#also i wrote half of this half asleep too so i hope it's coherent

[starhvney]

𝐈𝐓'𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: mcd laurance x reader

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: when your lover can’t calm himself from a nightmare, you try to calm him through a connection only you can give

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒: angst with comfort, shadow knight laurance, once again i present laurance angst, yet another fic where i write laurance obsessing over reader’s safety, do i have a thing for it? yeah, do something about it, also can you catch the canon line i slid in here? i couldn’t help myself

𝐂𝐖: nsfw/smut. unprepped sex, large size difference, does this count as monster fucking? not really? but he’s a big boy

𝐀/𝐍: thank you to @thebunnednun for giving me this prompt!! shadow knight laurance *convulses* anyways i hope this is coherent guys i wrote most of it last night while half asleep ahshah

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

𝑻𝑯𝑰𝑺 𝑷𝑶𝑺𝑻 𝑪𝑶𝑵𝑻𝑨𝑰𝑵𝑺 𝑵𝑺𝑭𝑾 𝑪𝑶𝑵𝑻𝑬𝑵𝑻, 𝑰𝑭 𝒀𝑶𝑼 𝑨𝑹𝑬 𝑼𝑵𝑫𝑬𝑹𝑨𝑮𝑬 𝑶𝑹 𝑼𝑵𝑪𝑶𝑴𝑭𝑶𝑹𝑻𝑨𝑩𝑳𝑬 𝑾𝑰𝑻𝑯 𝑺𝑬𝑿𝑼𝑨𝑳 𝑪𝑶𝑵𝑻𝑬𝑵𝑻 𝑷𝑳𝑬𝑨𝑺𝑬 𝑫𝑵𝑰.

you had been just there.

right at his fingertips.

at the comfortable distance where he knew he could protect you if something went wrong.

but it’s never enough, is it?

one second you were next to him, the next you were separated by what could practically be considered a herd of shadow souls. he didn’t know where they came from. he hadn’t even sensed them. but now they were overwhelming him, and overwhelming you, too.

he had even transformed, using every ounce of power he could to tear through the shadows around him. his movements still somehow managed to be too slow—too sluggish. each one he cut down it seemed like two more were on him, and two more were on you.

your screams were haunting. over everything he could hear, your cries for his help echoed against his eardrums, shaking his head like a bell.

“laurance, please!”

he has to get to you. he has to. he thinks he can as he slices through several of them, before one of them leaps towards him, knocking him down onto the ground with a groaning screech.

“no! get off of me!” he groans, struggling to push it away enough to grab his sword.

immediately it digs its claws into his cheek, and despite trying to turn away the sensation doesn’t leave his skin.

“laurance!” the soul cries, the empty and dark void of its mouth mimicking your voice. your distress.

it was mocking your pain in his face.

his vision is tinted red.

“laurance!”

he’s going to kill it. he has to. he has to kill.

“laurance, get up!”

his vision goes dark, but he can move again, and he lunges forward, pinning down the soul closest to him and keeping it there. he’s going to kill it once his eyes focus again.

he got it. where’s his sword?

“laurance?!” the soul asks in a panic, its voice clearer and a lot more like yours than the warbled disjointed one from before.

it felt smaller, too.

his hands squeeze against the arms of the creature to keep it in place. he knows he has to kill it, but there’s a part of him screaming at him to stop, but it’s drowned by the echoes of your screams for his help. what’s happening? why is it so dark right now?

“it’s me!” you hiccup, eyes wide and breaths short.

this wasn’t him right now.

no, not when your body was telling you to run. that you were in danger. not when you look up to see unfocused and rageful dark red irises trying to focus on something, his chest heaving as a whirlwind of unstable emotions seemed to batter against his rib cage.

you knew something was wrong when you had woken up so suddenly and so late, your skin sticky with sweat and feeling strangely on edge as your mind wandered to the possibilities.

why do you feel like you’re in danger right now? was it a predator? something lurking in the shadows of your room?

when you’d turned to get a look at your lover, you had your answer. he hadn’t completely transformed in his sleep, his armor hadn’t formed against his body and he still wore the thin and loose linen sleepwear he’d gone to bed with last night.

but it wasn’t loose anymore—he was nearly bulging out of it his already tall legs now hanging over the edge of the frame. his skin wasn’t that beautiful olive shade, but rather a desaturated almost deathly pale color. and his eyes. they weren’t open, but the skin underneath them showed unnaturally red veins that webbed from his eyelids just under the skin.

what was he dreaming about that had him transforming into a shadow knight in his sleep?

after some hesitation, you had reached out to his cheek to wake him up, calling out his name as he seemed to almost growl in his sleep. you almost regret your decision when blood red eyes snap open in a frenzy, and a split second later you find yourself forcefully pinned against the sheets.

you can see it. the instability on his face. he wasn’t here with you in this moment, his judgment was clouded by whatever rage had overtaken him in his dream. but what could you do? he already had you, his hands holding down your arms rather painfully and heavy body pinning you in place. the only thing you could possibly be capable of was to soothe him with your words.

“laurance… it’s me. it’s me.” you whisper, cursing at how your voice was the least bit assuring as it shook. “you were dreaming. you’re here with me.”

his chest heaves with ragged breaths, expression twisted in a lost and distressed frenzy. the startling blood red of his eyes dart across your face, before locking onto your eyes.

there he is.

you see a piece of him return, as rage turns to horror and realization.

“you—it’s you.” he manages to get through disjointed breaths, whatever scene that was looping in his mind clearly still clouding his ability to calm down.

“it’s me.” you whisper.

he closes his eyes, pulling in a sharp breath as he lets go of your wrists and moves his hands to beside your head. he ducks his head, shoulders shaking and mouth curling in an expression that could only be described as pure self loathing.

“…it’s okay.” you breathe, your words quickly cut off by his own.

“it’s not.”

it’s harsher than he probably intended. his voice is hoarse and deep, an underlying growl there that he can’t seem to get rid of. you watch as a few sparks of ember float up into the air, fizzling out thankfully before it could hit your sheets or spark the wooden ceiling.

he was going to hurt you. you. you. you.

a second goes by and shakily you raise your hands, cupping his cheeks. “laurance. look at me.”

his jaw clenches and unclenches. once, twice, three, before he cracks open his eyes again, focusing on you.

“i’m okay. see?” you keep your voice hushed, thumbs running along the red veins beneath his eyes. “you need to calm down so you can transform back.”

“i ca—i can’t. you should’ve heard—no. no.” he shakes his head, lowering it again—but this time resting his face into the crook of your neck.

your heart sinks. he sounds so unstable. so panicked.

fingers drift up to the nape of his neck, massaging into the tense muscles there and drifting to the now impossibly broad expanse of his shoulders. they seemed to double your own, his form completely swallowing yours as he leaned over you. he breathes in, taking in your scent as his lips pressed against the juncture of your shoulder and neck. it makes your heart rate involuntarily spike, a shuddering breath leave your lips in a mix of fear and something else you don’t want to admit to.

a few more beats pass like this, you frozen under him like prey caught in the jaws of a predator, before his lips part and he bites down onto your skin.

his teeth were sharp, and a small whimper of discomfort involuntarily leaves your lips at the feeling.

it makes him flinch back and freeze in place, like once again he hadn’t even realized his own actions—the primal part of him taking over his rational thoughts.

“i can’t.” he mutters lowly, moving to get up, like he was going to leave. “

“no.” you quickly wrap your arms around his shoulders, trying to pull him down to you but instead pulling yourself up to him.

“i’m going to hurt you. i don’t have… control over myself right now—“

you gulp, before slinking your legs around his waist and pulling your hips up to connect with his.

he inhales sharply. “what are you doing?”

“you’re here with me. let me show you.”

“no. no, i’ll hurt you.” he says, groaning as you pull yourself closer and roll yourself into him.

there’s a low warning of your name from his lips, forehead dropping to rest against your collarbone. “you don’t know what you’re doing—”

“i do.” you reassure, cutting him off. “i want you.”

he settles back down with a groan, lifting his head to look at you. “i’m dangerous to you right now. why can’t you understand?”

leaning up, you connect your lips with his and he groans against you. you can feel his self control beginning to crumble, and the much thicker bulge pressing between your legs through the material of his pants and your nightgown.

“i understand.” you say. “i understand that i love you more.”

“you’re going to be,” he groans, the deeper timbre of his voice sending a shock of electricity down your spine. “the undoing of me.”

he rolls his hips down into yours, and you gasp. regularly, what was under his belt was nothing to scoff at—his flirtatious remarks irritatingly wasn’t just all talk. but now? in this form where he towered not one but two heads taller than you? just from him pressing into you alone you could tell he was huge.

this is what he needed, though. you can already feel the tense trembling of his muscles beginning to calm, his ragged and uneven breathing turning to just a shuddering tempo.

his hands find themselves on your hips, his thumbs pressing into the soft skin. “is this… what you want? tell me right now, because i’m losing my grip.”

you were almost ashamed of the damp spot that had already begun to form on your panties, and how just his touch was enough to send shockwaves through your nervous system.

“yes.”

it’s like a switch is flipped, whatever wall of self control his conscious had put up crumbling to the ground. his hips push down into yours, harsher this time, while his lips press into your skin. he begins to pull your skin between his teeth, suckling bruises against it while his hands no less than tear your nightgown from your body.

cool air hits your skin, a small gasp leaving your lips at his sudden eager need to have his skin on yours. his hands briefly leave your side, only to pull his own clothes and briefs from his form. you don’t dare to look down, the length that was pressing against your thigh enough to intimidate you.

“i—“ he stutters, the internal war being fought in his head stopping his movements. “i’ll hurt you. i don’t know if i can control myself.”

tilting your head up, you kiss him once again, fingers threading into his hair and massaging his scalp. “you won’t.”

he shudders against you, breathing in your scent and deepening the kiss. eagerly he shifts your hips, moving you closer with one hand and dragging the fat tip of his cock against your clit. you were already well lubricated with the slick that covered your folds, but you still weren’t sure if it would fit. regardless his lips continue to devour yours, pulling each breath from your lips and leaving you dizzy as he shifts his hips up, dragging the length against your folds and pulling back. the mere girth of it was startling, but you don’t get to think about it for long until you’re subjected to it, the tip bullying it’s way through your entrance.

he slowly keeps pushing in, making you feel like you were going to split in half by his size. the stretch was entirely new, an uncomfortable one you hadn’t felt before. it was almost too much, but you didn’t want him to stop, either.

but you needed to breathe. managing to part from the messy lock of your lips with a gasp, you throw your head back with a shuddered moan. he keeps pulling out just so he can push back in deeper, each thrust somehow filling you out impossibly more. your body was protesting against the push, squeezing against his length like your insides were trying to shove him back out. each time you fluttered around his cock he’d groan lowly under his breath, the noise a gravelly sound that rattled against your ribs and send a lightheaded wave of pleasure up your spine.

your eyelashes flutter down, a shocked gasp leaving your lips when you see he’d barely pushed halfway through. he pulls his attention from the spot on your collarbone he’d been leaving bruising kisses on, eyes darting across your face as he keeps bullying his way inside. it was bordering on being painful, but the shocks of pleasure shooting through your nerves overpowered everything else.

the veins under his eyes had begun to recede, the red of his irises now dulling in color. his nose wrinkles for a moment as he looks at you, his hands cupping your face as a conflict of emotions crosses his face. you can tell what he was thinking, with the look of guilt that crosses over his eyes at the sight of your smaller body trembling underneath him.

he was meant to protect you. and everything in his nature now wanted him to do the opposite. even as he fought against it, it still wasn’t enough. your screams, real or not, still echo in his head.

he was always so gentle with you. always taking his time to make sure you—the most important thing to him—felt safe and comfortable. the thought that he was possibly hurting you right now was revolting to him, even though he needed you close right now. you have to reach up to his face to snap him out of his thoughts before he spirals once again.

“it’s okay. i’m okay.” you whisper.

he presses his face into your hair, before a shuddering sob leaves his lips.

“i couldn’t protect you.”

you reach for his face pulling him up to look at you. his eyebrows are pulled together, red glazed over in angry and distressed tears.

“laurance, my love. it wasn’t real. i’m safe with you.” you tilt your head. “you’ll always protect me.”

he shakes his head, gritting his teeth. “but what about when i can’t? when i fully lose control? when i finally lose you? it would be my end. i couldn’t handle it. i can’t. i can’t.”

“you’re not going to lose me.”

“you don’t… you don’t understand…”

“yes, i do.”

your voice is firmer, and it snaps his attention back to you.

“i know you. i know what you’re capable of.” you gently brush your hands across his face, and his eyes slowly shut, taking in your words. “i know your strength, and your values. i know you’d rather throw yourself into the worst pain imaginable before letting something happen to me. even now, when you claim you’re so dangerous, i know i’m safe.”

his breath shudders as he hunches over you, seeming to feel a pang through his chest that knocked the breath out of his lungs.

“i love you.” you whisper, before the breath is knocked out of you as he gives a harsh thrust of his hips, rocking you up against the pillow.

“i love you.” he groans back. “so much. you’re my everything.”

you can’t respond to that, can’t even think of the words as he fully pushes himself in, his pelvis meeting your ass. his hands grip onto your waist like you would disappear between his fingers if he let go, head dipping down to your chest as he begins to set a rhythm. pain has faded to pure pleasure at this point, the stretch of his girth and the veins that dragged along your walls with every thrust left your mouth gasping for air and back arching up into him.

his tempo was rough and sloppy, leaving you unable to catch your breath and stirring your head into a mindless haze, your fingers grasping onto the firm expanse of his shoulders for any sense of stability as you’re knocked into oblivion.

his mouth latches onto your neck once again, but unlike his brutal thrusts his lips are soft against your skin. that was your laurance. the one that laced his hand with yours as he took you in a slow and sensual pace. the one that whispered sweet nothings in your ear and treated you so gently—focusing on pleasuring you until you couldn’t think before even beginning to focus on himself.

despite how much you loved how he treated you regularly, you couldn’t even try to deny how good this felt.

he lifts his head up, fingers brushing along your breasts and up against your collarbones, taking you all in as he sped up the pace. you can tell he’s already close to his release from the way his chin tilts up in the air and his glazed-over eyes roll back, his lips parted as he pulls in ragged breaths. suddenly he’s pulling your thighs up, large hands squeezing into the plush skin and hitching them up against his shoulders.

“so beautiful. and mine.” he murmurs, voice a deep rasp. he turns his head down, leaning back over you and staring at you through hooded eyes—practically folding you in half. “don’t you dare ever run where i can’t protect you.”

you’re close, too, and the way he looked at you now was about to send you over the edge. the mix of the new angle his dick was brutally drilling into you and his possessive and borderline wild need to protect you has you squeezing against him, your cunt sucking him in deeper and not letting go.

he moans out lowly, his hips stuttering into yours and slamming to a sudden stop. it’s so much, in more ways than one, when his hips grind in a slow circle and the heat of his cum overflows into you. you swear you feel it in your guts, with how much of it keeps coming, and how he jerkily pushes it back into you. it snaps you over the edge, vision going white and limbs turning shaky and weak, the mix of both of your releases spilling from your stuffed cunt and creating a sticky mess where your skin connected.

when you regain your vision again you find yourself looking back into gray-blue eyes, his eyebrows turned up and under eyes wet with tears. his skin had returned to its normal tone, but he still looked so pale, still so filled with a fear he couldn’t swallow.

you bring a hand up to his cheek once again, wiping the stray beads of sweat away from his face and leaning up to press a soft kiss against his lips.

“there you are, my love.”

your voice is merely a hoarse whisper, but it’s enough to knock him down. he crumbles onto you, forehead landing on the pillow next to your head, breaths shaky and fanning across your skin as his arms circle around your waist and pull you tight. slowly, he pulls out, leaving the both of you softly groaning in discomfort at the absence of each other’s warmth. his cum continues to spill out from inside you, dripping onto the sheets in a messy mix.

“…did i hurt you?” he whispers, voice trembling in the fear of it being true. his hands feel so very gentle on your waist, like he was holding fragile porcelain in his hands.

“no.”

his breath hitches in something like relief, a choked sob leaving his lips. “i love you more than anything.”

“i know. and i love you.”

his shoulders relax, and he rolls to the clean side of the bed, pulling you right into his chest and hugging you close. strong arms wrap around your shoulders and waist, leaving you little wiggle room against him. with the fragile state he was in, though, you don’t dare to say a word about it.

“i’m sorry. i don’t know what happened—” he starts, his voice an exhausted and hoarse whimper as he buries his face in your hair.

“laurance. i’m safe.” is all you say, silencing the self-deprecating thoughts he wished to express.

in the quiet dead of night, you both lay there, limbs tangled and pressed together as the moonlight filtered through the window and illuminated your sweaty skin—shining from the afterglow. the fears that plagued your lover’s mind melted away for now, his breaths evening into a deep and steady cycle and mind lulling into a peaceful sleep.

©starhvney 2024. do not plagiarize, feed to any AI, or repost my works to any sites.

taglist: @wasting-away-on-the-internet @angelhyperfixates @valentique @dazedbydeath @theaquaticplant @starsbrightly @kalegrinch (if you are a minor or uncomfortable with being tagged in nsfw please let me know immediately and i will take you off of my taglist for nsfw works in the future)

[siivn]

as a silly habit, a little more than a year ago, I decided to start writing a dream log. you know, as one does.

mind, i only wrote down the dreams that my sleep-clouded memory could pierce together in a semblance of coherence, so I expected that i wouldn't be regularly updating this silly record. (keep also in mind that i don't usually have time to write on my phone, or anywhere really, as soon as I wake up, and by the time I can make some time during the day, I have long forgotten what my dream of the day was about)

at first, it went well.

