#all of the words or none of the words that's how it goes

[motorsportbarbie13]

A Package Deal - Part 6 (the finale)

Our time has come, this labor of love is *finished* (at least for now, i could probably be convinced to return to these loves soon)

warnings: none pairing: lando x singlemom!reader word count: 2k words

- A Package Deal - A Package Deal - Part 2 - A Package Deal - Part 3 - A Package Deal - Part 4 - A Package Deal - Part 5 - Master List

yourusername (private) posted

yourusername cold but happy carlossainz still can't believe you convinced Lando to spend Christmas in the cold. >>>yourusername oh it wasn't me! Stella said she wanted to learn how to ski, next thing I know he's booking a 2 week trip to Switzerland! >>>landonorris what my girl wants, my girl gets. 🤷🏻

Christmas, 2025 "Momma, are you sure Santa knows to bring my presents here this year and to not leave them at home?" The concern etched on Stella's face has you grinning into your wine glass.

"Yes, my darling." You assure her, patting her head as she snuggles deeper into Lando's side. "I wrote him a letter weeks ago, remember? You were with me when we mailed it! When you wake up tomorrow morning, all of your presents will be underneath that tree right over there."

This had been Stella's number one concern ever since Lando had announced that he'd booked a house at one of the most exclusive resorts in Gstaad, Switzerland for the Christmas holiday. You had spent a significant amount of time since discussing the fact that yes, Santa did know she wasn't going to be at home this year and yes, he would be able to deliver her presents here instead.

You had been in the mountain town for a few days now, spending nearly every waking moment on the slopes. It was beginning to feel routine, the way you all woke up around the same time and had breakfast together before getting your snow gear on and heading out onto the mountain. You had enrolled Stella in ski school that first day, despite Lando's protests that he could absolutely teach her to ski by himself, and she was thriving. It took a Herculean effort to get her off of her skis every evening but you were happy Stella was having fun.

Today you had managed to get Stella off the mountain early in order to go to dinner with Max and Pietra, who were also staying at the resort for Christmas. Max's initial reservations about Lando dating a single mom had long since evaporated into thin air, after he had seen how much both Stella and Lando adored each other this year. By the middle of the summer, you and Pietra had also become much closer as well, so you enjoyed traveling with Lando's friends who you now considered yours as well.

There was a crackling fire in the huge fireplace that took up most of the external wall of the large four bedroom chalet-style home and above the fireplace, Elf played on the tv. Stella was snuggled up between you and Lando, her head buried underneath Lando's arm, while her feet were stretched across your lap. Lando's arm is flung over the side of the couch, his fingers tangled in yours as his thumb brushes soft circles over the back of your hand. After a few days with a lot of activity, it felt nice to finally spend the evening relaxing in the quiet of your own space.

As the credits to Elf begin to roll, you tap Stella's feet, a signal that it's time to get moving. "Come on, baby girl, it's time for bed. Go brush your teeth and then I'll be in to read more of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory and tuck you in, okay? The sooner you get to sleep, the faster Santa comes!"

Stella stretches out her legs and whines, sounding a lot like a cat after it wakes up from a long nap. "I want Dad to tuck me in tonight."

The entire world goes still as you suck in a breath at the name she just used for the very first time. On the other side of the couch, you see Lando freeze too, gaze snapping straight to you as his fingers tighten around yours. The request has your heart squeezing in your chest, a response to her question simply unable to form in your brain.

Stella senses the mood shift in the room and glances up first at you and then over at Lando. "What? Can't Daddy tuck me in just this once?"

Daddy.

Lando's stomach does a somersault up into his throat as he grips onto your hand for reassurance. Had she just...

It really shouldn't have been a surprise, he'd realize later once Stella was fast asleep and you were curled up in his arms in your shared bed. Ever since Silverstone back in July, Lando had practically moved in to your house in all but name. He'd decided to rent out his Monaco apartment to one of the new rookie drivers next season, choosing to remain full time in England where you were. The teachers and parents at school all knew him not as Lando Norris, Formula 1 driver but as the man that often picked up Stella from school whenever he was able to. Stella's teacher had even begun including him on her weekly email newsletters she always sent out on Friday afternoons. He was as ingratiated into this family as both you and Stella were.

But hearing her call him dad for the first time? The new title did something to Lando's heart that he wasn't sure he'd ever recover from.

Emotion claws at his throat as he struggles to find the simple words to answer her request.

"Of course he can, honey." You whisper, seeing the shock and adoration sit heavy on Lando's face. Your own voice is with thick with emotion too. "Do you need help finding some jammies to change into?" You ask as Stella slowly gets up from her little nest between you and Lando.

"Dad can help me." She says with a shrug, as if the name is the most natural thing in the world.

Lando moves to get off the couch as Stella pads down the hallway, the brand new teddy bear she had conned him into buying at a shop today tucked into the crook of her elbow. He squeezes your shoulder as you look up at him, brilliant smile stretching over your face.

"You okay?" You ask as he rounds the couch, following behind Stella, dazed look still on his face.

Lando rubs at the back of his neck, stopping for a moment before turning back to you. His eyes shimmer with tears as he glances behind him and then back at you. "I think so...is...is that okay with you? Her calling me..." He pauses, trying to work his mouth around the next word, "dad like that?"

You're surprised to see concern flit across his face, like you could possibly be upset at what had just happened. "Lando." You murmur, rising from the couch to stand in front of him. You slip your arms around his neck, pulling him in for a kiss. His lips are warm despite the fact that his kiss is hesitant at first. He quickly reads the emotion you pour into him though: confidence, love, desire. All of it positive and he knows without needing to hear anything vocalized that you're just happy about his new title as he is.

You tuck your head into his neck, nuzzling at the warm spot you love so much. "She loves you so much and so do I. You're the best thing that could have ever happened to us, Lando Norris."

Lando chuckles. "I think it's the opposite way around, my love. You two are the best thing that could have ever happened to me."

"DAAAAAAD" From the end of the hall, Stella's little voice calls out and you both can't help the laugh that pulls you apart. "I'm waaaaaaiting!!! Stop kissing Momma and come read to me!" She demands.

"The Princess awaits." Lando mutters before giving you one last peck on the cheek and turning away to walk down the hall towards Stella's room.

Over an hour later and you're 2 glasses of wine deeper than you were when Lando left you, still sitting alone on the couch. You're beginning to think he's fallen asleep putting Stella to bed only because you've done the same thing countless amounts of times over the years when you hear the door to her room whisper open.

"You were in there a long time." You murmur as Lando sits down on the couch before he pulls you into his lap. You set the wine glass down on the side table next to you so you can wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you.

"Stella and I had some things to discuss." He says lightly.

Lando's body relaxes as he tucks his head into your neck. If there's one thing you adore about your boyfriend you'll adore until the ends of time it's how affectionate he is. He's always touching you when you're near and he never gives half-hearted hugs, they're something he pours his full body into. The same goes with cuddling, it's never halfway with Lando when it comes to physical affection and you simply cannot ever get enough.

"Oh?" You laugh, grinning at him. "And what are you two plotting now?"

Lando shifts, glancing away as if he's nervous to answer your question. "Stella calling me dad just had me thinking about things..."

You lift an eyebrow. "Things?"

"Yeah" Lando nods. He takes a deep breath and pulls you closer into his chest. "I just got to thinking and maybe it’s time we make things official."

"What are you talking about?" Confusion has you pulling away from him so you can look at him. There's a small smile playing at the corner of his mouth and you have to resist the urge to kiss him, despite the fact that you are fully lost as to what he's talking about. "You’ve been calling me your girlfriend for months now?"

He chuckles, shaking his head. "No, I mean official official. With this." Lando lifts his hips off the couch and pulls out a black velvet box from his pocket. For the second time that night, your heart stalls in your chest, world tilting a bit on its axis.

"Lan." You whisper before sucking in a breath as he opens the top of the ring box. Nestled in the black velvet sits the most gorgeous ring you'd ever laid eyes on. It's simple and perfect and something you would have picked out on your own had you been let loose in a jewelry store.

"Marry me, baby." Lando's voice is thick, anxiety and nerves evident in every syllable that comes out of his mouth. "I never want to go back to a world where you and Stella aren't in my life. Stella sees me as her dad, I hope you can see me as your husband and father of the rest of our babies one day. I love you so much l. Spend the rest of your life with me?

It's a wonder the sound of your heart clattering against your ribcage doesn't wake Stella up it's so loud. Blood rushes past your ears so loudly, the sounds of the house are muffled for a moment and all you can do is stare at Lando. He doesn't move, a look of anxiety and love and hundreds of other emotions sitting so plainly on his face you can barely form a thought.

"Of course. Oh my god. Of course." Your right hand finds his cheek and you frame his face with your hand as he takes your left hand before slipping the ring on your finger. A perfect fit.

"Yeah?" A wash of relief crashes over Lando because for a moment he thought you were about to reject him.

When he had finished reading a chapter of Stella's book to her, he had as casually as he could brought up the idea of them being a family for real next year. Stella had been a bit confused, asking him if the weren't already a real family but Lando had quickly explained he meant he wanted to marry you but only if Stella thought that was a good idea because she was part of their family too and what she thought mattered to him just as much as what you thought.

You nod, laughing through your tears before crashing your lips to his in a heated kiss. "Yeah." You mutter against his mouth.

"I was going to do this tomorrow morning" Lando pulls away, glancing down at your hand that's still captured between his. "But it just felt right tonight. Stella was so excited, she started asking what kind of dress she’d get to wear at the wedding."

"Oh Lando." You coo before you allow him to lay you down on the couch, kissing you as he goes.

yourusername (private) posted

123 likes liked by BFFSarah, CarlosSainz, yourdad, and others yourusername mrs. norris has a nice ring to it, doesn't it? 😘 BFFSarah OH. MY. GOD. I'm sobbing. Bestie. I love you. I love him. I love Stella. I'm so happy for you!!! >>>yourusername ❤️❤️❤️ thank you babes >>>BFFSarah sorry, back again to tell you holy SHIT that ring!! @/landonorris you did good!! >>>landonorris why thank you! ☺️

landonorris posted

1,098,874 likes liked by yourusername, mclaren, zakbrownceo, and others landonorris santa can't compete with my present this year zakbrownceo congratulations to both of you!!! we'll have to throw a little party when you're back in the new year! >>>yourusername thanks zak!! you are too good to us! user009 the gold digger got what she wanted...how long til she's knocked up with baby number 2? gotta get that bag somehow... >>>user221 seriously. bro fell for the oldest trick in the book. fucking gross. >>>user223 hey so this is a fucking WILD thing to say about someone you don't even know so publicly. JESUS. user928 OH MY GOD THEY'RE ENGAGED user230 we're going to get dad lando content FOREVER >>>user929 the way i live for stella/lando content and now we get even MORE??? Yes please!!!

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[ignis-sama]

For my canon self (I mean Yotsuyu)

Gluttony

Lychee (Rokakaka and spicy food too, but he absolutely loves lychee)

2. Rokakacake (yes, you read that right), anything spicy and, obviously, lychee

3. If it's lychee, don't count on him to share it. If it's anything else, he'd let others have it.

4. He doesn't eat a lot.

5. He doesn't care about food that much.

6. Only 1

7. Cherry coke (obviously) and tea

8. Tomoki gives him silicon-infused water. Whether or not Yotsuyu actually drinks it is up to interpretation.

9. Cherry coke... just the thought of it makes him drool.

10. Let's say he enjoys sake a normal amount.

11. No.

12. Maybe?

Greed

He has a manga collection. Most are horror-related (Junji Ito, Shintaro Kago, Usamaru Furuya, ...)

2. No.

3. His job is rather well paid so his financial situation would be considered good.

4. His species don't really care about money (Damo's an exception, but well... it's Damo so it's not surprising)

5. Wu manages his account so...

6. He keeps it a secret because Damo tends to steal money from him.

7. He sometimes goes to the mall with Mitsuba so they can buy stuff for their respective partners. No need to say they always end up carrying bags full of various things (clothes, food, drinks, books, ...)

8. No.

9. Possibly.

10. Would he steal money? No. Would he steal a victim from Damo? Absolutely.

Wrath

cw: sh & sa mention

Only if it's someone he'd really enjoy to make suffer.

2. He doesn't show when he's angry but tends to harm himself a lot, saying it's not that bad since he can't feel pain. If he's really furious, only Tomoki's able to calm him down.

3. Karma? Pff, he believes in calamity and nature. If nature wants to get rid of someone, good or evil, it'll do it.

4. He doesn't like to fight. His methods are more... elaborated.

5. He becomes extremely violent if someone tries to sexually assault him just to "see what's in his pants".

6. Depends on his mood.

7. He makes people suffer for fun, yes.

8. None.

9. Oh, he killed a lot of people.

10. He's a huge sadist. In fact, he's even worse than Damo.

Pride

No.

2. Architecture, obviously, and tormenting humans.

3. No, but only because he doesn't understand human morals.

4. Only with people he likes.

5. If he hurts someone he doesn't like, or even know, he doesn't feel remorse. Rock humans are sociopaths after all.

6. No.

7. He doesn't like to brag.

8. He looks down on humans because they're humans. To him, rock humans will always be better.

Sloth

He doesn't feel lazy, only tired when he's about to start hibernating.

2. No.

3. If it counts : washing Damo's clothes. Couldn't he do it himself?

4. His hibernation period often lasts a month, though he sometimes has to sleep longer.

5. He's a perfectionist so...

6. Depends on his mood and whether his boyfriend's at home.

7. Indifferent

8. He's not the type to complain anyway...

9. Non applicable (he hibernates)

Envy

If someone tries to steal his boyfriend from him, he turns Yukako-mode.

2. Tomoki belongs to him and him alone.

3. No

Lust

Tomoki and him often enjoy intimate moments together, mostly after work when they're both home.

2. Gay and demisexual

3. He's extremely kinky. Between oculolinctus, choking, eye penetration, dollification and medical play, he wouldn't be able to choose his favorite.

4. He doesn't care about words. With how silent he is in the bed...

5. He's unable to (the rock boy has no genitalia, y'see?)

6. Low

7. If his partner doesn't want to have sex, he'd understand. He's not the kind to ask for it anyway.

8. He actively avoids talking about it. To him, it's a human thing he'd never be able to understand.

9. His first time was with Wu Tomoki, when they started dating. Yotsuyu was extremely nervous but it went well.

seven deadly sins headcanons

because i'm tired of sinday memes being all about sex. send a category + a number. warning: some of the questions in the lust section are nsft. that's why it's at the bottom.

gluttony - - -

what could your muse eat all the time without ever getting tired of it?

a feast of all your muse's favorite foods is laid out in front of them. what's on the menu?

is your muse the type to leave the last bit of food for someone else, or to take it for themselves before someone else can claim it?

does your muse frequently overeat?

does your muse go back for seconds? thirds? fourths?

how many meals and snacks does your muse eat in a day?

what are your muse's go-to beverages?

does your muse drink enough water?

does your muse drink many sugary drinks, like soda or juice?

is your muse a heavy (alcohol) drinker? if so, what do they drink? in what situations do they drink? do they know their limits? do they stop at their limit, or go past it?

is your muse addicted to caffeine? if so, what is their preferred caffeinated beverage?

does your muse have a sweet tooth?

greed - - -

what does your muse collect, if anything?

is your muse prone to hoarding anything?

what is your muse's financial situation? what are their financial goals?

is money important to your muse? why or why not?

how much money does your muse keep in their checking account at any given time? if your muse keeps cash, how much do they usually have in their wallet? does your muse carry coins around? what is the limit on their credit card, if they have one? do they have multiple credit cards?

does your muse have good savings habits? how much do they currently have saved up?

is your muse prone to shopping sprees? if so, what do they usually indulge in buying?

is your muse in debt? if so, are they managing it well, or are they struggling?

would your muse throw others under the bus/step on others if it meant they could find more success/make more money?

would your muse steal anything?

wrath - - -

does your muse like to get revenge on those they feel have wronged them?

how does your muse handle anger? do they have anger issues? how do they manage or vent their anger?

does your muse believe in karma?

did your muse get into fights as a kid? do they get into fights as an adult? if your muse never got into fights before, would they in the name of self defense?

what, if anything, provokes your muse to violence?

does your muse believe that violence can solve some problems? or are they more a "violence is never the answer" type? somewhere in-between?

does your muse destroy things for fun, or to let off steam?

was your muse a bully? or were they bullied themselves?

has your muse ever considered murdering someone? or have they actually gone through with murdering someone?

does your muse enjoy hurting others, whether it be physically or emotionally?

pride - - -

does your muse believe they are the best at everything, even if that belief is unwarranted?

in what areas might your muse be a little overconfident? are they overconfident in the sense that they don't have the skills to back it up, or in the sense that they do have the skills but they are obnoxious in their confidence?

does your muse accept responsibility for their actions when they have done something wrong?

is your muse comfortable with apologizing to others?

does your muse feel remorse? if so, how do they express it?

has your muse every blown off preparing for something because they were confident they could complete the task without preparation? if so, what was the situation?

is your muse prone to bragging? what do they brag about?

does your muse look down on others they perceive as being "not as good" at things as they are?

sloth - - -

on what day(s) does your muse feel most lazy? at a specific time of day, or all day?

is your muse prone to procrastination?

what chores/responsibilities does your muse avoid doing at all costs?

how many hours of sleep does your muse get? do they feel rested after, or are they still tired?

once your muse gets started doing something important, do they drag their feet, take many breaks, and ultimately prolong the task? or do they work as quickly as possible, at the sacrifice of a quality job? or do they work efficiently without sacrificing quality?

does your muse put on real clothes every day, or only if they have to go out?

if your muse could get away with wearing pajamas all day every day, would they?

does your muse complain about responsibilities a lot?

is your muse the type to get up on time on their own or with an alarm? are they the type to hit snooze over and over?

envy - - -

does your muse get jealous easily, or does it take a lot for them to feel it?

what kinds of things does your muse get jealous about?

does your muse compare themselves to others often? if so, how does it affect them?

lust - - -

is your muse sexually active? if so, how often do they have sex? how many partners do they typically have at one time? if not, why not?

what is your muse's sexuality? if asexual, are they sex favorable, sex indifferent, or sex repulsed?

is your muse vanilla, or are they kinky? if kinky, what are their top three kinks, and why do they like them? if vanilla, what position(s) does your muse have sex in?

what sex-related words turn your muse on? what words make them cringe?

does your muse masturbate? if so, how often, and how do they get themselves off? if not, why not?

does your muse have high, medium, or low libido?

is sex compatibility a dealbreaker for your muse in a relationship? why or why not?

how does your muse feel about one-night-stands?

what was your muse's first time having sex like? who was it with, why did they choose that person, where did it take place, how old were they, and what happened?

