacceptable?”

“The hunch to your shoulders, mon bijou.” the hunter swept dramatically into the light. “The sallowness of your skin. The shadows beneath your eyes!”

“Rook…”

“You look very tired, my dear.” Rook dropped his usual flamboyant act, approaching them with concern shining in his eyes. “Are you alright?”

“Just…” after a moment, they turned to him and rapped their knuckles lightly against their head. “A lot going on up here, you know?”

“I do,” Rook nodded. “You have many things to be worrying about, don’t you?.”

He stepped forward, grasping both of their hands in his. They were trembling lightly, since when had that started?

“You know I pride myself in being a protector of all things beautiful,” Rook gave their hands a squeeze. “And seeing your beautiful heart burdened so...it is my duty to ease it’s weight. So please, if there is anything I can do to help, tell me.”

Ortho: “Sorry for bothering you like this, Ortho.”

The little robot-boy smiled. “It’s no problem! I’m glad to help! Something as simple as a body scan is no trouble.”

The two of them were sat in the Ignihyde lounge. It was late enough that most of the dorm members had holed themselves up in their rooms - Ignihyde wasn’t known for its social butterflies, after all. But Ortho had still been up and about when the Ramshackle Prefect came knocking.

The infirmary closed around 5pm, although there was a nurse on-call for emergencies. So when something was wrong with a student, but not necessarily life threatening, they went to NRC’s resident robot. Ortho could scan for most problems in seconds, and more than once the nurses had asked to borrow him.

The little scanner on his chest opened up. The blue light swept over the Prefect’s body for a few seconds before Ortho beeped and the light disappeared.

“Heart rate: 102. No physical cause detected.” he reported. “It looks like you’re a little bit stressed.”

“...Yeah, that tracks.” they sighed. “I guess there’s nothing you can do for general anxiety, huh?”

“I don’t think so.” Ortho shrugged, looking sad. “I’m sorry, I wish I could help more.”

“It’s okay!” the Prefect smiled. “You did help! I was worried I was sick or something.”

Ortho still didn’t look satisfied. “But...ah!” he hit his fist against his palm. They could practically see the lightbulb go off in his head. Actually, they were a little surprised Idia had not installed that feature yet. “There is one thing I can do.”

“What’s that?”

The Prefect made a soft “oof” sound as Ortho darted forward and wrapped his arms around them. He was a little cold, being made of metal, but the thought was there.

“Internet research says that sometimes a hug can make people feel better. Does it work? I hope it works.”

They felt like they were going to cry. Or explode. Or both. “Yeah, I think it works.”

Lilia: “You don’t need to look so stressed, you know.”

Lilia laughed when the Ramshackle Prefect jumped, fangs poking out. “You’ve wound yourself so tightly, I wonder if you’ll break.”

To be fair, the Diasomnia lounge could be quite intimidating. It often took first years a few solid months to be comfortable in it. So Lilia wasn’t surprised that the human was ill at ease sitting there as Lilia served the two of them tea.

“That old story about being trapped in the Fae world if you eat their food isn’t true, you know.” Lilia sat down on the couch opposite of them, taking a sip of his tea. “At least, not that I’m aware of.”

The human squirmed slightly, and Lilia sighed. “Go on, drink. This is the type of tea I used to give to Malleus when he couldn’t sleep.”

The image of a baby Malleus being soothed by Lilia was so ridiculously cute that it brought a smile to their face. Lilia hummed happily in response.

“There’s the smile I was looking for.” he set his cup down. “Now, what brings you here so late? Nightmares again?”

“...Yeah…” they sighed, the tension in their body falling away like someone had cut the strings of a marionette. “I just wish they would stop so I could sleep.”

“Do you want to talk about them?” Lilia asked.

“It’s the same one, it’s always the same one.” they groaned, reaching for the tea cup. It smelled of chamomile and lavender, a perfect sleeping concoction. “I’m being chased, but I can’t tell by what, and every time I turn a corner the thing gets closer, and - and -”

“Hush, don’t work yourself up.” he moved from his spot on the couch to sit next to them. “Take a drink, there’s a good child.”

They took a sip of tea, focusing on the feeling of warmth down their throat as a way to ground themselves to the present. “I’m sorry.”

“You needn’t apologize,” Lilia murmured, reaching up to pet their hair. “Drink your tea, now, and I’ll make sure you get some sleep.”

[dreaminpetals]

nsfw hcs about a female s/o liking some of andrews skins a little too much? (if possible, same skins as the cute behavior hcs post!)