I was excited to start recording my dreams. It was a way to familiarise myself with writing again, since I had hit a writer's block and picking up a pen or typing on my laptop only ever filled me with dread at the time. I figured jotting down a few sentences in the morning, without thinking about the grammar or the right words to use and without a pretence of making sense because dreams most of the time don't make sense, would have made the act of writing less daunting to me.

And so I started this little (foreshadowing) record of my dreams.

the first month was okay i guess. It's not like i dream every night, you know. and I don't remember all my dreams. So by the end of the first month I had written four entries. which was more than I expected, honestly.

then from september to the end of january, I wrote a whopping 1 entry. LOL

and it's not like I forgot about writing down my dreams. No. somehow, i didn't dream anything. (and even if I did, i wouldn't really know) it was like I had a blackout of dreams during those months idk

the last entry is from yesterday. which brings us to 6 dreams that I wrote down in the span of one year. not really an impressive number, but you know... It's something at least.

and since it has been a year, i figured that I would examine the little data that I collected, as I would always put a few tags for every entry, just for funzies of course, and here are the results.

i dreamt about:

getting chased by something/someone 4 times out of 6 (which is a lot)

someone trying to murder me 3 times out of 6 (fun ahah, and only once, someone's was chasing me,, which means,,)

6 out of 6, i was in some sort of danger, and that should tell you a lot about the moods of my dreams

but it really doesn't, since i tagged 2 dreams wholesome, 3 funny and only 1 bittersweet (my favorite one, btw)

4 times out of 6, my brain dreamt about someone who didn’t exist and it always was the same person (though, once he was my saviour, another he was my killer and two, he was just a random dude)

And once, I have been abducted by a fae, or something, creature with another dude (not the guy above tho) and they told us to decide who would be allowed to escape and i got yelled by dude's bigger brother (rude) bcs dude told me to escape first since he has some secret powers and would have been able to escape on his own but big bro didn't know that and thought that I selfishly abandoned his lil bro to his fate and that I was the worst person ever (I am very bitter about this dream, even after months, i hope it's not too obvious... 👉🏻👈🏻)

other tags that I used are, as follow, 1. survinging (written like this, bcs you know, I was half asleep - and that is roughly how are written all the dreams lol), 2. fighting and 3. falling

did it help with my writer's block? I don't think it did, but it's true that I am more excited about writing than I was last year, though maybe not because of this little project I started and kept up sporadically

am I going to continue writing my dreams? I mean, I really would like to... but you know how this year went, and it's possible that this trend of mine will continue, so who knows?

all in all, I would recommend everyone to try keeping a dream log, if only to read again in moments of boredom and wonder, what's wrong with my brain??

[scarletanpan]

I wrote a really long post about BLM and everything that’s going on right now just because I figure it’d make me feel better. Don’t have to read, but thoughts down below!

I haven’t been very active with tumblr lately. Mostly because I’m in and out a lot anyways, but it’s hard to know how to approach what’s happening right now. When I found out about George Floyd, I was horrified but not surprised. The only thing that really took me was how malicious it was—kneeling on his neck for eight minutes and forty-six seconds. That’s nothing short of evil.

I knew protests would come next. And I’m in full support of them. But it feels kind of conflicting because I was immediately concerned about such large gatherings, what with a pandemic happening. I didn’t know if it was the right thing to do because the last thing I wanted to imagine was many people getting sick and possibly dying from it. But I knew they would happen anyway, and I support the peaceful calls to action happening all over the country right now. To the people who go out and attend them I wish nothing but safety.

But of course that doesn’t always happen. I know on the side of protests come riots; they’ll start out peaceful and get more and more hectic. It can go both ways—people instigating the riot control, or the cops subduing innocent people. When I heard about the rubber bullets and tear gas it just made my heart sink. None of this is new, but the idea of people being attacked like that for wanting to stand up for what is right hurts to think about.

Not everyone there is in the right though. Like I said, I’m not okay with people who riot. I get the anger and frustration and desire to just vent and attack, I get so fed up I think about that sort of stuff too. But the people who attack the riot control put themselves and everyone else in danger. And especially the people who loot stores and destroy property. None of that is okay, even if it’s some big corporation. Yeah big business does suck, but the people in those stores are employees that are probably just as fed up as you are and are trying to get by doing their job. Destroying the stores and stealing from them does nothing but put more stress on the people there. Big or small, no business deserves to be attacked. Causing destruction is not the way to say Black Lives Matter. And instigating police isn’t the way either, they have gear and weapons that can hurt you and others and lead to more people getting arrested.

And the thing is some people use the chaos that’s happening to loot and riot on purpose. They piggy back off the opportunity to steal themselves stuff they want and don’t give a shit about the cause. I don’t respect those type of people at all. It only makes things worse for everyone—and if when people think about Black Lives Matter they’re reminded of all the destruction and rioting that happened, it looks bad on the entire cause.

Of course that’s not to say it’s nothing but destruction. There’s plenty of peaceful protests, but it’s the most violent ones that typically get put on the news because they attract people’s attention and get the most views. And even if some people are causing problems, Black Lives Matter isn’t something I think anyone should disagree with if they believe in equal rights for everyone. It doesn’t matter if some people go off the deep end and do things they shouldn’t, but people will use those few examples as reasons to not support it. It creates a weakness in the strength and unity that the movement is supposed to have, and can easily be used as a way to denounce it. Either way it shouldn’t be denounced but it makes it all the more easier for the people who want to.

Another thing that I feel like creates weakness is the way everything’s being handled online. I’m lucky to not have seen it now nearly as much on Tumblr as I did back in 2016, but the guilt-tripping and fear mongering was insane. So many posts acted like if you didn’t look at them and reblog them you were an awful person who didn’t care about black lives. And a lot of them used the snowball effect—talking about how something vaguely politically related would lead to extreme racism. Not to say politics aren’t important and don’t play a role, but it frames things in an end-all be-all sort of way. As if the world was ending.

And that’s anxiety-inducing. So anxiety-inducing. Being flooded with that sort of negative information constantly really gets to you eventually. It can be bad for your mindset, make you extremely paranoid or just straight-up depressed because the world seems like such an awful place and you feel so powerless to fix it. Like you can donate and sign a petition sure, but it never felt like enough. Especially if you couldn’t attend protests.

And with the guilt-tripping, every post accused anyone who didn’t reblog it of being a bad person. I understand the mentality, everything that was happening back then is just like how. It’s incredibly important information and it needs to be shared with as many people as can see it, especially if it has resources to help and the like. People needed to know what was going on. But everyone is different, and situations like this impact them differently. Some people cope by going on the internet and spreading as much information as possible. But other people shut down from the internet when stuff like this happens.

It gets overwhelming and constantly having to see stuff about it starts to damage the psyche. This doesn’t mean they’re ignoring it, or don’t care about it or don’t care about black lives. I’d say if they have to take a break from the internet it means they’re well aware of what’s going on. I’ve heard the argument that people should just deal with it anyway because people are subjected to much worse but that doesn’t hold for everyone. It can get legitimately depressing and put people in danger physically and mentally. Not everyone handles it the same way, and expecting everyone to become extremely active on social media and accuse them of being a bad person otherwise is the wrong thing to do.

And for those who do post on social media, I feel like there’s so many rules. I’ve seen people complain about seeing others not post enough or if someone’s a little misinformed getting very aggressive with them when they’re also in support of Black Lives Matter and are just trying to help. It’s important to recognize that everyone has completely different experiences when it comes to race relations and some people don’t know how to talk about it because they’ve never been taught and some people just don’t have all that much experience because they weren’t raised around that and that’s something that they can’t help. Is it good to become informed? Yeah, but getting angry at them and not trying to inform them or at least point them in the right direction isn’t fair to that person.

There’s also a problem of people supporting the movement with the intention of gaining more popularity rather than caring about the movement itself. This is wrong, and an awful way to use legitimate problems and struggle that so many people have to go through in order to subtlety promote yourself. But that definitely doesn’t stand true for everyone, and it’s unfortunate because I’ve seen people accused of that when they really and truly meant well. Of course people make mistakes and stuff but the mentality people approach them with when that happens is so negative, and is more about just shutting them down rather than letting them know why what they did wasn’t the best when sometimes a person can just truly be a little misguided.

But on to another topic... I don’t like ACAB. I was confused when I first heard it and then a little disheartened when I found out what it stood for. All Cops Are Bad is not the message we need to be supporting right now. I understand entirely that it doesn’t mean cops are bad on an individual level—it’s talking about the entire institution of law enforcement and how easy it is to become a cop and abuse the power given to you. And that’s entirely true, I think the institution definitely has its corruption and was historically built on the oppression of POC. This is why this continues even into today; although we as a society support equal rights, I feel like racism is still rampant especially in law enforcement because of some reasons.

One being general access to power. The process of becoming a cop I believe is something that shouldn’t be as easy as it is. There are rules in place that are supposed to keep cops from pulling over people for no reason, use excessive force for no reason, or otherwise using their status as a cop to manipulate and use others. But I’ve seen countless cases of this happening and in many of them some sort of excuse is conjured up; the person was committing a petty crime, or their behavior was suspicious. But it never warrants the actions, be it assault or even murder. And in so many of them we still see the cop get a slap on the wrist as a punishment or even go completely free with no consequence, and allowed to continue their job without a problem. Anyone can be a victim of this situation regardless of race, but there is an increase in when it comes to POC. Perpetuated stereotypes make POC out to be dangerous and suspicious and violent when they’re not. And I think this affects how people view each other and how some cops view innocent civilians.

It might not be an actively racist thought, but a subconscious distrust is just as powerful and leads to people being mistreated, abused, and even killed by the people who are sworn to protect them. And it’s sickening. It’s awful and it’s going to take a lot of reform to fix the corruption that I think runs rampant in our police forces but it’s not impossible. And coming back to my main point, all cops aren’t bad. I don’t stand for ACAB because while I completely agree with the message, the phrase itself leads people who don’t understand it to think that everyone who supports BLM hates all cops. And that’s not true at all. It’s a message that just pits BLM even more against people who want to denounce it and call it a hate group.

But yeah, that’s most of my feelings on the matter. There are a lot of different sides to everything that’s going on right now and this goes beyond George Floyd. I feel like it’s a culmination of every time we’ve seen this happen since we had the cameras to record it. I’m just glad that this time the killer in question was justly charged with second-degree murder, and the rest of the officers charged for being accomplices in it by standing there and letting it happen. I’m so glad we got justice this time. This doesn’t mean it’s all over though, what matters is that everyone keeps supporting and protesting in what ways they can and amplifying the voices of people wronged. If we can do this peacefully I think we can make real change in this country.

[emeren]

zoom call- eren jaeger

pairing: eren jaeger x fem!reader 

word count: 1.7k

content warnings: smut, 18+, very slight degradation, voyeurism if you squint (not really though)

notes: i wrote this a couple months back before that video went viral on tik tok, but it was the only completed draft i had, so here we go! very rushed but hope you enjoy :) (also my first time writing smut lol) 

SUMMARY: eren is a little shit when it comes to letting you focus on your zoom classes, especially when you make it obvious you’re trying to ignore him

you lazily rubbed your eyes in response to the bright computer screen. the eight thirty lecture time was starting to wear down on your motivation. you sat, half asleep in front of your laptop, gaze drearily focused on the professor’s face. 

school had become utterly disengaging; hours spent scrolling through your phone and blatantly ignoring your professors. you briefly wondered if class was really worth it at all anymore. 

as your professor began to delve into their lecture on calculus, you could hear your boyfriend in the other room as he began to stir awake. you felt pretty bad, in all honesty. for as long as you’d known eren, he’d made it obvious that he loved nothing more than to sleep in. no matter how quiet you tried to be, it seemed like you woke him up earlier than he wanted every single morning. 

you cringed as you heard the bedroom door creak open, followed by the sound of his muffled footsteps. 

double checking that your mic and camera were indeed off, you turned to see your boyfriend standing sleepily in the doorway. his hair was down and messy; body only adorning a pair of grey sweatpants that sat tantalizingly low on his hips. his teal eyes were squinted with a tired annoyance. 

“sorry, did i wake you up again?” you whispered, despite the fact that no one on the zoom call could hear you. eren’s face creased into a frown at the question. 

“yeah, but s’alright,” he responded, voice thick with slumber. you offered an apologetic smile before turning back to your lecture. eren quietly left the room as you resulted to writing down some half-hearted notes, your brain absently drifting towards your plans for the weekend. 

about ten minutes had passed when you felt a pair of arms wrap themselves around your shoulders, eren’s lips meeting your cheek in a morning greeting. 

his minty breath fanned across your face; you could see that he’d pulled his hair back into a messy knot from his reflection on the computer screen. though his warm gesture made your stomach erupt in butterflies, you were determined to pay attention to the class in front of you. eren took notice. 

“trying to stay focused, hm?” he mumbled as his mouth began to trail down to your neck, peppering the skin with light kisses. you groaned in slight annoyance, attempting to push him away.

“i need to take notes, eren,” you reprimanded. eren didn’t seem so easily swayed, however. 

his mouth found its way back to your neck, beginning to gently suck on the soft skin. you felt your face warm up at the sensation, an all too familiar ache between your legs. curse your boyfriend for being so goddamn horny all the time. 

“go ahead, m’not stopping you,” eren whispered hotly against the skin. you bit your lip as you tried to remain focused on whatever your teacher was talking about, but the words were going in one ear and out the other.

his warm lips began to shift down towards your collarbone and the place where your shirt interrupted the flow of bare, kissable flesh. 

eren’s large hand ran smoothly over the expanse of your right arm before coming up to cup your breast and giving it a generous squeeze. his nimble fingers pinched at your nipple through the fabric of your shirt, causing you to emit a low moan. your eyes snapped to his face in embarrassment over the noise.

eren had a smug look on his face, like he had just won some unspoken argument, the little shit. you glared up at him as he stood to his full height, teal eyes glancing to the computer screen as he momentarily considered something. 

“your camera is off, right?” he asked huskily. you swallowed before nodding. his question could only confirm what you already suspected he was going to do. 

placing either hand on the arm rests of the chair, eren leaned leaned over your body and glowered down at you. “good. can’t have anyone else seeing you the way i do, can we?” 

eren’s possessiveness sent a warm feeling down your spine. the thought of being his and his alone was enough to have you on your knees. you burned with anticipation as he feverishly brought his mouth down to meet yours. 

the kiss was heated and wet, his tongue lapping at your lips as it slipped into your mouth. you sighed contentedly at the sensation. acting on a sudden impulse, you wrapped your lips delicately around his tongue and began to suck gently on the exposed muscle, eliciting a loud groan from eren’s throat. as you pulled away, you saw his dilated pupils snap to the string of saliva connecting your lips. 

“take your shirt off,” you did as you were told, pulling the fabric from your body. eren’s eyes quickly scanned the expanse of your chest; his hungry stare causing the spot between your legs to throb. he dropped to his knees before you, making sure to maintain eye contact as he slowly brought his head to your chest, mouth desperately latching onto your breast. 

his tongue swirled around your hardened nipple, a small whimper clawing its way up your throat. you leaned your head back as you felt eren’s lips curl into a smirk at the sound. his teeth carefully grazed the nub before he pulled back; face slightly flushed and still so very smug.  

his large hands slowly lifted to the hemline of your sweatpants, cold fingertips grazing your hipbone. he looked up to you as he hooked his fingers under the waistline whilst jutting his chin upwards. “up, baby.” 

you lifted yourself briefly from the chair as he pulled your sweatpants down, allowing them to pool around your ankles. as you went to sit back down, you caught your reflection in the computer screen, wincing. it felt unbelievable that you were completely exposed while your zoom class continued in the background. you felt a wave of embarrassment wash over your body and had half a mind to tell eren to stop. 

the moment of doubt passed breathlessly as eren’s awfully cold and awfully long middle and ring fingers pushed past your underwear and teased at your entrance. your lack of attention must’ve been apparent; eren’s free hand coming up to roughly grip your chin, forcing you to look down at him. 

“pay attention, pretty girl,” he growled, teal eyes glinting seriously. his fingers teasingly swiped up to your clit, collecting your slick as they travelled upwards. you sucked in a breath as he brought the digits back down, circling around your cunt before slowly pumping inside. 

you meekly nodded your head, unable to form a coherent sentence as he curled his fingers upwards, hitting the warm spongey spot that made your toes curl. your body began to heat up, watching eren’s beautiful face as he fucked you with his fingers. his chin was turned slightly upward, lips parted. his digits slid in and out of you, picking up speed as a soft moan left your lips. 

“such a wet little bitch,” eren hissed as he shifted to gain more leverage. the pressure in your core began to build, only amplified by the addition of his thumb on your sensitive clit. “fuck, you’re so hot like this. should we show the class your pretty little cunt, hm?”

you closed your eyes as the warmth started to spread from between your legs into your stomach, release on its way. his fingers began to slow, a whine bubbling up from your throat.

“eren..” you whimpered, watching a scowl form on his face. his fingers pulled out completely from inside of you, the lack of contact making you ache in need. 

still gripping your jaw, he forced you to watch as he placed his long fingers between his lips, slowly sucking the remnants of you from himself. you bit your lip to repress a moan at the slight of his tongue gliding over his knuckles. he was hot and he knew it. 

he leaned forward, pulling your face down as he stood. his grip on your jaw tightened, forcing your mouth to pop open. he spat directly in your mouth, the warm liquid pooling on your tongue as he stared down at you.