[marauder-misprint]

hiii I was wondering if I could get a sirius black x reader where reader is slytherin except she's a relatively decent person and just kinda ignores everyone and keeps to herself and like a singular friend (who could be a guy maybe for the sake of jealousy induced tension even though it isn't romantic between her and the friend) but like sirius is still a flirt except he's into reader and just crazy in denial about it because he's trying to distance himself from everything even remotely reminiscent of his family including house slytherin + him and the marauders all just kinda assume her and her friend are bad people because of their house- and reader maybe has always admired sirius because he's funny and brave and hot and just a goof and it's just this bundle of misunderstanding and angsty teens and 'reluctant' pining and inner turmoil and then they finally get together or at least on the same page at the end (whether that be due to the aforementioned jealousy induced tension or not)

oh goodness, I got carried away with this one. Regrets? None. Thank you so much for this request ❤︎

Tutoring

Sirius Black x Fem!Slytherin!reader

5k words

cw: fluff, Y/N, some angst

Days like today made you glad that your best friend, Lucas, was your partner in Herbology. Professor Sprout had given you a work day to tend to your plants. Lucas’ green thumb ensured that you weren’t doing any of the work beyond writing down the occasional note that he dictated to you as he pruned the various plants in front of you. He hadn’t said anything in a while and you were absentmindedly stroking your quill. The heat of the greenhouse half-lulled you into a daydream as you stared into the distance. As much as you’ve liked to say you weren’t looking at anything, or anyone, in particular, it would’ve been a lie. Sirius was being less helpful than you were on the other side of the greenhouse. He was flirting with some Ravenclaw girl while Remus took care of their plants by himself. Every so often, especially when the girl let out a shrill giggle, Remus sent the two of them a harsh look. 

“Staring at him’s not gonna get you anywhere,” Lucas said, clapping his gloves together to get some of the extra dirt off of them before removing them. 

“I don’t need to get anywhere,” you replied halfheartedly. “He’s just… pretty.”

Lucas sighed. “You’ve told me. But don’t forget how he’s funny and captivating and cool and brave and silly and a goofball and loyal and, oh, the list goes on!” he teased you, his voice having switched into a falsetto the moment he started listing off all the characteristics you had mentioned to him at one point or another.

“Shut up,” you said with no bite to your words. “How’re the plants? Growing as expected?”

“Better than expected. As long as you can handle some of the written part, we are getting O’s for sure.”

You smiled as you threw your arms around him. “This is why we’re best friends!”

“Because I don’t let you kill our plants?”

“Well, it’s certainly not for your potion making skills.”

Lucas laughed. You had figured out years ago that Lucas was superior in Herbology and you in Potions and then proceeded to make a pact to carry the other in their lesser subject. Lucas, however, had the good sense to not carry on with N.E.W.T. level Potions while you were stuck in N.E.W.T. level Herbology because it was required for your desired profession. 

You slid some parchment toward Lucas to look over and give his approval too. Once he did, you got up to hand it to Professor Sprout. By the time you got back to your station, Lucas had packed up both of your things and you were free to leave class early. Lucas casually threw an arm over your shoulder as you exited the greenhouse together.

From across the greenhouse, Sirius watched you and Lucas leave. He kept his eyes on you until the door closed behind you, and even then, he continued to stare at where you had been. The Ravenclaw in front of him realized that she lost his attention and turned back to her partner looking a bit deflated. Once Sirius came back to the present and noticed the Ravenclaw wasn’t batting her eyelashes at him anymore, he turned back to Remus to see if he could help.

Remus waited until the Ravenclaws next to them left before asking Sirius about what had happened.

“Earlier, something distracted you. What was it?” 

“Huh?” Sirius replied, looking up from the leaf that Remus had just removed from the plant closest to him.

“You were flirting with Marie and then you trailed off and ignored her for like a solid minute. What caught your eye?”

“Oh… Nothing. Just saw someone leaving and wondered why we were still working.”

Remus narrowed his eyes at Sirius; he was sure the darker haired boy was lying to him.

“Maybe we’d be done if you actually helped me instead of recounting your latest duel to every girl who looks at you.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Of all the girls who had managed to catch Sirius’ eye, you were the one he didn’t talk about with the boys. Part of it was because he didn’t know much about you, but he did know two things: you had a boyfriend and you were a Slytherin. Both of those told him to stay away from you. Boyfriends, especially ones as clingy as yours appeared to be, didn’t like when he flirted with their girls. And you were a damned Slytherin. The house’s reputation was enough to make him wary, but he avoided anything that could connect him with his family and he was the first Black to not be sorted into Slytherin. So he decided that you were just a pretty girl and that’s all you were. 

---

The weekend brought warm weather, sending students out to the school’s grounds. You and Lucas picked a shady spot a little ways from the Black Lake. Unfortunately, some of the boys from your year decided that you had picked a great spot and came over to talk to Lucas. He was friendly with them. You tolerated them during times like these; you didn’t really have any other friends to spend time with.

The boys made cruel jokes and discussed some of the curses they had read about in books from the restricted section. You didn’t care for the conversation. You leaned deeper into Lucas’ side. His hand found yours and gave it a reassuring squeeze. He knew you’d rather they not be there.

The Marauders were sprawled out closer to the lake. Other Gryffindors relaxed within a stone’s throw of them. They were a magnet for the other students in their house and then some. 

Every once in a while, one of the Slytherins’ voices would carry and everyone would hear the horrid things they were talking about. This confirmed what Sirius thought of the house, and consequently, you. You were over there after all, listening and not saying anything. From the distance, Sirius couldn’t see you giving pleading looks to Lucas, silently asking him if you could move and go somewhere else. And even if he could see that, it would only confirm his belief that you were dating the boy. 

Mulciber and Wilkes started discussing which curses they’d like to use on the muggleborns. Their descriptions got increasingly graphic and you had enough. Using Lucas’s shoulder to steady yourself, you stood up and began to walk away toward the castle. You rather waste the beautiful day alone and inside instead listening to that filth.

“Y/N! Don’t go, the conversation is just getting interesting!” Avery shouted at you. When you didn’t acknowledge him, he continued, “Why, you little bi-”

You turned around in a flash, wand out.

“Stupify!” 

You weren’t dumb. You knew he was reaching for his wand and you’d be damned if you didn’t protect yourself. You shot a warning glance around the group, lingering longer on Lucas where he still sat against the tree. You sighed and continued on your way. You knew you had more eyes on you than you preferred; casting a spell in the middle of the grounds drew attention, especially when the spell was aimed at the likes of Avery. 

Sirius was one of those who watched the whole thing go down. He hadn’t heard what the final straw was for you but you had his entire attention from the moment you stood up. He was rather impressed with how far Avery had flown backwards. 

After you doubled your distance from the group of Slytherins, Lucas got up and jogged to catch up to you. He didn’t throw arm around you like he usually did, instead opting to shove his hands into his pockets and keep his head down. 

Once again, Sirius couldn’t take his eyes off of you until you disappeared out of his sight. The whole area had gone silent and Sirius wasn’t the only one watching you go. Others were watching the Slytherins compose themselves. 

“One helluva stupify,” James mumbled as the conversations around them resumed. 

“Also not something you see every day,” Remus added. “Slytherin against Slytherin.”

Sirius just stared in the direction you had walked. You were just a pretty girl. A pretty girl who didn’t hesitate to stun your peer. And James was right, it was an impressive Stupify. 

---

“I’ve yet to meet a nice Slytherin,” Peter complained from the boys’ potion station in the back of the classroom. “Lily and Marlene say they aren’t all that bad, but there’s no bloody proof.”

“Meadowes is… cool,” James said, choosing his words carefully. 

“Cool! Not nice,” Peter said, pointing an accusing finger at James as if he only furthered Peter’s point. 

“I don’t think anyone is describing Meadowes as nice,” Sirius said. For a reason he didn’t want to name, he felt himself looking in your direction, where you were diligently working alone. ‘No boyfriend in this class,’ he thought.

“Describing any of your cousins as nice, Padfoot?” James asked with a teasing voice. 

Sirius just rolled his eyes. Maybe Andromeda, but he didn’t know her all that well. He was convinced that any relative that might’ve been actually worth meeting never showed up to family gatherings. 

“Vicious. That’s what they are,” Peter said firmly, tracing a finger down the instructions of the potion they were supposed to be concocting. “Meadowes can be described as that.”

“Whatsername too,” Sirius said, still looking at you. “The one who stupified Avery the other week.”

“Doesn’t matter who’s on the receiving end,” Peter sighed. 

At the end of the lesson, Sirius went to give a vial of the group’s potion to Slughorn while the other two cleaned up and returned the extra ingredients to the communal store. 

“Ah, Mister Black, might I have a word?” Professor Slughorn asked as Sirius handed him the vial. 

“Uh, yes, sir. As long as it doesn’t take too long. Transfiguration next.”

The professor nodded. “I’ve asked Miss Y/L/N if she’d be willing to… ah, tutor you.”

Sirius’ face soured. “Tutor me?”

“Your latest exam results are a tad disappointing to say the least, Mister Black. I asked Miss Evans first but she has prefect duties, as you know. And I’d be ignorant to ask Mister Snape. Miss Y/L/N has accepted and I expect you to treat her… kindly. If you wish to pass this class, take these sessions seriously.”

Professor Slughorn handed Sirius a piece of parchment with a series of dates, times and topics on it. It didn’t seem like he had any say in the matter. Sirius groaned but nodded before he turned to gather his things and hurry to Transfiguration. James and Peter hadn’t waited for him.

Sirius was reduced to grumbling to himself by the time he fell into his chair next to James; Remus and Peter sitting at the desk in front of them turned around to look at him.

“What took you so long?” Peter asked.

“Sluggy assigned me a tutor.”

“It’s not Snivellus, is it?” Remus grimaced. 

“Godric, no, thank Merlin,” Sirius groaned. “Still a Slytherin though…”

“What’s Evans up to? Why can’t she?” James asked quickly, glancing toward the redhead a couple seats away. 

“Prefect duties,” Sirius moaned.

“So,” Remus started slowly, “who is it? What Slytherin does Slughorn think you won’t murder?”

“Her,” Sirius said with a jerk of his head. “Y/L/N.”

As usual, you were sitting with Lucas. Your back was to the boys, but Lucas saw all of them turn to look at you.

“Why are those Gryffindors staring at you?” he whispered, as if the Marauders could somehow hear him from halfway across the room. 

“Slughorn is having me help Black with Potions. Said something like if I could manage to get you an acceptable for your O.W.L.s, I should have no problem with Black,” you sighed, giving Lucas a teasing nudge.

“Huh,” was all Lucas said, but his lack of words were replaced with a death glare that he continuously sent towards Sirius, like he requested you personally to tutor him

---

You were waiting for Sirius in the Potions classroom for the first session. He was late, but you expected as much. You readied everything you thought you might need, which was a lot given how little Slughorn told you about where Sirius was struggling. Now, you waited, twirling your wand around in your hand. 

“Sorry, ‘m late.”

You sat up straighter as footsteps approached you. There was a thud of a bag on the floor. Then Sirius slid onto the bench next to you, carefully looking at everything you had laid out. 

“How many potions we brewing today?” he asked as he took it all in.

“Probably just the one… Laughing Potion. It’s what Slughorn had down for today.”

Sirius nodded. He couldn’t recall the last time he had been this close to you, or if he ever had been. Being right next to you reaffirmed his belief that you were pretty. Beautiful. Gorgeous. Stunning. Angelic. And you smelled it too. It engulfed his senses for a moment.

“Your boyfriend doesn’t mind you tutoring me?” he blurted out. ‘Smooth, Sirius, smooth.’

You gave him a sideways glance as he immediately bent down to take out his advanced potion making book.

“I don’t have a boyfriend,” you said, your voice level but confused. 

“What about that boy you’re always around?”

“Lucas?” you asked with an arched brow. You wanted to laugh. “No. He’s just my friend.”

“Sure do spend a lot of time with him.”

“So, potion making!” Slughorn didn’t really specify where you needed help, so-”

“I’ve literally seen you under his arm, holding hands, the works. Certainly seems a bit more than friendly to me.”

“I don’t see how that is of any concern right now, Black. Do you want to fail Potions?” you snapped at him. You weren’t sure why he was so focused on Lucas when he wasn’t even there and you were supposed to be working on Potions.

“No, I don’t want to fail. But I’m not failing right now.”

“You’re on your way to it. Now, tell me what Slughorn has docked points for.”

Reluctantly, Sirius pulled out a singed feedback sheet that Slughorn handed out for any potion receiving an A or less. Sirius had obviously tried to burn it in frustration. 

The rest of the tutoring session went by with no mention of Lucas or boyfriends or any sign of flirting. Just how to properly brew a proper Laughing Potion. Sirius leaves the session believing that you are cold, just like every other Slytherin and all of his family. But he can’t help admiring how smart you are and how easy it was to fix his mistakes when you pointed them out. How you tucked your hair behind your ear when it fell into your face. How your laughter filled the whole room when you tested the finished product. He knew he shouldn’t but he wanted to make you laugh like that without the help of a potion.

On the other hand, you went back to the Slytherin Dungeon feeling dejected. You didn’t mind that Slughorn asked you to tutor Sirius. You were delighted. You’d get to spend time with him, alone, and hopefully catch his attention. But besides asking intently about Lucas at the beginning of the session, he didn’t flirt with you at all. He showed no interest. 

---

After a few more sessions with you, Sirius decided to ask Dorcas about you. He could play it off as simple curiosity about his Potions tutor. Dorcas was probably the only Slytherin he could trust and she was always in Gryffindor Tower with Marlene so he wouldn’t have to seek her out.

“Meadowes!” he called from across the common room. “Can I have a word?

The Slytherin gave her girlfriend a confused look before rising from the couch.

“Black,” she said shortly, leaning against the wall. 

“What can you tell me about Y/N?”

Dorcas’ brows bunched at the question.

“Uh, not much. Keeps to herself. Doesn’t voluntarily talk to anyone besides Lucas. I think he’s her only friend.”

She watched Sirius’ face for any clue as to why he was asking about you. The only thing going through his mind was how you called Lucas just your friend and Dorcas said he was your only friend. Just and only made quite the difference.

“Why?” she asked when Sirius didn’t say anything.

“Oh, Sluggy is having her help me in Potions. Just wondering if she’s that cold to everyone.”

Dorcas laughed. “Everyone but Lucas. Pandora and I have bets about if they’ll ever actually get together. I say they have to by the end of seventh year, but she says otherwise.”

“Huh. Alright. Thanks.”

Sirius went up to his dorm thinking about what Dorcas had said. You didn’t even talk to your roommates? That was certainly something. He kept coming back to Dorcas saying that you had one friend. Only one. As someone with plenty of friends, he didn’t understand it.

At the other end of the castle, you were sitting with Lucas in his dorm. 

“There must be something wrong with me, Lucas. Why else wouldn’t he be flirting with me?” you asked from where you sat on the floor, leaning back against his bed.

Lucas sighed and you felt like you could hear his eyes roll. He was tired of the conversation before it even really began.

“Maybe because he’s a prat? I know you like him, but come on. You should be glad he doesn’t flirt with you. We both know he’d just break your heart and leave like it was nothing. Just like he does with every other girl.”

You turned to look up at Lucas so that he could see the irritated face you made. 

“Okay, tell me how you really feel about him.”

“Just saying, Y/N, you could have better taste in guys.”

“Like who?”

“I don’t know.”

You were glad he didn’t say ‘like me.’ Part of you wondered if he even thought it. If you weren’t good enough for Sirius to flirt with, maybe you weren’t good enough for your best friend to set you with anyone. Not that you actually liked any of his other friends, but the suggestion of one of them would’ve been nice.

--

The next session started off like usual, an air of coldness with you getting straight to the point. Dorcas’ words sit in Sirius’ mind so he can’t focus. First, he stirred the potion clockwise instead of counterclockwise. Then, he added fluxweed leaves instead of fluxweed stems. Finally, he was about to add essence of dittany when you reached out to grab his hand to stop him.

“Okay, are you actively trying to blow up this classroom?”

Sirius stared blankly at where your hand was gripping his wrist. You slowly moved it away from the cauldron before extinguishing the fire below it. 

“Black, what’s on your mind? You’re not usually this… careless.”

He shakes his head. “It’s nothing.”

He couldn’t very well just say ‘I asked my friend about you and she said you have no friends and you seem okay with that.’

“I don’t think it’s nothing if it almost had you kill us,” you stated before turning your whole body to face him on the bench. “And I don’t fancy dying today so either we talk about it or we end the session here and try again later.”

Sirius waited a beat before saying anything. He didn’t want to leave.

“I know you’re just my tutor, but I feel like I don’t know anything about you.”

You tilted your head to the side. The surprise of him saying that is evident on your face. Of all the things to be on his mind, that wasn’t what you were expecting. 

“Oh. Um, okay. We can fix that. What do you want to know?”

“How come I only see you around that boy?” Sirius asked quickly before his eyes went wide with embarrassment. He hadn’t meant to ask you that right away. He knew he should’ve started with your favorite color or how you’re so good at Potions. “Shit, I didn’t mean-”

You laughed brightly. It makes Sirius relax a little. 

“I thought I told you he’s my friend. Just my friend.”

“But…” he takes a breath, “is he your only friend?”

You bit your lip as you thought for a moment. The fact that you had to think about it practically answered the question for you.

“He’s my best friend. Has been since we started here. Guess I never really needed, wanted anyone else.” 

“Not even your roommates? Other girls in our year?” Sirius asked, sounding slightly concerned.

You tried not to laugh again. “Are you worried I’m lonely?” you replied mirthfully. “Trust me, Black. I’m content.”

“Are you against new friends?”

“No, but it’s not like anyone is rushing to befriend me.”

Sirius hummed and looked back at the cauldron. “I think I’m okay to try again.”

This time he brewed it perfectly.

The tutoring sessions began to change from then on out. Sirius would start each one by asking you a question about yourself. He learned your favorite color and favorite food, what your wand core was, a bit about your family, how you were so good at Potions, how you felt about flying on a broom, what pet you would have if you could have any pet, why you continued in Herbology even though you sucked at it and hated it. The loner pretty Slytherin was more than she appeared. 

You were caught off guard when Sirius continued to ask questions after that tutoring session. You couldn’t believe how genuinely curious and intrigued he seemed by you. Since he was doing better with each session, you humored him and told him about yourself. You started to consider him your friend. You would say hi to him in between classes or wave to him from across the Great Hall if you caught his eye. Lucas rolled his eyes at this.

