#and then asking Fit to hit him to see if he was actually awake

[gracefireheart]

Everytime q!Phil mentions something that makes him doubt what's happening is real / makes him wonder if he's [still] dreaming, a part of me just breaks o(-(

[screamlet]

08x06 fix-it fic: break and be mended

not connected to that excerpt i posted before, just something completely different. 4.5k, read on the ao3

---

Another hospital room. Buck takes a deep breath and closes his eyes again, letting it out and hoping he gets back to sleep. It doesn't happen, though, because his brain catches up to his eyes:

Maddie, wearing a yellow paper hospital mask, a hand anxiously on her belly, sitting in the chair next to him with that too-familiar oh-thank-god-you're-finally-awake face… and Tommy leaning in the doorway.

He takes another deep breath and opens his eyes again.

"You're okay," Maddie says patiently, slowly, as Buck tries to slam the door shut or set the doorway on fire with his brain. "It's just the turkey flu, it hit you hard."

That breaks Buck's concentration. "Wait, is this a dream? Another coma dream? Turkey flu has to be something I made up."

Maddie raises her eyebrows and looks over her shoulder at Tommy before turning back to Buck. "Another one?"

"No, no, don't look at him," Buck interrupts. "He's not supposed to be here, not when I have turkey flu, not ever. He broke up with me, remember?"

In the doorway, Tommy shifts his weight from one foot to the other. He's wearing the dark blue LAFD t-shirt and pleated pants, a special Air Ops patch on his shirt sleeve. They always lurked under his flight suit, under his turnouts when they were on the same scene, but Buck didn't get to see them often. It was for the best, he thinks now, because the shirt fits perfectly across Tommy's chest and shoulders, the pants belted low. His shirt is tucked in better than Buck's ever is. He almost never got to see him like this so it feels like some new Tommy he's seeing, a Tommy that hangs around Harbor long enough to take off his flight suit but doesn't peel the rest of his work self off. He doesn't get off his shift, put the pilot away, shower and go home.

Buck looks away. He's looked too long.

"I'm actually here, you know." Tommy raps his knuckles on the door like that's proof of anything except a very strong poltergeist. "I can hear you."

Buck watches something that he hasn't seen in years sweep across Maddie's face (mostly her eyebrows, because of the mask).

She turns around and snaps, "I let you come within ten feet of my brother and you think bitchy fun Tommy was invited, too? He was not." Tommy looks shocked and abashed; Buck loves her so much.

"Why was he invited at all, Maddie?" Buck asks. "And you're both real, right? Like I'm not hallucinating both of you. Is that a turkey flu symptom? Can I have my phone? I need to look up turkey flu."

"It's a strain of avian flu, you just happened to get it from a turkey farm. Hen said you had a call to one of those last week," Maddie explains. "And you kept giggling when I said the words turkey flu so, you know, why not?"

"It's pretty funny," Buck admits. "Hey, why's he here?"

Maddie turns around and looks at Tommy expectantly. Buck still knows his face, still knows him, and can see the quip that wants to escape past his lips. He can see the work it takes to hold it back and look sincere, really sincere, for them.

"You collapsed at a scene and I flew you over," Tommy says. "I wanted to make sure you were okay."

Buck stares at him as he presses his lips into a fine line. "I'm okay. Thanks."

Tommy nods, then asks, "Can we talk? Alone?"

It's taken four months, almost as long as they were together, but Buck's finally hearing the words he's wanted to hear since Tommy walked out his door. I'm sorry, I was scared, I love you, yes let's take the next step together, from now on let's take every step together—that was Buck's first choice. Can we talk as a jumping off point for all those other things—that was Buck's second choice. Was.

Buck glances at Maddie and knows his face does something dumb. "I'll be outside," Maddie says. "And I'm not far, if you want me to throw him out." She looks over her shoulder at Tommy. "I'll do it."

Tommy nods. "Wouldn't doubt you for a second."

She squeezes Buck's hand and lingers for a beat, one long look at him like she's waiting for him to say actually, wait, don't, stay, but he doesn't. He hates that he doesn't. He hates that he wants to hear what Tommy has to say.

She and Tommy swap places; he takes the chair next to Buck's bed and she leaves, shutting the door behind her. Tommy doesn't see the way she passes by the window like a shark, watching, but Buck laughs. When Tommy looks back, she's gone.

"Your sister's changed a little," Tommy says casually. "Her sense of humor, I mean."

Buck licks his lips. "Yeah, well, when you were my boyfriend, you were her friend. Now you're neither."

"Yep, got it," Tommy says. He sits back in the chair, but looks so uncomfortable that someone would think he'd never sat in one before.

"Are you okay?" Buck asks. "Why are you here?"

"This chair is so weird."

"Tommy, what do you want to talk about?"

It startles Tommy, and it should. He only got soft and smitten, totally-in-love (even if he couldn't admit it out loud) Evan Buckley, cute and bratty Evan Buckley. He doesn't get that Evan anymore. No one has.

Tommy sits with his feet flat on the floor and his hands folded in his lap. He takes a minute, a long minute, of staring at the floor before he looks up and stares at Buck. "You asked me to move in with you."

Buck blinks. "I did."

"You asked me to move in with you."