“swallow,” he demanded, waiting as you let the bitter yet saccharine liquid slide down your throat. pleased, he released his grip on your jaw, a slight stinging where his fingers had rested. “good girl.”

his hands came up to the hemline of his sweatpants, gingerly yanking them down along with his boxers. you felt heat rush to your face as his cock came up to slap against his stomach. 

“can you stand up for me, pretty?” you nodded, eyes wide as his hand came down to lazily pump his dick. standing, you stepped out of your sweatpants and pulled your panties down, kicking them both to the side. 

eren’s eyes glanced to your laptop once more, pushing it as far back on the wooden desk as it would go. before you had the chance to question his motives, he roughly gripped your hips and spun you around, pressing you down onto the table. the cool surface made you shiver. 

his hand grabbed a fistful of your hair, forcing your neck to crane uncomfortably backwards. you could feel him positioning the tip of his cock at your entrance, the throbbing desire in you preparing itself to be stretched. he hesitated, staring at you darkly.

“beg for it,” eren’s voice was laced with a deep desire, eyes clouded with lust. you looked back at him through your lashes, lips slightly parted as his chest heaved. he could tell you were trying to rile him up. he yanked your hair slightly in retaliation. “beg for my cock to fuck you, baby.” 

“please,” you mewled, the aching in your cunt all to aware of him at your entrance, teasing you. eren raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. you swallowed deeply, the sound amplified by the strain of your craned neck. “please fuck me. fuck me so hard, eren.” 

a smirk danced across his features before he slowly stuffed himself inside of you, stretching and embedding within you. you hissed out in discomfort, never really getting accustomed to the sheer size of him. the slight pain started to dissipate as leaned forward while pulling your head back further by your hair. his hot breath fanned across the shell of your ear. 

“if you’re loud enough, i’ll let you cum,” with that, he dropped your hair and began to roughly buck his hips forward, the full feeling making your stomach burn. you moaned loudly as he slammed into you, picking up pace and stretching you nice and good.

his grunts were low and primal, melding with the sound of his hips smacking into your ass, hands burning prints into the skin on your waist. you felt yourself clench around his dick as he thrusted particularly deep, hitting that sweet spot that made tears prick your eyes. 

“you’re so pretty for me,” he grunted breathlessly. his pounding began to speed up, the sensation beginning to curdle in your cervix as you let out a string of curse words. eren fisted your hair again, the follicles stinging angrily as he brought his other hand forward to stuff his first two fingers in your mouth. 

the skin was warm and salty as you desperately sucked on his knuckles, frantic for the release you were craving as he abused your cunt. he pressed his fingers down on your tongue, allowing your mouth to fill with hot saliva. he groaned loudly at the sensation, his hips beginning to buck more senselessly. 

“pretty, pretty girl,” he moaned out, fingers pulling from your lips and bringing the saliva down your chin. you could feel your release fast approaching, aided by eren’s deep, purposeful thrusts that had you seeing stars. 

with one final plunge of his cock deep within your cunt, the release of dopamine crashed over your body, eren twitching as you unraveled around him. with a couple more sloppy thrusts, he was filling you up all nice with his cum, throaty groans ripping from his chest. 

the two of you sat in a breathy silence, cooling down from your highs together. eren pulled out, smiling lightly at the sight of his seed dripping from between your legs. he leaned forward, placing a kiss on your forehead. 

“better catch up on your notes, babe.” 

<3 <3 <3

[adorethedistance]

9 P.M. - Alive!Luke Patterson x Reader Modern Day!AU

JATP masterlist

Warnings: swearing, mentions of suicide, painful breakup, and angst.

Words: 1991

Summary: Luke breaking up with you made your world stop turning, and when it finally starts moving again after four long months, Luke is back in typical agitator fashion.

A/N: Not requested, and I wrote this in about two hours so bear that in mind. I’ve been toying with an angst idea for a little bit now, and because all of my requests rn are fluff, I decided why not give Luke a little love since it’s been a minute since my last Luke fic. This isn’t proofread so proceed with caution.

“What are you doing here, Luke?” Dana’s voice cuts clear over the mindless chatter in the busy diner. She tucks a stack of menus under her arm to brush a loose strand of sandy blonde hair out of her face.

“I’m here to talk to Y/n. She isn’t returning my calls and she only has her phone on silent when she’s working.”

A solid four months ago, Luke Patterson had broken Y/n Y/l/n’s heart into a couple billion pieces in this very diner. After Luke requested to meet up as soon as possible, Y/n told him she’d be clocking out for the night around 9 PM, and true to his previous request Luke had arrived at 9 on the dot. He considered taking her to his car for more privacy but in fear of forgetting his long, crafted speech, he opted for a secluded booth in the very back corner of her diner.

He still remembers the evening, clear as day. They sat down across from one another on the red vinyl seats with nervous tension exponentially rising between them. He remembers the way she ruffled her loose hair after having it pulled back for an 8-hour shift. He remembers the way she rested her right ankle on her left knee to massage away the calf pain from 8 hours of waiting tables. And he remembers the way her warm smile disappeared after he uttered the words “I think we should break up.”

Y/n was so shocked she couldn’t respond. Everything seemed to be going well between them. They had said their first ‘I love you’s and she had even opened up to the possibility of giving him her virginity. And here he was, a mere week later, claiming that he had fallen out of love with her over the span of a month.

Tears clouded her vision. She was quick to wipe them away before they fell, something Luke noticed that she only did when she was crying out of anger. With her normal sadness or even stress she just lets her emotions run their course. But the anger swelling inside of her at that moment, she so desperately wanted to hide. As a result, she brushed them away. She bit her tongue. She saved face, not wanting to let Luke know just how much he had hurt her.

Luke expected a full-on interrogation. He knew Y/n’s mind was one of insatiable curiosity and she had to have at least a million questions. However, if she did, she didn’t show it. The only question she asked, “Is this really what you want?” Her voice was steady, but Luke knew how badly she wanted to tear him apart, to ravage him right then and there. But after losing such a huge part of herself, Luke, she held onto her dignity so tight it nearly crumbled into dust and blew out of her clenched fingers. Without asking for any more information, she slipped out of the booth and hurried to her car as fast as her walk could take her.

At the time, Luke felt guilty for making her cry. Now he feels guilty for ever having let her believe she wasn’t good enough for him. The only problem is she wouldn’t give him the chance. And her best friend, Dana, didn’t seem like she would give him one either.

“Well, she’s not here. Have you ever considered she’s not returning your calls when she’s off of work, too?”

“Dana, I need to talk to her-”

“What could you possibly have left to say, Luke? Whatever you said to her that night broke her, it absolutely destroyed her. She hasn’t been the same since.” Luke had no trouble believing that was true, which is why it hurt so bad to hear, granted it didn’t hurt as bad as how Y/n felt that night.

“What? No- I-I really need to talk to her.”

“You really don’t.”

“I have to get her back, Dana!” A tornado of shock and anger consumes Dana to the point where all she can do is let out a bitter laugh. The look in Luke’s eyes indicates how hurt he is by her laughter, and Dana’s desire for vengeance has never been so strong. So, she continues to tell the truth. The ferocious, unabridged, hurtful truth,

“You don’t deserve a second chance. You don’t even deserve an attempt at a second chance. Knowing her, Y/n would never tell you this, but I will: you fucked up so bad, you made her almost make the biggest mistake of her life.”

“What?” Luke almost hesitates to ask, knowing he won’t like the answer.

“That night, she came to my place and cried so hard for three hours before she could even get a coherent word out. She stayed with me for three days and, had my shift not ended early that Tuesday, she wouldn’t be alive today.” The dumbstruck look on Luke’s face is only more motivation for Dana to twist the knife, “She almost didn’t survive losing you, Luke. And god forbid she gives you a second chance because she won’t survive losing you again.”

The diner is just crowded enough that no one is paying the two of them any mind as they faceoff by the hostess stand. Dana spent four long months consoling her best friend back to life, and she was not about to let Luke destroy all the hard work Y/n had put into healing.

“I can make this right.”

“How could you possibly make this right?”

“I know more now than I did before. I’ve changed!”

“So has she.” Dana’s biting words render Luke speechless. Once she realizes her work here is done, she continues setting up tables as they’re disinfected.

__________________________

Luke’s conversation with Dana in the diner left him shellshocked, but it also lit a fire under his ass that he needed to move forward. Rather than discouraging him, Dana’s words gave him a greater incentive to win her back: proof that he was willing to do what he said he would. At least, that’s what Luke told himself. Rather than stepping into the future with greater clarity, Luke went into the world with confidence so large and blinding, his actions may sabotage his true intentions.

That’s how he found himself so determined to win Y/n back. And that’s how he found himself face to face with the front door of her home. It’s 9 PM, just early enough to where she’d be home for the day, just early enough to where she wouldn’t be asleep, and hauntingly just the exact time he had broken her heart all those months ago. Before giving his conviction a chance to back out, he was raising a steady hand to ring the doorbell of her residence.

Y/n opened the door without much thought, expecting a food delivery; she was drastically off-put by Luke’s presence at her doorstep this late.

“Oh.” Was the only response manageable for the tired waitress.

“Hi. Can we talk?”

There it was. The phrase that was a paradoxical toss-up regarding her emotional state. Half of her has been waiting for this day for so long, dreaming of the boyfriend she once knew to come genuinely heartbroken and remorseful to win her back. The other half was terrified of this impending day as she realized she wasn’t nearly as emotionally strong enough to handle the situation as she thought. 

‘Oh’ was the only response manageable for the tired waitress.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Please just give me five minutes and if you never want to hear from me for the rest of your life, I’ll never bother you again,” he rushes out, knowing his time is finite. For what short period of time he thought it over, Luke always imagined pouring his heart out on her front doorstep. That’s why her silent sidestep and opening of the door caught him so off guard. He hadn’t anticipated her to actually give him a decent chance. Why would she? He broke up with her in the very diner she works in full time and crushed her heart so completely, the only things left behind had to be contempt and resentment.

Luke crossed the threshold of her small, cramped LA home with his heart on his sleeve. Reluctantly closing the door behind him, Y/n walks to her living room and sits on the couch amidst a mess of popcorn, her favorite chocolates, used tissues, and a bottle of Advil. The night Luke broke up with Y/n was four months ago and she’s still spending her Friday nights alone crying on her couch with a rom-com on the tv. A sharp pang of guilt cuts through Luke’s chest like a machete and his previous confidence completely dissipates into sadness. Though, he can’t tell if it’s actually remorse or just general pity.

“What did you want to talk about?” Y/n asks as if she doesn’t know what conversation they’re about to have. Luke takes a deep breath to prepare himself as best as he can before explaining what’s been on his mind.

“I am so sorry, Y/n.” His hopes for any sort of reaction are crushed once her blank stare doesn’t waver. In spite of everything that’s happened thus far, this is the moment Luke realizes this would be a lot more difficult than he anticipated. “That night, you asked if taking a break from… us was what I really wanted.”

“I remember.”

“I said yes and you left right after that. I know you’ve blocked my socials, but you haven’t blocked my calls, you just don’t answer. I’m sure you’ve got to be interested in why, you’re a very curious person.”

Luke wasn’t wrong there, Y/n had been wondering why. She had been wondering why since the words left his mouth that night, but she repressed that curiosity. She repressed it because she knew that whatever the answer was, it didn’t make any difference. Luke wasn’t hers to have anymore and that was what really mattered.

“I did it because I thought I was falling out of love with you.”

“You thought?”

“I wasn’t actually falling out of love with you.”

“You weren’t?”

“No.”

“Then why’d you break it off?”

“I thought I was falling out of love with you but really my attraction was just changing. Instead of just spontaneous and passionate and exciting, I began to see our relationship as comforting and secure as well as those other things. I thought my comfortability was falling out of love, but really, I was falling in love. I was no longer just super infatuated with you, I was in love with you. Genuine love.”

“Luke…” Y/n trails off. She has no real idea of what it is she’s thinking so she opts to let Luke continue until she can figure it out.

“I love you, Y/n. And I broke things off because, before you, I didn’t understand love. Hell, with you I didn’t understand it was love, but now I do! I love you.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“So, what does this all mean?” Luke draws in a nervous breath, identical to the one he used to soothe his nerves as he stepped into the all-too-familiar house.

“I know I don’t deserve it because of what I put you through… but all I’m asking is for a chance to prove that I really do love you.” The looking shimmering across Y/n’s eyes tells Luke how her thoughts are running wild. She’s experiencing a new train of thought at a mile a minute and it terrifies both of them.

“You hurt me, Luke. And I want to hate you so much for everything that you put me through, but I don’t, and I hate myself for that. But, I’m sorry. I can’t give you a second chance.”

***

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[oftenderweapons]

Hard and Mellow – Hoseok

Pairing: Jung Hoseok x reader (nicknamed Giggles)

Wordcount: 1.7k

Genre: smut, established relationship

Rating: 18+

Hello everyone! Stopping by to deliver this quick drabble. It’s been a while since I wrote something because sudden inspiration struck me, so I thought I could follow the mood and this came out. 

I’m thanking the best beta reader of this whole galaxy (that I will never thank enough), @joheunsaram​​. Becoming friends has never been as easy as it is with you. Lob U. I also want to thank a very specific Silent Princess. This is all for you, baby. You’re more extraordinary than words will ever say. You’ve been through so much and I’m so proud of you. I hope this will give you a good time, and someplace you can go back to when you want to escape from the real world. I’d be honoured to call you friend. I’ll wait for you in my next life 💜💐

Do NOT open the “read more” if the following topics trigger you: Sir!Hoseok, Sub!reader, multiple orgasms, vibrator, masturbation and oral sex (female receiving), face fucking and hair pulling (male receiving), squirting, cumplay and cream pies, general messiness, cum eating, heavy breast play (slapping, gripping, squeezing, nipple pinching and tugging), exhibitionism, impregnation/breeding kink, heavy dirty talking, biting, mentions of impact play (spanking and whipping with belt), bruising, mention of blacking out.

Here is my complete masterlist!

Enjoy 💜✨

“Tell me how it feels.”

You simply arched your back and stared deep into his eyes.

“Tell me,” he repeated, curling his fingers and moving the vibrator closer to your clitoris.

“Too good.”

“Too good what?” He teased you.

“Too good, Sir.”

You were barely coherent at this point.

Five orgasms were taking their toll on you. More than that, you had also squirted with the previous two, your body and mind growing increasingly vulnerable.

The fact that he was so clearly going for the sixth, and that he could keep going after that — you knew he could and would — made you grip his hair and shove his face against your crotch.

“So naughty,” he growled with a deep laugh before getting the toy inside you, switching the vibration pattern to a pulsating one that always made you wild for him, his tongue titillating your most sensitive spot with hard, quick flicks.

You tugged at his hair naturally, planting your heels on the mattress before your hips shot up; his hands came to your breasts, gripping them hard before his fingers delivered a sharp, burning slap to your left mound.

He sucked your clit harder, his fingers pinching your nipples while the feeling of the vibrations inside you became way too much for you actually survive his assault.

“Sir, please, stop.”

He hummed and kept going, the growl so deep in his throat that it felt almost minacious.

“Oh, please. No, no, I can’t— Sir!” You screamed, letting sobs fall from your lips just as tears began rolling down the sides of your face.

With a grin in his mouth he kept going, overstimulating you until he felt your release wet his neck and chest.

Nothing pleased him more than feeling you gush for him, over and over.

You could barely believe that the same man who was obsessed with cleanliness and spotless rooms was the same one making you drench the sheets at least once a week — usually with a timing perfectly calculated with the changing of the sheets.

And there was such a deep, bone-melting pleasure in showering while barely alive and falling asleep in his arms with your body brainless, soft and clean against the fresh crisp sheets.

But tonight you were far from that.

You were far from being done.

At least, he was.

He watched your body grow entirely limp underneath him, your eyes closed, your legs shaking as they tried to close, only to surrender to his unfaltering will.

He was hungry.

He was desperate.

He was all things he’d never dared be with anyone else.

He wanted things he never thought he could have.

But now there was you, and even though he was afraid he would lose you to someone who could be reliable in ways he couldn’t, he was ready to tie you down to him in any way he could.

He felt stupid. He felt dumb and reckless and absolutely insane.

He abandoned the slightly sour and salty taste of your cunt, not before lapping at the creamy wetness coating your folds, making them part with a squelching, sticky sound.

He took the vibrator out of you and slipped it into his mouth, eating and licking and sucking at all the sweet release he’d coaxed out of you before letting it rest on the sheets — they were messed up already anyway.

He silently grabbed your ankles and dragged you all the way to the edge of the bed, your body still too tired for you to actively notice anything but the friction of the cotton burning against the bruising skin of your ass and the back of your thighs.

You barely remembered if it had been his hand or the belt — it was a remote memory. Maybe two or three hours ago.

Too much had happened to your body for you to hold on to such fickle facts.

“On your knees. Now.” His order was stark and cold, getting a piercing, squeaking whimper out of you, your legs dangling from the bed before he settled behind you, his thin and strong arms shaping you into the position he required you to be.

You were now sitting close to the edge of the bed, your legs bent underneath you as you finally found enough strength to cooperate.

With your back to his front, straddling him, you felt his throbbing cock against your core, lifting your hips just enough for him to place his tip against your entrance and slide inside once you gave in to the firm, hot fullness of him.

“Yes, my love. Ride it,” his voice came from over your shoulder, one hand coming down to your clit, already looking for one more orgasm, his other palm cupping your heavy breast, bouncing with the needy rise and fall of your hips and with your heavy breathing. Your nipples felt too delicate, too sensitive.

You cried out loudly and shamelessly once he pinched one, tugging at it before rolling it between his thumb and forefinger in a poor attempt at soothing your skin.

His breath was too cold against your sweaty skin.