Professor Slughorn was handing back a practical assignment’s grading sheet. You didn’t receive a feedback card, like usual, just the note that said O. Slughorn paused by Sirius and James’ table longer than you expected. Both boys only received the grade sheet. Sirius’ face shone brightly as he sprung up and sprinted to the front of the classroom where you were. He pulled you into a bearhug. 

“I got an E!” he exclaimed.

“You deserve it, Sirius. Celebrate it!” you said with a giggle.

“I’m thinking butterbeers in Hogsmeade? We can go after dinner!”

You nodded, grinning widely. Butterbeers with Sirius? How could you say no?

Only it wasn’t just you and Sirius as you had expected. It was practically all of his Gryffindor friends plus Dorcas. From the moment you stepped foot outside of the castle with the group, you felt out of place. Sirius and James led the group with a boisterous conversation between just them filling the evening air. You somewhat anchored yourself to Dorcas. She was your roommate after all. Dorcas was paying more attention to Marlene and Lily, which you didn’t mind. Behind you, you could hear a more mellow conversation happening between Peter, Remus and Mary. Everyone in the group was chatting amiably except you. 

It didn’t stay that way. After you had all been sat around a large table in the Three Broomsticks, Lily turned to you.

“You’re the one who’s been tutoring him? And he’s listened?” she asked, gobsmacked.

“Yeah. Surprised?” There was that Slytherin coldness.

“A little, actually.” Your face hardened and Lily clocked it immediately. “More impressed. If he doesn’t want to learn something, he usually doesn’t. Figured he’d just drop Potions at the end of term or something.”

“Oh,” you said softly. You looked down the table at Sirius who was laughing so hard there were tears in his eyes. “He just needed a bit of guidance. You know how Slughorn eased off on his hovering.”

“Maybe he’s stopping hovering you two because you know what you’re doing,” Marlene said.

“You’re not even in Potions anymore, Marls, what are you talking about?” Lily asked with a laugh.

“No, he’s definitely stopped hovering as much. He grades essays while we work,” you said.

“You know who needs to stop hovering so much? Flitwick!” Mary added with a groan. “He’s always right next to you, watching you cast the spell. Like sorry, I get a bit nervous when I have a teacher at my elbow.”

All of the girls laughed and you didn’t feel so out of place. Maybe this was why Sirius was concerned with Lucas being your only friend? The girls were definitely a change of pace. It was nice. You turned to look at Sirius again, only to find him already looking at you with a knowing smile. 

“Let’s not forget the whole reason why we’re here!” Sirius announced, raising his glass. “Y/N, thank you for raising my grade!”

“Here, here!” James called as the rest of the table raised their glasses in a toast to you.

You were blushing furiously. But then the conversations returned and the rest of the night passed far too quickly for your liking. Before you knew it, Madam Rosmerta was kicking the group out so she could close up shop for the night. 

“I think that was the most I’ve heard you voluntarily talk to someone other than Lucas,” Dorcas mused as the group started to walk back to the castle. 

You didn’t know how to respond. Marlene unknowingly came to your rescue as she pulled Dorcas toward the front of the group. This time, you ended up in the back of the group, keeping a slower pace. You loved evening walks, even if they were a bit chilly, so you prolonged this one ever so slightly.

“I hope that wasn’t too much attention for you,” Sirius said, falling into step with you, letting the rest of the group continue on ahead. 

“No, it was fine. It’s fine.” You felt yourself start to blush again. “But you shouldn’t sell yourself short. You’re the one who brewed the potion.

“Yeah, only after you taught me some of your tricks,” he said, giving your shoulder a gentle bump.

---

You continued your tutoring sessions with Sirius even after his grades improved and maintained the preferred level. You both looked forward to the sessions, and Sirius continued to ask you about yourself at the start of each one. You sometimes would ask him to answer the question as well, saying that it was only fair. 

You also found yourself sitting with the Gryffindors every once in a while, but it was always only if Sirius was there. You could sense that Lucas was a little miffed when you chose to sit with them over him during a study hall, but it didn’t bother you. He had friends that you didn’t like. So what if you had friends that he didn’t like? 

Everything was going well. You were happy with your new friendships, although you still hung back while they stole the spotlight and made trouble. 

Then you walked into Potions class and Professor Slughorn had written ‘Amortentia’ on the blackboard. He gave a lengthy lecture on the dangers of the potion before going over how to brew it. Then he released the students to give it a go. Your hands shook the entire time. You didn’t know why you were so nervous about it. Maybe because you knew what you would smell. When your potion is complete, your face burns. 

You called it. You smelled Sirius. His leather jacket, smoke, sandalwood. It’s so undeniably Sirius. Because of your blush, those around you asked what you smell, but don’t say a word. You’re not going to tell anyone.

Sirius, on the other hand, is convinced there’s something wrong with his potion. He’s also a blushing mess, but he can’t accept what he smells. Sure, you were pretty and smart and able to help in potions, and you were powerful and beautiful and funny and had the most wonderful laugh. And you didn’t have a boyfriend and you got along with his friends well enough. But you were in Slytherin. You could be cold. How could he smell you in the most powerful love potion?

After the lesson, you gathered your things and hurried to talk to Sirius before your next lesson. 

“Hey, I can’t do tutoring today. We’ll need to reschedule.”

He gave you a confused look.

“You scheduled something over tutoring?” he asked in disbelief. He tried not to look hurt; at least you were offering to reschedule instead of straight cancelling.

“No, no, not like that. Something just… came up?” You knew your excuse didn’t sound believable. Your voice gave it away.

Sirius grabbed your shoulder and pulled you away from his friends and out of the walk path.

“If we’re rescheduling, I’d like to know why.”

You took a shaky breath. “I… I don’t think I can be around you tonight.”

Sirius blinked slowly. The confusion on his face slowly melted away and was replaced by a mix of curiosity and hope. 

“What did you smell in the potion?”

You shook your head. You couldn’t meet his eyes. 

“Y/N, what did you smell?”

He had both hands on your shoulders now. If you didn’t answer him, you were sure that he’d start shaking you.

“You.” 

Your answer was barely audible. It wasn’t even a whisper. But Sirius heard it. He closed his eyes and for a moment, all emotion left his face.

“I smelled you too.”

“Oh.” That came out as a squeak. Great. 

“Yeah… Oh…” He opened his eyes. “I was really hoping we could meet tonight.”

“Well, uh, my schedule just cleared, so, yeah, we can meet up.” 

Without thinking, Sirius placed a chaste kiss on the side of your forehead and turned back to his friends.

As he walked away, he called over his shoulder, “Can’t wait!”

[ivymarquis]

Say You Won't Let Go

Greedy Little Thing

Pairing| John Price x F!Single Mom!Reader Rating| E Word Count| 4.3k Kinks/Content/Warnings| Zombie!AU, PiV, Oral (F!Receiving), pregnancy sex, wee bit of lactation kink

First Chapter | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

If you thought your solo play time in the shower would calm you down, you thought wrong. 

You’re truly spinning out and losing your mind. That is the only reasonable explanation for the level of arousal flooding your system at the moment. 

All of a sudden you can’t help but be keyed into John’s every move. And surely you are projecting every depraved thought squirming around in your little brain- you’re imagining that he’s encroaching that much more into your personal space. His hands- broad and warm- gentle as always feel a bit firmer with his hold as he either brushes past you or herds you where he wants you.

You’re distracted, eyes fixated at the boarded up windows like they’re a big screen showing your favorite sitcom. The book you found lies open on the table, failing to capture your interest in favor of your imagination. Of another universe where John’s interest isn’t a figment of your imagination and he’s willing to do something about it. 

“Something on your mind, Love?” John’s voice startles you out of your thoughts and has you jumping on reflex. “Easy- ‘s just me,” he soothes as he crosses the distance from the doorway to the table you’re sitting at. 

“Nothing important,” you answer breezily, trying desperately to hide that you were just thinking about the various ways he could fold you like a piece of paper. Can always lie and claim to be reminiscing on the past.

He has no reason to doubt you, the rumbling hum of acknowledgment from him showing that you’ve not gained any unwanted attention. 

You don’t know what’s wrong with you, what all of a sudden has you acting like a cat in heat. The only thing you haven’t done at this point is lift your skirts and bend over the table in invitation. 

Any hope you may have of getting back into your book is dashed as he comes closer. 

You’ve never been one to fixate on how a man smells- and not even cologne, since that’s not an option these days really. But how he actually smells- you have no idea if you’re pulling off subtle well, but he smells divine and you know nothing will get done if you don’t get a hold of yourself. 

Hopefully your sinful thoughts are not evident on your face, but if they are then he doesn’t call you on it. 

It’s not uncommon for John to leave you alone for stretches and sporadically swing by to check on you. You know he’s in the neighborhood lurking for supplies and hoping to scrap up radio parts. 

The drop ins soothe your anxiety- that he is just across the street, or a few houses down. 

Although it’s still the end of the world and anything can happen. You begrudgingly accept that he has to leave on occasion so you don’t starve to death in the middle of winter in this frozen tundra.

“Gonna need to go further out today, Love. Not sure when I’ll be back.”

Your displeasure is blatant across your face. 

“None of that, now,” he reproaches firmly. “I’ll come back when I can. I want you back upstairs before the sun goes down.”

You’re pouting like a child, your earlier fantasies completely derailed as your thoughts swirl around the anxiety of being abandoned. Of course there’s a part of you that knows this is an inevitability. There’s only so many supplies in the area. John is reluctant to move you, knowing that the pair of you are relatively safe and hidden which means he’ll have to move further out to scavenge to care for you.

Your lack of an immediate response prompts him to reach out and cup your face, prying your mind from your surly thoughts. By now you know him well enough to understand the cue for what it is- a silent ask for you to soften back up to him and quit being a brat about him leaving. 

The logical part of your brain understands that there’s no choice considering you don’t wish to starve to death. Unfortunately until further notice your hormones are what call the shots so you can’t help yourself other than to be in duress over the thought of John leaving you for more than a few hours. 

“Why are you being difficult, hm?” He ponders, tone substantially softer than one might expect.

“I’m not trying to be,” you protest gently, settling into his hold. 

“And yet here we are,” his tone is more amused than anything else.

His free hand drops to your belly, something that immediately garners the attention of your baby who gives a volley of kicks. 

“You can’t wind him up and then leave me here alone to deal with him,” now it’s your turn to reproach John good naturedly.

Again, you blame your hormones. You like John’s hands on you- like John touching you. 

“He’ll be a good lad for his mummy, won’t he?” He prompts the baby, and you don’t protest as his hand smooths down your belly. 

This time your child is not called to action, deciding to spare your poor ribs from another litany of kicks. You decide to not question the way he immediately quiets down at John’s prompting. 

Despite the conversation you just had, you can’t help but pout and mope as John leaves. You keep it to yourself, even though you know your anxiety is bleeding through and he knows exactly what your thoughts on the matter are. 

There’s nothing to be done for it though, so you’re left alone with nothing but Fred’s shadow and your child for company.

You listen to John’s request and begin your trek up the stairs just before it starts to get dark. The natural lighting in the house is weird and casts odd shadows. It's overcast and a new moon, which will leave little to guide you with when the sun goes down.

With only your thoughts to occupy you, you think about silly little things because if you don’t then you’ll be cognizant of the crushing realization of your solitude. That John is out there somewhere in the murky darkness and there is no guarantee that he will come back to you. 

You’d have made a piss poor military wife.

It’s easier to think about how things could be in another life- if you would have met the handsome captain in some bar and flirted shamelessly in the hopes that he liked you enough to take you home and show you a good time.

That you were at his home, in his bed, with his baby nestled under your ribcage.

But you’re not, although in a way you are as close to that fantasy as you can get. 

You’re tucked into the little hidey hole that John has chosen to squirrel you away, waiting for his return upstairs just as he asked while your child does somersaults and uses a kidney for soccer practice.

Somewhere between bouts of fretting, you manage to fall asleep. It’s certainly not the best sleep of your life by any stretch but you’ve also had worse without question.

It’s also easily disrupted. There’s a part of you that is still keen to your surroundings- that’s still aware that you’re alone in the dark and the cold, and that to truly slip under the haze of sleep could sign your death warrant.

You don’t quite wake at the sound of the door creaking, but you drift that much closer to the land of the living. 

It’s when the bed dips under his weight that you stir, partly in offense at the cold air that creeps under the covers with him.

The greeting that escapes you is more of a whine than anything else, hands grabbing at him and trying to burrow under the weight of him.

“I’m right here, lovely- told you I’d be back.” He soothes you like an over reactive pet that’s absolutely enthralled with his return and showcasing it by trying to crawl into his skin.

He’s warm, a welcome reprieve from the biting cold waiting for you just outside your blankets. You want to melt at the sensation of his hands on your back. You’re a puddle of a human being in his hold.

And somewhere between your squirming and his soothing, you’re not completely sure who ends up kissing who first but you have zero complaints.

Quickly your searching hands find purchase on him, just as his anchor you to him.

You’re drowning, you think- head dizzy, completely disoriented as lust burns through you. This is everything you’ve been pining for and now that it’s in your hold you don’t quite know what to do with it. 

John rolls you gently onto your back as the pair of you break for air- hovers above you, mindful of your belly while still not being too far away.

“Tell me to stop,” he looks as flustered as you feel, and a part of you preens in the knowledge that you’ve impacted him the way he’s impacted you. That you haven’t been the only one yearning for more. 

“Please don’t s-“ you don’t even finish the sentence before he’s on you again, the covers rustling as he shuffles to position himself closer to you.

“Good girl” he praises against your lips, the words itching something seated deep inside you.

John’s hands roam your body, searching for the hemline of your dress only to hike the skirt up to your hips once he finds it. 

“Please,” you whimper and try to arch under his touch. 

Rather than immediately diving under the skirt of your dress, he continues to feel up your chest, back, hips and thighs. You could practically melt at the attention, gladly feeling him up in turn before your hands grope down his chest to pry at his shirt. Your make out is briefly interrupted as he shucks his shirt, although in the dim lighting of the dark it’s hard to fully appreciate everything he’s displaying at the moment.

“God, you are soft,” he marvels, lips leaving yours to kiss down your neck. 

You realize that he’s trying to keep the covers over you as he works your dress up your body, pooling the fabric around your collar bones as his attention drifts from your neck to your sternum.

One hand gropes at a breast as he teases your nipple with his tongue, immediately making you gasp and grab his hair. 

“Gentle!” You correct him- while under normal circumstances his grip on you would have been perfectly acceptable, you’re currently very pregnant and part of that means your chest has been sore the last few weeks. You’re so sensitive now. 

“I’m sorry, lovely. I’ll be gentle,” he apologizes, and you relax back into the mattress.True to his promise, John is far more careful of where he gropes and kisses, delighting in all the noises you make.

The sensitivity in your breasts has you squirming underneath him, whining in pleasure.

You feel strung out and desperate, some nebulous part of you aware that you're in trouble if you're already this amped up and he's barely begun to touch you yet.

Arching into his hold, you both freeze at the same moment you feel something akin to a release in the pressure of your chest. You haven't quite been sure when you would start actually lactating- knowing that the real stuff wouldn't come in until after birth, but knowing that there was the colostrum prior.

You're not quite sure what you feel. Flustered? Relieved? Embarrassed? But John remains unflappable, a mere "Tastes sweet" before returning to the task at hand.

The hand not anchoring your breast for his mouth drifts down your side, ghosting over the fabric of your underwear. You're wet- keenly aware of how his fingers trace across your skin. Gooseflesh rises in the wake of his touch, something to do less with the all encompassing chill that you two are trying to avoid and more to do with the lust that is firmly growing in your belly. The gusset of your panties doesn't take long to soak as he teases you over the fabric.

Your hips twitch, trying desperately to follow his fingers. 

You want more. It's been so long since you've had anyone touch you, and the weight of John over you feels phenomenal. "Please, John- I need you to touch me." Never in all your days have you actually begged a man to touch you, but your life has just been full of unexpected surprises lately.

"I'll take care of you, lovely- gotta be patient," he consoles you, paired with a teasing suck of one nipple before moving across your chest to get to the other one.

You don't want to be patient. You want him- now- and even though you actively have him right in this moment it's somehow still not enough. You'd say you're like an animal in heat, but animals in heat aren't usually ready to calve at any moment. It's almost alarming how little control you have over your own body right now. You're little more than your most base urges with spread thighs and heaving breaths as you keenly watch him.

"Gotta get you ready for me, sweetheart," he soothes with his words as his hand slips under the waistband of your panties. "'m not a small man- don't want to hurt you."

You feel dizzy just at the thought. You're well acquainted with what he's packing at this point, and the knowledge he's going to try to make sure it's good for you too is enough for you to find what minimal patience you possess.

The feel of his fingertips lightly searching for your clit has your legs spreading and thighs twitching in anticipation. He's an insufferable tease, tracing the pad of one calloused fingertip around your vulva and teasing the seam of your lower lips. Just enough to keep you keyed in on him, hook line and sinker, whining for more like an anxious dog. 

When he finally parts your pussy with his fingers, you arch up into his hold as he spreads your wetness around. "Bein’ such a good girl f'r me" his praise is low and gravely and shoots straight between your thighs. 

God the things that this man could make you do if he asked you nicely.

"John, please!"

"So impatient" he chuckles against your soft skin, nipping at you ever so carefully. Just enough to get your skin between his teeth, the squeal that escapes you more in anticipation than from any actual discomfort.

He shushes you, lapping at the patch of skin that he nipped in a mock apology as the hand slipping between your lower lips slides one finger inside of you.

There's certainly more to his one finger than to your own, and you must be such a greedy little thing tonight because you're still wanting another finger. John is in no hurry it seems, content to rock his one finger in and out of you as your body gets wetter in preparation of future events. 

His hand doesn't leave from between your thighs, but he moves further under the covers where they've obscured him completely, falling around your collar bones. Certainly warmer for the pair of you for him to do this like this, although your hips are already rocking. 

You've got a reasonable guess on what he's about to do, but not being able to physically see him does, you admit, add a certain level of excitement. There's nothing you can do other than lay on your back patiently like a good girl and wait for him to make his next move. His warm breath on your pussy makes you jolt, a thrill shooting up your spine.

 You haven't gotten head in ages- certainly not with your last beau.

"Try to be quiet for me, lovely. Don't need anything outside hearing your pretty noises," is all the warning you get before he's lowering his mouth to you.

It is certainly easier said than done- partly you manage to keep your whines and whimpers down, but it just makes your eyes want to roll back the way John doesn't hesitate to put his tongue to work.With a cursory lap of your vulva, he's quick to hone his attention on your clit while his finger continues to slip in and out of you.