"You said that. I mean, I said that, but you—"

"Evan," Tommy interrupts.

"I thought I was Buck now," Buck interrupts.

Bitchiness lurks on Tommy's tongue, but he holds it back. "You asked me to move in with you. Into the loft."

Buck tilts his head. "Yeah?"

Tommy shuts his eyes hard and shakes his head before he looks at Buck again. "Evan, I own a house."

"... okay?"

"Did you ask me to move in with you and expect me to give up my house?"

"What, no—" Buck says, then stops himself. "I don't—I didn't think—"

"Did you even think about that?" Tommy asks. "Like when you talked about moving in together, getting married, the future, all of that—did you even remember that I own a house?"

"You know," Buck interrupts. "Four months ago, you could have said, haha, wow, that's moving pretty fast, also I own a house, maybe when we're ready, we could move into MY HOUSE and make it OUR HOUSE, but you needed to run out the door so why would you say any of that?"

"Yeah! I was freaked out! Because here was this guy I—this guy I really liked, and he asked me, a 40-year-old man, to move into his loft?"

"What's wrong with it? Why do you keep saying it like that?"

"It's downtown! Downtown is loud and filthy and did I mention it's noisy? It was hell sleeping there in the summer because even with your central air, heat rises and it rises right into the bedroom. I saw your electric bill, Evan, it was unforgivable."

Buck wants to throw something at him. "And we could have been at your house, quiet and with better temperature control, but we weren't because…?"

"I'm just saying," Tommy continues. "Yeah, all that's true, but I realized you wanted me, wanted a future with me, and you didn't even remember that when I wasn't working or with you, I was at my house."

"I get that," Buck says. "Now how many times did we hang out at your house?"

Tommy sighs. "It's out of the way, your place was always closer to the 118 and to Harbor, and I kept—I was going to, okay? Like maybe after our anniversary, we'd take a week off together and we'd actually be at my house, or take a trip somewhere—"

"You got me basketball tickets," Buck snipes at him.

Tommy stops completely.

"For our six month anniversary, remember?"

"How the hell am I going to forget that?"

"You got me tickets to see the Lakers. Really good tickets."

Tommy rolls his eyes. "Alright, well, that's the last time I call that guy I know in the press office for anything."

Buck thinks he's getting closer to setting something on fire with his mind. "I hate basketball."

Tommy stares at him. "What the hell are you talking about? We met because of basketball."

Buck sits up so quickly and angrily he starts wheezing and that turns into a coughing fit. Tommy's immediately there, sitting on the edge of his bed with water, getting him to take a small sip as he rubs his back. When Buck realizes what's happening, he covers his mouth with his blanket and shoves Tommy away, coughing even more.

"Sorry, I was just—"

"I have turkey flu!" Buck yells through the blanket covering his mouth.

"The doctor said you're not contagious anymore."

Buck points at a small paper box across the room. Tommy, so put-upon, grabs a pale yellow mask and slips it on before he sits in the chair again. "Sorry."

"It's—" Buck halts because Tommy had grabbed two masks and was holding one out to him expectantly. Tommy motions to it again and Buck can see how he wants to make a bitchy comment about not having this conversation through a hospital blanket, but he doesn't. That's what makes Buck reach out and put the mask on. The icy fist around his heart thinks about melting.

"We didn't meet because of basketball, we met because of Bobby and Athena and the cruise ship," Buck corrects. "I wanted to see you again after that tour at Harbor but I couldn't think of another reason—"

"I gave you the widest of openings," Tommy interrupts. "Hello? Flight lessons? When you finally offered to buy me a beer, I almost dropped to my knees right then and there."

"But you never called me! You're the one who left to hang out with Eddie!"

Tommy throws up his hands. "Ball was in your court! Speaking of basketball."

Buck sighs, exasperated. "We weren't, like, running into each other, I didn't have a reason to call you—don't say the beer—so finally I saw Eddie was going to that pick-up game with you and I dragged Chimney along."

"Right," Tommy says. "And you played basketball with us. We kicked your ass in a way that made me think you were pretending to be bad at it to make me feel good or something? And then there was the whole thing with Eddie's ankle."

"I hate basketball!"

"You brought your own ball!"

"I same-day ordered a basketball so that when I showed up you'd be like, wow, that guy's ready for basketball, what a cool guy!"

"So you're mad that your basketball ruse worked on my dumb ass, and worked so well for six months that I got you Lakers tickets for our anniversary."

Buck's so annoyed that he put it like that. Maybe that's true, but he didn't have to say it. "I don't like basketball! It was a ruse but I didn't hide it after. You watched games with Eddie and I never came along because I don't like basketball."

"You said you wanted us to have our Eddie-Tommy friend time!"

"Why do you make me sound and feel like a five-year-old? Eddie-Tommy friend time? Seriously?"

Tommy folds his hands together like he's in prayer and shuts his eyes. "Okay, listen, I just. I wanted to get the house thing off my chest, alright? Because it's—it's bothered me so much."

Buck could argue about the basketball thing for about another 500 years, except that Tommy has said what he said. "Has it?"