He managed to bite your shoulder, sucking briefly at the curve of your neck before you felt his rough voice.

“I wish I could fuck you like this on a stage. Show everyone how good I am to you.” He slapped your breast once more before he started meeting your thrusts. “Show them how I make you cum. How I make you squirt all over me.” He bit and growled as he felt you get tighter. “I’m gonna show all of them how my sweet, delicate strawberry turns into the loveliest cumslut for this cock.”

You shook your head and cried out, imagining a thick crowd in front of you, watching in silence, waiting for your orgasm like football supporters wait for a goal, ready to cheer.

“My sweet strawberry. Bet no one can get you half as dirty…” He chuckled. “Such a  cute little fuckdoll. Aren’t you hungry for my cum? Don’t you wanna be filled up?”

You sobbed and nodded.

“Say it with your words, Giggles.”

“Sir, please,” you managed to squeal before both his hands grabbed your breasts.

“Please what?”

“I want your cum. I need your cum. I’m empty and cold without it.”

He felt pleasure grow almost too much, ready to overthrow him.

“That’s right. You’re only mine to fill up.” He tortured your nipples some more. “Aren’t you eager to be bred, like an expensive fine pet?”

“Please, gimme babies. I’m your pet. I’m only yours to be filled up, please Sir.” You felt more tears roll down your cheeks.

“That’s right. But this won’t work.” He murmured, helping you on all fours before grabbing your arms and pinning them behind your back, making your whole torso collapse onto the bed, your face meeting the spot where his cock was laying earlier as he ate you out. You could tell by the heavy scent of his sex.

“This is the right position for you to get all those babies. They’re gonna stay deep inside. Like this.” He said, driving his cock all the way inside you, humming at the increased depth and tightness.

“It would be so fun to let everyone see how we make babies, don’t you think? Almost a shame we didn’t film this.”

His giggles were evil and taunting, “I’m gonna cum. Would you like to, Giggles?”

You nodded and immediately felt his hand between your legs, touching you with expertise.

“You’ll get so round and soft. It’ll be so lovely.” Hoseok was reaching the very edge. “Everyone will know you’re getting fucked to be bred.” He bent down, closing his eyes and breathing deeper to control himself. “Being too horny when you’re ovulating, walking around the house in nothing but an oversized shirt.” He slapped your ass once, twice, three times, trying to last at least one more minute. “You’re really begging me to put a baby inside you.”

“Please, it’s all I want, please, Hoseok!”

“Such a good girl. You earned my cum so well, my sweet berry,” he managed to coo before he gave irregular, violent strokes.

“Oh, please!”

He lost himself once you squeezed him as tight as you could, forcing him to spill all his cum inside you, the hot spurts shooting against your oversensitive inner walls while his mouth opened wide, letting a few seconds go by before he actually managed to make a sound.  

He rammed inside you with animalistic force, fucking his cum deeper inside you, letting your tight cunt milk him until his balls didn’t feel heavy and uncomfortable anymore.

His sweaty forehead hit your nape, but you barely registered that. Pleasure crested and your body became numb to everything, finally giving in to exhaustion as your vision blacked out.

You didn’t know how long it had been when you managed to come back to reality; Hoseok was quiet behind you, your bodies now resting on your sides.

“Giggles,” he called gently.

You hummed and nodded.

“Are you doing okay, honey?” His voice was raw and concerned.

“I’m okay. Tired.”

He kissed your shoulder, where he could spot a bite mark darkening. “Do you need anything?”

You shook your head. On a second thought, you changed your mind. “Stay inside,” you whispered.

He did as you told him.

“I really want kids, Hobi.” Your voice was shaking and fatigued after all the heavy breathing and crying and screaming.

“We’ll have as many as you want,” he replied, drawing a line of kisses. “Whenever we’re ready.”

You nodded and scooted further back into him.

“You’ll be so beautiful, with a big round belly, glowing in happiness.” His hands caressed your body reverently. “You’ll be so sweet, breastfeeding our child on a rocking chair. And you’ll be the best at lullabies. Your voice is so nice and soothing,” he was getting emotional. “You’ll make the prettiest, gentlest of babies.”

You caught his hands in yours. “And you’ll spoil them rotten.”

“How can I say no to a mini-you?” He took in your scent, the smell of him and you and sex so deeply interwoven with every fibre of your being. “I hope they look like you.”

You tried to cuddle him as you heard him sniffle. “You’ll be the best dad in the universe.”

He gave a small laugh. “For now I’ll focus on the idea of getting all them babies inside you.”

You chuckled and wiggled your hips against him, squeezing around his half soft cock. “I second that.”

[galacticlamps]

im sorry im sorry im sorry i know it’s been well over a year but i accidentally thought about Short Trips: Deleted Scenes (again) and it’s killing me (again) so i think im just gonna go ahead and post all these stupid thoughts that have been plaguing me about it since i first heard it & maybe that’ll help clear up some space in my head for like, real life things.

Spoilers I guess? It’s like a year and a half old but also high key the most recent 2nd doctor content i believe we’ve gotten which is like, the only negative thing I can say about it

The TLDR version is this:

I literally cant believe how sweet it is? Painful, but sweet. Like. I don’t honestly know what’s more likely - did they set out to write Jamie a nice little straight love interest and just fail miserably at it by constantly likening her to the Doctor AND paralleling the Doctor’s perspective with her ex’s AND putting Jamie’s relationships with both of them in direct tension with each other while constantly letting his with the Doctor win out?

OR - did they do a very 1960s thing and say hey we’re gonna write what’s essentially a story about how much Jamie and the Doctor love each other and release it on Valentine’s Day thinly disguised as a one-off romance with a french lady?

Now, as a general rule, my attitude toward questions like that is usually “don’t know, don’t care, doesn’t matter” - and while I 100% stand by that, I also have to admit that this particular audio seems to pay enough attention to detail that I’d kind of think I was selling it short if I assumed too many of these things were just meaningless coincidences, you know?

Anyway, that’s the most coherent/overarching thought. And here’s a disorganized list of things I absolutely cannot get over about it (they don’t form any kind of argument, mind, they just all happen to live rent free in my head):

- Celine is first taken in by Jamie being an idiot (specifically him claiming not to speak French, in perfect French); likewise, her entrance in the scene where they actually kiss is marked with a little anecdote about her hat getting stuck on a doornail and her scolding it as she attempts to fix her un-tameable appearance, and the narration says Celine “would often clown for Jamie like this” - all of which, while undeniably adorable, don’t exactly strike me as entirely original traits to have been assigned to Jamie’s love-interest (but also Celine is so cool and her perspective on film/media/time is an excellent addition to the long list of dr who characters)

- When they’re in the present, describing Jamie’s relationship with Celine in 1908, they call him her “companion” and highlight his going nearly everywhere with her, which earns a laugh from the 4th doctor (and me as well, though probably for slightly different reasons - but like, is that really all it takes to have a fling with someone in 60′s era who? bc if so...)

- Celine’s ex-fiance is still in love with her and is jealously watching when she kisses Jamie ... and then the Doctor appears beside him, evidently doing the exact. same. thing. They have the following conversation:

“You know, it’s not prudent to spy on people. But then, people in pain can’t be expected to act prudently.”

“Pain, monsieur? You mistake me.”

“Ah, do I? Good, because I rather thought you’d lost something.”

“What would you know about loss monsieur?”

- I’m sorry doc but who do you think you are, saying stuff like that and smiling sadly at the floor to boot? I 100% had to pause it here the first time I listened, just to not throw my laptop across the room. 

- Then when I recovered continued, the Doctor closes the door so they can’t watch anymore and explains “Possessing things comes so terribly easily to some men that losing them can feel cruel, intolerably cruel. In my experience, only the very best of men cannot be tempted to answer that cruelty with more - I do sincerely hope that you are the best of men.” (guess who gets described as the best of men by the end of the audio?)

- Jamie and the Doctor apparently develop a habit of walking along the river in Paris in silence

- During one such walk, Jamie suggests Celine come with them since she already figured out about the Tardis - and when the Doctor’s worried by this, he says he only allowed Jamie & Celine to grow closer “because of Victoria.” Jamie takes offense at the ‘allowing it’ comment and also refuses to admit he knows what the Doctor means about Victoria, which leads the Doctor to say that he knows how fond Jamie was of her - he was too, of course, but with him, “it was different, wasn’t it?” Jamie only says maybe that’s true and maybe that’s not, but his voice catches until he changes the subject

- Jamie doesn’t see Celine for days both times that she’s recovering from the shock and depression of her work being destroyed. In contrast, when the Doctor’s not well, Jamie’s "afraid” and “guilty” and hardly seems to leave his side at all, if his being there “rushing to embrace him” the second he wakes up - after a period Jamie describes as “at least a week” - is anything to go by, anyway. so either bf writers need to learn how to write a committed straight relationship or admit that’s not what they ever intended in the first place

- Oh yeah, and the Doctor spends that week "asleep” in Jamie’s bedroom - no, there’s no explanation as to if that’s where he was when he first collapsed or if it’s where Jamie decided to take him bc why would they feel the need to explain him being there? why was it even relevant to tell us it was Jamie’s room in the first place?

- The Doctor somehow manages to control the Tardis enough to take Celine on one trip to an alien planet and then return to the correct time & place for her to use the footage she recorded there in her new film - and while the audio doesn’t do very much to explain how that was possible, it does treat this as A Pretty Big Deal, and immediately afterward the Doctor has to spend a week communing with his past self (and/or the Tardis?) debating how likely it is that the Time Lords could use this to trace him. When he decides it’s not worth the risk and they have to stop the film from ever being shown to the public, Jamie asks why he agreed to it in the first place, and all he can say is “Because, Jamie, you asked me to!” earning awkward stares from the crowd.

- Oh, but, lest we forget, that little outburst is also immediately followed by him putting his arm around Jamie’s shoulders, and, shockingly, apparently beginning to actually explain the truth about the danger from the Time Lords - until they’re interrupted, of course idk why exactly but the idea of a 60s dr wanting to come clean with a companion but not being allowed to bc the show demands the war games be something of a reveal hurts me in a very good way

- The mental image of “the Doctor and Jamie, resplendent in borrowed evening wear”

- The audio admitting that Jamie’s not very good at subterfuge, and the Doctor asking if he’s going to be alright with them having to steal the film back from Celine - and Jamie’s little “Aye, Doctor” as he feels a ‘glass arrow piercing his chest’ glad to see bf is reading all my letters about exactly how i feel any time something sad happens to james robert mccrimmon

- The Doctor’s anxious to get out of there for obvious reasons, but he hangs around bc Jamie wants to see Celine again - which doesn’t happen, because of her aforementioned shock & depression, but she does leave Jamie a note that ends “you and that Doctor of yours - look after him Jamie, he loves you dearly, as do I.” yeah, if you didn’t want people to draw a parallel there, you could’ve picked, like, any other wording in the world.

- In case you weren’t fully convinced I’ve been reading too much into this whole audio already, consider this: Celine dies in Long Island in 1968, three days before her birthday - 1968 is when this story would’ve taken place in the show’s history (between Fury & Wheel), and dying three days before/after a birthday in America seems a bit... well I had some deja vu from it, anyway

- Four of all people being the one to bring back the film - I know he does it bc Sarah Jane makes him, but personally, I often feel like despite the length of his run, 4 is the Doctor with which we might’ve gotten the fewest glimpses into his interiority, so the fact that it’s him and not one of the more overtly sentimental Doctors makes it feel like it carries even more weight somehow, to me anyway. I think I wrote a post saying roughly the same thing about 4 & Fate of Krelos/Return to Telos but maybe I only did that inside my own head lol. Still, I’m all for any opportunities for Jamie to be one of the few characters to draw some noticeable emotion out of Four, but in fairness I haven’t touched too much of his EU stuff to really be able to compare the frequency with which this happens with other past companions

- Is Four referring to Two or Jamie when he says he got the film from “an old family friend”? Two did the actual stealing, but he probably means Jamie’s involvement - either way, it’s an interesting way of describing old companions - or selves?

- When Jemima goes to call Jamie a thief, Four is “roused” to defend him: “he really was the very best of men” again, any time four freely shows he cares about someone, im over the moon about it

- Oh ha ha, there’s an audio called “Deleted Scenes” featuring the Doctor who’s most affected by junked episodes. And at the end of it, a character who’s spent her life researching and lecturing about a lost film gets to watch it be ‘rediscovered’ after it’s gone unseen for decades. I feel marginally less stupid for reading into the other details of a story like this when it ends up deciding to be to be clever & slightly meta like that

But yeah

all in all, it’s kind of amazing to me that this genuinely reads like they sat down and said okay boys it’s valentines day, let’s write an audio where jamie kisses a girl, since that hasn’t happened except as a plot device in one story in 1967 - but then when they got down to business they accidentally(?) wrote a story all about how important his bond with the Doctor is and how easily that can be compared to a legitimate love interest (even if the love interest in question is a one off character & the extent of the relationship appears to be like one kiss & then having Jamie spend most of his time around the Doctor instead)

I realize there’s something slightly illogical about writing the words “shipping aside” after a post like this but seriously - no matter how many categories you’re able to see two & jamie’s relationship fitting into, this is 40 minutes of big finish just hitting you over the head with how powerful/special/important that relationship is, and with them being two of my favorite characters, i really haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since

[emu-lumberjack]

Don’t Answer the Phone Tired pt. 2

It’s the next day and Damian has gotten even less sleep, thankfully he’s not too tired after a some surprise news shocks him awake.

———————————-

Hey guys here’s the sequel everyone was super excited for. I really hope y'all like it, I definitely wrote it tired, but it should be coherent. 

Read part 1 here

Read part 3 here

Read part 4 here

Read part 5 here

He really needed coffee, especially after dealing with his brothers after they found out about Marinette. The youngest Wayne was up till four yelling at them to lay off, among more colorful terms, everyone time they called. He would’ve just ignored them but he knew that ignoring them would just wind up with him getting a surprise visit sooner than later. The fresh Parisian air felt good against his face as he stood on his balcony.

“Rapunzel, Rapunzel let down your hair!” Marinette's voice called from the street.

“Only if the prince is willing to protect me from my aggravating brothers!” He cracked a smile as he shouted back.

“Alas I cannot do that, but would my damsel take this as a reward?” She held up a purple travel mug and a bag filled with a croissant.

“I think I could take that deal. I’ll be down in a few minutes.” He ran inside to grab his bag and throw on some day clothes before meeting Marinette.

“Have I mentioned you’re the best girlfriend? Because you’re the best girlfriend.” Damian said walking up to Marinette.

“You could stand to mention it more.” The bluenette replied handing him his promised coffee and croissant. He gulped down the coffee barely taking a breath until Marinette laughed and said, “Slow down there, you won't have any time to savor any of it.”

“If you want to stay up late dealing with my brothers, please be my guest but if not,” He gestured with his cup, “I’m gonna drink as fast as I want to.” Marinette nodded to that.

“Was it that bad last night after you left?”

“By bad do you mean each one of was trying to call me every five minutes out of ‘concern’ for my health or to check to make sure I hadn’t kidnapped you.” Marinette laughed again. “Anyway if I didn’t talk to them at all they probably would’ve hopped on the first flight they could to see what’s going on.” They stopped at the light, when Damian turned to look at Marinette he noticed she was avoiding his gaze. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about my brothers. Would you Angel?”

“Well, I might have gotten a text from Aurore to keep you away from school because three older guys had come and were asking around for you. One of them was half asleep and she couldn’t figure out how he was functional.”

Damian paled, after a moment he said “And why then are we going to school, I personally want to get as far away from them as possible.”

“She sent me a follow up saying to get there as fast as possible. Lila told her lie in front of the wrong person and, well I’ll show you the video.” Marinette handed her phone to Damian who hit play on the video that was up.

The forms of Grayson, Todd and Drake half asleep leaning on Jason. A voice came from off screen saying,

“Girl I can’t believe Tim’s not taking you to the Wayne Gala.” Alya, Damian thought. She was beginning to walk into frame with someone else. He knew who she was before she spoke.

“I know right. It’s just why would he invite someone else!” There in all her demonic glory stood Lila Rossi, not yet realising who she was walking next to.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, but are you talking about Tim Drake? Adopted son of Bruce Wayne?” Grayson asked innocently. Damian knew that voice, it was the same one he used when he was going to demolish someone. “Well yeah. He’s her boyfriend, who are you anyway? Why do you care?” Alya was immediately there to be Lila’s guard dog.

“Well my name is Richard Grayson-Wayne. Tim’s brother and Bruce's son. I care because unless he’s as good at keeping secrets as Damian is, which he’s not, then he isn’t dating this girl.” Alya paled, the camera zoomed in on Lila’s face. She looked like she was about to be sick

“Huh? I heard my name.” Drake, who was in a rare moment of lucidness, looked at Dick.

“Are you pulling a Damian and secretly dating a girl in France?” Todd still Drake’s support was glaring at Lila.

“What?! Are you kidding me? No!” Drake looked like he was just hit with a cement slab.

“What are you talking about obviously you’re dating Lila! Stop Lying! I bet you're not even the real Tim Drake.” Alya was shouting now drawing crowds from around the courtyard. Drake looked at Grayson confused.

“She does realize that we can sue her if she’s really telling these types of lies right? Like she can’t be doing that.” Tim stood in front of Dick and turned his back to the paled liar and fuming reporter

“Oh leave Lila alone!” Alya came towards Drake and shoved him into Grayson.

“That does it.” Todd who had moved off to the side started walking towards the brunette rolling up his sleeves. Grayson and Todd recovered quickly, and moved to hold Todd back.