 After a few thrusts of his wrists you have to turn your head and muffle yourself with a pillow as he gives you the second finger you've been so keen for. His fingers stroking you from the inside paired with his tongue on your clit is certainly enough to work you steadily towards your orgasm.

You're not sure that you're going to last much longer when he starts to crook his fingers against the anterior wall of you- seems he knows exactly how to try to wring out every last drop of pleasure from you, and you're more than game to let him.

"John," your whine is a small, pleading thing this time- not the same feverish anxious plea from earlier, attempting to get him to give exactly what you want. This is a softer cry, a plea and an acknowledgement all wrapped together that he will take you where you're trying to go if you'll just let him do it.

Cold be damned, your activities under the sheets have a sheen of sweat breaking out over your skin. You pull the blanket off of you, partially because you're starting to get hot and partially on the reflex that you want to watch him- although that isn't really going to be an option with your belly in the way. "Oh my God, please don't stop,” you beg, perfectly able to picture the smug grin on his face as you feel the vibration of him chuckling in amusement at you.

Your squirming is dealt with swiftly as he grips one of your hips with his free hand, holding you in place as you rock against his mouth. The pleasure coiling in your belly twists down tighter and tighter, your staccato breaths hitching as he pushes you closer to your climax.

Right when the dam breaks, it seems both of you were on the same page- one of your hands clamping over your mouth to muffle yourself right at the moment John straightens a bit and abandons your hip in favor of trying to cover your mouth as well.

Which suddenly puts you in the position of being completely at his mercy- that he's using the hand buried between your legs to see how much he can get you to squeal now that your noises are  muffled to his standard. 

When he lets up, you're dizzy and gasping for air. This is so much more intense than the orgasm you'd brought yourself to in the shower and that one had literally brought you to your knees. There's a part of your brain still cognizant enough that you want to return the favor- That he's made you feel absolutely divine and it's only fair to reciprocate that. 

However, rather than functional words, all you can come up with is to just paw at the top of his pants, mumbling more so than speaking "I want- I-"

Despite your complete lack of clarity, he seems to understand what your mission is regardless.

 "We can worry about that later, Love," he assures you, coaxing you onto your side and getting in close behind you. Despite having just gotten yours, for a moment you are incredulous at the idea that he's about to just tuck you back into bed and go to sleep.Then you realize the covers are still down around your ankles, and your night dress up across your breasts- and, blessedly, that he's pulling down his pants. 

God you wish you could see it, but between the darkness and the angle with him behind you it's not really an option. You can see enough shadows to have a vague idea of where he is behind you, but also the lack of vision is adding to the experience. 

Just groping and touching in the dark like a pair of frisky teenagers trying to not get caught.

"I've got what you need right here, pretty girl- lift your leg up for me," he instructs and you comply immediately. 

Oh God he's big. You knew that, sorta- have been well acquainted with what he feels like pressing up against you with morning wood. And he just told you that you needed to be prepped in order to take him. 

But somehow this feels completely different, and here you are lying soft and compliant on your side with your legs spread wondering how the fuck he's going to make it fit.You're completely gagging for it either way. 

"Please, please, plea-" you beg, head turning his direction in the dark even if you can't see well. Your begging is cut off as he drags his cock across your swollen folds, sensitive from the earlier attention he paid to you. 

"Easy, lovely. Told you I'd take care of you," he instructs, and it takes everything in you to lie still in his hold while he lines himself up with you.

Your mind is spinning a hundred miles an hour, excited by the prospect as he finally pushes the head in and gives a shallow thrust.

His chest is lined up to your back, one hand helping prop up your thigh to give better access. It's the most intimate position the two of you can manage, and it gives you a front row seat as he groans low in the back of his throat.

Oh, you like that noise.

You want to hear him make it again.

"Christ you're warm," he chokes, and a deep satisfaction rolls through you. Just knowing that he's as affected by you, as you are by him is enough to stroke your ego.

"John, I can't wait anymore," you whine, pushing back against him in encouragement for him to move. Since when did you become such a needy little mess? It would be embarrassing if you could bring yourself to care. 

You've been long overdue for a good romp between the sheets, and you are just thrilled to pieces that the captain has decided to be the one up for the task.

"You are an impatient creature, aren't you pet?" His admonishment is a gentle thing, as are his first few thrusts as your bodies acclimate to each other.

"It feels so good. Want you to feel good too," you plead your case, and really who was he to disagree with that?

"Feels fuckin' incredible, lovely, don't you worry about that. Sweet pussy of yours has me like a vice," You push back against his thrusts, eyes rolling as the angle lets him hit that one spot in you. Pragmatically, this position was the best to allow the pair of you to be close to each other while not overcrowding around your belly- allow some level of intimacy, as John is able to get up close behind you, and you can reasonably turn to touch and paw at him. But God is it also working for you as far as bringing you pleasure. Each time his hips bury against the plush of your ass he hits that spot that makes your leg shake in his hold.

"Gonna get you there, lovely, just-" it strokes your ego that he's babbling slightly as he speaks. That he's just as excited to have access to your body, to let you have him like this.

"John, right there- I, ah!- Oh God, right there," your pleading seems to just ramp him up. He's not rough with you by any stretch, just clearly comfortable that he's not going to hurt you and confident that your body's acclimated to take all of him. It's your turn to babble, whimpering and whining in his hold. The hand holding your thigh spread coaxes your leg over his hip, hand drifting back to your clit to stroke the little bundle of nerves.

"Just like that, hm?" he asks you like your eyes aren't almost crossing from how good he's giving it to you.

"Oh my God, please!" your brain's possibly broken. Your entire universe has condensed down to you, and him, and this bed and how damn good he's making you feel. 

A quick study, he's already learned your tells that you're inching closer to your climax.

"You can do it, pet- cum for me. I wanna see your pretty face when you cum all over my cock.”

You’re past words, clinging to him with one hand and the sheets with the other as you breathe and try to relax your tensing body.

“That’s it, good girl- deep breaths,” he coaxes you, and that’s the magic combination to get you seeing fireworks. 

He must still doubt your ability to stifle your orgasm yourself, muffling your noises by grabbing your face and turning it so he can kiss you. You certainly have no complaints, aware by the way his pace changes for a few thrusts that he’s not very far behind you before reaching his own end.

For a moment, the pair of you recline in silence as you come down from your respective highs. The heat the two of you made quickly starts to dissipate in the night with the covers still bunched at the foot of the bed, making you shiver as the cold finally settles back over you.

That movement is enough to bring John out of whatever post coital bliss he was in, shifting behind you to pull out.

“Hang on, love,” he instructs while pulling his pants back over his hips before pulling your dress back down your legs and grabbing the covers.

You feel calm for the first time in days, content to laze on your side with John behind you as he snuggles in next to you.

You remember turning your head back towards him for one last kiss- something slow and soft and gentle- and don’t even realize it when you fall asleep.

Age in bio/pinned or I will block you ♡

[hellfiremunsonn]

Don't Touch The Racoons. Eddie Munson x Reader

Don't Touch The Racoons

I DO NOT ALLOW MY WRITING TO BE REPUBLISHED ANYWHERE OTHER THAN MY OWN BLOG WITHOUT MY CONSENT

Summary: Eddie helps his very loopy girlfriend after she dislocates her shoulder.

18 + IF YOU ARE NOT 18 OR OLDER DO NOT READ OR INTERACT WITH MY WRITING. IT IS NOT INTENDED FOR MINORS. I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR THE MEDIA YOU CONSUME.

Warnings: None really? fem reader though no real descriptions, mentions of a 'heavy' medication, but not specified. Just assumed they'd give you something for the pain of having to pop your shoulder back in, and it making you a lil loopy! (IF THERES ANYTHING I MISSED LET ME KNOW)

AN: not proof read, and not based off of anything or a request, just something that I had in mind, and thought it was cute and funny!

Word count: 1.6k

Eddie was working a late shift at the shop, working overtime for some extra cash when he gets a frantic call from Robin telling him you slipped and dislocated your shoulder.

He immediately panics and is about to head out the door when you plead with him on the other end just to finish his shift. 

"We w-wont be long, m'okay Ed's really" you lie. You wanted to be brave for him, and for your friends who are with you in the waiting room of the hospital.

Reluctantly after another ten minutes you convince Eddie to finish his shift and to wait for you at his trailer. 

It's around midnight when Eddies phone finally rings, and he nearly fumbles it across the room with how quickly he grabs it. "Hello?"

"Wakey wakes Munson! Were on our way back with your very, loopy girlfriend" Robin says on the other end of the phone. 

Eddie groans as he sits up from the couch, breathing out a sigh of relief knowing they'll be back soon. "How long till you guys get here?" He asks wearily, standing up from the couch to begin pacing back and forth. 

"Fifteen minutes, barely, were practically down the road" Robin says comfortingly. 

"Okay okay... good... how is she?" 

"Oh insanely loopy" Robin laughs "It's pretty cute though.

"Oh jeez, guess they gave her some good stuff" he shakes his head, thinking of just how loopy you're going to be when you get here. 

"Oh for sure they- no babe, you can't touch that, no stop it, put your hand down for the love of christ-" Robin rambles at you, and Eddie can hear you giggling in the background as Robin tries to control whatever loopy antics you're up to. 

"Is that her giggling like a school girl?"

"Yes! she's being a menace! A very slow and giggly menace, but a menace all the same!" 

Just as Eddie goes to respond he sees the headlights of Steves car pull up into his gravel driveway. He hangs up the phone with out saying goodbye and heads over towards the door. 

When he makes it to the porch, Steve and Robin are helping you out of the car, practically dragging you with your heavy limbs and fogged brain. 

"Jesus Christ, can se even walk?" He says while jogging down the few steps, reaching out towards you to help you into his trailer. 

"teddy teddy teddy" you say while reaching forward with your arm that isn't in the temporary sling. 

Eddie steps closer and wraps his arm around you in a tight hugs, pressing a scatter of kisses to the top of your head. "How's the patient?" he says while looking at you, but he's really asking Steve and Robin. 

"She is absolutely stoned out of her mind right now" Robin says with a smirk, looking over at you while you cling to Eddie, your head lolling against his chest. "They defenitly gave her the good stuff"

"You're if bubble gum was a person" you mumble, rubbing your face against his chest. 

Eddie lets our a snort of laughter and shakes his head. "And why am I bubble gum, baby?"

"Cause you are" you scoff, as if it's obviously 

"Mhmm okay, good explanation" he says shaking his head. "Lets get you inside alright?"

"Insssiiidddeeee" You sing out.

Eddie laughs again, leading you into the trailer slowly, and guides you over to the couch, making sure your sat down, comfortably and safely before standing back up in front of you. "There you go baby, now just stay right here okay? I'm gunna say bye to Steve and Robin" he says while pushing some hair away from your face gently. 

"Don't touch the racoons" you say with a warning tone, pointing a finger at you to emphasize your point of seriousness. 

Eddie stares at you blankly for a moment, attempting to hold back a smile as he gently pushes your hand back down to your side. "I promise not to touch the racoons" he confirms while turning around to the front door where Steve and Robin are giggling at your antics. 

"Did she just say 'don't touch the racoons?'" Robin asks, still trying to stile another round of laughter.

"Yes. Yes she did" Eddie says while trying to keep a straight face.

"Steve finally breaks, letting out a burst of hysterical laughter, while robin just smiles and shakes her head. 

"Well you're going to have an interesting night, that's for sure" Steve says after he's managed to catch his breath. 

Eddie shakes his head, and turns back to glance at you, still sitting on the couch. Your head is lolled to one side, one eye open, and the other one closed, a dreamy, dopey look on your face, that he can't help fall more in love with. "Alright you two assholes can head off now, I've got her covered" he says giving the both of them quick hugs. "Thanks for taking her to the hospital for me, and keeping her face"

Steve and robin wave off his thanks. "Good luck with your walking zombie of a girlfriend!" Robin says with a playful salute.

Once they drive away Eddie heads back inside, walking over and kneeling in front of you on the couch. "Hey there baby. How are you feeling?"

"Super duper" you say with a smile.

"Yeah super duper sounds about right" He says with a smile. Reaching out to tuck some hair out of your face again, looking over your features as you sit there all loopy. 

You lean your cheek against his hand, humming in content at the feeling. The warmth of it spreading across your face. 

Eddie smooths his thumb over your cheekbone as you lean into his touch. Seeing you so out of it like this was definetly a big change from your usual self he had become so familiar with. "The meds they gave you are really doing a number on you aren't they? he asks, but it's mostly him talking to himself. He doesn't expect a reply, let alone a coherent one at that, but you still try. 

"M'all tingly" you mumble out.

"Yeah that's the medicine baby" he says quietly. Taking a moment to just admire your features, and the way you look up at him with those eyes of yours. 

"Where'd you go?" you ask, tilting your head while you speak.

"What do you mean baby? where did I go?" he says confused.

"You weren't at the host-hop-hospital with me" you struggle to get the sentence out, but manage in the end.

Eddies face softens, and he nods his head. "I know baby, I'm really sorry, I was working remember? You didn't want me to miss out so you convinced me to stay" he says while bringing his free hand to cup the other side of your face so he can get you to look at him directly. 

"They stole my blood" you frown.

Eddie has to stop himself from laughing so hard at the words that just came from your mouth, not wanting to offend you in your drowsy state. "They weren't stealing your food baby, that's just how hospitals work, they gotta make sure you're okay"

"Thieved it right out of me!"

Eddie can't help but laugh then at how ridiculous you were being. Normally he'd have at least some idea of what you were talking about, seeing you be all giggly like this when you were high. But right now it was like trying to decipher everything a very small, very stoned child was saying. 

"They were testing your blood for science, baby, not stealing it from you, very big difference" he says, trying to help you understand despite knowing it's no use right now.

"Science! pffft" you snort, leaning forward until your head thunks against his shoulder.

Eddie cradles the back of your head, while pressing a kiss to to it. "Well science is important baby"

"You're eyes are science" you say matter of fact. 

Eddie has no idea how to respond for a moment. "My eyes are... Science?" he repeats with a raised brow. Wondering if all the loops in your brain had finally melted together.

"Yep" you say confidently. 

Eddie is still confused, but if it's one thing about right now is that he's learning to just go with whatever it is you're saying. "Interesting..." he says with a laugh "and they're science because?"

"Cause they sparkle duh"

"Jesus Christ you really are out of it" he says mostly to himself. 

"Hey where's my bear?" You say abruptly, looking around for the blue stuffed bear that is always safely tucked away in Eddies bed for when you sleep over. You frown when you don't see it in the living room. 

"He's in my room babe, where he always is"

"Can we go to him? I miss him" 

Eddie gives you a fond smile and stands up from his kneeling position in front of you while reaching out to take your good hand in his. "Course we can go to him" he says while gently lifting you off the couch. 

"Woah" you say when you wobbly slightly once you're back on your feet. "The floor is melty"

Eddie lets out a loud laugh, unable to keep that one in. Keeping you steady with his arm around your waist he looks down at you with a smile, almost tempted to let you go just to see if you really would fall over, but he doesn't. "No the floor isn't melty" he says "You're just really high"

"Looks pretty melty to me" you say skeptically. Taking a tentative step forward, tapping the toe of your soon on the ground first, just to REALLY make sure it was sturdy enough. 

Eddie looks at you in amusement. It was like every clumsy bone in your body had been amplified to a maximum and he could barely believe it. "I promise you the floor is not melty"

As the night goes on, and you sleep off the drowsy medication, you manage to tell the story to Eddie about how you dislocated your shoulder. All the while he holds you close, keeping you warm and protected and silently vowing to himself to wrap you in bubble wrap when you were away from him.

[29daffodils]

and besides, who has ever shown him mercy?

i know the fandom has different takes on this man. and a lot of it is... unsavory, to me at least, who loves him best out of all the four characters. so this is just something that struck me really hard while watching.

in the moments before he jumps off the boat, kant waited. maybe for bison to show mercy, to take pity on him, to maybe show him some humanity and spare him this torture. kant had already told him before that he is afraid of the ocean, and in this scene he reiterates it. for all the lies he has told, he has never lied about himself (through omission : yes, directly : no). and maybe it's just his last resort, hoping that bison's love (or whatever of it was left there anyway) would soften him a little and make him take back those words.

he waits and hopes, and the moment he realises this too is just a card he has been dealt that can't be changed, he makes his choice and jumps.

now let's flashback a little.

we have a boy, in the middle of the ocean, presumably having lost his parents. he grows up with the responsibility of an older brother — but that's in name only, because he has to be a father, a mother and a sibling, all at the same time. for babe to have grown up kind and empathetic and sorted the way we see him to be, all the credit goes to kant. kant is 29 and babe is in highschool, so he must be what, 18 at best? now imagine an 11 year old orphan having to shoulder the responsibilities of not only himself, but his newborn brother as well (i am assuming the drowning accident happened around this timeline from how young baby kant seems to be in the flashback).

to nurture a child into teenage while juggling work, schooling, whatever else. kant probably didn't exist in any of those moments. maybe the little bits of him that bloomed into existence happened when he was with bison. when he fell head over heels for a man who could snuff out his life in the blink of an eye.

throughout the show we see him put himself last. stealing cars because he needs to feed his brother, getting landed in a suicide mission because if he is out of the picture, his brother won't survive. falling for a man he can't be with, whose actions he cannot predict because they come from different parts of life.

and what if kant had thought chris was right about bison? he didn't get shot dead, but he sure got kidnapped, his trauma made into a mockery. and even here, as he waits for bison to change his mind, he understands him. not once do we see kant defend himself besides saying, “i was forced to”, and ultimately, none of it matters. because he knows he hurt the one he claimed to love. he knows the nature of a hitman. he knew he'd end up at death's door but he went in hoping it won't come down to that, because the alternative was his brother suffering. and he makes peace with the card he's been dealt once again.

and through all this, who was there for him? who showed him mercy? who nurtured his heart?

so like he has done every single time, kant takes a breath, shuts his eyes tight, and takes a plunge.

read more :

extra #1 | ---

[iamgonnagetyouback]

muggle christmas and gingerbread houses

muggleborn!reader who introduces the slytherin skittles to muggle christmas

↬ word count : 1,104 words ˎˊ˗

↬ warnings : none ⋆˚࿔

↬ requested : by @leeny-leens ➺ here ♡

↬ author's note : thank you so much for the request, leeny! love ya <3

It all started on a chilly December morning in the Slytherin common room, where you, the lone Muggleborn among a brood of purebloods, found yourself stuck in a conversation about Christmas plans.