Tommy puts his hands in his lap again, folded politely as he looks at Buck. "I meant what I said. You were so swept away in how new and exciting everything felt, that I felt like you forgot who you were talking to. Like… I'm not a guy who's going to move in with you. I'm a guy who has a house with a home gym and a car lift, and—and the winter was so mild that I put in this little patio space in the backyard. I bought furniture for it. I took this corner of my front lawn, too, and started to plan a pollinator's garden because they sounded really interesting after those three days of bee hell. Evan, I have a house."

"You keep saying that," Buck says. His ears are burning, but he's listening too intently to feel embarrassed about it (much).

"I freaked out, alright? Because I heard: give up your house to live in this downtown loft with a couch that has a faded but GIANT blood and placenta stain on the other side of the cushion, and then the words engaged and married got thrown in there, too? All in the same breath?"

Buck stares flatly, then nods. "Yeah. I get it. Sorry." He clears his throat and grabs his water before Tommy can offer it to him. He takes a sip, looking at Tommy before he nods at the closed door. "Are we done here?"

"And I'm not a gay rights hero," Tommy adds. "You said that, too." Tommy looks away, and looks so miserable. "I'm just a guy, Evan. I've been burned before by younger guys who thought I was everything that their first gay boyfriend should be, and then—and they didn't see who I was. It's always—" Tommy holds out his hands like he's balancing scales. "Not straight enough to fake a life with a woman, not gay enough to have a real life with a man."

Buck hasn't done this in so long that his throat almost aches with it. He sighs, pained and breathless, the word crinkling against the mask: "Tommy." He swallows again and asks, "Did you really think that was me?"

Another long pause. It ends with Tommy saying, "I thought you were too good to be true."

"I'm not, though, I'm—I'm just me," Buck says. "And I did have a lot to figure out, but not about you."

Tommy laughs suddenly. "Really? Because you forgot I was a homeowner and I didn't know you hated basketball. Did you even go to that game?"

Buck coughs. "I gave the tickets to Karen and she took one of her brothers. They're nuts about the Lakers."

"Huh," Tommy says. "Well. I'm not mad about that."

The two of them are quiet until Buck says, "Seems there's a lot of things we don't know about each other."

Tommy glances at him; Buck can see the shape of his smirk beneath the mask, and the very specific way it makes his eyes crinkle. "And just when we thought we knew everything about each other."

"Yeah, I thought that, too, and then you dropped that you were engaged to my first serious girlfriend at our six month anniversary dinner." Buck raises his eyebrows. "Do you land helicopters that smoothly, too?"

"I got you here, didn't I?" Tommy bites back, then catches himself with a laugh. "Okay. Fair point."

It's so easy, it's so easy, it's so easy, it's so easy and Buck hasn't had it easy for months. He hasn't had these quips, this back-and-forth, this person who got him until he didn't, who—Buck rubs at his eyes. Tommy made it easy. He made everything easy. Not perfect, not effortless, but easy. Easier.

"So, uh." Buck fusses with the blanket in his lap. "What have you been doing for the past four months? You, uh…"

"Am I seeing anyone?" Buck nods. "I was, yeah. Didn't last that long."

Buck can't help himself: "Neither did we."

"Ouch." Tommy looks back. "And you?"

"Yeah," Buck says. "I liked them but I broke up with them because it just—it wasn't going anywhere."

"And what's wrong with that? Staying in one place? Isn't that what you wanted for us?"

It's not, but Buck can't articulate it, so he says, "Do you think that's the same?"

A beat, and then Tommy says: "No. No, I don't."

"Tommy," Buck says quietly. "How many people do I have to be with before you decide I've figured it out?"

Tommy's eyes widen. "What? I never said that."

"Tell me what you said, then." Buck swallows painfully, that turkey flu kicking his ass harder than he thought. "Tell me what you meant when you said I didn't know what I wanted. Because I told you what I wanted. I told you I was ready for something and all the things we did together, I thought that you believed me. I guess you didn't, so tell me how many bodies it'll take before you believe me."

Tommy doesn't say anything.

"God, and you know what really sucks?" Buck asks. "That we were together long enough to talk about who we'd been with so we could get tested and be safe. We talked about all that, but I never told you how many times I'd had my heart broken and you never told me yours."

"Three," Tommy eventually says. "Shawn, who was like… all of 25. He was all-in, knowing for sure that the first time was the charm, and I was old enough and steady enough to be That Guy. I believed the hype even though I was barely out of the closet. I shouldn't throw stones at Abby's House of Himbos when I set up my own on the other side of town. And then there was Raúl, my Army buddy who came out to his family and immediately moved to LA to get away from them. Everything felt like a fresh start for him, but… not quite for me."

Buck thinks to ask, but Tommy beats him to it. "Do I need to say the third?" Buck shakes his head. "What about you?"

"Abby, and you." Buck looks at Tommy as he says, "It's not just ending things with someone because it doesn't work. It's heart break. Something's gotta break and be mended."

"I don't think I did that part. You've one-upped me there."

Buck wouldn't have believed that 20 minutes ago, but he believes it now.

