#SO NOBODY WAS GONNA TELL ME ABOUT THIS????????

[a-mx-writer]

Ok ok "OTP" is hard to define because I can never decide, but rn I'm writing Azula x Katara so that's what I'm gonna answer for (for my current WIP, answers really only apply in that context).

Content warnings: mentions (but no descriptions or graphic details) of violence, trauma, sex, torture, homophobia, prisoners of war.

Azula, definitely. She doesn't know it, but her "holy fuck she could kill me, that's so hot" moment was definitely first, even though she didn't realise it for way too long. I've planted that seed pretty early in the fic and when it paid off, it did so explosively.

More like hate at first sight, really. Though to be fair, they were both obsessed (not romantically) with different people at the time (Katara, hero worshipping Aang; Azula, bent on murdering Zuko).

Neither, see #2.

Azula, in awe of Katara's sheer raw power at bending. Katara… not sure to be honest. More like a slightly disgusted fascination with Azula's position. Both definitely into beating each other up at the dojo.

Again, "love"? Not sure. Azula is definitely impressed and weirded out by Katara's moral code. Katara, as much as she is sickened by her own reaction, is definitely getting used to Azula's leading/commanding presence and Azula's reality of absolute power.

Good question tbh! I gotta think about that one.

Hehe. Everything, really. They're coming at each other as enemies; Azula with contempt for Katara's "primitive" culture, Katara with disgust for Azula's "decadent" lifestyle and imperialist ideology.

In canon, not really. Azula has tried to kill pretty much all of Katara's friends, and Katara resents Ozai, Mai, and Ty Lee and only likes (after some hardship) Iroh and Zuko. In my fic, they haven't seen each other's family in a long time.

See #8.

Sort of. Azula kissed a guy and then burned his house down, Katara was infatuated with Aang but that never got to go anywhere before the canon divergence AU kicked in.

Absolutely not. Without spoilers or gory details, the short version is: prisoner of war, torture, murder attempts, alliance of necessity, stockholm syndrome.

They could be. They might yet. No spoilers :)

See #11 and #12

I want to say "Good in Bed" by Dua Lipa tbh. Not 100% fitting, but it's what they remind me of.

We don't really get enough music in canon to tell tbh

Katara has grown to like Fire Nation cuisine. Azula is not particularly enthusiastic about Water Tribe cuisine, but she doesn't hate it.

Extremely powerful benders, able warriors, hot-headed, strong-willed, independent, daddy issues (so far so canon), good team as fighters, good strategists, not particularly good at talking feelings (so far so fanfic)…

Tame, which is to say, I don't write smut and only do tasteful fades to black. But also, they're two women in a homophobic world figuring it out with nobody to guide them. Fill in the blanks.

All the time so far, but it's getting better.

Not at present, not when their relationship is hugely unequal and they're surrounded by homophobic politicians who want them dead.

Not really applicable from a biological standpoint. As far as adoption goes, Azula definitely doesn't.

Good question, let me think on that.

Not really in the scope of the fic, but I'll say Azula wants to be the leader but it's Katara who takes charge when it matters. How that translates to the literal definitions is left as an exercise for the reader.

Again, outside the fic scope, but I will say… in my headcanon, Azula would definitely be freaked out yet fascinated by bloodbending. That's all I'm saying. How Katara would react to it, after all the horrible stuff I've put her through over the last 80k words, I haven't thought about. But I can definitely see some inappropriate use of bending in general happen.

Yes, but I won't spoiler.

Katara observes the Water Tribes' spiritual holidays and Azula has at least developed enough respect for Katara to remember them. Azula herself isn't one for sentimentality or recreation and thinks she's above spirituality.

Not a thing in ATLA.

Yuppppppp at least one of them is. I can't go into details without getting graphic though.

They haven't had the chance. As for canon in general, I feel like Katara would and Azula wouldn't.

Not much to go off. I don't think Azula can dance, and Katara is at least shy about doing it in public, as far as canon goes; I think that fits them both.

A whole day at the dojo. Sparring and beating the crap out of each other, a nice show of physical and bending prowess and a friendly but fierce competition to see who ends up on top (figuratively or literally).

Bottle it up until one of them breaks down, followed by awkward hugs, lots of crying, and trying to maintain a facade of strength once the breakdown has subsided. Azula has to learn how to deal with hugs.

Canon, I wouldn't care to speculate. In my fic, Azula, because she's taller (Katara is shorter for POW reasons).

Again, sparring. Though after the first couple ten thousand words, there's definitely an attraction component.

I feel like canon!Azula would get insecure very easily, in the form of jealousy and misdirected anger. A healthier version of her would at least know not to take it out on others. As for my version of their story… let's just say: prison break xD

Lips, atm. They're still new to this whole showing affection thing, Azula especially, and after the hell I've put them through, they're not really big on cutesy atm. They kiss-kiss, or they don't.

Heh. Physically, no. Emotionally, so much.

I mentioned the torture?

Neither tbh. Azula is the Fire Lord, Katara has been busy being her prisoner.

Azula, definitely. She has to learn "other people have goals and are busy, too" yet; she's too used to people bending to her will.

Katara, definitely. Azula is cunning, a strategist, manipulative, very good at reading people, but we're still working on the sense of self-preservation when the best course of action goes against what she wants.

Still Katara. Azula's emotional growth has been somewhat (very) stunted by her upbringing.

Yep. In every sense of the word. It's getting better, though.

What's the PG version of ill-advised hate sex?

Canon: Azula would peek, Katara wouldn't. Fic: both would peek, but Katara would feel bad about it.

Anecdotes from their lives that start as funny stories but are actually pretty traumatic.

Show me a definition that makes sense, and I'll answer.

Katara, absolutely. Canon and fic alike.

Well uhhhh. The spoiler-free answers is yes. As for their canon versions, I don't think they would.

Both.

Idk if it's appropriate to link to the fic here or not, I don't wanna bother anyone, but if anyone wants a link, hmu (or check my profile).

Asks about your OTP

1. Who fell for the other one first?

2. Was it love at first sight?

3. Was it lust at first sight?

4. What do physical trait do they love the most about each other?

5. What personality trait do they love the most about each other?

6. What random everyday object/activity makes them think of each other?

7. What is something they’d want to change about the other if they could?

8. Do they get along with each other’s friends and family?

9. Do their friends and family like their significant other(s)?

10. Have they had romantic partners before?

11. Are they a healthy couple? If no, why not?

12. Do they have potential to be healthy if they’re usually toxic?

13. Do they have potential to be toxic if they’re usually healthy?

14. What song fits them perfectly?

15. Do they like the same music?

16. Do they like the same food?

17. What do they have in common?

18. What is their sex life like?

19. Would they ever lie to each other? Why or why not?

20. Are they interested in marriage? Why or why not?

21. Are they interested in having children? Why or why not?

22. Do you have other ships that resemble your OTP?

23. Is there top/dom and bottom/sub energy?

24. Are there any kinks or fetishes they share or don’t?

25. Are they sentimental about gifts they’ve received from each other?

26. What holidays do they like?

27. How do they feel about Valentine’s day?

28. Are they jealous/possessive of each other?

29. Do they like public display of affection?

30. Do they enjoy dancing?

31. What’s a perfect date for them?

32. How do they comfort each other?

33. Who is the big spoon and why?

34. What’s their favorite nonsexual activity together?

35. How do they deal with being away from each other for a long time?

36. What is their favorite place to kiss the other? (Cheek, hand, closed eyelid, neck, nose, etc.)

37. Have they ever hurt each other on accident?

38. Have they ever hurt each other deliberately?

39. Who gets hit on the most?

40. Who tries to distract the other when they’re trying to do something else?

41. Who is, overall, the smarter one?

42. Who is the sensible mature one?

43. Do they fight a lot?

44. How do they make up after a fight?

45. If one of them forgot to log out of their SoMe, what would their partner do?

46. How do they make each other laugh?

47. Are they extroverts/introverts?

48. Who would bring home a homeless animal?

49. Do they match outfits for special occasions?

50. Who would protect who in a dangerous situation?

[minus-plus-zer0]

Valentine's Day Special - First Chocolates

“Um… Happy Valentine’s Day, Bakugou!”

Bakugou gawked at you like you had grown two heads. There you were, in his bedroom, hands outstretched to offer him your best homemade chocolates. You knew nobody ever bothered to give Bakugou chocolates before, so you didn’t know what to expect next despite knowing the boy better than anyone. 

From his seat at his desk, Bakugou took the cute pink box from your hands and gingerly opened it, popping a chocolate into his mouth and chewing thoughtfully. 

“Well?” you asked. “Do you like it?”

“‘Course I do,” he spat. “But… why’re you giving me these?”

You tilted your head quizzically. “…Because we’re best friends?”

Bakugou paused, scrutinizing your answer.

“You give any of your other ‘best friends’ delicious chocolates?” Bakugou asked, sneering at the thought. 

“I did give some to Kirishima, Todoroki, and Midoriya…” Bakugou’s face darkened with every name you listed. “But I made yours extra special! Because we’re so close!”

Bakugou’s face slowly broke into a wide grin. “S’that so? Sounds about right! Next year, you don’t gotta give those guys chocolates. Just give ‘em all to me.”

Bakugou spent the rest of the day eating your chocolates in front of all his lonely and single friends whenever they came to bother him. He also paraded you around Kirishima, Todoroki, and Midoriya in particular, often walking up to these boys and smacking his lips as he chewed through your super special chocolate to make his intentions quite clear. 

Of course, the Bakusquad swarmed Bakugou in the dorms and asked him one very important question that even Bakugou was still wondering about. 

“Are they friendship chocolates?” Ashido asked. “Or romance chocolates?”

“What, it ain’t obvious?” Bakugou replied, having no clue himself. “Such a dumb question.”

Bakugou looked away with a huff, but he could never give the Bakusquad a straight answer. Whenever they interrogated you for details, Bakugou not-so-discreetly glanced over his shoulder to check your response. 

You merely replied, “It’s a secret.”

This frustrated the Bakusquad (and Bakugou) to no end, but you weren’t quite yet ready to tell your true feelings to anyone, at least not in public. It wasn’t until much later that same day when Bakugou caught you for some alone time in your bedroom that he brought up the question again. 

“Hey…” Bakugou said, sitting alongside you on your bed with a concerned expression. “Next month, I’m gonna totally outdo the gift you just gave me. But don’t go taking gifts from other guys. I’m not gonna give anything to other people either. Remember, it’s just gotta be our thing, ya know?”

You hid your face a little in your hands to cover your embarrassment from his sweet statement. “Oh, okay! Anything for my best friend!”

“Good.” Bakugou steeled himself to say his next piece. “That means we’re officially exclusive from now on. And the only gifts we’re gonna give each other are gonna be special, right?”

He was genuinely wondering about your answer judging by the bit of desperation behind his words. He was so cute sometimes. You needed to tell him the truth.

You beamed at him playfully. “Well of course! I can’t just give everyone romance chocolates, now can I?”

Bakugou appeared surprised for a second before breaking out into a satisfied and proud grin.

“‘Course not,” Bakugou said, his heart pounding as he leaned over to eagerly kiss you.

(I still exist! I have just been busy with real life and I am sick. Thankfully I was able to get this post out in time!)

[gatorbites-imagines]

Hello gatorbite, I really liked your imagines with Mark Grayson, could you do an imagine of Mark with a Male Reader who is a vampire?

Mark Grayson x vampire king male reader

Headcanons

Cooking my own headcanons for vampires, how else are they gonna go on cute dates on the beach as the sun goes down?? Ive been listening to abracadabra by Lady Gaga for days, its been keeping me sane.

Mark and the bad bitch he pulled by being a nerd. i had a lot of fun writing this, i would love to write more about these two, or more vampire reader,,,

You guys would first have met after he became a hero, sometime during season 2. Probably before he got Oliver but after his dad left the planet and Mark wanted to fix everything and started working with Cecil.

The GDA knew of your existence of course. You were the first ever vampire, created through horrible magic and rituals against your will. This meant you couldn’t die, even from the sun or a stake or silver.

Every other vampire someone would meet would come from you in some way. Or rather, they were bitten by someone who was bitten by someone, so on and so forth until it reached you, kinda like a disease. The further out you go, the wilder and more animalistic the vampires are.