“Father’s hosting the annual gala, of course,” Regulus drawled, looking like he’d rather jump into the Black Lake than attend. “It’s a tedious affair. Wine, polite chatter, more wine, and some distant cousin inevitably gets hexed.”

“I’ll be in France,” Barty chimed in, lounging on the emerald-green sofa. “Mother insists we spend Christmas at the villa. Snow-covered vineyards are apparently very ‘in’ this year. Never mind that I despise snow.”

Evan, sprawled on the armchair like a cat, added, “We just exchange gifts and drink until someone passes out. Classic Rosier family bonding.”

Dorcas shrugged. “I’m just here for the food.”

“What about you, sweetheart?” Pandora asked, perched cross-legged on the carpet, her eyes sparkling with curiosity as she looked at you. “What do Muggleborns do for Christmas?”

The room went quiet. All eyes turned to you. You blinked, caught off guard by the question, but then your face lit up with an enthusiasm so un-Slytherin it almost made Regulus flinch.

“Oh, it’s amazing,” you gushed, leaning forward like you were about to unveil the secrets of the universe. “We watch Christmas movies, bake cookies, drink mulled wine—”

“Mulled what?” Barty interrupted, raising a brow.

“Wine, but it’s warm and spiced! Like… liquid Christmas,” you explained.

Barty squinted. “Sounds cursed.”

“It’s delicious!” you insisted. “And then there’s plum cake, gingerbread houses, carols…”

“What’s a gingerbread house?” Pandora asked, tilting her head.

You gasped audibly, clutching your chest. “You don’t know about gingerbread houses?!”

“Why would anyone live in a house made of bread?” Regulus muttered, looking genuinely baffled.

“You don’t live in it, you eat it! It’s a house-shaped cookie! Decorated with icing and candy!”

“So it’s a building you eat?” Evan asked, pen and parchment suddenly in hand. “How structurally sound is it? Is there a charm involved?”

You stared at him. “It’s not real architecture, Evan. It’s… it’s just fun!" you said, throwing your hands up. “Fun. You’ve heard of it, right? Or do purebloods have a ‘no joy’ clause in their family crests?”

Barty let out a bark of laughter. “I like Treasure’s energy today. Keep going.”

“Sounds inefficient,” Regulus sniffed, though he didn’t look away from your animated expression.

“Oh, for Merlin’s sake,” you groaned, throwing your hands in the air. “I can’t believe this. How can you lot be so deprived? Do you even know about Christmas movies?”

“I’ve seen A Christmas Carol,” Pandora offered helpfully.

“No, no, no,” you said, shaking your head furiously. “That’s just the tip of the iceberg. There’s Home Alone, Elf, Love Actually, Grinch…”

“What’s ‘Home Alone’?” Barty asked, sounding both skeptical and intrigued.

“It’s a masterpiece!” you exclaimed, your voice echoing slightly in the cavernous common room. “A kid gets left behind when his family goes on holiday, and he outsmarts burglars with booby traps! It’s iconic.”

Regulus’s brows furrowed. “Why didn’t the parents use a locator spell?”

“It’s Muggle,” you sighed. “No magic. Just wit and… household objects.”

“Sounds dangerous,” Dorcas commented, but her interest piqued when you added, “Also, he eats a ridiculous amount of pizza.”

Pandora clapped her hands together. “Darling, you must show us all of this!”

“Show you?” you repeated, an idea already forming in your mind. “Oh, I’ll do better than that. I’ll educate you. Prepare yourselves for the most Muggle Christmas experience of your lives. I’m taking you home for the holidays.”

“Oh, treasure, you’re inviting us home?” Barty grinned mischievously. “How sweet.”

You ignored him. “PowerPoint presentation. Slides. Visual aids. You’ll see.”

Your cozy, fairy-light-strewn living room was a far cry from the grandeur of the Slytherin common room. The gang had been skeptical about “Muggle festivities,” but after hours of your enthusiastic explanations, their interest had piqued.

You stood before them with a literal PowerPoint presentation projected onto the wall.

“Slide one: Christmas Movies,” you announced, pointer in hand. “This is The Grinch. He’s green, he hates Christmas and people, and he’s iconic.”

“Relatable,” Regulus muttered, sipping mulled wine with far more sophistication than necessary.

“Slide two: Food!” you exclaimed. “Behold: mince pies, Christmas pudding, turkey with all the trimmings—”

Dorcas leaned forward. “You made all of this?”

“Some,” you admitted, “but most of it’s from the bakery down the road.”

“I love your Muggle bakeries,” Evan said under his breath, scribbling in his notebook.

“Slide three: Ugly sweaters,” you said, holding one up triumphantly. It was garishly red with a Rudolph nose that lit up.

Barty snorted. “You actually wear that?”

“Not only wear it,” you said, grinning, “but we have competitions for who wears the ugliest one.”

“This is ridiculous,” Regulus muttered, but he was watching with unnerving focus.

“Last slide!” you announced. “Mistletoe! Hang it in a doorway, and if two people stand under it…”

“They duel?” Barty asked, eyes sparkling.

“No, Barty. They kiss.”

“Oh,” he said, smirking. “Much better.”

As you launched into an enthusiastic explanation of Christmas traditions, complete with visual aids and holiday snacks, the reactions were… mixed.

“Wait, so you hang socks over a fire?” Pandora asked, horrified. “Why?”

“Stockings!” you corrected. “And Santa fills them with gifts!”

“Who’s Santa?” Evan asked, taking meticulous notes.

“A magical man who delivers presents to every child in one night,” you explained.

“That’s absurd,” Regulus muttered. “He’d need to Apparate faster than…”

“Regulus, it’s not about logic!” you exclaimed. “It’s about magic… the non-wand kind.”

Dorcas, meanwhile, was utterly focused on the food slides. “Do you have these… sugar cookies? Right now?”

Pandora was already halfway through decorating a gingerbread man. “This is delightful,” she said, adding tiny buttons with a concentrated frown.

Regulus, trying to appear disinterested, kept glancing at the screen as you explained Christmas movie plots.

“And in Elf, the main character…”

“Wait,” Barty interrupted. “You’re telling me a grown man thinks he’s an elf?”

“Yes, and it’s hilarious!” you insisted.

Regulus’s lips twitched as if suppressing a smile. “Ridiculous,” he muttered, but didn’t look away.

By the end of the evening, the room was littered with crumbs, icing, and half-decorated cookies. Evan was still taking notes, Pandora was humming a carol, and even Barty admitted he’d try mulled wine if you made it again.

Regulus lingered by the fireplace as the others left, staring at the stockings hanging there. “It’s… quaint,” he said quietly.

You grinned. “Muggle Christmas wins, admit it.”

Regulus didn’t look away from the stockings. “It’s tolerable.”

But the faintest flush on his cheeks said more than words ever could.

[thomaslittlegirl]

can you maybe do drunk Tommy? Like i read a fanfic about how he forgot the ready was his wife and was like "im sorry but im married" 😭 its soo hilarious to think how funny he can be when he's drunk

But i keep remembering how he's in the show, i forgot what episode but he was drinking infront of mosley and mosley was like advising him to stop drinking or cut it and it results to him drinking more in his and Lizzie bedroom (i think) and he was just like vulnerable in front of Lizzie

Its so sad to see him like that but it warm my heart at how he trusts Lizzie enough to be like that

i hope you enjoy this as much as i enjoyed writing it 🩷

drunk. thomas shelby

warnings; none. just sweet thomas.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

the brush glides gently through your hair. you look at yourself in the mirror of the beautiful dressing table your husband made built for you.

enjoying the silence, the peace.

when you finish combing your hair, you spray a little perfume on the sides of your neck and let out a sigh, ready to go to bed when you felt a knock on your bedroom door.

your brow furrows and you notice in the reflection how the door opens, revealing thomas entering the room while staggering on his own feet. the man walks until he is in front of you and kneels, resting his head on your lap.

"drunk again?" you question, and more than a question it is a harsh statement that you disguise.

shelby settles between your legs and nods, slowly. "im sorry."

you want to scold him, yell at him for behaving that way and ignore your advice. you only want the best for him, but it seems like he has a hard time realizing that.

"what did i told you about getting home wasted?" you remind him.

"i know... im sorry, princess."

you sigh. your hands go to his head and you begin to gently caress his hair, strands twining with your long fingers.

thomas buries his head further into your lap, moaning in satisfaction when you scratch his scalp.

he melts in your hands, in your touch.

a goofy smile adorns his face and warms your heart. you weren't used to seeing him so... calm, so devoted to you.

"i don't want you to drink so much." you begin, trying not to lecture him. your voice comes out soft, in a whisper so as not to break the peaceful atmosphere. "i worry about you."

"i try, i really do. i want to be the best husband for you."

you smile, your hand now caressing the back of his neck. "and you are. you're good."

thomas gives a nasal chuckle, hugging you around the waist as he lets himself be carried away by your pampering. "just for you... good boy for my princess."

you feel the affection in his voice, in his words; you feel him so vulnerable that you just want to fill him with your love until you fall apart.

"my good boy." you flatter.

thomas can't figure out if it's all the whiskey he ingested taking effect or your sweet caresses, but suddenly he feels sleepy.

the man rubs his cheek on your thigh and places a small kiss there.

you notice his tiredness, his slower and clumsier movements. "let's go to bed, baby." you help him stand up and shelby steals a kiss from you when he is almost at your height, bending his head a little to brush his lips with yours. he lets himself be guided to bed and doesn't bother to change into night clothes.

thomas sinks into the mattress and looks for your figure to rest his body on top of you. his arms wrap loosely around you while his head goes to your chest.

sweet hands caress him again and lull him to sleep. he doesn't remember feeling this safe and loved in his life.

"good night." you murmur, placing a kiss on the top of his head. thomas smiles, relaxing even more against you.

"night, mommy." he utters, his large hand resting on your barely swollen abdomen.

[goodlucktai]

one of the rotten ones

rottmnt word count: 2k pairing: don & leo, don & OC title borrowed from anthems for a seventeen year old by yeule part of the archer au :) read on ao3

x

“I don’t think Gio likes me,” Donnie blurts. 

He’d feel self-conscious if he was pressed to admit it anywhere else, but he’s in the infirmary, and the only one around to hear him say so is his twin. 

They’re moving into hour two of Leo’s “faves” playlist and the fourth consecutive Taylor Swift song even though he swore he put it on shuffle. Leo is going through cabinets and shelves systematically, updating inventory on his phone, while Donnie infodumps about energy storage and projectile dynamics and the breaking strength of crossbow string. 

Donatello’s base knowledge of this particular ranged weapon is severely lacking, which is a significant personal problem for him now that he has a sibling with a preference for archery. He needs to be the world’s leading expert on the subject yesterday. He has half a dozen half-formed plans for things like sonar bolts for 3-D mapping, which may or may not have been inspired by the Jupiter Jim Pluto Vacation run.   

Only every glance at the project folder simply labeled ‘G-01’ causes an uncomfortable feeling to squirm to life in his stomach, not unlike the Krang tentacles that had attached themselves to his carapace on the day the world didn’t end. 

Donnie isn’t good at people. He doesn’t know how they tick, and there are no reliable lines of code or handy user manuals that he can fall back on when he’s mystified by human behavior. 

His siblings don’t have the same problem. Leo is perceptive to a degree that borders upon clairvoyance, Mikey is the single-most emotionally intelligent member of their family, Raph is more charming than he gets credit for, and April can talk her way through any closed door, police tape or VIP-only entrance. None of them fumble the way Donnie does when a social interaction goes off-script, like it’s a volleyball that got served his way without the ample warning he needs to be anything approaching passable at the sport. 

But he knows he’s not imagining it—the way Gio seems to brace himself when Donnie comes into the room, like he’s expecting a confrontation every time. Like the last thing Donatello could want with him is something good. 

Donnie can be a lot. They all can. They come by it honestly, equal parts chaotic lab experiments and their father’s sons. And not every structure is built to withstand hurricane winds. Not every person is equipped to deal with a Hamato level weather event. 

But he has never seen Gio flinch away from anyone else. 

So he did what he always did when confronted by something outside his formidable repertoire—he took it to Leo. 

There had never in Donnie’s life been a problem that couldn’t be made into their problem. It came with twin territory. 

And Donnie’s twin in particular is good at translating Donatello and translating other people for Donatello, and jumps on any chance to be helpful and feel wanted, and absolutely loves problems. It’s one of the most annoying and endearing things about him. If there is any trouble within a hundred miles, Leo will find it. He will worm his way into the center of it and then puzzle his way out from the inside. Most other clever and curious people were satisfied by the daily Wordle; Leo would chew through a wall unless he had something more hands-on to occupy his mind with. As polar-opposite as the two of them could be in, in that regard, they were one and the same. 

It’s somewhat reassuring to Donnie that Leo’s immediate reaction is plain incredulity. He looks baffled, like Donnie has just started throwing stuff around the room for no reason. 

(He knows better. In the medbay, of all places, that would be a death wish. Leo runs a tight ship here and only here.)

“Sorry, you don’t think Gio likes you?” Leo says slowly. “Our Gio? The guy who let you infodump about the mycelial networks of fungi to him for almost two hours, all because Mikey mentioned he was making mushroom stir-fry for dinner?” 

Donnie scoffs, but he can’t help but feel warmed by the reminder. Gio had settled right in, the way he always did once he was sure of his welcome, and watched Donnie talk like nothing more interesting existed on this side of the equator.

“His eyes didn’t even glaze over,” Leo goes on, doing what he always does and pressing the advantage. “That’s a new personal best in this family. Even April started looking for a window to climb out of at the thirty minute mark.”

“There was bound to be at least one other mutant turtle in the New York metropolitan area with an appreciation for botany,” Donnie says imperiously, tilting his chin up. 

But the worry is still there, firmly rooted, trying to flower. Leo must be able to tell because his frown deepens, playfulness evaporating by the second. He pauses the music and sets his phone down. The room rings in the sudden silence, but it’s not uncomfortable, because it’s a room Donnie exists in with his twin. 

“I just want him to like me,” Donnie says. It’s a childish want, it makes him feel half his age, but it’s true. 

He was never one of those human kids lingering near the playground, on the edge of the classroom, desperate to fit in. He was never on the outs because he never had the chance to be. But this is probably what that would have felt like. 

Giorgio is quiet by default, absorbing everything with dark brown eyes, always pausing to think before speaking in a low, flat register that is becoming as familiar to Donnie as Raph’s comforting rumbles and Mikey’s energetic shrieks and Leo’s sweet or sly laughter. 

He hasn’t been anything but kind since he got here. He saved Leo, brought him home from a place it should have been impossible to come home from, so Donatello would put up with any manner of assholery from that quarter in exchange—but it’s not that at all. 

Once Gio’s initial guard goes up and then comes down, once they outlive that moment of consideration that verges upon scrutiny without ever crossing the line, the eldest turtle softens for any younger one like clockwork. He indulges whatever noise or nonsense they’ve brought with them like there is no better use of his time. 

It doesn’t seem like a lie. But Donnie is the least qualified person he knows to make that judgement call. 

There’s a lot at stake if he’s wrong, is all. 

Leo looks like Donnie has taken a melon baller to his insides just for fun. 

“I’d know if he didn’t like you,” Leo says with absolute certainty. And he probably would. And he would take it so personally. He wouldn’t let Gio know a single moment’s rest until the spotted turtle had a coming-to-Jesus moment and acknowledged his wrongdoings in canceled Youtuber apology video format. 

Since that isn’t the reality they live in—and Leo’s daily relentless pestering of Gio is harmless and little-sibling-shaped and decidedly not mean-spirited by any stretch of the imagination—some small part of the tight, unhappy feeling in Donnie’s heart has no choice but to accept that as the compelling argument it is. 

“He probably misses you, Tello,” Leo adds, something softening in his face that it hurts to look directly at. “His you, I mean. I know I would be a train wreck cosplaying as a person if I had to go someplace I’d never see you again. Can you imagine how screwed-up I’d be?”

Donnie’s whole soul shudders at the idea, at the nightmare that almost came true when the portal closed around the Technodrome and as good as severed Donnie clean down the middle. At the glimpse of a life he’d be forced to live with one leg, one lung, one arm, one eye, half a heart. 

“That’ll never happen,” he says, a little too loud. 

“You’re stuck with me,” Leo agrees. He means it, Donnie can tell—even after that almost-nightmare he put his family through, he means it. It’s one thing to take the nuclear option at the actual on-paper end of the world, it’s another to sit in a safe, warmly-lit room with his twin brother and try to conceive of an existence in which their dynamic duo was whittled down to a solo act. 

When they were little, Donnie once tried to explain how big the unobservable universe was. He told Leo that light from the big bang hadn’t reached Earth from all the way over there yet. It was a concept he struggled with as a child, that something could be so unknowable and immeasurable.

“That’s how big my ‘I love you’ is,” he said, all of seven years old and putting it into words the best way he knew how.

“I love you bigger than that,” Leo said promptly. 

“Ugh, you can’t,” Donnie said, frustrated at his twin for always trying to one-up him, for not understanding the huge thing Donnie was trying to compress and fit into his hands. “It’s not possible.”

“It is,” Leo said firmly, eyes gold to match Donnie’s, warm and shining in a way that was all his own. “I do.”

And then Leo went on to prove it. In a way Donnie never would have wanted him to—in an explosion that split the sky and left flash burns in their eyes, and the hollow pain of a surgical removal as the still-beating heart of their family was cut away, and the discordant electronic fuzz where a beloved voice had been rushing through last words, replaced by the sound of a radio without a signal, a device unpaired—but he proved it in a thousand other ways, too. 

He was even proving it now, this afternoon he spent leaning on a forearm crutch and ambling around to various shelves and cabinets to keep up with his stock of medical supplies that had been severely depleted in the weeks after the invasion. Leo had carried bandaids and lidocaine spray in a tiny tote bag since he was two feet tall. He couldn’t stop bad things from happening but he could try to make the bad things better. 

He’s looking at Donnie like he would right every wrong for him if he knew where to start. Like the unobservable universe was small enough to fit in his pocket compared to the lengths Leonardo would go for Donatello. 

Leo is the younger twin, but sometimes the only thing there is for Donnie to do is shuffle over and bonk their foreheads together and believe him. 

“If Gigi hated you, he wouldn’t be a Hamato,” Leo announces, muffled and silly and entirely correct. “It’s a required qualification. You must have missed that meeting with HR.” And then, because it’s important, he whispers, “I promise, okay?”

“Okay,” Donnie whispers back. 