"So Bobby's been there, watched me since I was Abby's himbo and helped me to grow into the person who wanted that stuff with you. Once he, kinda, told me that if I care about how people see me, then I haven't learned a damn thing," Buck says. "And that is and isn't true, here. I can't live hoping I meet people's expectations of what they think I should be. I want people—I wanted you—to see me as I am. I thought you did but you didn't, and I didn't either because I didn't see how scared you were. I've made my peace with that. We had something really special and made each other feel really good but, in the end, I guess we were saying all the right things to people we didn't know."

Tommy listens, considers, and nods. "Whole lot of past tense, there."

Buck glances at him and doesn't want to look away, but he does. He doesn't meet Tommy's eyes. He's scared, too. He's done enough today: said a lot of things he's been thinking about for four months and said them very calmly and thoughtfully, but this is gonna hurt. It hurt Buck to realize it and it's gonna hurt Tommy to hear it.

"You got what you wanted, right?" Buck asks. "You got to keep your heart, and I don't feel new and excited anymore." Buck inhales deep; it hurts. "I feel like I did before, like I'm short one piece of being whole. Now the ocean I have to search is so much wider and deeper. So thanks for that, I guess."

"Evan—"

"I let you into my family," Buck interrupts sharply. "Because I cared about you and because you fit. I fit because they're mine and that's my family I made, and you fit there right next to me. With us."

"You're absolutely right."

Buck watches him, tries to see behind the sunshine yellow and white mask on his face, but all he sees are his eyes that, like always, make Buck feel too much, like laser beams disintegrating him.

"Were you really that scared?" Buck can't help the way his voice cracks. "You were that scared of me?"

Tommy looks up again, lasers in place. "I was that in love with you." He shakes his head like he did that last night in the kitchen, and looks up like he'll tip the tears back into his eyes. "And those heartbreaks—you'd leave them light-years behind if I let you. You'd leave me light-years behind."

Buck nods, then says, "Could you leave, please." His wet breathing crinkles grossly in the mask. "Thanks for telling me all this, thanks for the closure, but I don't need to see what someone looks like after they've walked away from me."

"You collapsed at a scene three days ago and I was the closest pilot to medevac you here," Tommy says slowly. "You were delirious and told Shreya, Don't tell Tommy I'm sick, he doesn't care anymore."

Tommy clears his throat. "I do care. I never stopped."

Buck sits back in his hospital bed and pulls the blanket up to his neck, the only comfort he's got right now. "If this is a turkey flu dream, I'm gonna be so pissed at you, real you," Buck says.

Tommy laughs quietly, sadly, then hesitates for a moment. "Can I ask you something? Can I ask you the scariest thing I've ever asked anyone in my entire life?"

Buck doesn't move, doesn't breathe. "What is it?" he finally asks.

"Will you give me a second chance?"

Buck, hearing what he's quietly dreamed of hearing for four months, doesn't feel the euphoria he thought he would. He feels something else, though: a strange kind of wonder that someone wants him again. Again. He swallows hard, feeling the pain right in his turkey-flu-ridden throat. Someone knew him. Someone left him. Someone came back—came back for him.

Tommy left. Tommy came back. Tommy wanted him then. Tommy wants him now. Tommy's wanted him all along.           

Buck asks, "Will you invite me to your place more than once every six months?"

Tommy's half-smile is still wide enough for Buck to see behind the mask. It falls, though, back into something serious. "Will you forgive me when I'm not a paragon of queer virtue?"

"Will you believe me when I tell you I've fucked around and found out enough for a lifetime?"

Tommy raises his eyebrows ever so slightly. "Will you believe me when I tell you I've fucked around and found out enough for a lifetime?"

Buck thinks he smiles a little behind his mask, but it doesn't stay. "Are we gonna break up again?"

"I don't know," Tommy admits. "But maybe next time we can stop each other and hit the brakes. I love romcoms, but maybe we don't do that again: you don't propose fixing a problem with marriage and a baby, and I won't run out the door."

Buck raises his eyebrows, too. "Who said anything about a baby?"

Tommy sputters. "I mean, you were the one raising the stakes before."

Buck laughs. "Right, right."

The quiet stretches out between them. They look at each other and don't look away. The stubborn, proud, cocky side of Buck feels annoyed that this feels like—like he can't get out of this. Like all roads lead back to Tommy, like he doesn't have a choice. Like if he wants to be happy, it's with this person.

A part of him wants to run and throw himself into the hunt again. He wants to thrive in the search for someone who makes him feel that euphoria and fondness and love that he felt with Tommy. He tries to imagine someone else, some vague smoky figure that isn't Tommy's height, Tommy's build, Tommy's arms crossed over his chest and that tilt of his head. The problem is that Buck feels more looking at that furrow and arch of his eyebrows than he's felt for anyone he's met in the past four months, maybe even longer.

Not all roads lead to Tommy—only the ones he wants to take.

"Say it again?" Buck asks.

Tommy nods ever so slightly. "I'm in love with you." He pauses and a smile reaches his eyes. "I love you."

Buck can't help the way his eyes water; neither can Tommy.

"Ask me again," Buck says.

"Will you give me a second chance?"

"Yeah." Buck wonders if his own smile reaches his eyes. He hopes it does. "Yeah. Will you?"

Tommy chokes out a laugh behind his mask. "Yeah, god, of course. Of course. You sure?"

"About you?" Buck asks. "Yeah. I mean, I want to be. Don't make me regret it."