“We should get there before Todd kills them.” He said calmly before handing the phone back to Marinette. “Otherwise we won’t be able to take her down ourselves.”

“My thoughts exactly.”

In no time the duo were walking up the steps of Françoise Dupont where the sounds of shouts could be heard. The scene they entered was somehow more chaotic then the one Aurore had sent in the video. Todd was hanging upside down, the rope leading up around the handrails on the second floor then back down to a corner of the courtyard. Drake was on the bench snoring softly with his head almost touching the floor. Dick was on the phone, presumably with some lawyers. The entire bottom courtyard of the school was littered with papers and balloons were strewn about. Lila was nowhere to be seen.

“It looks like they’ve taken care of the situation, and they haven’t spotted us yet so I’m just gonna…” Damian began.

“There he is! Demonspawn, finally I thought you’d never get here.” Jason interrupted. He had spun around and caught sight of Damian and Marinette walking in. Dick turned around at the sound of Jason’s voice before saying “Yeah Duke I’ll have to call you back, but we need to sort this Lila stuff out.” He put his phone away before walking over to a corner of the building where he took out his knife and slashed a piece of rope. Jason came crashing down.

“A little warning next time Dick.” Jason said brushing off some dust that had settled on his tan leather jacket. Each one of them were dressed in their civilian clothing. Dick had on a pair of blue jeans with a grey t-shirt paired with some black sneakers. Jason was wearing his usual jeans, t-shirt, and leather jacket combo. Drake was in some weird form of pajama and day clothes mixing a graphic T-shirt and red flannel with grey sweatpants and slippers.

“Now I know that we have to be dreaming. Demonspawn is actually wearing a sweatshirt. I don’t even think Alfred could get him to do that.” Damian had run out once he heard Marinette’s voice that morning so he had just thrown on a pair of pants, a shirt and a sweatshirt barely thinking about it. He had become relaxed in Paris.

“What the hell are you guys doing here.” Damian’s face was quickly beginning to match a tomato in color and he was backing out of the entryway.

“Well obviously we had to come and see you, and meet your girlfriend.” Dick who had walked over to Marinette grabbed her hand and shook it. “My name’s Dick, the grumbling menace over there is Jason. The one currently passed out is Tim, nice to meet you, uh”

“Marinette.” She supplied. “I also have to thank you for taking care of a certain person, I’ve been trying to figure out how to get rid of her for a year.”

“Oh it was no problem at all, especially after she claimed she was dating Tim.” Damian quickly interrupted the two with a few well placed coughs. “I don’t mean to cut this short Grayson but we have to be getting to class.”

“Oh don’t worry. Bruce already called you out for the day, and Marinette I’m sure you can miss one day of school.” Jason said walking up behind Marinette.

“As much as I’d love to, I have two tests today. I’ll be happy to meet up with you afterwards though.” Damian’s eyes widened as the words sunk in and he realized what that meant for him.

“Please don’t leave me alone with them.” He looked at Marinette pleadingly.

“You’re gonna have to tell us how you got him to say please, it took Alfred a month to do that.” Jason remarked.

“Maybe another time, now I’ve gotta get to class.” She gave one look at Damian and there was laughter in her eyes.

“I hate you.” He said.

“No you don’t.” She called back, disappearing around the corner.

“So how bout we wake up Timmy and go get breakfast. I for one am famished.” Jason came up and put a hand on Damians shoulder.

“Ya know that doesn’t sound so bad Jason. Then Damian can tell us all about Paris, and the people he’s met.” Dick stood in front of Damians glare gleefully looking at Jason.

“I will kill you both and Father will never be able to find your bodies.”

“Yeah but then Marinette will be disappointed. For some reason she gives off the ‘thou shall not kill’ vibe.” Grayson said. “Now how are we gonna wake Tim up.”

“Oh I’ll  take care of it.” Damian said grabbing his Ice filled water bottle.

 Tag List: 

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[captaincravatthecapricious]

Reluctant hurt/comfort?  Why yes!

Both Tim and Jon have a bad time after the Buried.  

cw fever, illness, vomit mention, suicidal ideation, grief. Also as a note, the night I wrote this was a hard one, and the day after was worse and this might reflect that.  I don't think this is one I can go back through and comb for more cws, so hopefully that is warning enough.  Stay safe, and enjoy something that was very cathartic to write.

The day after the Buried, it doesn’t even occur to Tim that he should be hungry.  He hasn’t needed to eat in so long that he simply forgets.  Just downs glass after glass of water in the break room after a shower that lasts far longer than the meager supply of hot water.  He can’t be fucked that Daisy and Jon still need to wash the muck off.  At least Daisy has somewhere to go, Basira is hovering around, ready to ferry her out of this hell archive.  

Of course, it’s his own fault that he doesn’t have a flat.  

He supposes he owes Jon.  Or something.  

He doesn’t care.  

He’s still angry.  And tired and filthy and depressed.  The only thing the buried did was keep him from dying.  Hell of a suicide watch to be on.  

Sometimes when he closed his eyes down there, he could believe it was Jon or Martin lying on him.  Keeping his fingers from itching to do harm…  Well, almost, anyhow.  

After that, he sleeps.  And sleeps.  

And, well, after that.  He feels like shit.  

Complete shit. 

When he was a teen with soup for brains, Danny got sick.  A bad flu, but he couldn’t keep anything down for three days.  Three days of foisting broths and lucozade on his brother with little success.  Should have been taken to hospital, by all rights, but their mother didn’t really believe in the whole modern medicine thing, and well.  Dad was away, so Tim couldn’t even get Danny to an adult who could help, even if he didn’t give a damn.  It had been awful.  

He really thought his little brother was dying.  Cracked and dry lips, fever so high that he wasn’t coherent.  Three days he sat vigil.  Praying to a god he barely believed in.  

A fever that scooped out his brother until he was praying for a breathing corpse.  Giving oblations of thin liquid.  

On the third day, his eyes opened and he stroked Tim’s hand, as Tim shook with exhaustion by his bedside.  He had to be propped up to sip at his broth, but it was far better than trickling it down his unconscious baby brother’s throat.  

Pure helplessness.  Both in empathy for his brother, who was probably having a worse time than Tim, and because he was next to useless.  

Three days and Tim can’t keep down food.  Gave up trying.  Just shivers on the cot, gazing nearly sightlessly at the ceiling, muscles too wasted to move.  He doesn’t know if anyone notices that he’s gone.  He hasn’t heard any word from Martin.  Basira and Daisy fucked off days ago, as far as Tim can reckon.  Then again, he doesn’t have so much as a working phone.  He doesn’t even know if it’s been three days or thirty.  

His skin feels hot and tight.  Like the Buried is taking a new approach to suffocating him.  A dreadful thirst clawing at him, but he doesn’t have the strength to stand and get water anymore.  Barely could limp his way there before the lack of food and probable fever stole what little he had left.  

Is this just some divine punishment for prodding too hard at the forces of evil in the universe?  

He’d finally come to terms with the abstract and incidental nature of these things, but he can’t help the hazy imagining that he deserves this.  

Failed to keep his brother safe, for all his bedside bargaining and promises made to the wind on long walks after his brother disappeared.  All the broken promises betwixt his savior and himself.  Bitter words corroding promises that could have been harder than diamond.  

It was his fault.  Couldn’t hold up his end, and he deserves this dreadful heat and the foul desert of his mouth.  His body generating his own funeral pyre.  

He wishes he could bring himself to care.  But all he’s known since Jon betrayed him has been anger and dissent disinterest.  

There is an ache at his very core.  

He lies there, on the cot.  Tangled in the sheets.  Bone dry.  Dry as parched soil.  For he has no moisture to spare for sweat.  His own body out of anything that could bring his temperature down.  

Finding Tim isn’t easy.  Jon’s body betrays him after the Buried.  Months of uneasy sleep, and days of pressure on all the wrong parts of him leave him poorly put together and his joints slipping apart at the slightest provocation.  He spends days on the floor of his office, in too much pain to move, too dizzy to stand, and running a fever from the pain in his squashed and shitty joints.  

His own fault, but a small price to pay for Tim and Daisy.  

He would have stayed there if it meant getting them back.  

One less monster.  

Of course the Eye doesn’t let him die.  Aren’t humans supposed to die if they don’t drink water for three days?  

He spends most of his time passing out when he tries to stand.  

And he can’t bring himself to care.  He’s so tired.  Too tired.  

He didn’t expect anyone to come after him.  Certainly not Tim.  Not after everything.  

Well maybe he hoped.  

(He did).  

(Damn his… well it isn’t optimism.  Damn his longing for someone to give a shit if he vanishes for days.  He should know by now that no one is coming.  No one ever does.)  

Groggy and foggy and battered.  

He’s tired.  He needs a proper mattress for just one night, but he can’t even get off the floor.  Just lays in the remnants of mud, waiting to whither like the corpse he is, one just hasn’t stopped breathing yet (again).  

But something draws him upright, more or less.  Clinging to the walls, bracing his stilted journey on aching limbs.  

It’s probably the Eye.  Probably the Eye, or maybe Jon’s piercing curiosity, control slackened by fever, peering though a hairline fracture in the door of his mind.  

He all but crawls to the cot, securing a half empty water bottle from somewhere he probably should be worried about, but he arrives to find Tim burning away before him as his own vision swims dangerously.  

A face in front of his.  Features obscure and unreadable.  He can read the worry in those eyes.  Even in the half light.  

Tim couldn’t hear Jon in the Buried.  His hearing aids long since ran out of life.  All for the best, for the singing of the coffin in the rain will haunt his dreams (not only in a spooky way) for the rest of his life.  

Only knew it was Jon by Jon guiding his (Tim’s)  hand with too thin and gentle and burned fingers to his (Jon’s) mouth.  So Tim could read his lips by feel.  An imprecise thing, but better than nothing.  

Filthy fingers against dry and dusty lips.  Almost like a kiss.  Perhaps more intimate.  

The face hovers closer.  Thin and careful fingers soothing his brow.  

Pressing water to his lips.  Mouthing words that are lost to Tim.  And even if they reached him, he knows he wouldn’t understand them.  

Is this Danny before him?  Would he know his own brother?  After all these years?  After the Stranger chewed him up and regurgitated …whatever.  Is he lost as much as Sasha had been?  Like she’d been?  

And what good would knowing that do?  He would rather keep the memories he has, doesn’t want to know the creeping uncertainties that plague him when he closes his eyes.  

He supposes that the advantage of the Buried is that it keeps the mind off things that aren’t the slow process of returning stone to stone in a way that obliterates everything in between.  Everything but fear.  

Not Danny, but Jon, Tim discovers.  Pulled awake by uneasy stomach, and panicked breath, to find Jon fluttering out of consciousness by his side.  

He wants to be put out that they are flush with each other, but …but they were closer still in the choking darkness with air thick with the soil that Tim swears he can feel coating his internal organs.  

He’s drifting off again when he hears Jon gasp awake, looking nearly as unwell as Tim feels.  

The small figure curled at his back is not his brother.  But he feels as warm and as fragile as Danny did when he sat his vigil.  Counting the seconds between breaths.  His heart stuttering when they lagged and caught in his raw throat in the muted hours between sunset and sunrise.  The hours that Tim feared if he stopped willing the next breath to happen, they wouldn’t.  

But Jon is hardly human.  His pulse is jittery and uneven.  Each breath just a little more strained than they should be.  Likely matching Tim’s own.  

Some distant part of him… the distant part that can feel Jon’s pulse when the rest of him is floating away, untethered to a body too light and empty without topsoil and rich loam to brace him into and against the earth… worries that his own furnace of a temperature is too high and will roast Jon.  

Another equally distant part of him is annoyed that Jon dares to share this pyre of internal heat with him.  …If this is how he goes out, he wishes he saw the stars when he still had any strength.  

Tim wakes again to cool water against his tongue.  

Jon is mumbling to himself fervently.  And Tim can recognize that look.  That fear.  That determination.  The will of someone breathing for someone else.  Holding their life-force steady in the mind.  Knowing to let it faulter is a death sentence.  With wild certainty that is bounded in something beyond reason, for when you are willing another person to breathe, you are often beyond the reach of science.  

And Tim wonders who Jon could possibly be breathing for, because there is no universe in the extensive multiverse that Jon would ever will the life into someone who has spewed such hateful things and led another fragile being he swore to protect to his death.  

And yet…

Tim exhales deeply.  Sliding into what looks to be a restful sleep for the first time in uncounted months.  Watching the rise and fall of his chest look more natural and less like an afterthought, what little strength Jon had found, abandons him.  And he curls himself around Tim.  A small and fragile and dusty shield.  And is asleep in an instant.  Knowing without a doubt that Tim will sleep comfortably through the night, and if anything changes, Jon will know.  Both in body and from beyond the waterlogged door in his mind.  

[angelicmichael]

Imminient Annihilation Sounds so Dope, Chapter Eight.

Michael Langdon x reader

Summary: Reader gets to take care of a overly drunk Michael and attempts to make the most of the situation.

Words: 2.3K+

Warnings: Throwing up, someone being super drunk lol and passing out.

A/N: Sorry I haven’t updated this in forever! Lol. I hope y’all like this 🥺 I wrote the first half to this over two months ago so.. I feel like the first half sucks but I’m proud of the ending! Lol. Please reblog or heart if you enjoy ♥️

Previous Chapter

Next Chapter 

Today you learned how much you preferred dealing with drunk Michael than sober Michael. Even though drunk Michael had thrown up at least two times in the past hour, but at least in this state he seemed to go mute. Michael being sloppily drunk seemed to make him not sloppy at all but more like very relaxed, less taunting, not so fucking mean and most importantly; not threatening or trying to kill you.

You two were currently in his hotel, which naturally, was another nice penthouse. It was nearly painfully easy to find directions to his hotel by ‘hacking’ into his phone, and you were surprised to see how.. unlike him his hotel looked. You were expecting candles and pentagrams but there only seemed to be folded fluffy white towels and a neatly made bed instead. You guessed he just arrived here today, since the hotel literally looked untouched.

There was a black bag in the room which you could only presume was his, and a couple bottles of dark red wine were littered around his bed. The manner in which the light reflected off of the bottles told you that the bottles were empty; which meant Michael was a hell of a lot more drunk than you had previously thought.

Michaels penthouse was unlike the own he owned in L.A. This one was large and spacious, the floor plan was open execpt one room; which you presumed was the bathroom. It had a nice view also, which was the one similar feature both of his penthouses held. The room was sleek and black execpt for the shockingly white sheets of the bed and curtains, and the towels of course.

You and Micheal both sat in the bathroom currently. He sat on the floor next to the toilet whilst you sat on the wall adjacent to where he was sitting, next to the bathtub. He was shirtless, which was your idea actually. Only because the less clothes he had to get vomit on the better.

Your phone was on the ground next to you, which frequently illuminated the room since the lights were kept dimmed. You figured there was no need for harsh lights since it seemed to just be irritating Michael. You knew Mallory was the one sending you texts, she was basically the only one who texted you in the first place - even before you met Michael. You felt it was better to not look at your phone at the moment though, Mallory could wait a few hours. Michael was the one who truly needed your attention at the moment.

You weren’t sure why you felt so compelled to be nice to Micheal and take care of him like this. Maybe it was because you felt so guilty for hurting Madison.. this was really the only way you knew how to pay him back for doing that.

You knew hands down he would never do anything like this for you. In fact, Madison and Micheal himself tried to kill you a mere couple days ago but things were different then.. right? Maybe it was just you being delusional but you felt like ever since you established you were stronger than Micheal; the dynamic changed between you two.

Although; you couldn’t help but to feel sad, or almost nostalgic for this moment. You knew this would only moment where you would have the chance to have a heart to heart with Michael or tell him what was truly on your mind. It didn’t really matter was you said to him at this point, he was so drunk - there was no way he would remember it tomorrow.

However, Micheal wasn’t talking much at the moment and you didn’t really mind that. You didn’t blame him for being quiet since he was incredibly sick, but it also disappointed you a bit since he was the only one you felt like talking too. He was the only one that might get or understand how you were feeling, you could only imagine he felt dissapoinyed you were his soulmate as well. He was in love with Madison, head over heels. So you took a chance, and you spoke.

“Michael, are you awake”? You asked.

He was bent over the toilet and you couldn’t exactly see if his eyes were open or not. His hands were on the rim of the toilet seat and his head rested on his hands, he nearly looked asleep. However when you spoke he sat up suddenly, with a dazed look in his eyes.

“Wassup”? He slurred.

You swallowed, you knew this would be the only opportunity to ‘attempt’ to have a heart to heart with Michael. You would probably never get this kind of opportunity again but you were nervous. It was irrational though because Micheal would never remember this conversation. You had nothing to really be scared of.

You broke eye contact and stared at your feet briefly as you spoke, and then looked at him again.

“Michael.. I’m sorry for what happened to Madison”. You said quietly.

You waited for him to do or even to say something but he just sat there, as if he didn’t really process what you just said. You shouldn’t have been surprised at his reaction, he was still very drunk after all. You quickly continued to keep talking, which ended up just coming out as you rambling.

“Well, I mean I was just defending myself. I’m not sorry for doing that but I’m sorry for how out of hand it got. It wasn’t my intention to hurt her I was just scared-“ You tried to keep going but Michael interrupted you.

“I know”. He said suddenly, looking into your eyes with a far-off, almost dead look in his eyes.

You knew it was probably because he was drunk but the way he was looking at you, made you feel incredibly uncomfterable.. Almost on edge.

His words made your skin crawl as well. If he really knew how you felt, if he had any empathy for you then he wouldn’t have literally tried to kill you with his girlfriend. You sat up a bit straighter and stretched a bit before replying and looking at him again.