The few vampires you have bitten and turned yourself are strong and can walk in sunlight, and have other otherworldly powers, but those they bite have weaker powers, etc etc. and all other vampires but you can die. As long as life and death exist, so will you.

How you guys meet can be a mixed bag, but the most plausible is that some rabid vampires have run wild somewhere, and Mark was sent to deal with them since his skin can’t be pierced by their fangs.

The vampires he encounters are naked, human-looking creatures with warped faces, a mouth full of sharp teeth, shark bat-like features and the like. The only thing human about them is their shape.

A nest of vampires has run wild, and as the so called “vampire king”, “vampire well” or even “first vampiric ancestor”, its your duty to take care of it when it gets out of hand.

At this point Mark isn’t at his strongest, so the nest of vampire spawn gain the upper hand. Even with super strength, its hard for Mark since he also doesn’t want to kill at this point, and these technically were humans once.

So, imagine Marks shock, as he’s being overpowered by hundreds of these creatures that are more instinct than sense, when these creatures are sliced in half and turn into dust.

As the vampire king you can teleport all over the planet, you could probably even warp other planets if you focused hard enough. You might have done that once or twice, leading to vampirism spreading to different parts of the universe… but nobody has to know that…

What you wear can be up for debate, do you wear something from the time you died? Something Victorian? Or modern? I can’t imagine you are too involved with the current fashion since time passes so fast for you, so maybe it’s a bit out of fashion. You still look great though.

Maybe it’s having been beaten so hard by the now dead spawn, or maybe it’s just your vampiric influence, but Mark finds himself blushing and breathing a little harder.

The first time you meet doesn’t lead to much other than you taking care of the spawn, apologizing to Mark for causing such a mess and telling him you will take more care of your offspring. Mark just kinda goes “yeah, okay, thanks man…” before passing out.

You end up teleporting mark back to the GDA, or wherever hes being brought, like to the new guardians or whatever. Because obviously none of their protection measures can keep you out. It’s only weaker vampires that need an invitation inside.

They are all pretty damn uncomfortable when you comment about how nice Marks blood smells, because being thousands of years old also means you don’t have any shame in stating the obvious.

You say hello to Immortal before leaving. Of course, you guys know each other, both being immortal and all that. You guys play cards at least once every ten years or so, sometimes more, sometimes less.

This is also why Immortal is the most chill about you showing up, coming and going as you please, and saying Mark smells delicious. You once said he smelled delicious too when you first met, the stronger the person the better their blood and all. Now you guys are friends though, in a way.

After that you guys meet every now and then, mainly because you take his interest and Immortals friendship as an invite to come and go as you please, like a big scary housecat dressed in black.

You also follow him around (stalk him pretty much), and maybe it’s just him secretly loving steamy vampire fanfiction, or some viltrumite instinct, but being hunted is exciting.

You guys finally starting to date would also happen at some random moment when you guys are alone. You would have known about Marks attraction from the very moment you met, but your cold unbeating heart had started warming up around him too.

All his rambling about heroes and fictional stories worked like a charm. The many many questions about vampires and pop culture was cute too. He couldn’t believe that the whole weak to garlic thing started as an inside joke amongst vampires and spread out, when it wasn’t even true.

Mark was positively shocked when the whole pop culture idea that being bitten felt good turned out to be true. Later you would explain it was all about intent and reception. If you wanted it to hurt and he feared you, then it would have hurt. But because he was a little freak who was really into it, then it brought pleasure.

Mark also never thought you would be able to bite through his skin, but you could. Only because of your whole, king of the vampires, first original vampire, deal. Any other vampire wouldn’t be able to bite through vultrumite skin.

Being able to rip through vultrumites will be useful later, and not needing to breathe and being able to fly as well. But that’s for later space adventures.

When the whole thing with Oliver happens, you are of course there to support Mark, but also his family. Cecil also knows not to fuck with you, because its all thanks to you that the dead don’t rise and come for him every single day.

This may mean it doesn’t end as badly as in season 3, or, Mark just has some more support, very powerful support that the GDA knows to fear. Because how is Cecil gonna manipulate the original manipulator? The one strong enough to bewitch the entire planet if he wanted to?

You also have a better time explaining morals and powers to Oliver, since you are still stronger than him at this point, so you can put him in his place when he needs it. Being nonhuman also helps a lot, since Oliver feels his power disconnects him from humanity.

This gives Mark some more room to find himself and settle, and yeah, I feel like him and his family end up moving into wherever you stay. Be it some massive gothic castle in Romania, or a Victorian mansion at the edge of a massive cliff in England, who knows.

Both because its safer, more comfortable, and they get to feel like they don’t always have to look over their shoulder.

You don’t survive the coffin allegations though, since you sleep in a grand one, and have at least 100 different coffins you switch between. Most were gifts from your spawn, or one or two from immortal as “congrats on living another hundred” gift. You gifted him weapons or houses in return.

Mark can’t sleep in the coffins with you, since he hates how claustrophobic it makes him. But he will sleep beside the coffin. You guys keep the lid pushed to the side enough for you to stick a hand out, so you guys can hold hands.

I feel like Oliver would thrive a lot under you and your spawns, since you keep your “children” in line. Being direct descendants of you means they are powerful enough to play and roughhouse with, but also help him train.

Mark trains with you instead, and it regularly ends up with him almost giggling and kicking his feet as you pin him down, barring his neck all “oh please, vampire king, please don’t bite me”.

It takes Debbie a while to settle in, but maybe she meets one of your spawn to gets on with well, or she doesn’t at all. Maybe she just takes the time to heal and find herself when she sees her sons are happy.

You end up getting the shovel talk from her though, which all your direct descendants peek around the corner of the doorway to watch. Somehow you look meek as she points a finger at you and tell you to treat her son right and with respect.

I haven’t read very far in the comics so I cant tell you what happens after this, but Mark will have you by his side when everything goes down, and that might help change it to a more positive outcome.

It might help to have a lover who isn’t held back by his humanity and morals. You are more than willing to turn entire planets into your mindless spawn if it means keeping your dear ones safe. It does lead to a horrible argument and Mark not talking to you for a while, but he forgives you at some point.

Reading his secret fanfic does help with that, even if it means you have to dress like a man from the current era, style your hair and stalk him when he sleeps (as if you don’t already do that).

Being a super ancient and rich vampire also means you can pile gifts on Mark, Oliver and Debbie. Mostly Mark, but you don’t want his kin to be left out. So, Mark gets to live out his nerdy dreams to the extreme.

You’ll remodel a whole part of your house for him if it comes down to it. Your direct spawn will coo at you becoming soft. You let them, for now, but you’ll get your revenge, especially seeing them all tied around the Grayson’s fingers too.

You are so used to dealing with the GDA that it also isn’t hard to keep them at bay, how are they gonna invade a place that’s existed longer than democracy? You will burn the whole place down if you have too. Anything for your nerdy little hero.

[pearlescentparade]

Hi!! here for a request for Noob X killer! reader (forsaken) fluff headcanons

yung kai - blue lyrics.

OMG NOOB..... let's hope i can get them right

🔰noob x killer! reader fluff headcanons 💝💞

noob walks right up to you when the round starts, blissfully unaware of your status as a killer. they believe you're just another friendly face that they can stick with in this scary new environment

you consider making a bloodbath of them, until they offer to share their snacks with you. automatically, you assume it's a peace offering or a plead for mercy. though you can't eat, you enjoy the sacrificial offerings regardless

they like to set up picnics with you during the round. they'll put out all of their food, sit down, and just chat about whatever comes to mind. you usually only listen and rarely chime in, but noob appreciates the company anyway. it helps them regain a sense of normalcy, and feel like they're living their old life before they were taken here. and while you've never known a life outside of this world (or at least, the spectre makes sure you don't remember it), you think you would've liked it to be something like this too

adding on, noob likes to play a game with you where they describe things in the 'real world' that they think you would have liked. even if you've never seen or heard of these concepts, you trust their judgement

it's always nighttime in the realm. so on your picnic dates, noob likes to stargaze with you. they don't know any constellations, so they make up their own

"that small star is me, and that big one next to it is you!"

"..how will we be able to tell them apart from the other stars?"

"they're really close together. like us!"

they trail you through every round, clinging onto your back like a lost puppy. when you encounter another survivor, you instruct noob to hide and close their eyes so they don't see you completely mutilating their friends. they are always the sole survivor

they are very jumpy. any sudden spooky noises in the ambience will make them latch onto you and cower. they've jumped into your arms before, and the embarrassment helped them forget all about their fear

the spectre blocks you from reciprocating any actions of love. even so, that doesn't deter noob from displaying his affection. they will hug, kiss, and compliment you like it's nobody's deal! they assure you that even if you physically can't do anything back, your presence is more than enough

often, you'll sneak up on survivors while they're doing a generator. all of them run in fear, except noob, of course. they sit there, still attempting to solve the puzzle on the generator. you'll hover over them, instructing them where to put what wire and what not. the accomplished smile that explodes on their face when they finish it invokes a feeling in you that even the spectre struggles to suppress

if anyone tries to give noob a hard time for lacking knowledge on how to do things, you target them heavily. and when you catch them, you ensure their death is gory and painful

sometimes, you bring their head to noob as a trophy and symbol of your love (since it's the closest thing you can do to show it). you even make sure to clean it and cauterize the wound where you severed their head from their neck so there's no blood at all, just for them!

"look, little fledgling. i've damned your enemy. now they won't bother you."

"AGH- that's- oh my goodness- uh.. i appreciate it, really-! i.. i just... i think i'm gonna throw up-"

"...apologies. i thought you would've liked to see it. it felt more romantic in my head."

"it's- it's okay, i'm- ough...- i'm fine with what you usually do.. it's the thought that counts..!"

they like to attempt to scare you by reappearing after eating their ghostburger. it never works, but you think it's cute. you'll even pretend your roles are switched, and you'll run from them as they act like the big bad killer chasing you

since noob had opened up to you about their drinking addiction, you've put a limit on how much bloxy cola they drink per round. if they've already reached it and try to go for another, you'll snatch it away and crush it in your hands. they protest about the waste of food, but can you really call the highly sugary processed drink 'food'?

because of your increased speed as a killer, noob likes to ride on your shoulders and pretend they're in a cart ride. you'll even go up and down slopes in the map and move in zigzag patterns to simulate the winding track, like how noob describes them

the other survivors use noob as bait, sending them out to find you first before you get to anyone else so that they can minimize the casualties. it's not in a mean-spirited way, it's a practical strategy because noob is able to distract you for the entire round and prevent you from killing anyone as long as long as the others stay out of your sight. noob doesn't mind, they'll happily assist their friends in anyway they can, considering they don't have any team-support abilities

(parade postscript: i tried to incorporate some of the song lyrics into the hcs, especially with the stargazing one! though i didnt know if i did it well LOL the song's meaning and lyrics kind of made me feel sad bc it felt very angsty with the themes of yearning and unrequited love, but i tried to focus on the sweet parts of it for the hcs :'])

[queen-mihai]

I'll support them, of course! Get them to step up and say their names out loud though. LOUD loud. US politics is about one thing and one thing alone: name recognition

You don't have to light a damn hospital on fire but I wouldn't put it past Republicans to do so. The whole idea is to keep their names in our mouths so we can't think of anybody else when it's time to stand in the ballot box.

Our job is to get our people's names out there just as big so that grandma who only watches cable news will know there's somebody else to vote for

That's the other thing democrats suck ass at doing. They think the job speaks for itself. It doesn't. The person speaks. People get used to the name. They vote for the person they feel like they know. I've been singing this anthem for decades: It's all fine and good to stand for something, but if nobody knows who you are, you'll be standing alone.

My ass is in Norway. You tell these people to find me and I'll boost them up as loud as I can. But I'm only one person and advertising is far from my specialty so they are gonna need other people to help them win.

US politics is a popularity contest. It's unfortunate but true. At the very least cute gay furries are cute. And gay. And furries.

I hope your trans friends run. And I hope they win

The gerontocracy is real: 76 year old Democratic congressman John Larson suffers medical episode while speaking on the House floor, freezing for nearly a minute.