"Don't make me give up my real estate."

"Don't make me go to any sports events."

"Seriously? Not even baseball?"

"God," Buck moans. "The sleepiest one of all."

"Hockey's good."

"You hate the Kings."

Tommy scoffs. "Of course I do. You always hate your local teams—you just hate visiting teams more. Can't let management get comfortable."

Buck attempts to take a deep, exasperated breath, but he forgets that he has the fucking turkey flu. He chokes and starts to cough and wheeze, but Tommy's there again. He freely, lovingly pushes Buck further to the other side of the hospital bed so he can sit and take care of him: water, tissues, hand on his chest to steady him, eyes worried and on him.

"It's not official until you kiss me," Buck says. "I'm not contagious."

"I mean, not with turkey flu," Tommy says. "Your Buckness? That I'm not so sure."

"Don't call me that anymore," Buck says.

Tommy puts his cup of water on the table next to Buck's bed, then shifts so he and Buck are closer, face-to-face, head on looking at each other. "How'd you get even brattier in only four months?"

"How'd you forget I was this bratty?"

"At my age, well, everything's starting to go."

Buck laughs, then coughs and wheezes. "Stop making me laugh."

"How'd you forget I was this funny?"

Buck tilts his head. "I didn't. I didn't forget a thing."

Tommy searches his face, then cups his jaw with one hand. Buck doesn't lean into it, just lets Tommy hold him as he tips Buck's chin up ever so slightly.

Then Tommy kisses his forehead and his birthmark, and wraps his arms around Buck. It's the warmest Buck has felt all winter. It finally feels like spring.

---

read on the ao3

[alastorss]

a/n: crack fluff ! and alastor being a cranky asshole when he wakes up

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

"...Al. Al! Alastor!"

Alastor jolts awake at your fit, hand still pressed to his shoulder where you were firmly shaking him.

"What... What is it?" He asks, groggy from sleep.

"I have to pee," you hiss, looking more concerned about it than you ever should. He simply stares at you, unimpressed by your proclamation.

He was never one to fall asleep easily in the first place. As such, he's an uncharacteristically grumpy riser.

"Do you need me to hold your hand for you, darling? Go to the bathroom yourself," he grumbles, rolling over so he can try to go back to bed. You leap at him, nearly making him yell as you shake him again.

"Yes, I do!" You whine, rocking him back and forth until he sighs like he has the weight of the world on his shoulders. He sits up, blinking at you with narrowed eyes and trying to get them to adjust to the darkness of the room.

"If this is some sort of joke, I'm not understanding it."

"Come with me, please?"

"Are you five?" He quips, his rude awakening catching up to him. "It's just the bathroom. We are ten feet away from it, sweetheart."

You make an expression he's never seen before, cheeks puffed into balloons and eyes full of determination. "Please?" You ask so sweetly that he just barely caves.

Sighing again, louder this time, he gathers your hand into his and drags you out of his side of the bed. You stay attached to his arm, clinging to him as if he'll disappear if you let up even a little bit.

"What's gotten into you?" He yawns, dragging his feet as he guides your bodies to the washroom.

"It's nothing!" You squeak, squeezing his arm a little tighter. "I would just miss you, honey."

"On the toilet?"

"Yes."

"You know how ridiculous you sound, right?"

"...Yes."

He flicks on the light and shuts the door behind him, leaning on the wall as you hurry to the toilet. He keeps eye contact as you glare back at him, evidently embarrassed by his still unimpressed expression.

"Look away, asshole!"

"You told me to come in here with you. Would you actually like me to hold your hand, too?"

"Oh my god, just turn around!"

Alastor's eye twitches but he obliges anyway, huffing as he turns to face the wall. He stares at it absently as you grumble under your breath.

"So, do you mind telling me what's really going on?"

You're silent for a second, not responding to him. Then,

"I watched a scary movie."

"What was that?"

"I... I watched a scary movie. Alone. In the dark."

Ah. Alastor would laugh if he weren't being dragged into the after effects of your little mistake. Instead, his forehead hits the wall in front of him.

"Is that all?"

You flush the toilet and he takes it as a sign to turn back around so he can gaze at you in full. This way, you can feel the entire weight of his disapproval.

"The monster in it was so scary," you mumble, eyes drilling holes into your hands as you wash them to avoid making contact with the demon behind you.

You understand the irony of your situation in that moment.

"Oh, darling. No such monster is wandering these halls."

He stalks behind you and shuts off the faucet for you, effectively caging you in between his arms.

"Besides, if a monster did want to come eat you up..."

Alastor squeezes your sides, snaking his head into the crook of your neck. In your reflections, you see the dim glow of his green stitches.

"They would have to get through me first."

~

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[noobsoconfusing]

‘domesticated dawg’.. domestic!hamzah

contains reader insert! and nsfw kinda at the end

- for his whole damn life, everything hamzah wanted was a home

- sure, he had one before, but to be honest, it was just a house. no meaning behind it other than his family living there with him.

- so when he eventually moved out, loneliness began hitting like a truck..