“Michael you don’t know. If you really knew how I felt then you wouldn’t have tried to kill me-“

You immeaditly stopped talking once you realized Michael swiftly bent his back over the toilet and was gripping the edges of it for dear life as he threw his guts up - once again.

You managed to scramble over to him insanely fast, not really knowing what exactly to do - touching or rubbing his back seemed to intimate so you settled for just sitting next to him and making sure he didn’t choke on his own vomit. Every time he threw up, you could feel your heart skip a beat - you hated how you were concerned for him but yet, you just kind of wanted him to be okay.

He let go of the toilet and sat back suddenly which made you back off a bit as he looked at you as if he didn’t even notice how close you were. He was breathing heavy, extremely out of breath from being sick and there were tears in his eyes. Most likely from how exhausted he was from throwing up. In between his heavy breaths, he managed to throw out a,

“I’m sorry”. His words came out cold and sudden but yet; held a hint of sincereness to them.

You didn’t know what exactly what Michael was referring too, if he was sorry for the incident that had occurred with Madison or for the fact he had just thrown up. Either way, you knew not to take him too seriously - he was drunk. He didn’t necessarily mean anything he was saying. They were simply words with no meaning. Still, you couldn’t help but feel empathetic toward him. You looked at him, into his hazy blue eyes as you next spoke.

“It’s okay”. You replied softly.

You stayed silent for a couple of moments that, in reality probably only lasted a few minuets but felt like hours. You didn’t bother to move away; you now sat a couple feet away from him. It didn’t take long at all for the silentness of the bathroom to drive you mad, the sound of the bathroom vent seemed to become deafening to the point where you couldn’t take it anymore. Being silent like this was silly, being quiet and alone with your thoughts when you really didn’t have to be when Michael was here - was purely idiotic. So you chose to speak again. Just sitting in his bathroom waiting for him to throw up again seemed to be painfully unbearable.

“Michael.. why are you doing this? Why did you get painfully wasted”? You asked, with a slight giggle.

Your not sure what exactly you were expecting, maybe some witty or snarky comeback but he sounded defeated in the words he decided to use next.

“Take a guess”. He mused.

Maybe it was just a figment of your imagination or perhaps the haziness of being extremly tired had started to take over, but you could swear that Michael had stopped slurring his words. Almost seeming to speak completely coherently.

You sat their puzzled as you licked your lips and noticed your mouth was growing exceptionally dry as you tried to find a response. You really had no idea why Michael seemed to have a sudden change of heart and was even attempting to befriend you? It really made no sense.

“Your trying to kill me again”. The words came out before you even processed or thought about what you were about to say but you kept talking.

“You befriending me; this whole ‘ploy’ of you being nice to me is just good acting. You don’t care about me - you proven that far too many times Michael. Your just getting close to me so you can try to kill me again”. You said, emotion thick within your voice and tears even started to gather in your eyes by the time you were done with your little speech.

You stared down at your feet in shame, not daring to look Michael in the eyes. Your breath was hitched in your throat; you stopped breathing, it wasn’t necessarily a choice but you knew that if you took another breath you would end up sobbing. Admitting all of this, your deep insecurities to Michael - even if he was drunk - was already too much vulnerability for you.

After sitting like that for a moment, you started to feel extremely lightheaded - as if the world was spinning from the lack of oxygen when you suddenly felt strongly compelled to look up - and you did so.

You let go of the breath you were holding in so tightly when you noticed Michael had crawled towards you, and was now sitting terribly close to you. Too close.

His legs were drawn up near his chest and he looked at you curiously. Your notion of him being sober was clearly false, that was easy to tell now that you were looking at him up close. The way in which his eyes could barely stay focused and his mannerisms told you he clearly still had alcohol in his system. He continued to look puzzled as he spoke.

“Who hurt you like that, to make you think that way”? Michael asked.

You could tell by the way that he spoke that his words were genuine but you couldn’t help it as you felt anger boil in your veins. Was he that naive?

“What would you say, if I said it was you that did”? You words came spitting out as if you were breathing fire.

Michael looked around the room for a second as he lazily laughed. Your thoughts of him being sober seemed to come back to you, it was odd how he seemed to act like his sober self one minuete and drunk the next. You supposed it was just another thing you would never understand about him.

“Me? I barely know you”! Michael said, the words stifling with laughter. His laughter seemed to echo throughout the room until it seemingly was the only thing you could fucking hear and you had enough. You were more powerful than Michael, he did NOT get to talk down to you or mock you like this.

You would be the fucking supreme, and if you really wanted too, you could probably even kill him if you had no morals but it lucky for him, you weren’t a sociopath.

You quickly shot up so that you were on your two feet - standing up so fast that your head started to spin lightly again. You noticed how Michaels eyes were on you now as he watched as you tried to navigate yourself out of the bathroom as you were now incredibly light headed.

“Wait, where are you going”? You heard Michael ask as you turned around away from him.

You knew realistically he could only be barely a foot or so away but his voice sounded echoey and far away - almost like he was in another room. You also couldn’t help but giggle at his choice of words - that was definetly drunk Michael talking again.

At first you weren’t planning on responding to him but just as your hand found the door handle you whipped your head around - just enough to make eye contact.

“I never should’ve came back here with you. This was a fucking mistake. I should’ve known that you would never change”. You growled out.

You turned your body and your head back around quickly, but as you grabbed the door handle you felt the room spin faster and faster and you felt incredibly unsteady - until you finally lost your footing and fell backwards onto the hardwood floor.

Taglist: @mindlesschicca @mina672 @michaellangdonstanaccount @langdonsexual @jimmason @blakewaterxx @thewarriorprincessxo @theneverendinghunger @dark-mei-rose

[erenscherub]

Hello!! 😘. I just wanted to know what is it about Eren that makes everyone thinks that he does not deserve reader? (I understand why in the present) but back when they first started dating. They’ve been against eren from the start, even zeke. Even reader was hesitate to marry him at first, so I was curious what was it about eren. I know in the story reader friends describe eren as an asshole but they was being an asshole to him as well. Btw I love this story so much! I can honestly tlk about it all day Lol every time you post a new chapter I’m left speechless. I love it!

Hi, Nonnie!

Thank you so much for leaving an ask and noticing that little tid bit.

So you being hesitant to marry Eren has actually nothing to do with his past and more of your own insecurities. Honestly, I kinda wrote the part where Eren had to propose four times before you accepted as something to make me laugh/a little comic relief. I mean just imagine how you’ve only dated Eren for a little over a year and all of a sudden he reads out these flash cards to you that you can tell is in Armin’s handwriting. You say no to marriage because it’s still a little too early for you in the relationship. Of course you feel strongly about him but you just didn’t want to rush things. Each time he proposes, Armin helps him make a really detailed and aesthetically pleasing Google slides or PowerPoint presentation on why you two should get married. And Grisha and Carla are like, “so when you were in college, you could barely write a 250 word paragraph on whether hell was exothermic or endothermic… but but now you’re able to make a 50 slide, hour long presentation covering the health, legal, and financial benefits of marriage??).

But as for why Zeke and Mikasa were against Eren dating you from the start… While they do love their little brother, they love you too. And it’s just mind boggling to them that you would want to date their super annoying, super dumb asshole brother when you’re you. Zeke used to be a low key a Colt x Y/N shipper

Pieck was also one of Zeke’s favorite mentees. And given Eren’s history with her, Mikasa and Zeke’s viewpoint went from “ew, why Eren when you could have anyone you want, (Y/N)?” to “please (Y/N), we just think that you and Eren are not compatible with each other in the slightest and he hasn’t grown enough as a person to appreciate you.”

I’m like half asleep rn so I hope this was somewhat coherent…?

Thanks so much for reading, Nonnie! Hope you’re doing well 😘❤️

[klaineharmony]

300x3, Year 2, Week 1:02

Today I went for more of the World War I fic - still in the same ‘verse as “Defend,” but 17 years later. I wrote 536 new words today, but am once again posting more than that. There’s also two different chunks of the story here; I’ve just separated them out with asterisks. Anything, anything, to get my head in this ‘verse and keep it there.

Fair warning: There is some swearing in here, and I wasn’t kidding when I said that this story has a lot of angst. WWI was not a picnic.

@elozable, @thelittleredheadedmusician, @wordshakerofgallifrey, @whatstheproblembaby, @writemetohell, @katherineisthebestpulitzer, @queenofbrooklyn, @canadiantheatrenerd, @captainlordauditor, @rudeflower, @all-the-lovely-newsies

My gelibteh, my basherter,

I am writing this propped up on pillows, with our newest little daughter sleeping next to me, and the sun pouring in the windows, and the only thing that would make this more perfect is if you were here. This is, I think, the happiest I have been since you went away.

Our daughter is so beautiful, neshomeleh. So beautiful. Katherine had one of her friends from the paper come and take photos of her, and I have enclosed a pair of them for you. I tell her every day how much her papa loves her, and how she won’t be able to go ten feet without him once he comes home, because he is going to be so attached to her. 

I was thinking of naming her Judith. How does Judith Katherine Kelly sound to you? (Do you know the story of Judith and Holofernes? If not, ask David and he will tell it to you. It strikes me as a very appropriate name for our little girl, born in this frightening time.) The Katherine, of course, for our dear Kath - I don’t know what I would have done without her these past few months. 

Oh, my love, life has been so dark without you. But there is light now, and hope. I will not lose faith again.

Always and forever,

Your Sarah

My dear Jack,

I know you will want reassurance about Sarah’s condition, and I am writing this quickly so that it can be enclosed with her letter. Fear not, little brother. She is recovering. The birth was not quite so frightening or dangerous as Lizzie’s, though certainly not easy, but Sarah gains strength every day. 

And, oh, Jack. Your little girl is a vision. Beautiful and healthy and already winding everyone around her tiny fingers, including her older sister and brother.

All my love,

Kath

Jack read his wife and his sister’s letters through twice, then stood and stared at the two photos Sarah had sent. One was of his little girl, so tiny, laid on a blanket and in a delicate dress, and the other was of Sarah holding her. Sarah’s hair was loose and spilling over her shoulders, and she was looking down at their daughter, who was sound asleep in her arms.

Jack touched the photos gently, wishing desperately that he could actually reach out and touch the figures there, and he felt tears sliding down his cheeks as he tried to take in every detail.

There was a soft step to his side, but he knew it was David’s, and he waited until he felt David rest a hand on his shoulder.

“Jack,” David said tentatively. “Is there bad news from home? I’ve got a letter from Katherine, but I didn’t open it yet.”

Jack laughed a little, shaking his head. “No, Davey, the best kind of news. Here,” he said, handing the photos to David. “Meet your new niece.”

“Oh,” David said softly, taking in the pictures of Sarah and the little one. “Oh, Jack, she’s perfect.”

“Sarah wants to call her Judith Katherine,” Jack said. “And Kath says that Sarah’s doing fine.” He handed David the letters and waited while David read them through.

“I’m so grateful Sarah’s still here,” Jack said quietly, still wiping tears from his eyes. “I’ve - I’ve been so worried, David, but I didn’t want to say it. Sarah’s letters haven’t sounded like her, even before she told me she was expectin’.”

“I know,” David nodded. “I was worried, too. Sarah hasn’t really been herself since we left. I’m glad Kath went home when she did. She seems to have helped Sarah - cope - better,” he finished hesitantly.

Jack inclined his head in agreement, still trying to tamp down the worry in his heart. Sarah sounded better, more like her old self, but would she be able to hold onto that, if Kath came back to the front? If taking care of Judith wore her down too much? If, God forbid, one of the other children got sick? If she got sick?

“Jack,” David murmured. “Try not to worry too much. Sarah has Kath, and Mama and Papa, and even Elsa and Ingrid. You know they will all do everything they can to help. They won’t let Sarah be alone.”

“I know,” Jack said, running a hand through his hair. “I just - damn it, Dave, I want to be there.”

“I know,” David said, squeezing his shoulder. “Me, too.”

There was a pause in their conversation, and Jack studied the photographs again, noting in wonder that Judith already seemed to have Sarah’s features. Somehow, that never got old, seeing how their children both were and were not like their parents. 

“Judith and Holofernes,” David said contemplatively. “It is appropriate.”

“Tell me,” Jack requested. “We have some time before the barrage starts again, and I don’t know the story.”

David smiled, and found a spot to lean against as he recounted the story of Judith, the brave and beautiful widow who gained the trust of General Holofernes, seduced him, waited until he fell into an inebriated sleep, and cut off his head, thus preventing his army from laying waste to her home city of Bethulia. Jack listened in fascination.

“So a beautiful, smart woman gets the best of an invading army and a violent general,” he summarized when David had finished. “Sounds about right.”

David laughed. “Yes. When Mama used to tell us the story, she always pointed out that Judith was willing to do what no one else in Bethulia, even the male rulers, would do - risk her own life to stop the violence. She succeeded where the men had failed.”

“Well, I think it’s pretty obvious that we’ve failed,” Jack said dryly, gesturing around them. “Or at least the male rulers have, since the rest of us didn’t have much of a choice about bein’ here. And if anyone in this hellhole is goin’ to put the world back together, it’s the women. God bless the nurses and ambulance drivers, and all the women riskin’ their necks out here, while we tear each other to pieces.” He reached out and took the photos back from David, taking another moment to touch the face of his little girl before tucking both photos into the inside pocket of his uniform. “Appropriate is right.”

*****************

Race came back from the fence with a bucket of water, and he and Spot began methodically wiping down Jack’s forehead, chest, arms, and feet, trying to get his temperature down. Nothing they wore was clean, but they did the best they could with soiled handkerchiefs. Jack muttered periodically, but wasn’t conscious enough to say anything coherent.

“God damn the Germans,” Race said angrily, even as his hands were gentle with Jack. “Half the guys in here are sick with typhoid, and they don’t bring in any doctors, no clean cloth, nothin’ to help. They’re just letting us die.”

“Don’t count Jacky-boy out just yet,” Spot said quietly, his own hands busy. “He’s stubborn as hell, and you know he won’t give up on Sarah  and Davey and the kids.”

“I’m not countin’ him out at all,” Race snapped. “I’m just sayin’ it’s criminal to run a place like this. We’re prisoners, but we’re still humans, for Christ’s sake. And it’s not as if any of the guards are left to hear me, the cowards.”

“We ain’t human to them,” Spot said. “Or if we are, they don’t dare say it. And a lot of our guys feel the same way. I can’t believe you got water from one of the guards.”

“Traded him my last bit of ration for it,” Race said grimly. “They’re as hungry as we are. I’m not about to let Jack die over an empty stomach. He’s my brother, and he’s comin’ home with us.”

“As long as you don’t go and get sick on me, too,” Spot said, his voice tight, and Race paused in his ministering to Jack to reach over and squeeze Spot’s forearm.

“Not a chance, Conlon. You’re stuck with me - and the same goes for you,” Race added for good measure.

Spot snorted, and actually smiled a little when he replied. “I grew up in Brooklyn, Higgins. A German prison camp is a cakewalk compared to that.”

[shera-dnd]

Afterglow

Here is the little fluff piece I wrote to relax. Hope you guys enjoy it

also @steampowerednightvaler asked to be tagged here when I was done….so here is your tag

The soft morning light shone through the curtains, illuminating the messy room. Clothes were thrown about and their bags were only partially unpacked. As soon as they had reached this cottage and their honeymoon had officially began, Catra and Adora had other priorities.

Adora was always a light sleeper and waking up at first light was not unusual for her. It always gave her time get some workout done, maybe make some breakfast and -more importantly- take pictures of the cute faces her wife made in her sleep.

Right now Catra was lying naked on top of her, curled up like a ball and clinging to Adora. Her face was nested against Adora’s neck and her wide mane of hair covered most of her vision. Weren’t for the fact that she was trapped like this she would’ve taken so many pictures of this moment. It also didn’t help that she really needed to pee.

“Catra” Adora said tentatively, but only got a low mumbling as a response “Catra please” she insisted, trying to drag herself out of bed.

Catra only clinged harder to her, trying to keep her favorite human mattress in the right position “Move again and I’ll smother you with a pillow” Catra mumbled again, more coherently this time.

“Catra, I have to pee” this seemed to be enough for Catra to let go of her, with some grumbling that Adora could’ve sworn sounded a lot like ‘not my fetish’. Adora simply chose to ignore that and deal with the more pressing issues.

Once her bathroom emergency was dealt with, she took a quick cold shower and returned to her room to find Catra stretched over the bed sheets, still half asleep. “Come on, Catra, we have a whole day ahead of us”

Catra lazily looked up from her sprawled position “I would love to get up, but I think the bed won’t let me leave” she joked.

Adora rolled her eyes “I’m sure you can escape this cozy trap”

Catra tossed and turned dramatically in bed “I can’t escape. This trap is too strong. Go on without me!”

As entertaining as this all was, Adora still wanted to start the day early, so she yanked away the covers, leaving only a very naked and very startled Catra on her bed. “Ok, I’m up! I’m up!” Catra shouted as she jumped out of bed.