At about that moment, TSwift’s I Think He Knows comes on, proving once and for all that there is actually no way Leo’s playlist is on shuffle. The weighted moment they’re holding on tight to transitions into a lighter one that gets flung haphazardly around as an immediate life-or-death struggle for the phone ensues. 

Stalemate is only reached when Splinter barges in to read them the riot act for daring to roughhouse while they had a non-zero number of broken bones between the two of them. Leo is bright-eyed with mischief and already fast-talking their way out of trouble the same effortless way April can rattle off her brothers’ favorite coffee orders, and Donnie’s worry has been soundly evicted, all its belongings in boxes in the yard. 

Sitting around has never been his style. He’s a turtle of discovery and invention. And now that he’s been reassured that the absolute worst-case scenario is not on the table—that it, in fact, was never on the table to begin with—curiosity rears its head and snaps up the dregs of anxiety like a hungry wolfhound who mistook it for an unattended rack of lamb. 

Hypothesis: Georgie isn’t being weird out of dislike of Donatello. Leo’s certain he’s not, so certain that he was willing to promise, point-blank and absolute, instead of being tricky and sly in the name of cheering Donnie up instead. Leo even offered a much more palatable alternative, but further evidentiary support is required. 

So after dinner a week later, as the whole family crowds comfortably around the banana split bar spilling across the entire kitchen island and argues over which toppings Gio and Casey should stack their bowls with first, Donnie blurts, “Can I see your crossbow?”

Giorgio really is one of the clowns in this circus. He proves it by putting his ice cream down, and picking the bow up from where it was relegated to the bench seat where everyone tosses their coats and shoes when they get home, and passing it right over. No normal person would put a loaded weapon in Donnie’s hands just because he asked nicely. 

As if in tacit agreement, both of Casey’s eyebrows shoot toward his hairline and Raph makes incredulous scoffing noises. April says, “You did not just—” at the same time Splinter blusters, “Purple, you fire that thing off in this house even once and I am grounding you from everything you know and love, including Orange!” and Donnie screeches, over Mikey and Leo’s hysterical laughter, “I can be trusted with projectile weaponry!”

The crossbow has been carefully maintained, but it hasn’t been used in weeks that Donnie is aware of. They’ve all stuck pretty close to home since the invasion, and it’s not like Gio knows anyone but them—it’s not like they need firepower for grocery hauls or pizza runs, though, knowing their luck, that could change any given day. 

But Gio still cleans it regularly, and he’s become a familiar sight at the kitchen table; parts spread out on an oil-stained rag, meticulous and methodical with the one belonging he brought here with him from the future other than the clothes on his back and the colorful friendship bracelet on his right wrist. 

It’s important to him, clearly, but he’s letting Donnie handle it with an indulgent look on his face. Like there are no better hands to leave it in than his little brother’s. 

Because he’s at risk of having a whole emotion about that out loud, where his entire family is assembled to witness it, Donnie quickly turns his mind onto the much safer road of gadgetry.  

He has never actually held a crossbow before, has never built or used one, but he’s been doing a lot of research. He has a lot of ideas. He wants to print mechanical broadhead arrows with explosive tips, or tear gas canisters, or EMP charges. It’s a brand new world of creative chaos and that’s not even touching all the build customizations Donnie has in mind. His fingers are already itching to dismantle and reassemble the machine into something better, something that won’t ever fail, something his big brother will love. 

Only—huh. What feels like a low-level electric current thrums to quiet life like it was waiting to be noticed by the right pair of eyes, just enough of a static shock to get his attention and guide his hand to the rail. Glowing purple does the work of an allen wrench in seconds and a handful of screws clatter to the table. Donnie removes the scope in one sure motion, and moves on to snap the rail from the stock. 

Raph says, low and warning, “Donnie,” intimately familiar with gremlin gadget mode and all the kitchen appliances and shared toys destroyed in Donnie’s early years in the name of science. But he’s not breaking this time, he’s just looking. 

He flips the rail over in his hands and finds the source of that odd electricity-conductive feeling. Hidden on the underside is a small embossed logo that Donnie would recognize anywhere, because it’s his.

“A-ha!” he says, absurdly pleased with the discovery. “A Genius Built mod.” 

The rail was one of the first things he’d had in mind to upgrade, but it looks like he’d beaten himself to the punch. 

“With a custom rail, we can add whatever attachments we want to the stock, way beyond just an average scope or a rangefinder,” Donnie says eagerly, his mind darting ahead in three different directions at once. “The world is our oyster, Georgie!” 

He can’t help grinning. His logo on Gio’s prized possession is that last little bit of evidence he needed. He’s never been happier to be wrong, and will endure Leo’s smugness for an unheard of two entire business days before initiating retaliation. 

No version of Donatello would put that mark on anything unless he really cared about it. 

And Gio wouldn’t lift the rail from Donnie’s hands, and touch his thumb to that stylized “D” as if to prove to himself that it was real, an expression of painful wistful longing on his face, unless he really cared, too. 

[diazsdimples]

"I want to forget you." + buddietommy

"I want to forget you," Tommy slurs. The half-empty bottle of Jack Daniels in his hand clinks against the table as he sways, hiccupping. "Both of you."

The air around him is thick with the scent of stale booze and body odour, and Eddie wrinkles his nose. Beside him, Buck is a line of tension, discomfort rolling off him in waves. Eddie supposes it's not dissimilar to how he and Hen found Bobby all those years ago. The similarities are bound to be confronting.

"Tommy, babe, what are you doing?" Eddie asks with a sigh. The old endearment slips out before he can stop it, a force of habit after so long. His brain hasn't quite caught up with the fact that they're no longer a them.

"Makin' a choice," Tommy replies stubbornly. He locks eyes with Eddie, and he can barely see past the alcohol-induced glaze, to the Tommy he remembers and loves.

"Not a choice we asked you to make."

Buck's voice is firm, stubborn, like he's digging his heels in. Buck hadn't given up hope that Tommy would come back to them. It had been weeks of wistful looks at his phone, baking up every spec of flour, sugar, and baking powder within a 5 mile radius. He's not going to let Tommy get away from them so easily this time.

Eddie makes a mental note to thank Lucy for her tip-off.

Have you heard from Kinard? He hasn't been on shift for almost a week.

Tommy goes to stand and he sways violently. Both Eddie and Buck rush to support him, each hooking a hand under his arm. From here, the smell of alcohol is almost overpowering, oozing from his pores. Eddie thinks he could get drunk from the fumes alone.

"'M not good enough f'r you," Tommy mumbles, his head lolling. "N'ver g'd enough."

"Maybe that's something for us to decide."

Buck takes the bottle from Tommy's hand and places it gently on the table. He slings Tommy's arm over his shoulder and jerks his head towards the bathroom. Getting the hint, Eddie follows suit, supporting his boyfriend? ex-boyfriend? as he and Buck begin to guide him down the hall.

Tommy is heavy, even more so when none of his limbs are co-operating. They half carry, half drag him into the bathroom, both men straining under his weight. They set him down on the toilet, and Eddie begins to unbutton Tommy's shirt.

"Get his shoes, sweetheart?" he asks, pressing a soft, reassuring kiss to Buck's temple. Buck's eyes flutter shut at the contact, and he seems to take strength from it, a renewed resolve in his movements as he crouches in front of Tommy.

They work in tandem to undress him, movements which, in another world, would have been the precursor to a night they'd never forget. Now, Eddie thinks Tommy won't remember much of this come morning.

Eddie taps Tommy's nose, and the pilot's eyes, unfocussed, train on him.

"Arms up," he instructs, tugging at the hem of Tommy's shirt. Tommy complies, and Eddie divests him of his final article of clothing. "Now, into the shower."

Meekly, Tommy does as he's told. Buck turns the shower on full blast, and as cold as he can make it, and Tommy jolts as the icy jet hits him square in the chest.

"Thass too cold," he complains, making to leave, but he's stopped by Buck. Buck circles his arms around Tommy's waist, pulling him into a tight hug, and steps under the water with him.

"Come on, baby, let me take care of you."

Tommy probably misses it, but Eddie catches the pleading edge to his voice. Buck needs this, maybe just as much as Tommy. He needs to put his love into actions, because Tommy won't remember words. He needs Tommy to know how much he's loved, by him and by Eddie.

"You'll st'y with me?"

"Always." Eddie steps under the water with them, clothing be damned, and pulls both men into his arms. He tucks his face into Tommy's neck, his fingers clutching tightly at Buck's saturated t-shirt. The last few weeks without Tommy have been hell, and as pissed as Eddie is with him, he needs this. He needs to be close to him. He needs to feel his skin beneath his hands.

"I've got you," Buck promises, kissing Tommy's temple.

"We've got you."

Short and Impactful Prompts

[rayyanishere1]

hello gang i made something

a jerk!ford fighting card! is that what theyre called? i have no idea, i was never a playing cards sort of guy

stats:

health: 100

attack: 30

sanity/intelligence: 500

charisma: -500

speed: 400

description:

Sticks and Stones May Break My Bones, But Words Break My Heart!

This Stanford's strangely personal insults stuns enemies and lowers their sanity.

It's ineffective towards Anti-Ford.

i know charisma isnt how much people like you but instead your force of presence, sadly the negative is already there and too small to erase properly (⁠^⁠_⁠^;)

translations for the stuff that's in bahasa melayu:

DAH LAH AKU PENAT = ENOUGH I'M TIRED

kurangkan gila = lower the craziness/insanity

yapping under the cut AS PER USUAL

made this while bored in class, i actually started drawing it yesterday but only finished it today

my friend and i got some free cards when buying chocolate. i dont know how to actually play with them, i decided to put it to good use and feed my jerk!ford obsession!

i used my friends as drawing references for the foreshortening. i eventually gave up on it as i still cant draw that properly. they have all started using the middle AND ring finger when flipping the bird, just like ford. of course, none of us have six fingers, but that doesnt seem to stop any of us

one of said friends also drew a very bad might i say penis in the description while it was blank. she laughed maniacally about it before erasing it. tbf, jerk!ford kinda deserves it, but my poor drawing book doesn't (⁠눈⁠‸⁠눈⁠)

im slowly spreading the knowledge of jerk!ford like it's the gospel. two people at school have heard me paraphrase the lore at this point. we'll see if that number ever goes up

ANYWAY GANG REMEMBER; REALITY IS AN ILLUSION, THE UNIVERSE IS A HOLOGRAM, BUY GOLD, BYEEEE (⁠＾⁠∇⁠＾⁠)⁠ﾉ

[vroombeams]

Hey ho! Challenge time 😉 open your Spotify Daylist, find the 6th song on the list and write a quick drabble based on the 9th line of lyrics 🎵

Send this to 5 friends and feel free to change the song or lyric number. Have fun! 🖋️

love you in a panic because i prefer to sit on fences

Across the club, Lando's talking to a girl.

Talking is a generous way of putting it—they're pulled together so close that they might as well be making out already, Lando's crooked, drunken grin pressed up against the girl's flushed cheek. He's pretending to listen. Max knows how he is, the kind of mind he's got, and he knows that exact expression. The smile-and-nod minus the nod.

Max isn't disgusted but he's distinctly annoyed, because Lando does this every time. Invites Max out to Monaco, invites Max out to the club, ditches Max in the VIP booth like free liquor and people Max barely knows could be a replacement for Lando himself.

It's just irritating, is all. Why bother? Why is he even here? He could be home. He could be out somewhere else, with P or with friends who aren't going to swerve him to get laid. P's been texting him, too. Don't do anything I wouldn't do type shit, complete with suggestive emojis and followed up by a fresh lingerie pic. She's been shopping, clearly. That'll be nice to come home to at the very least.

He sends 😍😍😍, and then taps into his texts with Lando. The girl is leaning over the bar when Max glances over, and Lando's got an unsubtle hand around her thigh, thumb tucked under the bottom of her minidress.

dipping, Max types and sends. He's got a key to Lando's flat, all the security codes memorized by now. He should've gotten a hotel. A peaceful night's sleep is almost certainly not in the cards at this point.

He's honestly not expecting Lando to check his phone, not until later. But as Max is standing up and saying his goodbyes—he literally doesn't know anyone at this table, he's realizing, and he's pretty sure none of them know Lando either—he catches Lando slipping his phone out of his pocket and then squinting down at it. Blinking, tapping, squinting some more before he lifts his head and whips it around comically. Like Max is going to be anywhere other than the booth. Dickhead.

Max gives him a little wave that he turns into a middle finger as he scoots his way out of the booth. Doesn't need to be more than that, does it? Lando would've Irish goodbyed anyway, slipped out the door with his girl to grab a car without saying a word to Max or anyone at all. Probably Max wouldn't even have gotten a courtesy text about it.

He's not expecting a hand around his wrist as he's headed for the door. He knows it's Lando before he turns—he knows exactly how his he fits into Lando's hand, how the circle of his thumb and index make a perfect shackle around his wrist.

"Where are you going?" Lando shouts. It's too loud, even over the music. Loud enough that a few people actually turn to look. Max lost count of how many shots Lando's been slamming hours ago.

"Home," Max says, at a much more reasonable volume. "Like I said."

Lando frowns, so distraught and pouty that Max almost wants to laugh. Almost.

"But it's early," Lando says, like he's legitimately confused as to why Max could possibly want to dip. It's really not all that early. Gone two in the morning at least, and they've been here since midnight.

"Just not feeling it," Max says. It's not a lie. "Sorry, Bob, I'll catch you later."

He moves to leave, but Lando's not letting go of him. His grip around Max's wrist goes tighter. His eyes go wider, wilder. Lando's not unlike a dog with separation anxiety a lot of the time. Liable to wail about it if he's left alone, even in a room full of people.

"You can't go," Lando says. He sounds a bit panicked, unsteady on his feet, swaying around in place. "You—you're supposed to stay. With me."

He's too drunk to be anything but honest, but his brain is obviously not connecting properly to his mouth. Max has known him long enough that it's not hard to fill in the blanks. Max has known him long enough to also know that sometimes—not always, but sometimes—Lando really does look at him like a piece of property. Like Max belongs to him.

Maybe he does. Sometimes.

"You can come home with me," Max offers, because he's too exhausted to pick the fight he wants to pick right now. Sometimes he'll lean into it. Sometimes he'll tell Lando off for his shit behaviour, tell him exactly what he thinks, which is—well. You don't own me. You're fine on your own. You don't get to keep me like a Pomeranian in a fucking handbag.

Lando makes a noise so close to desperation that Max actually feels his ears go red. He doesn't have it in him to push away the connections. The way Lando sounds when he drags Max to bed. The way Lando sounds when he's getting what he wants, or close to it.

"But—" Lando hesitates. His palm is slick-sweaty against Max's wrist and this time when he sways he comes so close to Max that it's going to go extremely badly for them both if there are any paps around.

"Won't be mad if you stay," Max says. Which isn't fully true, but it's not fully untrue. He's used to this by now.

Lando gives him the full puppy eyes. "You promise," he says, leaning in even fucking closer, enough that Max goes a bit cross-eyed for a second trying to keep up.

He knows how this is going to go. Lando will go back inside, and he'll get his girl if she's still there, or a different one if she's not. Max will wake up at half-four to Lando slamming through the front door of the flat, giggling his way down the hall, unselfconsciously loud like he's forgotten Max is there at all.

And then in the morning, once the girl's been safely removed, Lando will crawl into bed with Max, and he'll give him those exact eyes again. Big and wide and pathetic, whining at Max not to be mad, wriggling a hand into Max's boxers to 'make it up to him'.

That's how it'll go. That's how it always goes.

"Promise," Max says.

Lando grins, and he lets go of Max's wrist.

[babyrdie]

Okay, I have something to confess… none of the deaths in The Iliad were sad for me. Aside from the amount of randoms dying, let's consider Patroclus and Hector here because I honestly don't remember the rest.

Patroclus: I genuinely couldn't be sad. Sure, I was sad about the characters' reactions to Patroclus' death (for example, Antilochus running and crying and Achilles' depressive episode), but not about his final battle itself. I'm sorry, guys, but it was funny to read him about to die being petty and saying to Hector something like "you idiot, you only killed me because Zeus and Apollo helped you. Face me alone and I'll kill you! I'll kill you multiple times! Anyway, Achilles is going to kick your ass hahahahahaha he's going to kick your ass SO MUCH". Like, dude, you're DYING. What's YOUR problem, you looked your KILLER in the face and said "actually ☝️ I can kill you". And okay, even if we think it's true that two gods helped Hector… MAN, WHAT KIND OF MIND DO YOU HAVE TO HAVE TO DECIDE THAT YOUR LAST WORDS ARE GOING TO BE ACCUSING YOUR KILLER OF BEING WEAKER THAN YOU. If I were Hector I would respond something like "man, fuck you, you're dying!!!"

Hector: I also couldn't be sad about the death itself. It was sad to see Priam begging, Andromache talking about being enslaved, etc. But the moment of the battle? Sorry, the battle was hilarious. In Book 16, Patroclus was there spitting blood and dying while still using his last breath to be like "I didn't lose, YOU will lose" to Hector (man that was petty) and Hector was like "Achilles? He's not going to kick my ass, I AM going to kick his ass". And then he goes and prepares to fight Achilles alone, despite his understandably worried parents, because he needs to defend the city and it's a touching moment and you understand Hector's decision, but you still feel like it's suicidal, but hey…he seems confident. And you think that this is where the typical epic fight will happen, especially since he responded to Patroclus' threat by insinuating that he would defeat Achilles. But no, he sees Achilles approaching with a murderous aura around him and decides that he's going to run. And he DOESN'T stop. They run around the walls of Troy while the Trojans watch…what is this, a stadium where you watch the action from above? And then you're like "man, how long are they going to run?" and apparently Athena thought so too because she goes and tricks Hector into stopping running. And then you think okay, now it's the epic fight. But no, they're throwing spears at each other and exchanging harsh words while Athena shows her favoritism by helping Achilles. And then Hector is dying and he's like "Paris and Apollo are gonna kill you!!!!" and Achilles is like "bitch, look at my face and tell me if I look like someone who wants to live."

And as an honorable mention, we have two other funny no-death-all-teasing moments!