- he found himself alone. constantly trying to fit into everything mandy and martin did, but he understood his friends also wanted privacy

- although hamzah wished he could just live with his friends, everything seemed funner with them. mandy was nice, always sharing martin with him, letting him interrupt their conversations to add comments, making jokes about whatever and they even had a group chat!

- but still, that life was not his, it was martin’s. it was mandy’s. not hamzah’s.

- god, he so craved a relationship as beautiful as his friends. it made him so sad knowing that the only girl he pulled ever was in elementary school :(

- so when you stumbled upon his hectic life, he knew he was NOT letting u go. ever. never ever.

- and mother of god, you were just so so so perfect? how could you? like, for real, he asks himself everyday what the hell did he ever do to deserve such a beautiful human by his side

- as the relationship develops, he finds himself doing stuff he only dreamed about

- he enjoys every single little thing you guys do together, cherishes every moment with you, even when you’re not around he keeps your id picture in his wallet

- makes sure you don’t have to move a finger!!!

- dishes? he does em! the bed? he makes it! clean the cats litterbox? on it!

- sometimes you wake up to the faint smell of something burning, and you’ve gotten used to it by now it’s even comforting .

“sweetheart….” he’d whisper not to disturb your peaceful slumber, however the noisy rattling of the dishes and the blender going off earlier had you already awake.

“hmm?” you murmured slowly opening your eyes, his big eyes stared at you like a squished bug, it made you giggle how eager he was to serve breakfast in bed.

“you are never gonna believe what i just prepared!” he excitedly said.

you smiled, sometimes hamzah was like an excited toddler showing you everything he did or found.

“so like, last night i was on facebook and found this super cool french toast recipe and tried to make it today for you but uh… we didn’t have eggs… or bread.” he paused and you tilted your head. “so i also tried to make pancakes with water and the mix but uh.. you never really showed me how to lower the flame so uh, they’re bricks now…” he nervously scratched his head

he was so cute, or so you thought.

“it’s okay, hamzah, what did you make then?” you asked, invested heavily. he always managed to surprise you somehow.

quickly, he got up the bed where he was straddling you, and ran to the counter where he had left the plate.

“anyway, cereal!” he smiled so big waiting for your reaction of approval.

“wooooow! my favourite!” you smiled too.

“i know right!”

- hamzah tries SO hard to please you :(

- actually tries to spend every single hour of the day with you, due to his job he finds himself being at martin’s often, so he brings you with him each time!

- late night editing with him, where you two are just snuggled together under the covers, hamzah has his blue light glasses on, and you think, man, what a sight to see!

- hamzah actually thinks you guys are married..

- not to be intense or anything, but to him, being with you means for life. you guys are going serious. no escaping from this man now. no backing down now.

- you and the cats are his little family. he has found a home in you and is willing to keep it forever <3

- every moment with you counts to him.

- in the mornings you two brush your teeth together, sometimes he spits toothpaste on your hand to make you mad, which doesn’t really work because you do the same to him and then it all ends in a laughing fit

- HE HAS NO SENSE OF PRIVACY T_T

- you could be taking a shower and he’s right outside of the shower curtain taking a shit and talking about whatever was on his mind

- when you’re using the bathroom he would burst the door open to grab something he left inside, unapologetically look at you and smile innocently

- since your little house –apartment– is rather small, whenever you use the kitchen together he has to constantly guide you around in order to not bump into each other

- grabs your waist to prevent you from slipping if he spills milk or water..

- literally just an excuse to touch you, though.

- sometimes you’re cooking and he just sneaks behind you to give you a back hug. rests his chin on top of your head and stays there for a while

- needs you constantly ngl

- if there’s something wrong with the house, such as a leak or a burnt bulb, he would try his best to fix it himself to prove you he’s capable of everything

- usually ends badly and you have to call someone else to fix it but hey! he tried!

- since you both are not very extroverted, house dates are perfect.

- movie nights under the dim lights of the apartment that lead to make out sessions..

“h-hold…” you tried to say between sloppy kisses being planted on your neck. “hold on!” you laughed out loud when the hickey he was giving you tickled your collarbone.

“mhmm, why?” you could feel his warm breath as he murmured against your skin.

“movie…”

“rather do you, though.” he replied.

- ordering take out that just ends up on hamzah and you racing to see who can eat more

- he loves to see you wearing his clothes <3 like, it actually makes him physically happy and super fucking proud

- loves how his hoodies are undeniably big on you, and how his shirts falls down to your thighs, covering you up so perfectly. knowing you enjoy wearing his clothes just makes him realise how much you both need each other pretty much always

- hamzah has mentioned –to you– before his desire to actually grow your family a bit more, no more cats though, no dogs either. a baby, maybe. or two. three?

- and he was super blunt and serious about it, also. like he was being DEAD SERIOUS. he loves you, dude. this man is a family man.

“we are very serious, right?” he asked you out of the blue.

“yeah, of course.” you replied looking at his direction. the bed sheets covered his body so you could only see his face peeking out. it was funny.

“no but like, im super serious about you, about us… i love you a lot and i feel so deeply about you, is that alright? do you not feel weird about me? like, do you actually like me or…?” he rambled, and you knew how self conscious he could get sometimes ;(

“hamzah, i am so very serious about us too, i love being with you, why would you doubt that?” it made you sad, but you had to constantly reassure him.

he leaned in to kiss you, so soft and desperate at the same time, like he was trying not to break down.