“I’m gonna make us breakfast. Why don’t you go take a shower?”

~~~

“I thought the point of a honeymoon was being lazy together and not caring about the rest of the world” Catra said, dragging herself to the kitchen table “Why would we pay for a place with a bed that cozy if we’re not gonna oversleep in it?”

“What you’re thinking about is a vacation” Adora simply state “A honeymoon is about spending as much time together as we possibly can”

“We were doing that” Catra complained “In the cozy bed”

Adora served her elaborate breakfast, before sitting at the table next to Catra “Come on, we have the whole week just for ourselves. Do you really want to spend it all in bed?” Catra nodded and Adora wasn’t sure why she was surprised “There is so much more we can do: We can play that board game Angella gave us, there are a few trails nearby so we could some hiking, we could read all the books we brought, maybe we can get you on that exercise regime you said you would start last New Year’s Eve” As every idea left Adora’s mouth Catra groaned louder and slided lower on her chair “Or we could finish having sex on every room of the cottage” and just like that Catra bolted up “If you agree to do any of the other activities with me”

~~~

Catra wasn’t very fit, but she wasn’t out of shape either. The thing is that when you live with Adora it becomes a little hard not to compare yourself to her. Especially when you’re hiking and she is casually leading the way while you’re dragging yourself behind her, trying not to look like you’re about to die.

“Isn’t this view perfect?” Adora stopped to marvel and Catra nearly stumbled on her “I told you it would be worth the effort”

“It sure is a nice view” Catra agreed as she sat down on a nearby rock.

Adora turned around to judge her” Are you talking about my ass again?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about” Her tone making it clear that that was exactly what she was talking about. Adora’s judging stare only got stronger “Fine! The hill has a nice view too”

Adora didn’t seem amused by any of this “Can you please put some effort here?” She crossed her arms “When are we ever gonna have another honeymoon?”

“Whenever we like” Catra shrugged “We could go on a second honeymoon, that is a thing couples do”

“But this is our first. It’s supposed to be special” Adora turned around as she said that

So that was what this was about. Of course Adora would do something like that. Catra could count on one hand how many times Adora relaxed this year and this morning was not one of those times. She decided then to do her job as Adora’s wife and fix this.

She moved close and put her hands on Adora’s shoulders - wow, they were strong - “Honey, this is our honeymoon. We could be doing nothing all day and just eat pizza in the apartment and it would still be the most magical week of my life” Adora’s shoulders relaxed as she slid closer to her wife “Now let’s get back. You still owe me a few rooms”

[connor-murphy-trash]

hi can i blease have some modern au Race hcs? idc what i just love him

AN: Hi guys! I am so sorry this has been in my inbox for forever. I’m not sure if this is even coherent at this point because I wrote to over the course of two weeks because I couldn’t focus on it. So I don’t know how this came out. But I hope you enjoy it anyways!

TW: Being sick, talks about an orphanage

Word Count: 1,733

Genre: Fluff

You were the new kid in school

It was your first week there

You would always ride the bus

Your parents used the only car your family had so they could go to work

Of course, the bus you rode was always the last one to show up

So you would hang around just people watching or working on some homework or something

But you were stuck on a question for your bio homework

Then you spotted someone across the room who was in the same class as you

So you went to ask him for help

You walked over to him

And he was sitting with a bunch of other boys

Who you assumed were all friends because they seemed to always ride the same bus and hang out together at lunch

You introduced yourself to him

And he said his name was Elmer

He walked you back to the bench you were originally sitting on

And helped you with the question

Once it was done

You thanked him

And started talking

His bus was about to pull up so you quickly exchanged numbers so if you had any more questions about the homework he could help you

Soon after Elmer’s bus left

Yours arrived

Later that night you and Elmer started talking again

Just getting to know each other

You told him how nice it was to have someone to talk with

Considering you hadn’t made any new friends at the school yet

So Elmer invited you to sit with him and some of his other friends at lunch the next day

You agreed to do so

So the next day you met his friends

And there were a LOT of them

Luckily you got on quite well with them all

You aren’t going to lie tho

It was kinda intimidating

There were just so many of them to keep track of

Then you asked how they all had met

In the most casual way, you had ever heard

Albert said that they all lived at the same orphanage

You were slightly shocked by this

You just didn’t expect it

But you accepted it and moved on with the conversation

The boy nicknamed Finch was telling you about how good his aim with a slingshot is

When a VERY attractive blond boy sat in the only empty seat left at the table

Which just so happened to be right next to you

“Are you guys trying to replace me with some new kid?”

He gasped and made an overdramatic hurt expression

Which made you laugh a little

Hearing you laugh made the boy smile slightly

You introduced yourself and he said  he went by the name Racetrack Higgins

Race for short

“Well it’s very nice to meet you ‘Race for Short’”

It was his turn to laugh at your joke

“I like them, Jack can we keep them?”

Jack seemed like he was the main person in charge

All of the other boys seemed to look up to him and respect his decisions

So when Race asked this

Everyone’s attention turned to Jack

“I suppose if they want to stick around, they can”

The boys were very happy about this

It was surprising to have so much praise just because Jack said you could stay

You guess then that’s a big deal

They even add you to their group chat

Which you imagine is going to be constantly blowing up your phone

But it’s okay

Because you finally made some friends!

A few weeks later, you were fully part of their group

You got a chance to message and talk with each of them individually

And you loved them all

But you loved Race the most

As in

You developed a slight crush on him

But you weren’t going to act on those feelings

You just barely became friends with everyone

You weren’t going to ruin that all because you had a crush

Everything was going amazing with your new group of friends

You were super close to Elmer, Jojo, Mush, and Davey

But you loved all of the boys

And girls

Jack was officially dating Katherine Plummer

Apparently, he had been pining over her for a while

So it was kinda a big deal

Also Davey’s sister, Sarah, recently started hanging out with you guys too

It was nice to have some gal pals and not be stuck with the boys all the time

One day you had to stay home from school because you were sick

You normally would have the first period with Jojo, Specs, and Race

So when both you and Race didn’t show up

Specs asked if you were out for the day in the group chat

He said that Race was home sick too

You weren’t the closest with Race

Because you didn’t want your feelings for him to grow and ruin your chance in the whole friend group

So when he texted you privately

And asked how you were doing

It threw you off a little

But you did have to admit

It was nice knowing he cared about you

You told him about how you weren’t feeling well

You had a fever and could barely breathe and had a bad cough

Basically, you had a really bad cold

And apparently, Race had one too

Just not quite as bad as you

You couldn’t really do much but lay in bed

Whereas Race just had a stuffy nose and a bit of a cough

So he offered to come over to your house and keep you company

Also to take care of you because both of your parents were going to be at work all day

You tried to make up an excuse because you didn’t want your crush to see you when you were this gross and sick

But your foggy brain couldn’t think of any good ones

So you reluctantly agreed

Race got to your house about a half hour later

Despite it being a ten-minute drive from the orphanage to your house

When Race showed up

He had a shopping bag filled with things

Simple snacks like crackers, cheerios, Sprite, etc

And a few things to entertain you both like movies and playing cards

You were not expecting all of that

But it was sweet nonetheless

You guys played a few rounds of go fish

Because that’s all you could handle mentally at the moment

And afterward, you were exhausted

Having no energy sucks

But Race didn’t want you to push yourself

So he offered to put on a movie

He apparently brought a bunch of Disney and Pixar movies

And he had you choose which one to watch first

You chose Tangled

He put it into your computer and set it up to play on your TV

Then he sat next to you on your bed

His back up against your headboard

Sitting on top of the blankets

You were laying underneath them curled into a ball

“You can lay down with me Race, it’s okay”

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. I’m okay right here.”

“Race you are sick too. I’m telling you to lay down, you don’t have a choice.”

So he scooted down so he was laying

Still on top of the blankets

“Get your ass under here Race. You are going to get cold.”

“Are you sure, Y/N?”

He was so nervous about making you feel weird

It was cute

But you told him to get under the blankets

So he did

And he stayed on his side of the bed

Eventually, you started to drift into sleep

As you were only half asleep you said you were cold

And you cuddled into Races side

You put your head onto his chest

And wrapped an arm around his middle

“Is this okay?” you mumbled

Even tho you were half asleep and didn’t really know what you were doing you still asked

That made him blush a little

He said it was okay

Then he slowly wrapped his arms around you

As if he was protecting you from the outside world

He repeated your question to make sure you were comfortable with it

All he got in response was a slight head nod and a small hum of approval

And you snuggling even closer to him

Now he was really blushing

He was glad your eyes were closed so you couldn’t see it

Or the small smile that was forming on his face

Soon you drifted off into a peaceful dreamland

Race stayed awake for a little while just watching the movie

And making sure you slept peacefully

But eventually, the wear of the day mixed with the fact that he was also ill got to him

And he too drifted off into a peaceful slumber with you in his arms

Right where you belonged

Once school ended Sarah and Davey came over to your house to check on you

They had texted you earlier in the day to make sure that was okay

They let themselves into your house

And went up to your bedroom

Their jaws dropped when they saw you and Race cuddled up sleeping

Sarah immediately took out her phone and snapped a pic of you two

They decided you looked well taken care of

So they left a note on your desk and went home

About 20 mins later both your phone and Races were blowing up and awoke you from your peaceful slumber

You both checked your phone and the group chat was freaking out

You scroll up to the top of the new messages

NEW TEXT FROM: Sar Bear💖🐻

“Davey and I went to check on you two, but you seemed to be doing just fine without us 😉😍”

*insert picture of you and Race cuddled up with a Disney movie in the background*

All of the boys were hounding on you two in the chat

Sending heart eyes, key smashes, and “I SHIP IT"’s

Also some “I called it!” and “Use protection”’s

When you saw all this you were so embarrassed

You wanted to hide away forever

But before you could pull away from the cuddling position you were in with Race

He held you even tighter to his body

And gave you a small kiss on your forehead

Maybe getting tested wasn’t going to be too bad

As long as you had Race right by your side

[welllpthisishappening]

So the stars lost and I’m very sad... if you could write anything fluffy from blue line I’d be eternally greatful. Maybe something with kissing....lots of kissing and maybe kissing that embarrasses their son Tyler Seguin — I mean Matt, I totally mean matt Anyways I love you

I was very sad for the Stars last night. So, I feel your pain here. Also, I realized after I wrote this that you, probably, were looking for something when Matt was slightly older, but that…didn’t happen. Because is it a prompt if I don’t really follow the prompt?

Anyway. Here is the following: Matt being a lil’ shit about sleeping, quasi-smut, cute kids, and wedding rings. I posted this at work.

(Someday I’ll also post all those one-shots I have where the kids are older and still just as scandalized by their parent’s inability to make out behind closed doors. Someday. Really.)

“Ok, Mattie, c’mon, we’ve got to go.”

He gaped at her – all wide eyes and mouth hanging open,breath coming in something far too close to pants, and Emma did her best tokeep her expression impassive. She’d known this was coming. Dropping gloves, orsomething.

But it had been a very long road trip and the western swingswere always the worst. Which was a very strange adjective to use when thewestern swing had ended in three straight victories and points in every one ofthose victories and Matt had spent the better part of the last week dissectingevery single facet of Killian’s game.

With more than a few interjections from Peggy.

Who had several opinions about angles and screening the netthat were, honestly, pretty goddamn impressive.

“I’m serious,” Emma said, trying to infuse as much honestyinto her face. “You should have been asleep, like, two hours ago.”

“I would have missed the last two periods then!”

Emma hummed, a quick nod and twist of her lips because hewas, as usual with most hockey-related things, very correct. She wasn’t surehow it was possible to be more than just straight-up correct, but Emma alsokind of wished she’d been asleep two hours ago.

She would have missed that goal, though.

It was a very good goal.

Matt was never going to stop talking about that goal.

“Yeah, I know, kid,” Emma mumbled. She reached out to tryand grab the stick out of his hand, but he had impossibly quick reflexes andshe’d never resented genetics more in her life. Peggy had fallen asleepsomewhere. God, she should know where her kids were falling asleep. “But it isvery late and—”

“—I don’t have school tomorrow!”

Emma made another noise – biting back an incrediblysarcastic retort her kid did not deserve because he was a kid and his dad wasridiculously good at playing hockey and she could just make out Peggy’s hair inone of the booths at the other end of the restaurant. She had her head restingon Ariel’s leg.

Ariel waved.

“Give me the stick, Matthew,” Emma said evenly, flutteringher fingers in open air. He sighed, but did as she asked, slumped shoulders anda sneer to his lip that they were going to have to do something about soonerrather than later.

“It is—what time is it?” She glanced around the restaurant,not sure what she was looking for, but maybe a more responsible adult and MaryMargaret held up one finger. There was another kid draped over her shoulder.“Oh my God,” Emma muttered, more hand movements and Matt slid off the stoolwithout much prompting. Maybe they were getting somewhere. “Let’s go.”

It took more time than she would have liked to get out ofthe restaurant, but Emma almost expected it at that point – far too many peopleand trying not wake up Peggy while still holding a stick because Matt woulddefinitely start shooting again if he held the stick again. But that alsodissolved into discussion of that goal because it was a really good goal andshe was going to have remember to ask Killian if he was aiming for the postthat way or if that was just luck and—

She didn’t remember falling asleep.

She had no intention of falling asleep.

She had every intention of sitting on that couch, somethingalmost resembling coy, which felt kind of like a lame word, but he’d been gonefor almost a week and Emma always got a little antsy on the western swings.

Falling asleep felt like snapping the win streak.

He laughed when he stopped in front of the couch, and shehadn’t even heard him drop his equipment bag, which meant several things thatEmma could not be expected to think about while she was still half-asleep, fartoo romantic, even after years and slightly petulant kids and—

“Hey,” she mumbled, one eye cracked open. It was enough tosee Killian’s lips turn up, not quite a full smirk because he was probablypretty exhausted too and the words playoffpush had been thrown around more times than she could count in the last fewweeks.

He crouched down. It was stupid. It was not stupid. So, itwas actually kind of nice, and Emma opened her other eye to find several piecesof hair falling artfully over his forehead and his tie already undone, eitherside hanging around his neck and she refused to be held accountable forwhatever noise she made as soon as his fingers grazed the side of her hip.

“Hey. Do we not own several different beds?”

Emma rolled her eyes, burrowing further into the severalpillows under her head. “You’re very funny.”

“That was a legitimate question.”

“Were you trying to hit the post?”

“You think I banked that shot in on purpose?”

“I mean,” Emma started, and she really could not think whenhe looked at her like that. A little incredulous. A little stunned. A littleoverwhelmed at finding her on the couch. Wearing his number. “Isn’t that acompliment?”

Killian tilted his head, which only made the hair move andthat was not fair and something about offside probably. She was losing her gripon these metaphors. “Ah, depends on the context, I guess,” he shrugged, fingersstill moving like they were following a pattern. Or just making up for a weekof lost time. “Although I think you might be giving me more credit than thatshot deserves.”

“Maybe I’m just very impressed by your clear hockey talent.”

“That so?”

Emma nodded, at least tried, pillows twisting and hearthammering erratically against her chest. Maybe western swings weren’t all that bad.If they ended like this. And only like this.

The win streak was back on.

Or, whatever.

“It was a good goal,” she reasoned, voice dropping low ofits own accord and the two sleeping kids a few feet down the hall. Who had onlyargued slightly about actually going to sleep. Peggy had woken up in the caruptown.

They’d watched the replay of Killian’s goal sixteen times.Emma had counted.

“It does sound like a compliment in this context.”

“Weird.”

“The weirdest,” he muttered, and his calves must have hurt,crouched like that, but he didn’t seem all that inclined to stand back up,particularly when he leaned forward to catch Emma’s lips. She made anotherridiculous noise.

She’d blame the time. And the couch. And that goal. God, itwas a good goal.

Killian grinned against her, whatever he did with his tonguealso pretty impressive in context and Emma hoped she didn’t fall off the couch.That would probably ruin the moment. It was, however, a precarious balancingact, Killian resting most of his weight on his heels with one hand in Emma’shair and the other trying to do something completely unfair to her shirt.

She twisted forward, slinging an arm around his neck and herfingers weren’t actually going for the tie, but they curled around the fabricand one of them probably laughed when she flung it across the room.

It landed on a hockey stick.

They owned so many goddamn hockey sticks.

“That aim, Swan,” Killian laughed, widening his eyes whenEmma clicked her tongue at the overall volume of his voice.

“I’m going to fall on the floor.”

“Less of a compliment, I’ll be honest.”

“Seriously, not that funny. And far too confident in yourown reflexes.”

Killian nodded, a quick quirk of his lips that was finally that stupid smirk and Emmaignored whatever was happening in the pit of her stomach. “I have veryimpressive reflexes that,” he paused to nip at her lower lip, hand finallyfinding its way under her shirt and Emma arched as soon as his palm flattenedagainst her back, “you are very into.”

“Very into?”

“That’s a fact, love.”

“Yuh huh, yuh huh,” Emma grumbled, but it was difficult tocontinue speaking in coherent sentences when his fingers were driftingdangerously close to the back of her bra.

He flicked the clasp.

She could still feel him smiling.

“Oh, shut up.”

“I didn’t actually say anything.”

“You were thinking it.”

“Ah, of course,” Killian said, rolling his shoulder forwarduntil she was on her back and the room felt like it was spinning. He stillcould not be comfortable, twisted over her until it felt like every inch of himwas touching every inch of her and her shirt was a lost cause. “You’ve got totake this off, love.”

“You are in the way.”

He did something absurd with his eyebrows, a flash in hisgaze that made Emma inhale sharply and she barely got her left arm out of thesleeve before his fingers were dragging over her stomach and drifting closer tothe top of her leggings.

“Tease,” Emma accused, just barely able to see Killian’stongue swipe his lower lip. She knocked a pillow on the floor when his teethfound the curve of her hip, barely grazing the skin.

There were goosebumps there now, though.

“Maybe you’re just a little greedy.”

“That is rude.”

“It’s not an insult, love,” he promised, but the words werehardly that when he continued to move further down her side, fingers splayedout on the inside of her leg. They didn’t seem to move with much purpose, justbarely making contact on the fabric there and Emma kept rolling her hips in thehopes of something, anything,happening, some kind of friction or movement or…anything.