[gam3r-girli3]

arthur morgan with an s/o who has anxiety

trigger warnings: includes sensitive subjects such as anxiety & mental health. do not read if you are triggered by these.

a/n: i fucking love arthur morgan <3

(gif border isn't mine, credit to owner)

Mental health wasn't something people openly talked about or even acknowledged back in those days. If someone was mentally ill, they were deemed mad or insane and that was that

But I feel like Arthur would be one of the most understanding people in the gang when you open up about your struggles with anxiety. He's often felt it himself, maybe not to the same extent but enough to understand

Which is why he becomes very caring and willing to do anything it takes to help you cope and manage

He'll wrap his big bear arms around you and hug you as tight as he can (careful not to squeeze too tight) until your shaky, panicked breaths slowly subside

He'll keep holding you after your panic attack subsides until you say otherwise

Placing gentle kisses on your head; murmuring things to you in his deep, warm voice; the stubble on his chin tickling your skin

"It's alright, darlin'. You're okay, I gotcha."

He'd be so gentle and attentive after, constantly checking on you and asking how you're feeling, if you need anything, and then adding, "You know I love ya, right? You know nothin's ever gonna stop me from lovin' ya."

If Dutch has him away from camp, scouting out another one of his 'grand plans', Arthur will ask someone he trusts (either Charles, Mary-Beth, Hosea, Tilly, or even little Jack) to watch out for you and make sure you're okay

(Jack is more than happy to be given an important task like this and, determined not to let his Uncle Arthur down, he decides to make you some flower chains since they always cheer his momma up when he makes them for her)

Though he'd never directly tell you (instead shrugging it off as 'jus' somethin' I found on my travels') he'd go to doctors, general stores, anywhere he thought he could find something to help soothe your anxious mind

He even talked to Hosea and asked him for advice on how to support you and help you, knowing Bessie had also struggled with anxiety in the past

On mornings when you'd have been awake all night, overwhelmed with intrusive and worrisome thoughts, Arthur would manage to get Grimshaw to let you off the hook from your chores, bringing you a streaming cup of tea in bed and holding you in his arms for however long it took until you could fall asleep and get the rest you need

Nobody could pry him from you at times when you desperately needed him, not even Dutch. His first priority is, and always will be, you and making sure you're okay

His love and support doesn't make your anxiety magically go away but it does help to know that Arthur is there for you whenever things get bad ♡

[wesleyiszombieboy]

SO NOBODY WAS GONNA TELL ME ABOUT THIS??

HE LOOKS SO GOOFY I LOVE HIM SO MUCH

[obsessedhoneycomb]

Red Mercedes

George Russell x fem!reader

Summary: Perfect married life sometimes hides the rotten truth of lies.

Warnings: cheating, slight manipulation, George getting what’s his at all cost, curse words and smut implication

Word count: 1.5k

A/N: After a frustrating week of not having any good ideas, I had a dream, so I finally had something to pour my heart into. It was so intense that it didn't let me eat my lunch, how fast my fingers drummed at the keyboard and my thoughts flew out of my brain. Enjoy it! :) wanted to include my favorite pregnancy trope, but i decided to not go that way this time

———

“Dad, I’m trying to tell you that mum is acting weird.” Your twelve year old son was travelling with George to Cayman Island for this event he was invited to, to speak about his ongoing career path as a leading F1 champion. 

George glanced at him, his hands gripping the steering wheel, regally upset about the fact that even your son noticed that something isn't right with your marriage.

“Mum is just tired. That’s all.” he tried to brush it off, but he knew. 

“You know, dad, I’m not stupid. I saw her with some man a week ago, sitting at the restaurant when we were out on a bike with boys. She was smiling at him like… Well, not like she’s smiling at you.” his son continued to ponder with his thoughts, pouring his mind out, making George feel uneasy. Pulling over at the hotel they were supposed to stay at, engine off, he turned his body to face his son.

“Buddy, I know that you love your mom, hell, who could not love her.. But she’s- it’s just a phase. I’m gonna figure it out, and you have nothing to worry about.” he tried to reassure him with his soft smile, his eyes betraying him, reflecting the weight of the growing lies.

———

“I see that you’re here with your son, he grew so much throughout the years, aren’t you afraid that he’s gonna be after you soon, you know, with racing and stuff?” 

George chuckled, moving his gaze at his giggling son in the first row, his sweaty palm wrapped around the microphone. “Well, there is the possibility, but his hobbies are different. He’s much more of a cyclist, so I think that Tadej Pogacar should be scared of having another rival.” 

“Oh, that’s great! Guess the Russell’s family is spreading through the field of sports. It’s a shame that your wife isn’t here with us, we had planned to have a family photo shoot for you, also spending some time on the yacht with the staff here.” 

George was professional at keeping his composure, so he just chuckled again, looking at the crowd of people in the small room.

“We can do that anyway, we don’t need my wife for that. She’s busy with some of her other projects, so…” 

Everybody seemed to be happy about it, not noticing the slight frown on George’s face and his son’s.

You were staying at home in Monaco, texting with your lover. Your naive brain was living in an illusion that nobody knows, you sneaking around with someone else, secret meetings at the old restaurant on the other side of the town, your red luxurious Mercedes parked in front of it very often. You were really dumb in some aspects and being so careless about getting after your own desires, you hurt your family in the process.

All those years of your marriage you heard it around you all the time, how George is a gentleman, kind guy, loving and caring husband and father, how every other woman would die for having him just for at least five minutes. But nobody saw that toll that had an impact on you, your life when you fell pregnant unexpectedly, and how George married you just because of it. Feeding you with all those empty promises, but leaving you alone through all that maternity shit because he was at the peak of his career while you were breastfeeding his restless son at night.

Yeah, there were times you were genuinely happy as a family, somewhere between the three to ten years of your son, George was more present, you accompanied him at races from time to time, depending on how his and your parents were willing to look after your kid. 

But the last two years felt like a nightmare, because George won another two championships after five years of no luck, his fans being literally everywhere, even breaking into your home. You spent a lot of time on the go, changing your location and you grew tired of this. Intimity between you and George was long gone, and you yearned for something he couldn’t give you, the tension, secrecy and passion. Even if it meant to destroy everything you have.

———

Darkness overtook the docks in Monaco, rain washing away the summer heat wave. George stood at the huge ass window of your penthouse, sipping on his whiskey, even though he did not favour the liquid that much, he got used to it from time to time. Your son was away for the holiday cycling camp, and with summer break in F1, it left him home alone with the lingering scent of your expensive perfume you saved for your not so secret lover. His mind wandered over divorce, but he was too prideful to let it happen. He didn’t care about your needs, shameful desires, he wanted to keep his family together. Even if it meant to ruin your sweet secret life. And he knew his plan was working the minute you stepped into your home through the threshold, sobbing quietly, with your dress soaked through, droplets of water dripping down your hair. His lips curling into smirk, he took the last sip of his drink, leaving the glass on the coffee table in the living room, walking slowly to the hallway.

You kicked off your heels, running your hands through your wet hair, wiping off your tears along the way, your mascara staining your cheeks. Feeling how your dress is sticking to your body, you let out a frustrated sigh with a whine, finally noticing George standing in the doorway, his arms folded over his chest wearing an unreadable expression.

“What’s the matter baby?” his tone was laced with smugness, he couldn’t hold it back anymore, seeing the mess you were.

“Nothing.” you muttered, trying to walk around him to get to the bathroom, but he was after you.

“You’re clearly distressed. Tell me what happened. You were supposed to have a night out with girls, if I remember correctly?” yeah, he was playing dumb.

“I was. But my car left me in the parking lot, because the smoke started to go out of the engine and I needed to call the towing service and-” you stopped in your rant abruptly as you got to the part you wanted to erase from your memory and you didn’t want to talk about it with George.

“And? Tell me darling.” his tone was firm, demanding, he caged your body against the counter in the bathroom.

You looked up to see his face, locking your gaze with his, reading his mind. He knew. And yet he was still there.

“He left me.” with your head slumped down you whispered feeling deeply ashamed. 

George smiled victoriously as the memory from earlier this week flashed through his mind, him paying that pathetic lover of yours loads of money to leave you, to ruin you, to destroy you.

“Oh baby.” he cooed sweetly, cupping that mascara stained cheeks of yours, listening to your sobs. And that was the last straw and you broke down in tears, all of the suppressed emotions flowing out as you wrapped your arms around him tightly, remorse and guilt building in your heart. 

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry…” you whispered into his chest, your tears staining his shirt. 

“Shhh… I’m right here baby. It’s okay.” his fingers brushed through your hair affectionately, making you relax.

“You should be disgusted with me…” 

“Believe me, I was at first. But from your point of view I somehow understood it.” 

“How… How long have you known?”

“Since the first time you giggled at your phone.”

“I thought that I’m good at hiding it.” 

“Oh, you were so naive that I won’t notice. You weren’t even creative at hiding your car properly. That exclusive red shade of it doesn't go unnoticed. Even our son saw you many times.” 

You shuddered when you felt his lips ghosting against your temple. The mention of your son stabbed you through your heart. 

“George, I-” 

“Shhh, darling. Your stupid boyfriend ditched you, so let your husband, the man who truly knows how to devour you, take care of you.” George whispered with a soft hum, his lips pressed under your ear.

The way he talked made you feel ashamed. But it ignited something within you, the lust and desire for him. And it made you curse internally at how dumb you were for the past years.

“I’m gonna make sure you remember who you belong to.” 

After the night to remember when George really took you like a slut you were, listening to your whines and moans, making you tell him how that lover made you feel, what he did to you, he made sure that you won’t escape his embrace again. Watching you sleep beside him, your body covered in love bruises and marks he hasn’t seen on you for months, he brushed the strand of your hair from your face, smiling proudly at how easy you were. All those years he thought you’re this soft and reserved girl who likes vanilla in bed, only to find out that you loved to be cock drunk all the time, overstimulated to the madness to keep your mind from wandering outside of the wedlock. 

“You were so wrong to think that I’d let you go, my beautiful wife…” and his whisper lingered through your sleeping brain like a lullaby.

-

Please don't use my writings without a permission. Pictures found on Pinterest.

Tags: @chilling-seavey

[multiheadcanons]

A LITTLE EXTRA FOR THE DOLLS. HEAVY AND MEDIC GET MARRIED. HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY

heavy proposed in a very unconventional way. medic did not take it very well.

they were reading separate books, together in the hall leading to the infirmary, in silence. he slid a golden band on the side table that was between them. he didn’t speak, or make a grand statement of it, just made sure to angle it so the glint caught the doctor’s eye.

and the doctor did notice. he was not cool about it. “that’s not funny.” is all he could say. as heavy insisted, the doctor’s face notably scrunched up in a strange combination of emotions. he looked like he just got shot. but he was also bright red.

it was time to share some secrets.

medic opened up— very hesitantly— without removing his face from the book, about his prior marriage. a woman he called the love of his life. his childhood best friend, the woman who knew him better than he dares to ever know himself. genevieve. and the doctor isn’t paying any attention as heavy’s face pales.

and heavy isn’t thinking as the only thing that exits his mouth, as the doctor is genuinely baring his soul to him, talking about this brilliant woman who fundamentally shifted his view in love and marriage and life itself; the only thing heavy can think to say is “isn’t that… demo’s genevieve?”

the silence that fell in that room. the doctor stopped mid sentence and did not close his mouth. he turned, so controlled in the slow movement, to the heavy weapons guy. and stared at him, slack jawed. harder than he’s ever stared at the man before. an active craze brewed in the doctor’s eyes. heavy kept calm, hoping that if there was any time the doctor would follow suit it would be right now. and for a solid twenty seconds, he had confidence. nobody spoke, but they maintained eye contact and heavy felt he had a handle on the situation. he was so confident he was going to disarm this bomb.

he was confident until he saw the book snap shut. and they held eye contact. and then the doctor carelessly tossed the book up. that is where heavy made the mistake of breaking eye contact, and in a swift motion, medic grabbed the ring and stormed away.

heavy had officially lost control of the situation. before he moved to chase, he went for the medigun.

and the doctor was like a robot. it did not take him long to locate where the louder teammates were. he was honed in, ring grasped tightly in his hand. and him slamming the door to the common area caught their attention immediately.

he took stock of who was in the room.

scout. soldier. pyro. engineer. demo.

there’s the son of a bitch.

and frankly, demo could tell from the look in the doctor’s eyes exactly what was about to transpire and for exactly what reason. there was nothing he could do but brace for it, and maybe do him the favor of meeting him halfway. he didn’t have time for the second before the doctor had crossed the room.

maybe he could’ve told medic earlier and moved past this.

it didn’t matter, demo hit the floor before anyone had time to react. luckily, they were close enough to grab the doctor before he could really start to do damage. he didn’t fight them either, and everyone looked at demo for answers as he stumbled to his feet and shook his head.