“serious, right?” he asked again as he broke the kiss

“yeah, very serious, hamzah.”

a moment of silence. he played with your hair, then subtly touched your face in the dark, tracing your features.

“okay but speaking super fucking seriously, i wanna impregnate you and i wanna raise our children and live until we’re super fucking old, that alright?”

he deadpanned. and you never felt so loved, even if his ways were… odd. you knew he cared, and you did too!

“yeah. that alright.”

- morning sex hits hard w hamzah btw. so when you’re still tired and wanna be together you opt for this one as an excuse to get up until the evening

- this man needs you so much that he actually for real wants to merge your souls together

- but as he cannot do that yet, he settles for your bodies..

- sometimes when he’s working he just :( needs you and your warmth and your embrace and your presence and you you you you

- he’s obsessed with you to say the least

- yeah so cockwarming.. where he just begs for it, and you cant say no to that wet dog face :c though you know he wont even last a minute without moving cuz he’s needy like that.

- his hands are grasping at your waist for mercy, keeping you down and linked to his own body. he tries his best to keep still, though you wouldn’t mind if he actually started thrusting

- loves how warm you’re always :c it’s almost embarrassing how pathetic this man is for you

“mmm, im… oh, god! f-fuck, im sorry, can i…?” he whimpers, his eyes shut and his work long forgotten on the desk

and god, yeah. you need it too. he’s been inside for what felt like fucking hours. you were just as needy and desperate but didn’t wanna say anything :(

“yeah j-just…yeah..” you managed to say, your face buried in his neck, inhaling his cologne.

it was so damn intoxicating, you felt so drunk on him.

- big on aftercare. he wants to make you comfortable and loved, which yeah you feel like that around him. tho he also needs aftercare from you sometimes..

- hamzah thinks, you found him to save him. save him from his loneliness, his misfortune, everything. he is so glad that you exist and decide to share your existence with him.

- hamzah now doesn’t have to look for a home in other places. he doesn’t have to look out for love, for company somewhere else. he has you, you’re his home now. now and forever

- you’re a home that’s not taken. a home that’s not temporary. a home that waits for him everyday. a home that provides love and care. a home that he doesn’t feel he’s intruding..

- a home he doesn’t wanna run away from. not ever

>_<

down bad for this kinda hamzah bruv anyway hope some1 likes dis

[zepskies]

Basic Instinct

Pairing: Alec McDowell x F. Reader

Summary: You and Alec adapt to the realities of a human/transgenic relationship, especially during your pregnancy. 

AN: Well, thanks to these lovely souls @winchestergirl2 @sunbeambarbie, and my patrons over on Patreon, I’m back with more of the Being Human storyverse! This idea could become a series of loose one-shots as I come up with more ideas around this premise (navigating a relationship with a transgenic that has…shall we say, animalistic tendencies).

Also, this is my first entry for Jacklesverse Bingo '24!~ @jacklesversebingo

Prompt: She whispers in his ear, and he breaks into a smile.

Word Count: 2.4K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only. Protective Alec, fluff, elements of scenting, marking/claiming, hint of spice~

💜 Series Masterlist || Bingo Masterlist

Alec shrugs the snow flurries off his jacket and dusts off his hair. He works past the shiver that accompanies the icy slush running off his head and shoulders, down to his boots.

He doesn’t mind the cold in these Seattle winters, but he hates slush. It’s messy and muddy, and the gray, placid sky doesn’t care about how many sectors he has to hit before his run of Jam Pony deliveries are done.

It doesn’t care about how he has to spend a few extra moments dragging the soles of his boots across the faded welcome mat into his apartment, but you do. You’ve got a thing about tracking in mud across the wood floors, even if they are already cracked and squeaky in certain places.

He savors the warmth of the living room when he finally gets inside and closes the door behind him.

“Honey, I’m home,” he calls out tiredly, but with a note of playfulness. He half-expects you to be napping, as you tend to do in the afternoon at this stage of your pregnancy, especially now that the days have gotten so much shorter. It’s already pitch black outside, looking more like midnight than half past four.

To his surprise, you’re not only awake, but you’re zipping up the purple winter coat he got you—the one that actually fits you over your rounded belly. Your head raises, and your face brightens to see him as you wrangle your shopping bag over your shoulder.

“Hey,” you greet him, adding a kiss when you approach him at the door. “I’ll be back in a bit.”

Alec stops you from moving past him with his hands meeting your waist.

“Hey, whoa, where’s the fire?” he asks, his brows furrowing.

“I’m just going to the market. We need a few things. So, you know, we can eat,” you say with a tease of a smile. “You probably had a long day, so you can shower up and chill if you want. I’ll be right back.”

Alec makes a sound of refusal and doesn’t let go of you when you try to keep heading for the door. You raise a brow at him in confusion.

“It’s dark as hell out there. Cold, wet, and muddy, and not to mention crazy traffic with people trying to get home,” he says. “And since I just came from that frigid hellscape, I’m gonna have to insist that you stay here and warm me up.”