⏳ s/o takes a liking to andrew's skins (nsfw) . . . 🌨

desolate sand ;;

♡ the only sexual advances anyone makes towards desolate sand andrew are the occasional working girls whistling to him as he trots his horse past them on the streets, he isn't used to anyone wanting him for anything other than his money.

♡ when you tug down his bandana to melt your lips into his and grind your dampening core down on his lap, it takes everything in him to keep his composure and not bust on the spot.

♡ he's supposed to be the white devil??? a sick bastard who nearly gets hanged wherever he travels??? why is his s/o so interested in him when she has an entire village to choose from???

♡ although he struggled to see why he had you so riled up, he'd be a fool to deny himself of your body any longer.

♡ he's a switch, since you love his cowboy look so much he enjoys getting to sit back while you praise him into oblivion. let him rest after a long journey by milking him with your soft lips and bouncing in his lap, it's not often andrew can relax.

♡ not opposed to topping either, especially if it's been a long time since he's seen you. he's seen and experienced some awful things while he was away and fuck he just needs to drill you to let his anger out.

♡ he's got plenty of wounds from gunshot grazes and bar fights, be sure to give those just as much love as the rest of his skin.

♡ his southern drawl is so husky compared to the voice default andrew has, when he says "atta girl" after you collapse to your knees it feels like your lower stomach is being set on fire.

♡ takes advantage of the spell his voice puts on you by purring in your ear everything he'll do to you for the night. and trust me, it's a lot.

train conductor ;;

art credit

♡ andrew wondered why you were so attracted to a mere train conductor, was it the uniform?

♡ when he was in his nightwear after a long shift you were fine, but the moment he buttoned up his coat and slipped his hat atop his head you were all over him.

♡ the gloves too... he found it entertaining to cup your face in his gloved hands, the fabric lightly scratching your cheeks.

♡ sneaks you off to a private compartment of the train and takes you on one of the tables, bending you over and pressing his stomach to your back to keep you warm. even the private compartments aren't truly private though, there's always a risk of somebody catching andrew balls deep into you.

♡ he likes that idea. this andrew owns a train so he's a bit more territorial, being able to do what he wanted (aka you) even if there was a chance of being caught would help build up his confidence, his train his rules.

♡ the siberian weather was a blessing in disguise for you, clothed sex was a must on the train which meant more conductor uniform ;)

♡ andrew loved the warmth of your breasts though, if there was ever a time when he craved them, well,,,

♡ his coat could fit two inside if he undid enough buttons. he'd let you sit in his lap and wrap his coat over both of your quivering bodies while he fucked the cold away.

♡ i imagine this andrew would speak with a russian accent, do with that what you will.

cheese ;;

art credit

♡ cheesedrew... he's the softest of the three, almost definitely a pillow prince.

♡ not to say he doesn't like pleasing you! he loves to eat you out because of how sweet you taste like his favourite dessert, but there are times when he wants to be overstimulated and called a good boy... almost every day, actually.

♡ if you took a liking to his skin, he would show how grateful he was with his body since struggling with words is a universal andrew thing. he'd let you do whatever you wanted to him while he wore it.

♡ since this andrew has a heightened love for sweet stuff, he'd lick his fingers off after they fucked you and savour every drop of juice that graces his digits. he'll remove his fingers from his mouth with a loud pop then go to work again, desperate to taste more of you.

♡ when you call him adorable and joke about wanting to eat the cheesecake on his head, he melts into a lil puddle and begs you to take care of the almost painful boner in his trousers he gets from hearing your reassuring words.

♡ he's been traumatized the least out of every andrew so he's more readily able to accept compliments and affection.

♡ would have sex in front of a mirror so you could see his skin in all its glory, he'd love the difference between your bodies.. he would be fully dressed while you were naked, writhing around on his lap as he fingered you.

♡ he gets pegged. goodnight.

[pixy-stix-art]

3rd part for @dragonpro809 story. Need a name for this story lol. Sorry this took so long. And sorry it’s a little short. :’/

(Warning: safe vore, talk of vore,)

———————————————————————

Dream ran back to his house. He could feel the tinys weren’t panicking or struggling, so Sapnap and George must have explained it. But he was sure they probably didn’t want to stay in there. He sighed relieved as he got home and opened the door. He set down his bags in the kitchen. He’d worry about the food later.

He gently placed a hand over where the tinys where. “Hey, I’m going let you out. Just stay still.” He pushed them back up and set them all down on a clean cloth on the kitchen counter. He bent down to be eye level with them. He frowned seeing one of the new ones was unconscious. Did he do that? Did he hurt one of them? “Are you all ok?” He asked.