“it’s alright; i’m alright… i had that coming. long time coming. alright, doc…” he cracked his neck, and stared at the doctor, notably sobered from the hit. “firstly: hell of an arm you got there. we need to have a chat.”

“you need to be rotting out in the desert. we do need to have a chat.” the doctor replied, calm for a man who literally walked in swinging.

“are you gonna hit me again?”

“yes.”

“…fair enough.”

and they left the room as heavy entered, medigun slung across his back.

“…am i too late?”

the team didn’t see much of demo, or the doctor for about a week, initially. and when they did, they were engaged in silent conversation, their faces set in grief. in anger. in regret and contempt and pity and ache and despair. the team watched as their faces shifted through the days to broken resignation. sometimes the team would walk by and see them both with their heads on the mess hall table, slumped against each other, the bags under their eyes evident as they caught precious seconds of sleep that they weren’t getting otherwise. they would see the men crumble out of their peripheries. their tear streaks would hit the light as they passed by and they would simply continue to walk. but cries echoed through the halls of the base for weeks. the doctor wouldn’t look at anyone, his hands remained balled into fists and his face twisted in snarls. demo wouldn’t speak to anyone, even if he was addressed first, just shook his head and continued on. it showed in battle as they caught their breath in alleyways, and as their enemies passed they would catch glimpses of them on their knees, head in their hands, and the wracked hoarse sobs were drowned by gunfire. it took months for them to begin to show signs of returning to normal. with each other. with the team.

it took a month still from normality returning on shaky legs for medic and heavy to resume their reading together. the first time was tense. talking was off the table. just the repeated tap of the doctor’s foot against the floor, getting louder and louder until it was just him slamming his foot against the ground.

“i can’t do this.”

at that point medic threw his book against the wall and stormed into the infirmary. heavy did not follow.

neither he nor that wedding band were seen again for a few days.

heavy had resigned himself to the fact that he would never see that ring again. and he had mostly resigned himself to the knowledge that if he didn’t permanently ruin his professional relationship with the doctor, they definitely weren’t together in the way that heavy wanted them to be.

he thought that until a glint caught his eye.

he gave a brief glance.

a single silver band sat on the table. large enough for his ring finger.

he closed his book. “that’s not funny. that’s not funny.”

“it’s not funny at all.” the doctor closed his book as well. “i made my decision.”

he set the book down and began to pull off his glove.

“misha. i loved genevieve. i loved her with everything i could give her. it haunted me. she haunted me, her willingness to put her life on pause to be with me and save myself from my own… shame of attraction. i couldn’t thank her enough for that. there was no display of devotion i could make, past giving her a child, to show my gratitude, and i couldn’t do that. to her, to myself, to a child.” he paused in the removal from his glove, before continuing, revealing a single golden band around his ring finger.

“then i find out she didn’t. her life never stopped. only mine did.” herbert stared at the ring around his finger, sparing a slight glance towards misha. “…i’m ready to move on. i held onto her for so long. and i’m ready to let her go.”

misha stayed quiet. he gingerly reached for the ring. he wasn’t sure it was real. but the cold metal confirmed he could believe what he was seeing. he held it in his hand. so small in comparison to his palm. so small in comparison to the scars they give each other. he stared past the ring to the scar slashed across of the life line of his palm.

he gave himself that. for his doctor.

they were already bound by blood for life.

a ring wasn’t needed, he had told himself. he’d been telling himself that for weeks now, in the certainty he had been rejected.

“i don’t want a wedding. i don’t want a honeymoon. just put it on, and we can continue to read. or give it back, and we can continue to read. either way, it’s… it’s okay. it’s alright. i’m alright. we’re alright.” misha couldn’t stop the breath of laughter. the smile that crept on his face. a ring. a ring. and he couldn’t stop a couple of tears from falling. he wiped them away quickly. it felt a little silly to cry because he got what he wanted. it took months, but he got exactly what he wanted.

“it’s… not what i expected from you. when have you ever done what i expect from you?” misha finally found words to say that made sense in his mind; sliding the ring onto his finger.

a perfect fit.

“…i want a honeymoon.”

“…we may have a honeymoon if you would like.”

misha laughed. he couldn’t help it. he looked at his hand, at its new adornment. rotated his hand. saw the glint from every angle. looked at herbert. looked back at his hand. his face felt hot, and a hand naturally reached to feel the heat. he couldn’t stop the smile from getting wider. he laughed again.

he patted the seat of the chair next to him, and held out his other hand.

“come sit next to me. properly.”

herbert’s eyes narrowed, if only slightly and for the moment. but he took a breath. he forced himself to relax. he made this decision. he needs to stick to the commitment he made.

it took many days of working, and thinking, and crying, and not sleeping to decide to say yes.

he didn’t know if he had it in him to do it again. he didn’t know if a commitment he had made, by all means at this point except traditionally, by all means felt traditionally was the right thing to do; was the best thing to do for either one of them at this point. herbert was getting older. he had held onto the ghost of a woman, held onto what he thought was love so tightly for so long, and it was shattered in less than five words. everything he thought he knew about his life was shattered in less than five words.

and herbert was no stranger to hurt. he was no stranger to misha hurting him. he was no stranger to hurting misha. physically and emotionally. they’ve fought. they argued. they’ve said things to each other they can never take back. that still hang in the air some tense days. but they’ve always made it through. come back stronger, held onto each other tighter in battle. learned each other better, maneuvered with and around each other smoother. every force against them has made them a stronger unit, closer friends, better partners.

misha completed him in undefinable ways. understood him enough to accept him fully, wholly. never asked for more than herbert said he could give. respected it. respected him. it’s obviously not a far throw to say misha loved him.

he owed the man a commitment to the grave.

he took misha’s hand and stood, closing the distance and taking his rightful place at misha’s side.

they sat, shoulder to shoulder.

hand in hand.

misha squeezed. herbert squeezed back.

they looked at each other.

spared each other uncertain smiles.

then they opened their books and continued to read.

[2-dsimp]

Gonna look at Danny and ask him if he’d love me if I was forever stuck as a raccoon lol

“What should I do?! The Love of my life transformed into a raccoon, and my hands can’t stop petting their floof! Any suggestions?”-Ot@kuG0D

The Hitman boss was absentmindedly stroking your furry ears his face buried within your scruff. His spindly fingers typing critically at the key board. On a Reddit forum, underneath the magic mishap category.

“Ah how’d this happen? Welp on the bright side I could start carrying you around, 24/7, forever. With no one being able to stop me…”

He mumbled in contemplation, while he squeezed you like a plushy, waiting for responses to start compiling to figure out a solution to this wholesome dilemma.

“Yeah, that’s the game plan imma treat you like one of those purse pooches. And spoil you rotten My lil rac baby”

Danny gushed, he didn’t really seem to have an issue with you being a cute chonky raccoon. There may be some major adjustments to his daily schedule, but the otaku would take great care of you. Plus it’d be perfect excuse to not work since he had his precious raccoon darling to take care of. He was cackling underneath his breath thinking about how he was gonna milk this golden opportunity and tell off a pissed off Bjorn. Being Like ‘sorry my darling turned into a raccoon, and nobody but me can take care of them so clear out my schedule, for today and the rest of the following weeks, thank ya very much, peace out.’

[gallavichsreddie1128]

A Deal (Sam Wilson)

Description: Y/N has info Sam wants and there’s only one way to get it.

Warning: Smut, SPOILERS FOR BNW

Word Count: 1,191

Author’s Note: Spoilers for BNW

She sat across from him, cuffed up with a smirk. “The Captain America, how exciting.” She said in a seductive tone. Sam’s eyebrows raised a little at that, “They think you had something to do with the terrorist attack on the president?” He asked her. She slowly slid her foot up his leg watching him stiffen, “I don’t know Sam, Do you think I had something to do with it?” She asked with a smile. A smile that told him she loved to play games.

He stared at her, studying her movements and the way she bit her lip. Did she really have something to do with it? He leaned forward and watched her do the same. “I know that Bradley is innocent.” He said and she smiled. “That is correct.” She winked and his face fell. She sat back and watched how conflicted he looked. She knew things, things that could help him out but he could tell that she wasn’t going to give up information that easily. “What do you want?” He asked her, hoping that they could make a deal. She leaned forward again, “What makes you think I want something?” He rolled his eyes, annoyed with the questions.

“You have information that I want, so what do you want?” He wasn’t oblivious to the fact that she was eye fucking him and that her body language was screaming at him. She gave him a look and he didn’t even have to guess. “Is that what you want?” He asked, his voice dropping a little bit. “We couldn’t do it anyways, there’s cameras.” She pointed out and while that was true, she was forgetting that he was Captain America. “It couldn’t get out.” She rolled her eyes, if she wasn’t telling him anything with a deal what makes him think she would go tell the world she fucked him.

“You really think I’m going to run my mouth about this?” She made his comment sound ridiculous but he didn’t even really know her. “You have your ways, let's just make it happen.” She says, wanting out of these cuffs. 

How he got the cameras off was a mystery to her but he reassured her that nobody could hear or see them. He kept her cuff in case she tried to get away,not that he couldn’t stop her. He hated to admit it but she was very hot and had a nice body. Stripped down to a tank top and panties as she stood waiting for him. “Remember you give me everything you know.” He said as he pulled down his pants. Her eyes widened as she saw his hard cock straining against his boxers.

He pulled off his shirt, showing her his ripped body that she could have guessed he had. “What exactly do you want?” He asked and she walked forward until she was inches away from him. He looked down at her as she stared up at him with dark eyes, full of lust. She sank to her knees and eyed his huge cock before looking up at him. He smirked and pulled his boxers down letting it free. “You’ll have to help.” She said and licked her lips. She opened her mouth and waited for him to guide his cock in it. He tried to hide the gasp as her lips wrapped around him, so warm and wet.

He couldn’t remember the last time he got a blowjob but he certainly didn’t think it would be like this. She kept eye contact with him as she bobbed her head, taking him in her mouth more. He bit his lip and tried not to make any sounds but that was impossible. She was really good at this. She had him nearly done her throat as she sucked on him. He let out a moan and gripped her hair, “Fuck.” He whispered and she hummed against him. The vibrations made him shiver and he stared down at her in awe. Was this really happening? She closed her eyes and enjoyed the taste of him. He closed his eyes, no longer able to keep them open as he felt himself about to cum.

He was twitching in her mouth and she managed to go faster wanting him to finish. His noises became desperate and he gripped her hair more. “I’m gonna cum…fuck.” He whined as he came down her throat. She hummed against him, liking the taste. He watched as she pulled away and licked her lips, humming at the taste. “You taste good.” She winked. He caught his breath as she stood back up. “Hands and knees.” He told her and motioned to the table. She walked over and did as she was told. She climbed on the table and stayed on her hands and knees.

He got behind her and noticed the wet spot on her panties. She leaked through them during the blowjob. He pulled them down, making her gasp. The cool air hit her soaked pussy, almost making her moan. Her ass was perfect and he rubbed her cheeks with his hands. She whimpered a little at how needy she was and he didn’t waste any time in rubbing his hard again dick against her hole. “You're very wet. All because of my dick?” He asked as he gathered her slick and started to push in her. She gasped as he pushed in her, not needing to be gentle. She couldn’t answer his question, she was at a lost for words as he began fucking her.

Her noises were immediately loud and he was thankful for the room being soundproof. Her gripped her hips pulling her back into him as he thrusted. “Fuck Sam.” She whined and gasped as he picked up the pace. If he had taken the serum he could have hurt her by how fast he was going. Her head fell forward, wanting nothing more than to rest on the table. He groaned, feeling her clench around him. She was close and by the sounds she was making, it wasn’t a secret. “S-Sam fuck.” She whined and he chuckled, “Are you gonna cum for me?” He asked and she nodded. “Cum for me.” He groaned and she gave in.