Killian laughed again, darker and a little more determined,as if he’d been thinking about this for the last week as well and Emma couldnot be expected to cope with that. Not when he’d started moving his thumb aswell, tiny circles and a little bit of pressure and Emma’s teeth dug into herlower lip tight enough she was worried she was going to hurt herself.

“I hate you,” she muttered, the worst lie she’d told in, atleast, several seasons.

“That so?” Emma nodded, fully intending to respond, but thenhis hand moved again, and Killian glanced up, smiling like several differentclichés and metaphors that did not matter when his fingers pushed under the topof her leggings. Only to pull back out just as quickly.

Emma bit her lip. “Oh, I’m going to kick you.”

“Swan.”

“Right in the side of the leg. Where you blocked that shotin San Jose.”

“It’s actually not that bad anymore, actually. The oneyou’ve got to be worried about is, like, my lower left rib. I got checked therein the first period and it hurt like hell, but the last bruise is apparently agood color now and Red said—”

“—Hey,” Emma interrupted quickly. “Maybe we don’t mentionbruise color and Ariel while I’m actively trying to have sex with you, huh?”

Killian made a noise – not quite an agreement, but somethingthat was a bit more like hope and a week-long road trip and—“You know,” he saidslowly, dropping his head to mouth at the side of her neck and Emma was goingto permanent damage to her spine. If she didn’t fall off the couch. She wasgenuinely worried about that. “We really do own a bed. It’s bigger than this.”

“That a fact?”

“Swan, you’re really not playing along and it’s not as funthen.”

She might have giggled, but that also felt a little lame,all things considered and his eyes fluttered shut when she let her nails grazethe back of his neck. “Right, right, the winning hockey games wasn’t all thatfun, then?”

“What was that you said to me about being funny?”

“That was sarcastic.”

“Yes,” Killian nodded, nipping at the bridge of her nose andletting his thumb brush across the inside of her wrist. “So, thoughts? Bed? Thepresumed lack of clothing?”

Emma bit back a smile, but that was harder than she expectedand that was…wonderful. Really. “Do you usually have to make things so obvious,Cap?”

She wasn’t sure if there was actually a word for whatevernoise Killian made that time – half a growl and a bit of frustration and aneven larger hint of absolute, stupid attraction which was absolutely stupid andthe opposite. He arched an eyebrow, back on his feet with his tongue pressed tothe corner of his mouth.

“Do not make noise,” he muttered, all the warning Emma gotbefore she wasn’t on the couch, but hanging halfway in the air, a soft gruntout of him that might not have been a compliment and entirely his fault. Shegasped, despite her best efforts, eyes going wide and arms clinging to him likethere was actually any kind of imminent threat.

“Are you kidding me?”

“Impressed?”

“You are an idiot. How many minutes did you play tonight?”

“Ok, but do you not know that?” She did. Always. Or forever.Or whatever. She tightened her arms. “Swan, this isn’t actually going to workif you choke me before we get to the fun part.”

“Oh, my God.”

“You’re charmed, love, you can admit it.”

“If you strain something I refuse to be held accountable forany of it,” Emma said, but they both knew it was a ridiculous lie and it wasn’tall that far too their bedroom.

At least, usually.

At least when there wasn’t a kid standing there.

“Dad, Dad, Dad, Dad,” Matt chanted, running forward beforehis whole expression changed and Emma had to bury her face in Killian’s neck.Mostly so her kid could not see her blushing. Her shirt was yanked halfway upher body. “What are you guys doing?”

Emma’s whole body shook when Killian started to laugh, notquite parental, but it was the middleof the night and they’d agreed. Sixteen replays and then sleep. “What are youdoing out here, kid?” Killian asked, voice still shaking just a bit and Emmatried to move her shirt. “Swan,” he hissed, and Matt’s eyes should not havebeen that wide.

Matt shook his head slowly, mouth hanging open for a totallydifferent reason than it had in the restaurant. And it wasn’t really the firsttime it had happened. There’d been close calls and they were exceptionally badat not making out in a variety of NHLarenas, but Matt was older now and probably understood a few more things andEmma’s face felt like it had burst into flames at some point.

“What are you doing up, kid?” Emma asked, desperate to soundlike some kind of authority figure when her bra was barely staying on her body.“We did this already.”

He nodded that time. The movement was still impossibly slow,as if the moment was imprinting itself on his brain and subconscious and Emmaknew she needed to get back on the ground, but she had some dim memories aboutgravity and she assumed none of them were working in her favor right then.

“Yeah,” Matt mumbled, digging his toes into the carpet,“but, well, then I heard you and Dad talking and—hey, Dad.”

“Hey, kid,” Killian said, smile obvious despite theabsurdity of the situation. Because it was absurd. But it was also kind of niceand as expected as taking twenty minutes to get out of the restaurant. “Notcool coming out here when you should be asleep.”

“You just got home, though!”

“Yeah, that’s not how it works.”

Matt opened his mouth to argue, but Emma didn’t actuallyhave to turn to know Killian’s eyes had gone thin and his brows had pulled lowand that always worked. Even when hemoved her, trying to shift herfurther down his chest and towards the legs he kept rocking back and forth on.

And if she thought about the reason for that for too long,Emma was sure, she was never going to stop laughing.

“It was a good goal, though,” Matt added, quieter than he’dbeen all night, like he knew he was breaking the rules. And possibly ruiningthe moment. “Were you trying to hit the post?”

Emma cackled. Honestly, that was the only word for it.Killian barely kept his hold on her, eyes widening in unspoken warning becauseher shirt was in a particularly precarious position at that point, and he’dplayed nearly seventeen minutes that night, it was only a matter of time beforehis forearms gave out.

“I told you,” she muttered, stabbing the middle of hischest. She could feel his wedding ring hanging there. That felt heavy-handed.And nice. Really nice.

They’d totally scandalized Matt.

“I was not trying to hit the post,” Killian answered. “Butthat would have been pretty cool, right?”

Matt’s eyes brightened, the latest head shake a return toenthusiasm and a complete disregard for his parents attempts at romance. “Yeah,yeah, yeah,” he shouted, and it was really only a matter of time. The footstepsraced down the hallway, Emma’s quiet ohmy God barely audible when her head was pressed into Killian’s shoulder andit was much harder to get back on her feet than it should have been.

“Daddy,” Peggy cried, taking off almost immediately and itsounded as if all the air in Killian’s lungs flew out of him as soon as shecrashed into his chest. He wobbled on his feet slightly, but managed to catchher without much threat of injury or further damage to his ribs, hitching herfurther up his side when his arm found its way under her legs. “Hi!”

“Hey little love. You should be asleep.”

“But you’re home! You’ve been gone forever.”

“That’s not entirely true, Pegs, it’s—” He cut himself offwhen he glanced at Emma, whatever reaction her face was staging entirelyunexpected and not at all planned, because this was part of the deal, literallyand metaphorically, but she hated the western swing and—

“Felt a little like forever,” Emma whispered with a shrug.

Killian shook his head, somehow managing to find a bit moreoxygen so he could immediately let out it, a soft sigh and what might have beenpure, unadulterated happiness. Even when Emma tried to rehook her bra.

“Something about all those wins, right?’

“That’s not even clever.”

“You’re into it.”

Emma couldn’t argue. She was stupid into it. “Yeah,” shenodded, moving back into his space and it wasn’t easy to kiss him with a kidhanging off one side and the one kid gagging like his whole life was beingruined, but neither of those kids had wanted to go to sleep without seeingtheir dad first, so Emma figured it was a wash.

“Can we watch the goal again?” Matt asked, already sprintingtowards the coffee table and the team-provided tablet there. He nearly knockedboth things over.

“Oh my God, Mattie,” Emma sighed. “And it’s probably dead.”He spun on the spot, dangerously close to distraught and she was going to beparental. She was going to be an authority. She was really glad neither one ofthem had missed the last two periods. “My phone is on the kitchen counter.”

Matt sprinted across the apartment.

And Peggy was already starting to fade, curling closer toKillian’s side with her fingers gripping the front of his shirt. “How manytimes?” he asked.

“That confident, huh?” Emma asked. He couldn’t shrug with asleeping kid draped across him. She was definitely asleep again. “This willmake seventeen.”

Killian grinned, careful steps back to the couch and theygot through several rewatches of the goal and a few other highlights beforeMatt’s eyelashes started to flutter, head on Emma’s leg and arm flung acrossher middle and—

“I think we may be stuck, Cap,” she muttered, surprisinglyalmost comfortable despite the knee threatening to push into the generalvicinity of her spleen.

“Ah, not the worst thing. Here,” Killian added. It took a momentto twist, muttering quiet words into Peggy’s hair when she started to stiragain, and Emma’s heart flipped and flopped and possibly exploded as soon as hegot the chain over his neck. “You impossibly charmed, yet?”

“Getting there.”

“A work in progress, then.”

Emma rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t bring herself toactually deny it, the ring back on his finger and her head lolling towards hisshoulder, an exhaustion that was almost as deceptively comfortable as the couchand possibly their lives and winning three on the road like that would definitelyhelp the playoff push that season.

[honeybee-babe]

Dialogue prompts 2 for Luther pls!! "Don't leave me" "Please stay" "I'm lonely" And number ~53, the one where Luther would be saying sorry for being sick and then being delirious bc of the fever. Thanks!!

Hey babe! Finally cracking down on these! As per our agreement, I’ll do separate fics for all of them. This one ended up WAY too long and the other ones will be way shorter, I promise. I felt like I had to explain all my headcanons which is a big part of that. Now that they’re listed here I won’t need to explain them again in later fics lol.~

ALSO: This fic is a sequel to the Lunya hug fic I wrote last week, so I would recommend reading that first. It’s really short.

I couldn’t really remember how the saying sorry one is supposed to go (I can’t find the prompt list cause it’s buried on my blog) so this might technically count for that, but I’m not sure.

Anyway here is a WAY TOO LONG response for “Please Stay.”

~

Vanya was worried about Luther. The day after he told her his news, he skipped out on dinner for the first time in a month. Klaus reassured everyone not to worry, Luther was probably just having a rough day and wanted to isolate himself (still a coping mechanism for ). Klaus had met a lot of people with eating disorders during his various stints in rehab over the years.

But when Luther didn’t come down for dinner the next night either, suddenly Klaus’ argument switched to the “relapses are normal” argument, and Vanya felt the panic hat had dissipated two nights earlier come back full force in her chest. She went to bed worried about Luther.

But when she woke up sweltering just an hours later, her was the farthest thing from her mind.

Fever was the word that flashed through her mind as she kicked the blankets off her body and changed out of her sweatpants into a tank-top and shorts, stumbling blindly into the bathroom, still rubbing sleep out of her eyes. She wondered how she’d missed the signs. She’d always been pretty in touch with her body, and this didn’t make any sense.

She’d been a little sick two days earlier, but it was just your standard cold: a stopped nose, a bit of sneezing. By the time dinner rolled around, she’d felt completely fine. She didn’t even tell her siblings about the illness. She preferred to stay out of their hair when she was sick, and besides, it was just a little cold.

Or, so she’d thought. But now she was standing in the bathroom with the thermometer under her tongue, hoping she didn’t have a fever more for the sake of not having to tell her siblings to stay away from her than for the sake of her own health.

When it beeped, her brows raised at the perfect 98.6°F displayed before her. Huh. That made no sense. She was wearing a tanktop and shorts and still sweating. And it was the middle of the night, in October. There was no way it was this hot in the house. Unless…

Shaking her head, she stumbled back into the hallway, and checked the thermostat.

“What the fuck?” she mumbled to herself. Who the hell had set the thermostat to 78°F? WIth a little huff she turned it back down to the 70°F she was used to; the way dad used to keep it, anyway.

Her first thought was Klaus – he always felt cold to the touch anyway, he probably felt cold, too. She’d text him in the morning, reminding him of the existence of blankets. For now, she’d go back to her room, and wait for it to cool down a bit so she could fall back asleep. But she was stopped in her tracks by a sound from down the hall.

“Huh’KSCH-NXGTchiew! HIhhh…Hh’NXXT! HhrrENXGT-chu!”

Vanya flinched, and then immediately frowned. The tired, congested-sounding sneezes came from Luther’s room, but that wasn’t the way he usually sneezed. That was the way he sneezed when he’d already been sneezing for a while and didn’t have the energy to hold his violent explosions back anymore. And instead of his normal two, it had been four.

Shit.

Vanya had only even thought about Luther’s sneezing so much because she’d heard him sneeze about a thousand times in the past seven months. Luther had been sick five times in that time, and two of those five times, he’d ended up in the infirmary with a high fever. The last time Luther was sick, Five hadcome to the conclusion that he was immunocompromised from isolation on the moon for so long. Isolation at the hands of their father. The same thing he’d put Vanya through all her life. Hearing that made her feel sick herself.

She’d felt oddly protective of him ever since. She’d always viewed him as strong and stoic, never putting his feelings into perspective. Never been able to think of him as fragile. Now she felt like he might break.

And as she walked down the hallway to his room, stopping on the way to grab and disinfect the thermometer, she cursed himself for not thinking to warn him about her cold. And for automatically assuming he had only missed dinner because he was relapsing. She needed to put more faith in him, he really was trying.

“Luther?” she called out softly when she reached his door, knocking gently.

“Come in,” came a hoarse voice from inside.

She pushed open the door tentatively, face falling when she saw the sight before her.

“Oh, Luther…” He was buried under his comforter, curled up in a ball, and barely fitting on his bed. A giant human burrito, only his head stuck out of the blankets. A thin sheen of sweat coated his flushed face. “You look awful.”

“ ‘m okay,” he mumbled, voice gravelly and barely there.  “Dn’ worry about me.”

“Did you turn the thermostat up to 78 degrees?” Her tone was a bit more accusatory than she’d intended.

“Yeah, cause it’s freezing,” Luther mumbled, hugging his blankets tighter around his shoulders. He shivered violently underneath the covers as if to prove his point.

“No, Luther, it’s really not.” Vanya sat on the end of his bed. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Yeah. Js’ tired.” He punctuated the sentence with a wheezy cough, the beginnings of something wet rattling in his chest.

“Yeah, right.” She gently reached out a hand to feel his forehead, which was unsurprisingly burning. He shivered profusely when she touched him, but didn’t make an effort to move. That was not a good sign. “How long have you been feeling shitty?”

Luther’s shoulders shrugged under the blankets, making the whole burrito move.

Vanya reached for the thermometer. “I think you just have a fever. Will you let me check?”

“No, I don’t. ‘M okay, don’t worry.” Nonetheless, he made no move to stop Vanya from putting the thermometer in his mouth, nor did he try to stop her from reading the results.

“103.1. Jesus, Luther. Why didn’t you-” she cut her rant off when she saw how miserably he was, looking up at her with those big, sad blue eyes. She brushed back the sweaty hair clinging to his forehead. How was his hair even long enough to do that? 

“You should have said something sooner, Spacey.”

Luther just looked down at his blankets. “I didn’t want to worry you.”

Vanya sighed and stroked his cheek gently. “Well now I’m even more worried!”

Luther turned his head away from Vanya’s touch and buried his face into his pillow. “I’m sorry.”

Vanya bit down on her lip when she heard him sniffle. “Luther?” When his breath started to hitch, she put a hand on his shoulder. “C’mon, Lulu, don’t cry-”

“Hh’GNKtchiew! Hahh-nXXGT! Hihhh! Hih… hih!”

Oh.

Vanya couldn’t help but giggle, so loud she didn’t even notice the third budding buildup. 

“Bless you. I thought you were-”

“Hh’kTSCHIEW!-ugh, sorry…”

Vanya brought her hand to her chest. “Goodness, bless you! Nearly gave me a heart attack!”

Luther finally turned his head back around and blinked tiredly at her, flashing her a sheepish little smile. His nose was running like a faucet. She reached for the tissues on his nightstand and dabbed at his upper lip.

“Thanks,” he muttered, and wheezed, which quickly dissolved into a coughing fit.

Vanya pat him on the back until it was over. “You poor thing,” she cooed. He really did look pretty run down. “Let’s get some medicine in you.” 

She got up to leave, when she felt a hand on her wrist, pulling her back Even sick, Luther could easily restrain her. It was a feeling that still struck panic in her heart, even after all these months. She turned back to look at him, eyes alert. “What?”

Luther was giving her those big sad blue eyes again. His grip on her immediately slackened.

“Please stay.”

Vanya softened again, all her anxiety fading into tenderness as she bent down so she could be at eye level with him.

“I’m not going anywhere, Lu.” She brushed his hair back from his forehead again. “I’m just gonna get some things for you, and then I’ll be right back, okay?”

“Promise?”

She booped him on the nose. “I promise.”

Luther scrunched up his nose and buried his face into his blankets, cupping them over his mouth with his hands. “Hhh’GNK-Nn’XXT!” Vanya giggled at his reaction, and even more so at the little glare he shot her when he finally lowered the blankets, snot dribbling down his chin now. She wordlessly wiped at it again.

“Okay,” Luther mumbled with a thick sniffle after a moment’s repose. “But be quick.”

Vanya pulled an extra two blankets up to his chin before she quietly slipped out of the room.

When she returned, he was already half-asleep, just barely coherent enough to accept the medicine before he opened up his arms for his little sister to climb into.

Uncomfortable as she felt surrounded by the heat that was radiating from Luther’s body, Vanya felt satisfied when she felt his arms stop shaking around her frame, relaxing into the sleep he so desperately needed.

She waited for the sound of his congested snoring to be sure he was really asleep. Then she slid easily out of his arms and out the door, making sure to ruffle his hair once for good measure and pull the blankets up to his chin one last time before leaving him for the night.