One of them is Achilles running after Apollo. Bitch, I know you're mad, but that's a GOD. Hurting a god is already a rare feat, do you really think you're going to be able to kill him or something? You got your ass kicked by Scamandrius despiste your confidence (another hilarious scene, actually), man, Apollo isn't on your level. I KNOW YOU'RE MENTALLY UNSTABLE IN THIS SCENE, BUT MAN. Apollo actually taunting Achilles is also hilarious. He is a god that's thousands of years old and he's arguing with this guy who can't even be 30 years-old. This guy who, like, Apollo's stepmother (Hera) acts like he's just Thetis' baby (Hera defending Achilles be like: well, he was suckled on the divine breasts of Thetis! Thetis, a goddess! Goddess that I raised!!!). Like, man, I know you want to kill him, just kill him. No need to trade taunts like you're in the same position or something. My theory is that Apollo was in a bit of an Book 1 Achilles situation. Achilles wanted to kill Agamemnon, but Athena stopped him, so the only option left was to curse him. Apollo wants to kill Achilles, but fate exists and it's not Achilles' time to die. So okay, he'll do the second best thing: provoke him. Like, it is SO personal lol

The other moment is Aeneas. Apollo encouraging Aeneas to fight Achilles because his mother is Aphrodite and Achilles' mother is Thetis, and since Aphrodite is more powerful than Thetis, surely Aeneas is stronger than Achilles, right? Aeneas then goes on and gives Achilles a huge speech. He goes on and on about how his mother is Aphrodite, about how he won't be intimidated, about how he won't be just another one... then Achilles kicks his ass SO hard that Poseidon has to step in and take Aeneas away. And Achilles cares SO MUCH about Aeneas that he's like "oh, a god helped you. Okay then" and goes back to fighting. And let's face it, if Achilles had any interest in Aeneas, he wouldn't care that the gods want Aeneas alive. He literally commits sacrilege with Hector's and tries to go after Apollo, he just didn't go after Aeneas because he apparently doesn't care enough about him. Man, Aeneas, that was humiliating. All that confident speech for that.

I'm seeing a pattern here, actually:

Patroclus "I could kill you!!!" to Hector while being killed by Hector. Okay, man…but dead people don't fight! At least you can brag that you beat Sarpedon if you care so much about proving your skills even while you're dying, I guess.

Hector "hahaha I'll kick Achilles' ass, that threat doesn't affect me!" to Patroclus and then running after seeing Achilles. Running for his entire life if it weren't for Athena. Is this the swift-footed Hector we see running for the third time?????

Achilles "I'm the best of the Greeks! I'm the peak! I'm THE MAN" to Scamandrius and then having to desperately be saved. Dude was defeated by SCAMANDRIUS and thought he could chase APOLLO. GUY IS THE SON OF A NEREID AND ALMOST DIED IN THE WATER.

Aeneas "my mother is Aphrodite, your mother is Thetis. I'm the chad, you're the virgin. That's how we are, you understand?" and then having to desperately be saved. It's even funnier when you think about how he was like "well, his mom is Thetis and she is a Nereid, not a Olympian…" BITCH DIOMEDES ISN'T EVEN A DEMIGOD AND YOU WOULD DIE IF IT WEREN'T FOR APHRODITE. HOW THE HELL DID YOU THINK YOUR MOTHER BEING APHRODITE WOULD MAKE YOU STRONGER THAN ACHILLES IF YOU WERE NOT STRONGER THAN A GUY WHO IS NOT EVEN A DEMIGOD.

But well, Hector, Patroclus and Achilles are all characters I adore. Aeneas I don't have a strong opinion of, truth be told (no, I haven't read The Aeneid). And yes, this post is completely immature. I've made many posts giving serious opinions, let me be honest about how I felt in these scenes even if they weren't written to be funny.

[cherrysurf]

congrats on your 200 💫💫can i have taro and cherries (friends set us up) as the toppings in waffle cone? i’ll have the cheesecake bites. ill have it with suna rintarou 🫶🏻🫶🏻

Unexpected interest

suna rintarou x f!reader (no proofread)

thank you to @massacremars for helping me figure out the plot for this fic 😞🙏🏻 bless up chat

Osamu was just about sick of hearing you complain about being single and the lack of men at your door “blah, blah, blah yn you know you’re lucky i’m a good friend and i’m willing to listen to you complain about this.” he said slurping on his ramen. “then help me out instead of listening to me complain.” you rolling your eyes “sigh. I don’t know if I can. But I'll try.” he says because he really is sick of this all. “How are you gonna do that?”

you asked quirking your eyebrow at him as you eat your food “i’m going to set you up with an old friend of mine, this saturday get ready i’ll have everything planned and text you the time before hand.” he says smirking at his grand idea “ermmm okay fine.” you say shrugging trusting in the gray haired man’s words—

after osamu had gotten home from yours and his lunch he called up atsumu for his grand idea “sunas still single right?” osamu asked, “Uh yeah, I think so, why?” atsumu said. “you remember yn?” osamu mentioned “oh yeah, how is she?” the blonde said over the phone. “she’s good but annoyingly single and can’t stop talking about it so i want to set her up with suna since he’s coming back to town this week” osamu tells him the plan “ah i see helping her out, so why are you telling me and not him?” atsumu questioned “Because I need you to help me talk him into this date” osamu said “and how will I do that?” Atsumu laughed. “bro figure it out and fast i told her Saturday is gonna be the date.” osamu added “WHAT?! that’s not enough time” atsumu said yelling “work with what i gave ya gotta go bye” osamu quickly hung up the phone. “ughhh i just wanted to sleep bruh” atsumu groaned—

atsumu called suna later that day “yo rin” atsum said “what’s up?” suna asked a bit confused because as crazy as it was atsumu never called out of the blue like this “I was wondering your single? and need some action in your love life because you have none and you don’t want to die alone right?” atsumu added “uhh i guess? where are you going with this tsumu?” he said sick of the blonde haired man and his antics “look osamu wants to set you up with one of his friends, she’s super pretty and cool i think you guys might hit it off, but you’d have to plan the date for this saturday” atsumu said really fast “are you kidding me?” suna said “nah, dead serious come on bro it’s not bad just do it for me and samu” atsumu added “ima do it for the girl because if she’s dealing with osamu and coming to him with her problems she must be struggling” suna said “perfect so text osamu ask for her number and set it up peace out my work here is done.” atsumu said feeling accomplished. “yeah whatever” suna said rolling his eyes.

Texts between osamu and suna;

S: send me that girls number so i can set up the date with her

O: wait u actually said yes?

S: yea?

O: dam, ok here you go (xxx) xxx-xxx

S: thanks

O: lmk how it goes…

Texts between suna and yn

S: Hey this is Osamu's friends, he the one who set you up on a date with me.

Yn: oh yeah, Hey! i can’t believe he actually did LMAO

S: yeah anyways what’s ur name?

Yn: it’s Yn, and you?

S: suna. So for the date i’ll pick you up at 9, dress casual unless you wanna meet there

Yn: no i don’t mind, uhm sure sounds good see you then suna!

S: see ya.

fast forward to the day of the date you’ve haven't been on one in forever so you were nervous about it all especially it being a long time friend of osamu’s and atsumu’s, you may have spent an unhealthy amount of time picking a “causal” outfit but you found one (after many double checks with all your friends) and pinterested many tiktok hairstyles for the days following up to the date but everything went smoothly until you get a text saying he’s going to be on his way, your stomach fills with anxiety because you have no idea what he looks like this was all new to you, surely osamu and atsumu wouldn’t set you up with someone ugly right? right? you try to push down all the worries and woes of your mind and triple check your outfit.

16 minutes later you get a knock on your door and you’re greeted by a tall dark haired man with beautiful green fox like eyes with a beautiful bouquet of lilies of the valley flowers, “how did you know…?” you asked him looking at the flowers, which makes him nervous “uh i asked osamu, i didn’t want to come empty handed” he said shyly “their beautiful….can i go put them away really quick” you say looking up at him which caused his heart to burst and beat like a drum a sensation he hasn’t felt since his first crush. “yeah-h sure” he said, staring at you “cool! I'll be fast.” you say grabbing them as if they were ever so delicate you threw out the old wilting bouquet of flowers and got new water to place the beautiful flowers he got you in, “okay all ready to go, shall we?” you say smiling which only made him more nervous “yeah let’s go.” he said smiling—

Suna was never the super shy type he wasn’t super cocky either, but how can he not feel nervous when he’s in the car with this beaming sunlight next to him, you radiating warmth and love. How could have you been single for this long? He questioned that he was also wondering if the date he planned wasn’t good enough for you now he’s rethinking everything while basically driving on autopilot to the destination. You sat there looking through the window happily. Suna seemed like a nice guy, he was sweet, he opened your door for you which was yes the bare minimum but it all felt so special with him.

The date was a fun night market with food vendors and small shops and fair rides. Your eyes lit up at the lively atmosphere, suna noticed of course he noticed it’s like his eyes were stuck on you this whole time.

After many foods, silly rides, suna almost throwing up, cute photo booth, and petting goats and calling them atsumu and osamu. The night was ending you both got sleepy, as you walk back to the car with a smile and blue tongue from the shaved ice and a small white bunny as a prize from the game suna won it from, and suna with red tongue and a smile on his face seeing you glow and scream in delight at all the rides. He couldn’t be happier that those twins finally did something good for him “thank you for this suna i had a lot of fun.” you say gripping onto his arm “yeah id love to do it again sometime…. maybe something more formal?” he said looking at you to find you with your eyes sparkling “REALLY?! "I'd love too suna” you say staring at him “yeah, and you can call me rin” he said smiling “rin, mmh i like that” you say savoring his name on your blue stained tongue, him engraving the sound of your voice in his brain.

[joelsbloodyhands]

DisneyWorld with the Millers - Snippets of Scenes

Summary: Joel and Tommy take Sarah and Ellie to DisneyWorld for the weekend. Reader is dating Joel and has yet to meet the fam and sends the occasional text and call to Joel during their trip.

Warnings: None, all wholesome shit but be warned that Tommy is a menace 😈 and will continue to be when I drop the whole story

A/N: This is going to be mostly Miller family shenanigans. I wanted reader to be involved though even just a little bit but then reader may become very involved later *wink wink* you go to DisneyWorld with the Millers *cough cough*. This is just a couple of the first things I started writing for this. Like many things, I lose motivation so rather than let this rot away in my drafts, I thought it’ll bring me some drive to keep writing by posting these small random snippets. This at least gives a general idea for what’s to come. It was inspired by a moodboard by @whocaresstillthelouvre : https://www.tumblr.com/whocaresstillthelouvre/761712710067044352/joel-miller-takes-his-girls-to-disney-world and I wrote short bits of dialogue after the spark of inspo this moodboard gave me.

Dividers by @strangergraphics-archive

Extremely Short Teasers 🤭:

“Tommy for fucks sake,” Joel grimaces, his teeth gritting at stumbling across his brother standing outside Japan at Epcot with a small plastic cup in his hand, a sheepish grin on his face.

“That’s right, brother. This is saké,” he chuckles and downs the cup in one while Joel’s eyes dart around for his missing kid that ran off to the gift shop without so much of a word while the other trails behind him begrudgingly.

“Are we going to space mountain or what?” Ellie groans and Joel shakes his head and Tommy who chucks the cup half hazardously into a nearby bin.

“You have to get piss drunk at-“ Joel checks his watch, “barely even noon.” Tommy frowns.

“Tom, I’ve got two kids to accommodate here and I need you to go watch Sarah doesnt max out my credit card on mouse ears. Can you do that for me while I take this one-“ Joel jabs a finger back towards Ellie stood with her arms crossed, her brow raising with a growing smile, “to the space shuttle?”

“Space mountain,” Ellie corrects matter-of-fact while Joel mutters the correct name and Tommy wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Hey, no problem! Uncle Tommy’s got it handled! That’s what I’m here for.”

“Look, Ellie! They’ve got astronaut themed ears with Goofy on ‘em!” Sarah bellows from across the gift shop, Joel grimacing when Ellie knocks past him, practically sprinting through the store to Sarah’s arm holding a pair of silver mouse ears with blue and white accents.

Joel is just about ready to block his card when his phone vibrates in his pocket. He tugs it out sliding open the message you’ve sent him.

You: Hey baby :) how’s DW with the girls?

Considering just two minutes ago, Joel’s face felt like he’d gained new wrinkles since they set foot past security, his smile reaches his cheeks when he sees your name plastered across his phone screen. He glances up to check on Sarah and Ellie still tugging ears of all shapes and colours off hangers and giggling before typing out a reply.

Joel: I think I’ll need to build a wardrobe just to hang ears by the time they’re done breaking my bank account :’)

“Sooo…” Ellie swings her arms as the four of them walk away from the food cantina, “animal kingdom next?”

“Noooo,” Sarah groans, her brows furrowing as she flashes her eyes towards Joel, a grin on his face at her when she pleads, “Magic Kingdom. Dad, please.”

Joel feels his phone vibrate in his pocket. His hand goes to retrieve it but if he knows Sarah and Ellie well enough, they’ll be shocked just to see him even pulling it from his pocket. They’ve yet to know about you and he wants to introduce you the right way so he ignores the message…just for now and gives his daughters his undivided attention.

“Magic Kingdom and then we’ll make our way over to Animal Kingdom after.”

“Uncle Tommy wants to go to Hollywood Studios,” Joel practically has to hide the jolt that went through him when Tommy spoke up from behind his shoulder.

“Of course you do,” Joel grumbles, “and then we’ll go to Hollywood Studios.”

“What the hell!” Ellie flails her arms, her head snapping towards Joel, “No fair! We already went to like three different gift stores Sarah wanted to go to.”

Sarah flashes her sister a glare, “and you already made us wait for you and Uncle Tommy to finish Mission Space. The LEAST you could do was come gift shopping with us.”

“Joel!!” Ellie exclaims but Joel cuts her off.

“You have had your turn, Ellie. We’ll get to Animal Kingdom. I promise. Just let Sarah choose our next park.”

Ellie scoffs, “fine.”

“What’s she losing it over?” Joel quirks his head towards Ellie, his question directed at Sarah who has her phone out ready to take a video.

Meanwhile Ellie is busy bouncing on her heels and trying to shove her way through a busy crowd of people much to Joel being wary of how unapologetic his adoptive daughter is with ensuring she gets to the front of whatever army just gathered.

Sarah laughs, trying to follow Ellie while Joel takes his daughters arm to make sure she doesn’t get hurt through the crowd. He takes a rare minute to remember Tommy but when Joel catches the back of his brothers crazy dark mane walking into the catina, he shakes his head and decides he’s probably better off anyway.

“The Mandalorian,” Sarah nods towards a speck of silver, the wave of the crowd giving Joel only a blurry view of what they’re working their way towards.

“The what?” Joel grimaces, keeping his hand on Sarah’s elbow while holding his shoulders inward to avoid bumping into people.

“Some space man,” Sarah replies, emerging from the crowd and reaching Ellie’s side, her bouncing becoming more erratic.

Joel emerges too, his hand dropping back to his side and taking in the view of a helmeted character wearing armor with a robotic green alien looking thing in a bag.

“Bounty hunter,” Ellie rolls her eyes at Sarah’s earlier remark having caught the end of Joel’s questioning.

Joel’s brow lifts in concern, his eyes flickering between his daughter and the man in question she’s so excited to see who is currently showing some kids his little green pet.

“Don’t bounty hunters kill people?” Joel mumbles causing Ellie to nod, her amusement growing when the character gets closer to them.

Joel looks the guy up and down again, “Huh…and I thought this was Disney.”

“Don’t they have a tendency to kill off people in the movies?”

Joel starts, his head whipping around with wild eyes to see Tommy looking at the metal man with intrigue.

“Where the fuck did you come from?” Joel scolds under his breath at his younger brother who smiles to him in response. Joel swears the most annoying thing about Tommy is that he never matches the same irritated energy Joel receives from him. Tommy forever is as cool as a cucumber while being the most aggravating entity on the planet.

“They got drinks back there,” Tommy shrugs and then backtracks when Joel’s eyes narrow impatiently, “no, not like that. They’ve got these weird blue and green milk things.”

Joel frowns.

“Thought I’d come back and we can take the girls to try them together.”

The lines between Joel’s brows even out.

That’s surprisingly, well…surprising coming from Tommy.

Then Joel remembers himself.

“Wait, what was it you were saying about Disney killing people off again?” Joel inquires, his head turning to check on his girls watching the character make his rounds.

“Ya know, Bambi’s mother, Tarzan’s parents, Nemo’s mother…” Tommy trails off.

“They got a vendetta against women or-“ Joel’s teeth grit.

A Girl Dad through and through.

“Nah, you don’t remember Mufasa?” Tommy asks seriously.

Joel sighs, “can’t say I do.”

[27spoons]

CRUSH | ACT ONE: DO I WANNA KNOW?

pairing: natalie scatorccio/fem!reader

summary: You're studying on a Friday. Natalie doesn't like that.

wc: 4200 (blaze it) (im not funny)

warnings: none. I think.

a/n: happy birthday 2 me. here is another chapter. lowkey i wasnt planning on have two chapters in a row with a ? in them but oh well yolo and all that fun stuff. anyways this chapter is basically just two losers yapping (next one will b longer promise)

ao3 / masterlist

PREVIOUS - ACT ONE: HOW CAN I MAKE IT OK?

NEXT - ACT TWO: (idk yet titles are hard) (WIP)

The thing about Natalie Scatorccio is that she always seems to find you when you least expect it. It’s like she has a sixth sense, some radar that tells her exactly when you’re trying not to think about her—and then she shows up, smirking like she knows all your secrets. 

Today is no different. You’re sitting on the steps outside the library, flipping halfheartedly through a history textbook, when her shadow falls over you.

"Studying on a Friday, Princess?" She lets out a low whistle, "Now, that's tragic."

You roll your eyes and let a scoff fall from your lips, "Listen, not everyone can afford to just… throw caution to the wind or whatever. Some of us actually need to study."

Nat snorts as she fishes a cigarette out of her pocket, bringing it to her lips and lighting it, "I do study, just not on Fridays, like a nerd." She gives you a pointed glare, but it lacks any actual heat.

Without giving you a chance to object, she throws her duffle bag down on the steps next to you and sits down with a grunt. "Seriously, though." She ashes her cigarette, "Why're you sittin' alone out here, head in your…" She glances at the cover of your textbook, "history book when you could be doin' anything else?"

You shrug and close your textbook with a sigh, "I dunno. I guess it's just… the way things are, or whatever. Never really been the type of person who goes out on Fridays." Nat nods in understanding as she takes a slow drag from her cigarette, "Yeah, I get that. Nothin' wrong with that. But it gets boring after a while, yeah? Doin' the same thing every week, set in some constant routine?"

"I guess," You sigh and move to put your textbook into your backpack, "But don't you have routines? I mean, soccer and all that?"