Her screams and cries would have been heard through the place if it wasn’t for the room being soundproof. He moaned feeling her juices all over him as he thrusted in a different rhythm to let her ride out her climax. She whined at the over sensitivity but gasped when she felt him cum inside of her. His eyes closed, enjoying the orgasm and the feeling of her warm pussy. He pulled out of her and she nearly slumped forward. Both of them were breathing hard and sweating. The room smelt of sex and was very hot.

Once she got enough strength to turn around, she pulled him in for a kiss. He kissed her back still in a daze and let her wrap her arms around his neck. The kiss went on until she broke it and licked his ear. Her breath was all he could hear, “I’m working for Sterns.”

[annoyinglilbro]

Little bro who ges away with everything because he's the baby of the family and big bro who is so over it. So when Little bro breaks his brother's skateboard, big bro drags him to his room and spanks him raw over it

Little bro who doesn’t even care, he can just buy another it’s not a big deal. Still his big brother is yelling at him and he’s not used to it. He rolls his eyes and tries to walk away, he’ll get over it, but he’s grabbed by the wrist and dragged into his older brothers room.

“Stop! What are you doing?!”

“I’m so sick of your attitude! I’m in charge this weekend remember? It’s about time someone taught you discipline . Mom and dad are too soft with you and that’s why you’re a brat. I’m gonna fix that!” The entire time he’s ranting he’s pulling his brothers shorts down and pulling him over his lap.

His brother gasps and squirms in his grip, trying to getup but an arm over his back keeps him steady and in place.

“I’m sorry okay! Let me go! You’re being a jerk!”

The first slap suprises him, causing him to go completely still. He’s never been hit before, nobody has ever laid a hand on him. Then another slap comes. And another. His ass is glowing red, and it stings. He hasn’t even realized he started crying.

“Stop! Stop it! It hurts! I’m gonna tell!” He’s not counting how many his brothers hand makes contact with his ass, doesn’t pay attention to the hard cock pressing against his stomach. He just wants him to stop spanking him.

“Struggling is going make it worse. Be a good boy and take your punishment. I’m tired of you being a brat.”

He does eventually stop struggling, no more fight left in his now tired body. He instead sobs in his brothers laps and waits for the next slap. When it’s finally over his brother is rubbing his raw ass cheeks, the gentle touch soothing and comforting after the rough treatment. He shivers when his brother leans down and kisses each cheek.

“There. That wasn’t so bad was it?” He’s helping him pull up his shorts now and wiping away the tears on his face. “I had to teach you a lesson, you know that, right bubs? I did that out of love.”

His little brother nods, quickly opening his arms to give his brother a hug. He doesn’t want him to bed mad at him anymore. He doesn’t know why but he feels strangely attached to his big brother now.

“You’re a good boy. I love you very much, you just need someone with a stern hand, yeah? That’s all this was. You took it so well.”

“Th…thank you.” He mumbles against his brothers chest.

“Already so much better behaved. I knew this would do the trick.” Big brother beams proudly, hugging his little brother tight.

When their parents come back from their trip there’s a noticeable difference. Their youngest is much more behaved, and practically attached to his big brothers hip.

[cosmerelists]

Randomly Assembled Cosmere Roommates: How Will They Fare?

[Note: This post contains major WAT spoilers!]

@truthwatcherblog created a poll (which should still be going on, if I've gotten my dates right?) wherein you spin a picker wheel to randomly assign yourself three Stormlight roommates. With OP's permission, I'm going to use their picker wheel not to give myself roommates, but to create trios of Stormlight characters who now must room together. Let's see how it goes!

[I faithfully adhered to the picker wheel except for skipping repeats. Lin Davar came up THREE times!]

1. Lopen, the Nightwatcher, Cord

The Nightwatcher would stay holed up in her room all day, leaving mostly just Lopen & Cord, who did travel together during Dawnshard...a story in which we learned that Lopen has a huge crush on Cord. Hopefully they'd sort that out pretty quick so that it doesn't turn into a Wayne/Ranette situation. 

Cord: And this is my girlfriend, Rysn. Lopen: Well okay, but I'm not gonna stop trying to impress you with my jokes and manly ways! Cord: ...To try to win me over? Lopen: No, I mostly just like making people laugh and and I like being complimented. For my manly ways. Cord: I can live with that. Nightwatcher: [Through the closed door and the ten million blankets that she shrouds herself in] Can someone please bring me ice cream? 

2. Moash, Lin Davar [Shallan's dad], Syl

[sing-song voice] Someone is getting muuuurdered!

Lin: Are you stupid as well as blind, dark-eyes? I SAID to pour me wine! Moash: [already drawing his sword] Syl: In this house, we stan some extrajudicial killings. 

3. Lezian, Masha-daughter-Shaliv [Szeth's wife], Maya

This household is never at peace.

Lezian: I CAN'T do the dishes, I'm busy STALKING and KILLING people! Maya: [arms folded] A good soldier doesn't shy away from unglamorous work. Maya: You can be a "killing slut" later. Lezian: STOP CALLING ME THAT Masha (busy writing): Hey guys, what's a synonym for "bald"?

4. Skar, Rock, Kmakl [Queen Fen's husband]

It all works out great once they set some boundaries.

Skar: No more sex with your wife in the living room without warning us first. Kmarkl: Fiiiiine. Skar: We all love your stew, Rock, but sometimes other people want to use the big pot, too. Rock: Fair enough, fair enough! Rock: And you, Skar, need to stop throwing our stuff out the window just because we leave them lying around! Kmarkl: I couldn't find my lucky socks for two weeks! Skar: ... Skar: Wow, living together really is about compromise. 

5. Roshone, Huio, Taravangian

Mostly, I feel sorry for Huio.

Roshone: Can't believe my wife kicked me out. Can't belive I have to have roommates. Taravangian: Nobody go into the basement, okay? I'm using it to store my...stuff. Roshone: Why does your "stuff" require so much sound-proofing, anyway? Taravangian: It's, uh, a playroom for my...noisy grandchildren? Roshone: Sure, that feels right. Huio: [in the kitchen making soup] Huio: (muttering to himself in Herdazian): I'm NEVER telling them I can understand Alethi. 

6. Szeth, Rlain, Drehy

This is going to be SO good for Szeth's mental health! Drehy's gonna be working overtime helping both of his roommates, though.

Rlain: So, uh... Drehy: Yes, you may ask me all of your "gay" questions. Rlain: I really appreciate that! Szeth: Kaladin says that I must "ask other people" if I have a thought that "does not quite seem right." Szeth: I pose this to you both: if you burn a dinner you were really looking forward to, is death the answer? Rlain: No! Drehy: I'll order pizza.

7. Gezamal [Yanagawn's guard], Ishnah [Lightweaver], Testament [dead-eyed cryptic]

Testament is really the glue that holds this household together.

Gezamal: Ishnah, let's have dinner together tonight and talk. Ishnah: What, why? Gezamal: Testament and I share a bond since she is a dead-eye and I am Unoathed. Testament: [gives thumbs-up] Gezamal: You and Testament share a bond because you are a Ligthweaver and she is a Cryptic. Testament: [gives thumbs-up] Gezamal: For household solidarity, you and I should now figure out what we have in common. Ishnah: ...What's that big book you have? Gezamal: I pre-drafted a list of things we might have in common. Gezamal: For example, as a member of the Unseen Court, were you ever punished with lavatory duty? That happened to me once. Ishnah: Oh, this conversation is gonna be rough.

8. Elid [Szeth's sister], Kalak [herald], Wyndle

Kalak, scared as he is of humans, much prefers one of his two roommates...

Wyndle: Oh, I'm so glad you like this! "How It's Made" is one of my FAVORITE shows, but the  mistress says it's "boring." Kalak: It's great! I've never felt so calm! Elid: Yo, what are we watching? Kalak: Eep! Elid: ... Elid: The Almighty Herald is hiding behind a cushion again, huh? Wyndle: I-I'm sure he doesn't mean to offend you!

9. Wit, Aladar [highprince], Renarin

It's like Christmas came early for Wit--he likes to make fun of both of them!

Wit: [eyes glinting] Aladar: W-We should make an alliance now, Renarin! Aladar: Together we can stand up even to this man! Renarin: Oh,  uh... Renarin: I actually already made an alliance with Wit this morning, when he asked. Aladar: NOOOOO

10. Abidi the Monarch, the Thrill, Tanavast

Okay, I'm sure your mind went immediately to "sheer destruction," but what if...?

Tanavast: Abidi! It's YOUR turn to walk the Thrill! The Thrill: [bouncing excitedly at the word "walk"] Abidi: Not now, you fool! There are people being wrong on the internet, and I must bathe in their blood! [sitcom laugh track] Abidi: And I keep telling you to call me Abidi the Monarch! Tanavast (muttering): More like Abidi the Moron. The Thrill: Arf! Arft! [sitcom laugh track] [Theme song starts playing, revealing the sitcom title: 3 Old Gods]

[nephilimeq]

Nobody Knows Me Like You

Prompt: Valentine's Day

@bucktommyfluffebruary

A03: https://archiveofourown.org/works/62721625/chapters/161567005

“Okay, this is getting ridiculous,” Howie muttered as Tommy swept past him to put his phone in front of Maddie, showing her the blender he’d found, saying, “So this is what I was thinking about, but I’m still not sure if Evan will like it,” feeling a flicker of apprehension as he tried to figure out what to buy for his boyfriend for Valentine’s Day.

Oddly enough, it was their first one. They had been together for six months and then had broken up for a few months—during which had been over Christmas and Valentine’s—which meant that they were celebrating together for the first time, and he had never been more nervous in his life. He had to find Evan something perfect. It needed to say that he knew him, loved him, and wanted to show him that he was planning on keeping him in his life for as long as he could…

…but without buying him a ring.

At least, not yet.

“It’s…nice,” Maddie said, sipping at her tea, and Tommy groaned and dropped his head to the counter with his arms out in front of him, holding onto his phone rather pathetically.

“Ugh, I’m gonna end up not getting anything for him at this rate,” he muttered. “Valentine’s day is in four days, and I still don’t have anything for him! Flowers and chocolate are too cliche. Jewelry is too much, a stuffed animal is too childish,” he began to list. “Clothes are too impersonal, a mixed tape or cd is too juvenile, fixing his car is something I would do anyway, and something handmade from me is like a 911 call just waiting to happen.”

At that, Howie laughed and interjected, “God, you’re pathetic! Look, you wanna know what to get him? I’ll tell you, but you’ll owe me…”

Tommy looked at his friend and simply let out a long sigh.

“You know what, I don’t care what I have to owe you, just help me…please.”

He knew he looked and sounded pathetic, but the airman no longer cared about saving face—all he cared about was getting Evan something that would make him happy. And if that meant owing one of his best friends an unknown favor, then so be it.

Howie then gave him an unnerving grin and said, “You’re gonna love this…”

--

Buck was scrambling. It was only three days before his first time celebrating Valentine’s Day with his boyfriend and he was terrified he was about to fuck it all up.

“I’m telling you, Eddie, I don’t know what to do!” he whined, and his friend rolled his eyes and said, “It’s just Valentine’s, man! It’s a commercialized holiday! I mean, sure, I’m a romantic at heart, but I’m also a pragmatist, and so is Tommy. He won’t take it personally if you don’t get him the ‘perfect’ gift, you know.”

He stared at his friend, trying to figure out why Eddie was being so blasé about the entire thing.

Buck was at his wit’s end trying to figure out what to get Tommy.

Helping Eddie with the hose, he explained, “Look, you need to understand that the two of us are celebrating our first Valentine’s Day together, despite us already living together, so it feels really different, you know? Instead of the low stakes of a first Valentine’s like most couples get to have, it’s more than that because we’ve been through so much already and we’re living together!” He tugged the last bit of the hose with a bit more force than necessary to emphasize his point. “Do you get that?”