Bad was relieved to be out of there. He held Ranboo close hoping he’d wake up soon. He looked at the ‘not’ human in front of them. He hesitantly nodded his head. “Yeah we’re ok.” George said.

Dream turned his attention to George. “Is he hurt?” He gestured to the unconscious tiny.

“Naw, he just past out.” Sapnap said. Dream felt bad for the tiny. He looked younger the the rest.

“Oh, ok.” He nodded. He took of the sunglasses showing off his softly glowing green eyes. He smiled softly seeing the new tiny watching him in surprise. “See? We told you he’s not human.” Sapnap said to the new tiny.

“So I see...” Bad nodded keeping an eye on the giant.

“What’s your names?” Dream asked.

“You can call me Bad, and this-“ he gestured to Ranboo. “Is Ranboo.”

“I’m Dream. And I’m sorry about the whole eating you thing. I didn’t want to scare you.” He really hadn’t wanted to do that. But it was more important that he kept them safe.

“It’s ok.... I think.” Bad said hesitantly. He felt Ranboo start to wake up in his arms.

Ranboo slowly came to and set up. He rubbed his eyes before looking around. He was surprised to see he was on a cloth with other tiny’s. Then his memory from before came back. They had been in a stomach! What happened? He started to look around more panicked then finally saw the human. Or maybe not a human? Did human eyes glow like that?

“Whao, hey it’s ok Ranboo. Relax we aren’t in danger right now.” At lest he hoped not. Bad said trying to calm him down before he past out again.

Ranboo looked away from the giant to Bad. “What happened? How are we alive....?”

“You got eaten.” George said. “But, like safely you got eaten. Dream let us go.” He explained. Or tried to.

“What- safely? How does that work?” Ranboo asked. He stayed close to Bad. As he was the only one he trusted right now.

“So quick explanation, I have two stomachs. One that’s safe and one thats... well one that’s not. You where in my second stomach.” Dream hoped that would calm Ranboo’s nerves.

“We where never in danger.” Sapnap said with a shrug.

Dream stood up. “Do you want any food?” He asked. After scaring them he could at least fed them.

“Yes that would be good.” Bad nodded. They hadn’t eaten in days.

Dream hummed making a plate full of different things. Small pieces of cheese and fruit. He also had crackers on it. He filled up bottle caps with water and set out the food for all the tiny’s to get to. He stepped away so they could eat and talk without him. He kept quiet and put away the groceries from earlier. After he did that he checked on the tiny’s. He bent back down. He got yelled at by George when he hovered over them. He was glad to see they ate a lot off the plate.

“Still doing ok?” He asked. “Yep!” Sapnap smiled. He had cracker crumbs on his face.

“That good. Do you need anything else?” He wanted to make sure they where ok.

“No. I think we’re good. Thank you for the food.” Bad said. He thought it best to be as respectable as possible. Just in case.

“Yeah of-“ Dream was cut off by Sapnap. “So you two staying with us?” He asked. “Sapnap!” George hissed at him. “Don’t be pushy.”

Ranboo flinched as Sapnap cut of Dream. He expected him to get yelled at for interrupting Dream. But all Dream did was shake his head.

“We haven’t decided anything yet.” Bad said. He really didn’t want to stay with the person who ate them. But it was only a matter of time before they got caught again if they left.

“Well you should at least stay long enough to get your strength back up.” George said.

Bad nodded agreeing. They where both not in the best condition to be traveling.

“I promise you’ll be safe here. You can stay in the walls if you want. Don’t even have to talk if that makes you more comfortable.” Dream said. Sapnap and George had done that at first before Dream got more of their trust. Now they just walked around as they pleased.

“We might do that.” Bad looked to Dream. “But I few rules if we stay. One, you can’t eat us. Ever. Two don’t talk to us unless we talk to you first. And three, leave out food for us.” Bad was really testing to see what Dream was whiling to do. It felt weird demanding things from Dream. “Oh! And you can’t pick us up. Just don’t touch us.” He added quickly. He didn’t want Dream to find a loophole to get around the rules.

“Sure. That all works for me.” Dream was surprised that was all they wanted. He got up and leaned back on the opposite counter top of the tiny’s.

“Looks like I got some more room mates then.” He smiled.

“Yeah!” Sapnap cheered. Glad to have even more tiny’s in the house.

It was going to take awhile to get their trust. Ranboo and Bad obviously didn’t trust humans. And Dream was close enough to that for them. Hopefully he could get their trust before they got better and left. He knew they wouldn’t be safe outside. He just wanted to make sure they stayed safe. Even if they had just meet. He already was attached to Bad and Ranboo.