"Yeah, I got some routine. Some days, I get up earlier than others to make it to practice. Some days, I spend some time after school kicking around a ball in the field. But that's not my point." Another drag of her smoke, "My point is that you can have some routine, but life is so fucking boring if that's all your life is." She rolls the end of the cigarette between her thumb and pointer finger for a few seconds before looking at you, squinting against the harsh light of the sun that beats down from behind you. "You gotta have something to shake it up every now and then, yeah? You don't gotta go to a party every week, but what's stoppin' you from goin' to one now and then?"

"It's just never been my scene, I guess. My friends and I don't really… do parties, you know? Like, we have small get-togethers or whatever, but we don't party. Never really seen myself as a party person, either." You shrug, zipping up your bag and moving it to rest on the step in front of you, "I dunno. I guess the…" You wave your hands around as you think of the proper words to use, "loud music and annoying people isn't exactly what I consider fun." A fond shake of your head and a gentle laugh, "But, hey, all the power to you if that's what you do find fun."

"You ever been invited to a party?" Nat chimes in after considering your statement for a few seconds.

You have to think about that question for a few seconds. "Yes." You finally manage, which earns you a skeptical look from the woman sitting next to you.

"Then why'd you have to think about it?" 

"Oh my God." You roll your eyes, "Because it's been a while since I got invited to one, alright? Like I said, I don't hang out with the type of people that go to parties. So…"

Nat hums at that, seemingly accepting the answer you've given her. "Alright. So what do you do on Fridays? Or the weekend? Or whenever you aren't with your nose in some book." She gestures to your backpack and the textbook inside of it by extension. "Nothin' wrong with it, but you gotta do something else, yeah?"

A huff leaves your mouth before you can stop it, "Well, you've caught me sketching once or twice, yeah? I'm a pretty big fan of that. Uhhh…" You think for a few seconds, feeling like this is an awkward first date where the person is asking, "What do you do for fun?" and it takes everything in you not to give out the most generic answers possible. "I think I mentioned meteor showers to you before? I, uh, I like stargazing. And I guess I kinda play games sometimes? Although it's usually just… simulation games or whatever. The mindless stuff."

"Right." The girl smirks to herself as she muddles over your hobbies in her head. "Drawing, stargazing, and simulation games. Yeah, you, my friend, are a walking funfest, you know that?" One last drag from her cigarette before snuffing it out on the step, "That stuff is fun and all, but you need some more excitement in your life."

"What? Like… stealing BuzzBalls from corner stores?" A faint smirk tugs at your lips, "Or taking joyrides in stolen Maseratis?" 

"First of all," Nat cuts you off before you can continue, "It was a Mazda. There's a huge difference. Second of all…" She hums and leans back, resting her elbows on the next step up. 

She looks over you in a curious sort of way, appraising your form and being. "You could skate. Could convince Kev to teach you a thing or two at the skatepark, as long as you aren't gonna cry if you fall. If you play simulation games, you might not be half-bad at pool or darts. Hell, even thrifting or something. Refresh your wardrobe. I swear, every time I see you, you're basically wearing the same thing, just in different variants." Then, a sly grin. "But the fun stuff? Bet I could teach you to tag stuff without getting caught. You're already an artist; you should leave your mark on some places, yeah?" Her grin widens, "Maybe I could even convince you to bust into an old factory with me." A beat, "Unless… you're afraid of ghosts?" Then, she's laughing to herself.

You try to fight the grin on your face, but it's hard when you find her smile to be one of the most contagious things you've ever seen. "I'm not afraid of ghosts, thank you." A dramatic roll of your eyes earns another laugh from Nat, her smile wide and plastered on her face like she's having the time of her life. "But, also… I dunno. Maybe I could be convinced to try something new." "Maybe?" Nat parrots, still half-laughing. "Nah. I will convince you to "try something new"; you just haven't seen how convincing I can be yet." A self-satisfied grin replaces the smile she was wearing, and she leans in slightly, lowering her voice. "And I can be real convincing, Princess."

And… yep. You're blushing again. Nat, of course, notices this. Her grin gets ten times toothier, clearly satisfied with herself, and she leans back again. "But," She shrugs—as if she didn't just fluster the shit out of you with a single sentence. "That's for a later date."

Before you get a chance to respond to that, you catch sight of two girls wearing practice uniforms approaching—a simple grey shirt with the mascot's name on it and some shorts. You've seen them around before; it's a small town, after all. 

Jackie Taylor—homecoming queen and captain of the girl's soccer team. Beside her, Shauna Shipman—who you… honestly don't know much about. You're pretty sure the two of them are best friends despite the fact that they seem like polar opposites. 

Something something opposites attract, or whatever.

"Nat." Jackie stops in front of the two of you, regarding you with a half-assed smile for a fraction of a second before turning back to Nat, "You will be at practice today, right? You aren't gonna ditch again to do—"

"Yes, Jackie. I will fucking be at practice, alright?" Nat cuts her off with a scowl and a roll of her eyes. You swear she's gonna add something else but opts against it.

"Well… good." Jackie nods, then glances at you for much longer than she did initially, a curious expression on her face. 

You don't have to guess why the expression is there, either. You aren't that dumb. You don't really look like the type of person Natalie Scatorccio hangs out with—not with your textbooks, sketchbooks, and meekness. No, you've seen the people she hangs out with. Misfits, mostly. There's that one goth kid, that guy with curly hair, and the redhead chick—who also plays on the soccer team with Nat. Then there are the… less than savoury characters. The people who she isn't seen around as much, but everyone knows she is around. Not hardened criminals per se, but people who are very, very rough around the edges. People who have longer rap sheets and far more "experience" being criminals than Natalie does.

Either way, Jackie doesn't comment on the stark difference between Natalie's usual crowd and you.

You give the team captain a tense smile as she looks at you, which she quickly returns before looking back at the girl sitting next to you, "We start in thirty."

"Yeah, I know, Princess." Natalie rolls her eyes, "I'm well aware what time practice starts, thank you."

"I was just trying to—" Jackie huffs and crosses her arms, "Whatever. Be there." Then she walks off, seemingly pouting, and Shauna gives Nat a shrug in apology before following.

Once the pair are out of earshot, Nat groans and pushes a hand through her bleached hair, "See, that's someone I call a princess in a derogatory manner."

You snort, "But it's not derogatory with me?"

"Nah." She shakes her head, "With you? It just… feels right. Dunno. Like that one chick we called "Crystal the Pistol" a few times. It's an affectionate nickname, or whatever." She waves a hand dismissively, "Not my point. Point is, when I say it to you, it's…" A beat of hesitation as she tries to find the right words, "Ugh. I don't know. I'm not good with words. Just know it's a good nickname, not a bad one."

"Right." Your eyes narrow slightly at that, but you don't push the topic further.

Which Nat seems grateful for, anyway. "Anyways. What the hell were we talking about?"

"Uhhhhh… hobbies, and how mine are, apparently, drastically boring?"

"Oh. Right." She nods, thinking about the previous conversation for a minute, then she gives a fond roll of her eyes and turns to you with a soft grin, "I mean… you said it. Not me. I just said you need some excitement. I'm not the one that goes stargazing for fun."

"Right. And most of your suggestions were…" You hum in mock thought, "Illegal, no?"

"'s only illegal if you get caught, actually." Nat shoots back, "And where's your sense of adventure, huh?" She nudges you with her elbow, "Gotta live a little, Princess. I know that BuzzBall was probably the first time you've ever… partaken in something illegal."

You roll your eyes and lean your back against the railing as you turn at the waist to face her, "Sorry, I don't willingly rob stores for fun in my free time. My bad."

You think you see Nat's jaw twitch at the comment, making you think you said the wrong thing, but before you can dwell on it too long or too hard, she lets out a hollow laugh. "Yeah, well, certified adrenaline junkie and all that. What can I say? Robbing stores gives me a rush." But the words come out slightly strained—like she's not telling you the whole story.

She clears her throat, clearly eager to move on from that particular line of conversation. "Whatever. Still. Like I said, I can… get Kev to teach you how to skate. Or… hell, you ever kicked a soccer ball around before?"

"In PE, yeah. But that's about it."

"Hmm." The blonde considers this, "You any good at it?" You snort, "Hardly varsity material, but I'm not, like, terrible at it or anything."

"Yeah? Well, maybe I can show you how to be junior varsity material. Shouldn't be that hard to play better than a few freshies, yeah? Maybe I'll even teach you some soccer tricks." She grins to herself, "Teach you the basics of freestyling soccer balls."

"Mm, promising a lot here, Nat. First, you're saying that you'll teach me to play good enough to beat some "freshies" in soccer, then telling me you'll teach me tricks?" You click your tongue, "How do I know you aren't gonna completely bail on me?" "Oh, make no mistake, I don't go back on my word. If I say I'm gonna do something, then you can bet your sweet ass I'm gonna do it, yeah?" A toothy grin, "And that's the Scatorccio guarantee."

You snort, "Yeah, you say that like your last name holds a lot of value when it comes to trust—" 

The words are meant to be teasing, they come out in a teasing tone, but you still feel like a piece of shit the second they leave your mouth.

"I… I didn't mean it like that. Sorry. I wasn't thinking—"

"Nah, no," Nat shakes her head and waves her hands, "no. Don't worry about it. I'm not mad at you or anything." A grin, likely to ease your nerves, "You're not exactly wrong either. But I'm giving you my word anyway. Which… you should take." 

"Hm." You take some mock consideration to that, "I will take it for now. But I make no promises for whether I keep it or not."

"Won't regret it." Her grin becomes slightly more genuine, "Promise."

You spend the next… ten, fifteen minutes? talking to Nat on the steps of the library, actually getting to know each other, rather than those single-minded adventures that the two of you have been on the past little while.

You trade off on the typical "first date" questions: Favourite food (Hers is apparently pizza, which you said was boring, then she rolled her eyes and dropped "Ribollita" and refused to actually tell you what that means.), fast food (Said "Taco Bell" immediately.) music (Matches her. Veruca Salt, Blondie, Nirvana, The Pixies… you get the idea. You asked her if she played the music on tape decks. She said yes. You don't know if she's joking or not.), books (She called you a nerd. Then proceeded to say, "The Anarchist Cookbook".), least favourite teacher (Mr. Miller, who teaches Auto Shop and keeps telling her repair work is sloppy.), and most importantly: the meaning of life ("ask me after I've had a tab or two"??).

After spending the past three minutes trying to convince her you don't get straight A's in every class, you decide just to show her your most recent in Physics and you… realise you left your binder in your locker.

"Crap." You sigh as you peer into your backpack, "I think I left my Science binder in my locker."

Nat snorts, "Didn't you open your bag earlier to put away your textbook? How didn't you notice it then?" "Because I wasn't thinking about it then." You sigh and close your bag, "I need to grab it from my locker. I don't—" "I'll come with you. Need to head to the locker room and change into practice gear." She cuts you off, pushes herself off the stairs, and, much to your surprise, actually waits for you before she starts walking. You try not to act surprised by this as you grab your backpack and throw it over your shoulders. When she does catch you acting surprised, because of course she does, she grins and rolls her eyes. "I said I was coming with you. Which means I am following you, and you aren't following me. Therefore, I have to wait for you. I still don't wait for people to follow me, Princess."

You can't fight the way your eyes roll and lips purse at that comment, "Right." Once you're standing, the pair of you head off in the direction of your locker.

"Dude, your locker is all the way in the old science hall? Who the fuck goes here anymore? There are zero classes near this place anymore. It must take five minutes to walk from class-to-fucking-class." She mutters, more to herself than you, and shakes her head as you two reach your destination. "Yeah, if I could have chosen my locker, it would be in the English hall. Right in the center of all my classes. I'm also pretty sure I'm the only person who has their locker in this hall." You sigh as you start to fiddle with the lock, "I've basically only seen the janitor up here. I don't know what I did to piss off whoever assigned lockers, but here I am." A sigh leaves your lips as the lock clicks open, "Admin won't even let me move lockers." Nat snorts and leans on the locker adjacent yours, "Yeah, sounds about right. They don't actually give a shit about the students here. I mean, for all the money going into athletics, you'd think they'd give us uniforms that don't chafe." An exasperated roll of her eyes, "So stupid."

"Sounds about right. Didn't the money go to the boy's baseball team or something?" She seems slightly surprised you know that but gives a nod of her head. "Uh, yeah. That's right. Which makes no sense considering we won states last year, and this year we actually have a good chance of—"

Her eyes zero in on the binder you're grabbing. "Holy shit. Is that colour-coded?" Her jaw drops in awe (or shock?), and she takes it from your hands, flipping it open. "H-o-l-y s-h-i-t. It is."

"I like having things organized by unit, whether it's a worksheet or notes!" You defend yourself, grabbing the binder back from her with a huff, "Sue me, okay!"

"Shit, I should." She lets out a low whistle, "Damn. All this for a…" She peers at the test you were going to show her, "B? Damn, Princess. That's unfortunate."

"You're making fun of me." You murmur petulantly, slamming the binder shut and shoving it into your backpack, "What's your GPA then, huh?"

Nat hums as she considers that answer, "Three point three."

"Wait." You turn to look at her, "Seriously?"

She laughs, "Yeah, seriously. I can't play soccer if I'm failing all my classes. Just because I don't show up to class doesn't mean I don't do the work for them." A roll of her eyes, like it was an obvious answer. 

"Mm. And do you do the work for them, or do you pay some unsuspecting nerd—"

"What makes you think I have the money to pay anyone to do anything?" The girl cuts you off with a snort and crosses her arms, "Trust me, I do all my work myself."

"Hey, who said anything about money?" You grin at her, "You have… dubious tendencies. For all I know, you're paying them some other way." You offer a teasing shrug, "Like stolen BuzzBalls or…" A faux gasp, "Oh my God. Am I the unsuspecting nerd?" Nat scoffs once and looks away, "Yeah, right." Another scoff. Then another.

…wait. Is she blushing? Did you just fluster Natalie Scatorccio? On accident? 

Between the way she won't meet your eyes, fiddles with the hem of her shirt, her usually pale cheeks now with the faintest hint of colour in them, and she swallows nervously? Wow. You think you did. How the tables…

You don't get too long to reflect on that before she's seemingly recovered and trying to act unaffected. "What if I am, nerd?" She leans into your personal space, "Maybe I'm looking for an unsuspecting nerd to do more than just my homework."

Now you're the flustered one. Again. "Uh—"

"I mean, think about it." She licks her lips, "The unsuspecting nerd and the resident burnout. Talk about opposites attracting. I could show you so much shit." A feral grin crosses her features, and your entire body heats up without your consent, "I could make you feel real—"

You take a step back, putting up both a metaphorical and physical space between you two. "Natalie. I don't—"

"Don't what? Oh, come on, Princess. Don't act like you haven't been thinking about it. I'm not dumb. I've seen the way you've been looking at me. Don't act like—"

You look visibly uncomfortable. Flustered, yes, but also uncomfortable. You're wringing your hands together in a subconscious act of anxiety, and whether that's because of her proximity or the situation, you aren't quite sure. Either way, Nat notices this.

You swear you see something like guilt flash behind her eyes once she realises she made you uncomfortable, but no outward attempt at an apology is made.

Natalie clears her throat and takes a small step back, the bravado dropping in an instant. "Whatever." She crosses her arms again, "Whatever. Let's just…" Her jaw tenses, and she shakes her head. "Nevermind." 

There's some very tense air that passes between the both of you as you awkwardly close and lock your locker, neither of you bothering to glance at the other, letting the awkwardness fester.

It probably would have kept festering, too, had the sound of Natalie's phone vibrating not broken the silence.

"Goddammit, I swear to God if Jackie is—" Her mouth snaps shut as she looks down at her phone, and a slow grin finds its way onto her mouth. "Ooooh, fuck yes." She looks up at you, "Say, Princess, you doing anything tonight?"

"Uhhhh…" You shake your head, "No? I was just planning on staying at home and…" You shrug, "I dunno. Relaxing, or whatever."

"Mm. I have a better idea. You should come to a party tonight."

"Oh." 

"Oh? That's it?" Nat rolls her eyes, "Come on. What was it I said about needing to get out of your comfort zone? A party is the perfect time and place to do it!" She shakes her head (and hands), "Look, it's a bonfire. If things go poorly, you can just… sit and stare at the fire and ignore everyone."

An unsure breath leaves your lips as you consider all the possibilities in your head. Of course, your mind heads to the worst-case scenario first, like a completely normal person would.

"Dude, seriously." She says, softer this time. "No pressure. It's just… a bonfire party… no, get-together, with some friends. That's it, yeah? Not like the entire town is gonna be there." She reiterates, throwing some emphasis on the fact it's "just a bonfire get-together," as if that will soothe all your nerves.

More hesitation on your part, but you can't deny the curiosity that seeds its way into your mind at the idea of seeing Nat in her element for once. "I… I don't know, Nat. It really isn't my scene—"

"It doesn't have to be your scene. It's just gonna be the place you spend a single Friday night. That's it. Don't ever gotta come to one again if you decide you hate it. Won't even bring it up again. Promise."

Even more hesitation. Even more curiosity you can't shove down and hide, for better or worse.

You don’t belong in the scene she frequents. Not really. But the way she grinned—like you were some project she couldn’t wait to take on—made you want to, even if it was just for one night.

"Come on. Drinks are free. Maybe they'll have more coolers you can try. Really dip your toes into the world of alcoholic beverages." She snickers.

Man, peer pressure does work, doesn't it?

You’re not a party person. But then again, Natalie Scatorccio isn’t just a person—she’s the reason you’re even considering it.

"I can't believe I'm gonna say this…" You shake your head and sigh, "But… fine. Fine. I'll… I'll go to this stupid party."

A wide grin crosses her face. Wide and very pleased with herself. "Perfect. Good choice. Best choice, really. Won't regret it, promise." She pushes herself off the locker beside yours, "I gotta get to practice. But I will… see you tonight, yeah?"

"Yeah. Yes." You sigh reluctantly, "I will… see you tonight, Nat."

"Hell yeah, you will. Maybe I'll even convince you to crack a beer or two. Smoke a cigarette. Real delinquent shit." She laughs at that as she begins walking off toward the gym, "See you tonight, Princess!" Nat calls from over her shoulder, "I'll text you the address!"

You watch her leave, blinking a few times in shock that she was able to convince you to go to a high school party so quickly.

"Well." You mumble to yourself, "Guess senior year isn't the worst time to go to your first party." You rub your forehead, mildly frustrated with yourself and your ability to say no, "Goddammit."

Well. Guess you have a party to prepare for, huh?

a/n: can i be so real with yall for a sec

every time i type in "natalie scatorccio" on pinterest i start feeling weird after the first few minutes cus I'm like "damn I'm fr just staring at photos of sophie thatcher rn" but I suppose it could be worse. could be staring at photos of (insert ugly celebrity name here)