“Okay, yeah, I kinda see your side of this,” his friend conceded…but then he added, “But at the same time, is there even a real reason to worry all that much? I mean, because you’ve been through so much together, you know you love each other, and so anything you can think of will surely be enough…”

Ugh. He hated it when Eddie made a good point.

He rolled his eyes and followed him into the rig, the warehouse fire put out behind them—and then had to deal with Chim and Hen attempting to give him advice on the way back, and he regretted ever opening his mouth.

“If you wanna get him something special, you could always go for some new cleaning supplies for his car,” Hen suggested, and Buck glared at her and replied, “It’s Valentine’s Day, not a random Saturday afternoon, Hen. That’s really the best you can come up with?”, which earned him a hard glare and Chimney suggesting, “What about a gift certificate to one of his favorite restaurants?”, which wasn’t a bad idea, per se, but it also felt a bit cheap considering he could probably cook him a better meal at home.

Deciding to incur the ire of another friend, however, he said, “Eh, maybe,” and decided to drop it.

--

Tommy stared at the wall of chocolate in front of him, wondering what Evan would like the most, feeling a rush of insecurity as he tried to decide between four different types of dark chocolate, feeling like a cheapskate because he genuinely couldn’t think of anything else.

Howie had told him what to get Evan—and he’d bought it—but it still didn’t feel like enough.

Actually, he wondered if his friend was pulling his leg because what he’d bought him had been far too simple and easy (though not something he would have thought of on his own), and so there the airman stood in the middle of the aisle of some fancy chocolatier shop in downtown L.A. that he had heard about through Sal’s wife, Maria. He had complained enough to Sal, that he had apparently complained to his wife, and she had called him earlier that day while on shift and told him about the place.

He stared down at the 72% dark chocolate bars, the aisle split up by percentages, and debated which flavor Evan would like the best.

The ones with chile and lime definitely seemed like something he would like…but then there was the blood orange, the blackberry medley, and the chicory, too…

…and Tommy finally snapped and got one of each, wincing as he thought of how much it was going to cost him. Four chocolate bars from this place was the equivalent of almost three quarters of a tank of gas and seemed wasteful—but he knew that Evan would at least appreciate the gesture, if nothing else.

“This better be worth it,” he muttered under his breath as he made his way to the register.

A minute later he was done, and he let out a sigh of relief as he got back into his truck and then headed back home. It was odd to go out and do things without his boyfriend now that they lived together, and he felt a faint tugging in his chest at the thought that he now had someone to come home to—though not at the moment, as Evan was still on shift and wouldn’t be home for a couple of hours, which gave him just enough time to wrap the chocolate bars and hide them away.

The second he walked through the front door, however, his phone rang.

“Hello?” he said, tucking the phone between his cheek and shoulder as he locked the door behind him, and a voice said, “Hey, Tommy. Have you already bought Buck his Valentine’s Day present?”

Eddie.

Letting out an exasperated sigh, he answered, “Yes, I have. Now, why are you really calling me?” as he shuffled the items around in his hands so he could talk to him without dropping anything, already moving towards the closet where he kept the gift wrapping, and his friend replied, “Your boyfriend is panicking. Doesn’t know what to get you, so he’s been asking all of us for ideas, and I think he’s still sorta…you know…freaking out in the way that only Buck can freak out…”

Of course, he was, he thought to himself, feeling a flicker of concern over his boyfriend’s state of mind, wishing he wouldn’t worry so much. Tommy honestly didn’t want anything, he just wanted to spend the day with Evan and enjoy the fact that they had each other.

“Of course, he is. What else would he be doing?” he said, putting a pink and red bag onto the counter and pulling out a random pile of white tissue paper, automatically wrapping as he continued to talk on the phone.

Eddie chuckled.

“Yeah, you know Buck—but at the same time, it’s kinda cute seeing him all worked up about what to get you. So, I’m biting the bullet and asking: what do you want?” he pressed, and Tommy could hear in his tone that he was being serious and was trying to do his friend a solid…and he felt rather useless as he admitted, “I just want to spend the day with him. Wrap him up in my arms and forget the world for a while, you know?”

There was a long pause, and he was suddenly afraid he had said too much.

…but then Eddie said, “Yeah, I get that, but still: what do you want?”

--

“Okay, you’re sure this is the right thing to get him?” Buck asked, shooting a glance at Eddie over his shoulder as they stood in front of the array of flowers in the flower shop, and his friend let out an exasperated sigh and rolled his head on his shoulders.

“For the hundredth time, yes! Now, will you just pick one so we can go? Also, why am I here for this?” he said as he reached out and looked closely at one of the tags on a bundle of roses, shaking his head.

Buck gave his friend a look.

“You’re here for this because you said you’d help me with Tommy’s gift. Now—roses or carnations?”

Eddie shook his head and said, “Neither. Both are overrated and Tommy would want something…different,” and Buck felt his irritation rise even further than before, the urge to turn around and punch him rising with every passing moment. “I mean, think about his favorite color—he goes for blue a lot, you know? So maybe something like…these,” he said, reaching for some blue flowers that shimmered enticingly, and Buck read the label, which said delphinium elatum.

“Blue? Really? But…it’s Valentine’s Day. I kinda feel like I should go for something pink or red, or even white, you know?” he hedged, still glancing over at the roses—and then was taken off guard when his friend suddenly bit out, “God, why are you so dense? He likes blue flowers because they remind him of your eyes! Fuck!”

Wait…what?

He felt an odd sensation on the back of his neck as he put things together, and he said, “Hold on, have you…Eddie, have you been talking with Tommy?” and his friend nodded.

“Yeah, yeah, I have, and can I just say that he has the patience of a saint putting up with you? I mean, my god! You have two days before Valentine’s Day and you’re freaking out over-over-over flowers, Buck!” he exclaimed, spreading his arms wide and causing a scene in the middle of the flower shop. “Do you have any idea how in love with you Tommy is? That man would be happy if you just showed up! I don’t think I’ve ever met someone so ridiculously in love as you two! You don’t need to do anything except show up!” he repeated, looking borderline pissed.

Buck shrunk in on himself slightly, once more feeling like the insecure eighteen-year-old who had run way from home, feeling equal parts chastened and grateful. While it hadn’t been the best way to say it, he could hear what Eddie was trying to tell him: that Tommy didn’t care what he got him because he loved him more than anything else.

“I think I’ll get the delphiniums,” he finally said with a grin, clapping Eddie on the shoulder.

“Oh, thank god. Can we go, now?”

Buck laughed and nodded and added, “Yeah, we can go. And thanks for putting up with me,” and Eddie snorted and shook his head and quipped, “Yeah, well, someone has to.”

--

It was Valentine’s Day and Tommy was putting the finishing touches on the present that he’d purchased, feeling a frisson of nerves at the thought of Evan not liking it—even though Howie had told him probably about a hundred times that his boyfriend would love it.

He stared at the ribbon that he’d tied around it, remembering the ribbon he’d put on the oven before he had surprised Evan with it.

“You’ve got this,” he muttered to himself in a pathetic attempt at a pep-talk. “You’ve got this…”

He moved over to the mirror and checked himself over, making sure he looked presentable as he listened to his boyfriend in the bathroom finishing getting ready. They were going out to dinner and so he had put on his black suit with a white button up underneath, not bothering with the tie. Evan had told him the last time that he had worn a suit that it had been the hottest thing he had ever seen, so he was indulging him and making sure that the evening would be a memorable one.

He had made reservations at a small place that he knew Evan had been wanting to try for a while.

…and just as he thought about possibly changing his jacket, Evan emerged from the bathroom fully dressed in his own charcoal suit with a deep red shirt that made his eyes pop, curls looking fresh, and he let out a low whistle and said, “Look at you, babe…damn. I can see that look in your eyes, don’t even think about changing! Those pants are awesome for your ass and that suit jacket makes you look good enough to eat…”

Tommy chuckled and turned and reached out to his boyfriend, pulling him in.

“Good to know. Speaking of eating, you ready to go?”

Evan nodded, his blue eyes sparkling, and the airman knew that it didn’t matter what he gave him, he was happy enough to have him in his life. Evan could give him the worst present in the world, and it wouldn’t have mattered—because he had him.

Smiling, he said, “Good, let’s go,” and quickly ushered him down the stairs and through the front door, present tucked inside his jacket.

His boyfriend had already greeted him with flowers when he’d come home, blue delphiniums that were the exact same shade as his eyes, and it was easily already the most romantic present that he’d ever been given, and he had told him that—and continued to tell him that as he drove them to the restaurant.

“Seriously, Evan. Those flowers are the most beautiful things I’ve ever received,” he repeated one last time as they dropped off the truck with the valet, and Evan rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, you’ve said that, like, ten times now.”

“So?”

He rolled his eyes a second time and drawled, “Sooo…can we please move past it? I just wanna have a romantic dinner with my boyfriend and talk about something stupid for the next couple of hours,” he said as he tugged at his hand, pulling him into the restaurant, and Tommy smiled indulgently at him and nodded and said, “Okay, sure. That sounds good to me,” and let him lead him into the restaurant, loving it when Evan took charge and said, “Two for Kinard,” and he felt his stomach flip at the thought of him having his last name one day.

Someday soon, he hoped.

--

Buck grinned as he made his way to their table, holding his boyfriend’s hand the entire way, feeling a giddiness about being out on Valentine’s Day with him. They had celebrated a few holidays as a couple, but Valentine’s Day was different from the rest—and they both knew it.

Actually, it was the first time he had ever been in a relationship during the holiday, and it made him feel an excitement he’d never felt before.

“And here’s your table,” the waiter said, and he nodded his thanks, and they sat down across from each other, a candle on the table.

Buck admired his boyfriend as he sat across from him, barely keeping himself in check. Tommy looked damn good every other day of the week, good enough that both men and women regularly hit on him…but right now?

Goddamn, he was barely keeping himself in check.

Tommy looked like pure sin sitting there in a pristine white button up that had the first few buttons undone, exposing the long column of his throat, and as he glanced down at the menu, Buck was completely distracted by the way the angle of the older man’s collar emphasized the sharp jut of his jawline and the exquisite cut of his cheekbones, his steel blue eyes glowing in the candlelight that lit the table between them, his black suit coat a stark contrast to his shirt.

Fuck, he wanted to jump him right then and there.

Marshalling what little control he had, he said, “So, uh…the appetizers look good, don’t they?” even though he hadn’t even glanced at the menu, the weight of it heavy in his hands as he kept on drinking in the sight of the man in front of him.

“Evan, you haven’t even looked at the menu,” Tommy said without even glancing up at him, and he nervously laughed.

“Yeah, yeah…good point.”

He looked down at the tiny font and pretended to scan it for a moment…but then looked back up and leaned in and whispered, “You look so damn good right now, I can barely concentrate, so is it alright if you just order for us?” and smiled when Tommy snorted and shook his head and said, “Oh, you are adorable…but, no,” and finally looked up at him. “If you let me order, I will purposely get you something you don’t like just to teach you a lesson, but I don’t want to do that because it’s Valentine’s Day, so please—please—just look at the damn menu.”

Buck slowly smiled and nodded and then actually took a good long look at the menu, his eyes alighting quickly on two things that he knew he would enjoy without having to deal with any unexpected surprises, and by the time the waitress came back to them, they both put in their meal orders, along with their drinks, and then he settled back in his chair and began to trace a finger around the edge of his water glass as he admired his boyfriend one more time.

“You really do look gorgeous tonight,” he said, thrilled when he saw a faint pink tinge in the other man’s cheeks.

“And you seem determined to make me make a fool of myself tonight. What about you, Mister Buckley?” he retorted, giving him an appreciative look over the edge of his water glass. “You are cutting a fine figure in that gray suit of yours…”

“It’s charcoal.”

Tommy arched an eyebrow at him.

“Oh, my bad.”

They shared a look…and then both broke out into giggles, and as they did, Buck felt Tommy’s real present burning a hole in his pocket and decided that he couldn’t wait until the end of the meal and quickly pulled it out and slid the slim box across the table and said, “I can’t wait until later. Here. This is for you.”

--

Tommy stared at the slim black box Evan had just pushed towards him, beautifully tied with a deep red ribbon into a slightly asymmetrical bow that felt delightfully ‘Evan’.

Curious enough to not ask him why he wanted to exchange gifts right at that moment, he simply nodded, and pulled the box towards him, gently tugging on one of the ribbons before lifting the lid…and then let out a soft gasp at the sight that greeted him.

Resting in a deep red velvet that matched the ribbon was a beautiful watch that he immediately recognized.

“Is that…Evan. How on earth did you…? How…?” was all he was able to get out as he gently removed it from its velvet cushion and brought it closer to the light of the candle so that he could admire the craftsmanship of it—as well as confirm that it was what he thought it was. “This…this is a Bell & Ross BR-03. This…is…it’s a work of art! How did you even afford this?” he found himself asking, hating that that was the first question he could think of, wincing at how it sounded.

But before he could correct himself, Evan was grinning and saying, “I, uh, I found a widow in the area who was selling her husband’s watches—he used to be a pilot—and saw she had one that looked exactly like one of the ones you showed me a couple months ago that you were saving up for, so I…I haggled with her a bit and I got it. You…you really like it?”

He shot him a look.

“Evan, I love it. It’s perfect,” the airman declared as he slid up both the sleeve of his coat and his shirt to put the watch on immediately.

He kept on glancing down at it and then back up at Evan, trying to understand how he had gotten so damn lucky to have a boyfriend like him. The watch was literally the most perfect thing that anyone had ever gotten him—everything down to even the material of the wrist band was exactly what he wanted.

“Yeah, well…I hoped you’d like it,” his boyfriend added with a bashful smile. Fuck, he was perfect.

…and now Tommy couldn’t help but feel that his own gift paled in comparison (even though Howie had told him several times over already that it was perfect).

Still, he managed to marshal his courage and pulled out a similar box from his own suit jacket and cautiously slid it across the table, his heart pounding in his chest as he watched Evan carefully untie the pink ribbon he had used…

…and his heart stopped when he lifted the lid.

“Tommy…”

The silence stretched. Oh, god. Was that good? Or bad?

“You got me a behind-the-scenes tour of Aquarium of the Pacific?!” he practically shouted, and he watched as his boyfriend nearly stood from his chair—but then suddenly remember that they were in a public place and stayed sitting, his gaze glued to the tickets in his hand, eyes wide as he pulled out the folded piece of paper underneath it that explained what all he would be seeing and when it was taking place (in exactly one month).

He quickly scanned it and then said excitedly, “Oh my god, this isn’t just a tour, this-this-this is a full private showing with their head trainer and their head researcher that works with the National Wildlife Foundation! Oh my god, Tommy…” He lifted his eyes back to his, and for a brief moment he swore he could see twelve-year-old Evan Buckley sitting in front of him. “…this is literally the best gift that anyone has ever given me in my life. Ever,” he repeated emphatically, reaching across the table with his free hand to grab at his own, their fingers tightening almost painfully. “How...how did…how did you know?? I’ve, I’ve never told anyone…wait. You talked to Chimney, didn’t you?” he accused, and Tommy nodded.

“Yeah, I talked to Howie. And apparently I now owe him one. Or two. Honestly, I don’t know what I owe him at this point,” he said, shaking his head and reaching for his water with his free hand. “But apparently it was the right call…”

They exchanged a look.

And then his boyfriend said, “This is gonna be hard to top. What are we gonna do next year?”

Get married, he thought to himself…but out loud he said just as Evan took a sip of his water, “Hole up in a hotel for two days and fuck each other silly, of course,” grinning when the younger firefighter coughed and nearly choked on his water, thrilled that he’d managed to garner such a reaction.

“That…that’s not a bad idea.”

Tommy shrugged and said, “Yeah, I occasionally have good ones from time to time, it’s been known to happen,” and right as he said that, their food arrived and they shared a quick grin and began to eat, tangling their feet together under the table as they did so, and the airman relished the intimacy and closeness, feeling like he had finally found the person who knew him inside and out, in every sense of the word, and made the mental note to start looking for rings.

God, he couldn’t wait to be married to that man.

--

Buck noticed his boyfriend giving him a dopey smile and asked, “What’s that smile for?” and he just shook his head.

“Nothing. Just…thinking about how much I love you.”

He suspected that wasn’t the entire truth…but he was okay with not knowing what he was really thinking. Hell, this was probably the most perfect night that he had ever experienced in his life, and he didn’t want to ruin it by pushing anything too hard. Besides, Tommy would tell him if something was really on his mind.

They finished dinner fairly quickly—and then Buck was thrilled when Tommy ordered them both dessert in fluent French, something that sounded decadent and sinfully good.

“Fuck, it’s hot when you pull out the French,” he said, unable to help himself, curling his ankle around the back of his, and his boyfriend gave him a look.

“Hot, huh? Want me to start using it in the bedroom? I can start calling you mon petit garçon,” he said as he smirked at him, and Buck felt his stomach flip and he knew that his eyes had dilated, and he tried his best to glare at him.

“Don’t…don’t do that. Not here.”

Tommy chuckled, the sound low, warm, and promising, and he felt it as if his boyfriend had just run his stubbled jaw along the inside of his thighs, the tone of his voice having the same effect on him, even from a distance, and he shifted in his chair to try and hide the effect that it was having on him. As he moved, however, his boyfriend shot him a knowing look, and Buck knew that he knew the effect he was having on him.

Smug bastard, he thought to himself.

Still reeling from the present Tommy had given him, he said one last time, “Seriously, this gift, it’s really…it’s really the most amazing thing anyone has ever gotten me,” and reached out for his hand across the table, feeling a sense of relief when his boyfriend squeezed his fingers and gave him a soft smile.

“I’m really glad you like it, Ev.”

He looked like he was about to say something else—but then dessert arrived, and Buck stared at the chocolate concoction that was placed on the table between them with two spoons and he marveled at it for a moment before saying, “Okay, now this…this looks like the best thing I’ve never had. What is this?”

“It’s called gâteau royal,” Tommy explained as he dug his spoon into it. “It’s made from almond meringue, praline feuilletine, and the top layer is dark chocolate mousse. It’s also sometimes called a Trianon because it has three layers…”

Buck took a bit and moaned at the rich flavor that exploded across his tongue.

Tommy shot him a look, one eyebrow raised.

“Evan…save those sounds for later.”

He smirked.

Yeah, this was the best Valentine’s Day ever.

[asthedeathoflight]

Hey guys its been a while and i really missed the blorbos so heres a fic from my drafts I've been sitting on for. A long time.

- - -

“I’m gonna go smoke.”

The silence still hangs in the air. The silence into which someone could have - but didn’t - say Ajax’s name. It’s been like this since That Night. The specter of Ajax haunting the conversation, Rembrandt pulling on her boots and zipping up her jacket and out the door again. It’s been weeks, and all Mercy has managed to learn about the Warriors’ tagger is that, based on the look Cleon gives her each time - half pleading, half disappointed - before That Night she had been trying to quit. She’s not trying now.

“Wait up! I’ll come with you.”

Swan shoots her a concerned look as Mercy pushes herself off the couch. It’s a don’t-do-anything-stupid kind of look. Mercy smiles her winningest and most reassuring smile back at her and hurries after where Rembrandt is pointedly not waiting for her.

Mercy catches up to her in the hallway, halfway to the stairs to the roof. It’s cold. Mercy didn’t grab a sweater. Rembrandt is wearing an oversized hoodie that Swan had mentioned in a late-night impassioned rant was actually Ajax’s.

So that’s the second thing Mercy knows about Rembrandt: that she smokes in Ajax’s jacket. Spite, Swan had called it. Ajax was never going to get the smell out, and she liked that jacket. Mercy isn’t so sure.

Rembrandt doesn’t shut the door to the stairs in Mercy’s face, which Mercy counts as basically an invitation. This is progress. The last few times Mercy has tried this, Rembrandt had turned a corner and vanished into thin air. The fact that Mercy can hear her footsteps in the stairwell - even if she’s taking them two at a time and quickly outpacing Mercy - means Mercy is getting through to her. Probably. Hopefully.

At the top of the stairs, Rembrandt is holding the door open. This, too, is progress. Mercy hasn’t figured out how to jimmy it yet, even though Swan has demonstrated the trick to her a few times. There’s a stormy look on Rembrandt’s face, like she’s considering letting it swing shut before Mercy gets there, but she keeps holding it open until Mercy’s made it through. They’ll be the best of friends in no time.

Rembrandt leans up against the railing, lighting a cigarette from the pack she keeps in the pocket of the hoodie. (This, Mercy has heard from Swan, too. Ajax was always throwing out Rembrandt’s cigarettes, Swan said. Nobody has been brave enough to start doing it in her absence.) She takes a long drag, and seems to deflate slightly on the exhale. Wordlessly, she holds the carton and lighter out to Mercy.

“Thanks,” Mercy says as she lights up. “For waiting for me.”

Rembrandt shrugs. “Did I have a choice?” She rolls her eyes. “You’re not gonna quit followin’ me.”

True. Mercy suppresses a smile as she blows out smoke. “Still. I know it hasn’t been easy for you. Me being here.”

Understatement of the century. Rembrandt narrows her eyes.

“And with Ajax-” Mercy understands why the others let the silence hang. Rembrandt kind of perks up when she says Ajax’s name, like a hunting dog that’s scented prey.

“What about Ajax?”

“Nothing! I just thought it might help, you know. Talking.”

Rembrandt is silent for a long time. “What do you want to know?”

“I dunno, I just- I know about the others but I don’t know anything about the two of you. I thought you might like talking about her. The two of you are so… different.”

It’s the wrong thing to say. Mercy can tell as soon as she’s said it. Something in Rembrandt’s expression shutters, goes dark.

“Different,” she echoes.

“I just thought you might-”

“Might fuckin’ what? Might wanna gossip with you while she’s away? Tell you all her secrets so when she comes back you can think you know everything you need to know about her?”

Mercy is momentarily stunned into silence. Rembrandt looks between them in disgust.

“What, because we’re the fucking girlfriends?” she spits. “This isn’t the Orphans, Mercy. I’m a Warrior. I’m not gonna talk about my crew behind their backs just ‘cause you’ve got some idea that me and you are on a team.”

They are on a team. They should be on a team. That’s what it means to be a Warrior. From the way she’d said girlfriends, Mercy doesn’t think Rembrandt totally agrees.

“I’m sorry-”

“You’re not sorry,” Rembrandt scoffs, “You got caught.”

“Don’t I have a right to want to know about the people in my crew? I’m just curious, that’s all!”

“And I’m tellin’ you I got nothing to say! You wanna know so bad, go ask Swan!”

Mercy has asked Swan. In her more peaceful moments, Swan can be cajoled into telling Mercy stories about the Warriors, Before. Mercy has heard the stories of Swan and Cowgirl’s initiations, how Cochise and Cleon met, even a few small snippets about Fox before Swan’s voice fails her. But every time Mercy tries to bring up Ajax or Rembrandt, Swan just gets sad. They’d been together awhile, is what Mercy had gotten out of her. It was good that they were together. The unspoken corollary: it’s bad that they’re apart.

“I just wanted to get to know you better, you don’t have to defend her from me-”

“Of course I do! God, why doesn’t anybody get that?” As Rembrandt raises her voice, there’s a growing edge of desperation to it. “I chose her. What do you think that means?”

“I don’t-”

“Everyone always thinks if they want to know about Ajax they should come ask me. Like I’m not-” Rembrandt cuts herself off in frustration. “I’m not gonna sit here and gossip with you like I’m not on her side. I’m always on her side. I don’t know why everyone acts like that’s surprising.”

“I’m sorry. I know how much she means to you.”

Rembrandt laughs humorlessly. “You have no idea. You’ve been with Swan what, a month? I’ve been with Ajax for seven years.” Rembrandt’s voice breaks. She has to take a breath before she can keep talking. “Do you remember what you were doing seven years ago? Where you were? Who you were with? I do. I was with Ajax. And I’m still-”

Her voice fails her. Mercy doesn’t know what to say.

“It’s not fair,” Rembrandt says, much quieter. “Nobody gets it.”

Mercy tries to remember junior high, imagine her homeroom crush still standing next to her after all these years. Tries to imagine her and Swan, close to thirty. Rembrandt is right. She can’t do it.

They’re quiet for a long time. After a few minutes, Rembrandt sighs.

“We’re not different, you know,” she mutters. “Everyone is always sayin’ that, but it’s not true.”

Mercy raises her eyebrows wordlessly.

Rembrandt scoffs. “Everybody thinks we’re polar opposites just ‘cause I get scared and she gets angry. But it’s not true. They just don’t… I don’t think they really see her.”

Mercy knows what that’s like. She lives with that every day, walking down the street with Swan, knowing that whatever the passersby are seeing, it pales in comparison to the real thing. She can’t imagine it coming from her own crew.

“Of course we act different,” Rembrandt says darkly, “Everyone fuckin’ treats us different all the time. Even when we’re the same. If I don’t wanna look people in the eye I’m just shy, but Ajax is disrespectful. If I can’t sit still I’m nervous, but she’s not paying attention. Everyone treats her like she’s doing something wrong just for existing. It’s not fair.”

“I’m sorry,” Mercy says, and she really means it, but Rembrandt isn’t having it.

“How can you be sorry? You don’t know her. You got to see her for a few hours when she was scared out of her mind. You don’t know me. You just won’t stop fucking following me because you can’t take a hint.”

“I’m-”

“What the fuck do you want from me?” Rembrandt asks. “Why can’t you just leave me alone?”

“Because my girlfriend’s in love with you!” It’s not what Mercy means to say. But it’s the truth. She’s not blind. She’d seen it That Night too, for just a second, the hurt that flashed over Swan’s face when she looked at Ajax and Rembrandt, curled into each other’s space on the subway. She’d thought maybe she was imagining it. But whenever Mercy looks at Swan, Swan is looking at Rembrandt. Talking about her jacket and her smoking habits and her houseplants in the middle of the night. Rembrandt has to know. She’s not stupid. Mercy likes Swan, but Rembrandt is going to be alone for a long time. She knows how her odds stack up if Rembrandt gets tired of waiting.

But Rembrandt is just looking at her, a little bit confused. She makes a little “hah” sound of disbelief, and it bubbles up and over over until she’s got her head thrown back, laughing. It’s not mean. She sounds genuinely amused. And, the thing is, it’s not like Mercy can’t see it. Especially right now, with the halo of gold in her hair from the streetlights. Rembrandt has always been beautiful in a kind of gloomy, morose way, but for a second Mercy can see what she must have been like, Before. So, like. She gets it.

Rembrandt leans back heavily against the railing, subsiding into giggles. “Oh my god,” she says, half to herself, “Oh my god, no wonder you’re obsessed with me.”

“I’m not-”

“It’s Ajax,” Rembrandt interrupts her, still smiling. Has Mercy ever seen her smile? She doesn’t think so. “Swan is in love with Ajax.”

Mercy’s look of disbelief sets Rembrandt off giggling again. “Of course you don’t know. Who would have told you? Hi, new girl. Have we mentioned your girlfriend is in love with somebody else? No, no, don’t worry about it. It’s old news.”

“How are you so… casual? About this?” Mercy knows she doesn’t have much of a right to get jealous after only a few weeks, but she can’t imagine ever laughing about something like this.

Rembrandt gets a little bit more serious looking at Mercy’s face. “Seven years, remember?” she says, a little softer, “I’ve always known. At the beginning, maybe, I thought she’d get over it, but-” She shrugs. “Swan isn’t built like that. She just grew around it.”

“Doesn’t that… worry you?”

Rembrandt looks at her in equal bemusement. “Worry about what?”

“Ajax changing her mind.”

Rembrandt blinks. “Ajax doesn’t do that. Besides, she and Swan- they were never gonna work out. Even before I met them. Ajax can’t love anyone who won’t run. Swan’s not a runner.”

And Mercy remembers, suddenly, that moment in the park when everything went wrong. Swan, rooted to the ground, not even looking at where Rembrandt and the others were fleeing. The way Mercy had needed to drag her away.

“Ajax needs someone who would leave her behind,” Rembrandt says simply. “And I would, and I did. No point getting poetic about it.”

“You had no choice,” Mercy says.

“Sure I did,” Rembrandt says, “I made the choice Ajax needed me to be able to make.”

“That’s morbid.”

“It’s just the truth.” She pauses, looking at Mercy like maybe she’s seeing her for the first time. “You’re not a runner, either. I can see why Swan likes you. You’re a lot like her.”

“Really?”

Rembrandt rolls her eyes. “Don’t sound so excited.”

[nameless-jamie]

Hiii, if you're not to busy would you write PA'S first day or so working for Jamie? I loved reading the interview and I'd love to see them getting to know each other, PA meeting the team and their first impression of her etc.

Thankssss ☺️

First Day

Masterlist

Jamie Tartt x fem! PA reader

A/N: Hi! Very good idea, here's a little view into Y/n's first day working with Jamie, time-wise it happens directly after The Interview.

TW: cursing

Y/N had worked for lots of difficult people before—divas, athletes, celebrities who thought the world revolved around them. But nothing quite prepared her for Jamie Tartt.

Not that he was difficult, necessarily. Just… a lot.

From the moment she stepped into Nelson Road for her first official day, Jamie was already waiting for her outside the locker room, arms crossed, looking far too pleased with himself.

“Oi, there she is. Thought you might change your mind, maybe chicken out,” he teased, falling into step beside her.

Y/N shot him a look. “Why? Because you’re so impossible to work with?”

“Nah.” Jamie grinned. “’Cause you’d be too busy thinkin’ about me, to get any work done, love.”

She let out a sharp laugh. “Right. Because that’s exactly what I was doing last night—thinking about my job.”

Jamie smirked, nudging her shoulder. “Don’t worry, love. You’ll get used to it.”

The locker room was loud—boots thudding against the benches, voices overlapping in easy banter. The second Y/N stepped inside, the energy shifted. It was her first day as Jamie's assistant and she knew nobody.

Dani Rojas was the first to react, practically bounding over. “New friend!”

Before she could respond, she was wrapped in a very enthusiastic hug.

“Dani, mate, let the girl breathe,” Isaac chuckled, pulling him off. He turned to Y/N with a grin. “Welcome to Richmond. You Jamie’s new babysitter?”

“Assistant, actually.” Y/N corrected.

“Same thing,” Colin muttered under his breath.

Jamie scoffed, draping an arm over her shoulder like they’d known each other forever. “She ain’t just anyone's assistant. She’s my personal assistant.”

“Poor thing,” Sam said with a sympathetic smile. “Do you need help escaping? Blink twice.”

Y/N smirked. “Don't worry, I signed up for this.”

Jamie turned to her, looking mock-offended. “You sayin’ workin’ for me’s a punishment?”

“I’m saying I’ll probably have my hands full,” she replied, arching a brow. “Which reminds me—you have a physio session in twenty minutes, followed by a media meeting.”

Jamie made a face. “Borin', let's not do that, huh?”

Y/N patted his chest with a saccharine smile. “Too bad, Jamie. You'll definitely do it.”

The locker room erupted with laughter.

“I like her,” Isaac said.

“She’s gonna put him in his place,” Colin added.

Jamie rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide his smirk. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. Just jealous that you don't have an assistant. You bought a shite car you can't even drive, instead!"

If Jamie was testing her patience, he was doing a great job.

By noon, she’d already dealt with his half-mumbled excuses for skipping meetings, misplaced gym bag “I swear I left it right there, Y/N”, and at least three attempts to distract her with compliments.

“You know,” he mused as she checked his schedule on her tablet, “it’s kinda nice, havin’ someone look after me.”

She didn’t look up. “So nice that you’re actually listening to me now?”

Jamie grinned. “Don’t push it, babe.”

She glanced at him, unimpressed. “Jamie.”

“Y/N.”

“Physio. Now.”

He huffed but stood up, stretching exaggeratedly. “Alright, alright. But only ‘cause you asked so nicely.”

Y/N shook her head as he strolled off, smirking like he’d won something.

Yeah. This job was gonna be interesting.

By the time Y/N managed to physically usher Jamie into the physio room—because apparently, telling him wasn’t enough—she was already reconsidering all her life choices.

“I don’t get why I gotta do this every day,” Jamie whined, plopping down onto the treatment table like a sulking child.

Y/N crossed her arms. “Because you’re a professional athlete, and keeping your body in top condition is kind of your job.”

Jamie smirked, stretching out in an unnecessarily dramatic way. “You checkin’ out my body, love?”

Y/N exhaled slowly. “You exhaust me.”

“I grow on people,” he replied, grinning. “Like mold.”

Before she could fire back, a gruff voice interrupted.

“The fuck is goin’ on in here? Tartt, you're not allowed to bring girls in here remember?”

Roy Kent stood in the doorway, arms crossed, looking deeply unimpressed. His sharp gaze flickered from Jamie to Y/N.

Jamie perked up. “Oi, Coach, this is Y/N—me new personal assistant.”

Roy grunted. “Christ. Higgins really got you a fuckin’ babysitter?”

“Assistant,” Y/N corrected, offering her hand. “Nice to meet you, Coach Kent.”

Roy eyed her, then her outstretched hand, before finally shaking it. “Yeah, you’ll quit in about a week.”

“Come on, Give me at least two,” she deadpanned.

Jamie cackled. “See? She’s funny.”

Roy muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like fuckin’ hell before jerking a thumb toward Jamie. “Make sure this prick doesn’t fuck up his knee again.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Y/N said, sending Jamie a pointed look. “I’ve got him under control.”

Jamie just wiggled his eyebrows at her.

After dealing with Jamie’s endless complaints about stretching and Roy’s ever-present scowl, Y/N finally managed to get a moment to herself—only for approximately three seconds before she heard:

“Oi, love!”

Y/N turned to see Jamie jogging toward her, still sweaty from training, grinning like he had nothing better to do than annoy her.

“You do know I have a name, right?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, yeah, Y/N,” Jamie said, testing out the sound of it like he was deciding whether he liked it. Apparently, he did, because he nodded approvingly. “Just makin’ sure you weren’t bored without me.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” she said dryly. “Your to-do list is very entertaining.”

Jamie groaned. “You’re obsessed with that thing.”

“I have to be,” Y/N shot back. “Otherwise, you’d be wandering around like a lost puppy.”

Jamie grinned. “Ah, so you care about me.”

Before Y/N could argue, a voice interrupted.

“Well, well, well, if it ain’t the person tasked with keepin’ Jamie Tartt in line.”

Y/N turned to find Ted Lasso and Coach Beard standing nearby, both watching the interaction with interest.

Ted stuck out a hand, his usual sunny grin in place. “Ted Lasso. Pleasure to meet ya.”

“Y/N,” she said, shaking his hand. “And trust me, keeping Jamie in line is a full-time job.”

Ted chuckled. “Oh, I believe it.” He glanced at Jamie. “She givin’ you a hard time already, buddy?”

Jamie scoffed. “Nah, she loves bossin’ me around.”

Beard, who had been silently observing, finally spoke up. “Think she’s got her work cut out for her.”

Ted nodded. “Yep. You ever try to wrangle a raccoon on Red Bull? ‘Cause that’s about what you’re dealin’ with here.”

Y/N smirked. “Sounds about right.”

Jamie gasped, placing a hand over his chest. “I’m sittin’ right here, you lot.”

Ted patted his shoulder. “We know, buddy.”

After the team finished training, Y/N spent the afternoon reorganizing Jamie’s schedule, answering emails he had blatantly ignored for months, and figuring out how the hell she was supposed to manage someone who thrived on chaos.

She was typing up notes on her tablet when Jamie dropped into the seat next to her, stretching his legs out.

“Busy?” he asked, peeking over at her screen.

“Very.”

Jamie hummed, tilting his head. “You’re good at this, y’know.”

Y/N glanced at him, surprised. “At what?”

He gestured vaguely. “Bossin’ me around. Keepin’ up. Most people just get annoyed and then they quit.”

She smirked. “Oh, don’t worry. I’m very annoyed.”

Jamie grinned, nudging her knee with his. “Still here, though.”

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide her smile. “For now.”

Jamie winked. “You sure you'll last longer than a week?”

Y/N leaned in slightly. “I bet I’ll last longer than you think.”

Jamie’s smirk widened. “We’ll see, love.”

And with that, she realized something very important—

This job?

Yeah. It was gonna be interesting. Life-changing even.