His hands begin to sneak under your jacket and sweater layers, and you squeal and squirm a bit as his cold fingers find your skin, teasing your sides. You bite your lip against a smile and push at his chest, no matter how impossible that may be. Alec’s tall, lithe frame might not look particularly strong, but there’s no moving him once the transgenic plants his feet.

Just like there’s often no changing his stubborn mind on certain things, you’ve noticed, particularly in situations like this…

“I’ll be right back,” you say. “An hour, tops. Unless you want rice and canned tuna again, we need food.”

Alec pauses, his lips threatening to frown. But in a moment, a decision is made in his mind, and he grabs your bag off your shoulder.

“Fine, let’s go,” he says.

You pause, watching him open the door and hold it open for you. You sigh at him, but you adjust your winter hat and slip on your gloves before you step outside. Alec once again locks the door behind him and joins you on the sidewalk, slipping an arm around your waist to guide you snug against his side.

It’s both affection and protection. You can tell in the way he “casually” scopes the street, the neighborhood you’ve lived in relative peace for the past six months.

Still, he positions himself between you and the road, where a van zips by. It veers widely to avoid a pothole, looking like it might just take the sidewalk curb along with it. Alec tenses for a moment, until the van finally passes.

“People are freakin’ crazy in this city,” he says, shaking his head. “Just because the streetlights are more suggestion than law—”

“Alec, you drive like a maniac,” you point out. He scoffs at you.

“Oh, don’t even,” you say, cutting him off from whatever smartassed retort he was about to give. “Remember that time you ran into a chicken coop? You came home wearing bird shit and feathers in your hair.”

“Okay, but who keeps live poultry on the corner of a busy four-way intersection?” he grouses. “Make it make sense.”

Although you roll your eyes, it’s hard not to smile at your boyfriend’s antics. You two walk together amiably down to the market while he tells you about his day of deliveries. It weirdly makes you a little jealous. You stopped working after the whole Ames White debacle, when you were kidnapped. (You're still trying to block that traumatic episode out of your memory.) 

First, it was just a challenge to figure out where you and Alec were going to live. Logan is generous to a fault, but you couldn’t take up room in his apartment forever. He did make good on his promise to scope out the safest apartment you two could afford: a walkup on the moderately less skeevy side of town.

Alec hasn’t outright tried to ban you from working, but you two agreed that it would be better for you not to return to Jam Pony, both for logistical and safety reasons. Ames White is dead, but the rest of his radical organization—a damn breeding cult—is too well connected for Alec to want to take any chances. They’d likely known where you worked and followed you when you went to Alec’s old apartment that day.

All that aside, however, it’s a simple fact that your poor bladder won’t last five minutes on a bike. It’s really all you can do to walk to the market. The third trimester hasn’t exactly been easy on your body, but Alec hovers close behind you, making sure you choose whatever meat and vegetables you want, regardless of the price.

“Hey, they’ve got turkey. That’s new,” he says, grabbing a large bird off the row of hanging poultry. The smell of its rawness triggers a bubble of nausea, making you turn your face away and cover your nose and mouth with a sound of disgust.

Alec quickly holds it away from you, but he has the guy running the kiosk bag it up for him. You stop him with a hand on his arm.

“That’s too expensive,” you whisper to him in warning, your eyes widening. Alec gives you an easy smile.

“Sweetheart, if there’s one thing you and the baby need right now, it’s protein,” he reasons. “I was planning on picking up some extra shifts this week anyway.”

He gives the man the money without a second thought. You don’t know whether to frown, or shed pitiful tears when he does stuff like that. You’re still not altogether used to it, having someone who takes care of you for a change. You’ve spent most of your life doing that part yourself.

When Alec turns back around, grinning all proud as a peacock at the good deal he got and the haul he has slung in the bag over his shoulder, his expression falls at seeing the tears in your eyes.

“What’s the matter?” he asks, touching your arm. You shake your head with a smile.

“Nothing,” you sniff and wipe at your face. “Goddamn hormones.”

Alec smirks, but before he can tease you, a broad frame knocks into you from behind. It would’ve sent you to the ground hard if Alec’s reflexes hadn’t been quicker. His arms come around you, firm but gentle as he rights you. He glances behind him and bristles with anger, his spine stiff and his body taut. You rarely see that kind of sharpness in his eyes.

They’re gentler when they turn to you. 

“You okay?” he asks with furrowed brows of concern. You have to catch a winded breath, but you nod, meeting his eyes. He doesn’t let go of you until you get your balance back.

Then, his gaze flicks up to the man who bowled you over. He stands at the same kiosk Alec got the turkey from. Meathead is trying to buy the last one.

“Alec,” you warn.

“I’ll just be a second,” he says. You reach for his arm and try to tell him that you’re fine, but it’s like a switch has been flipped inside him, narrowing his gaze. He slips out of your grasp and leaves you with the bag of groceries.

“Damn it,” you mutter.

Not even a minute later, Alec swings a quick, exacting fist. You wince as the larger man nearly breaks his jaw on the pavement.

You can’t help but giggle and try to squirm away as he noses along your throat. It tickles. His arms are a loose, comfortable embrace in the familiar peace of your bed. You’re swathed by pillows and warm blankets while Alec is tucked along your side. His long legs bend at a slight angle with his knees brushing your thigh.

“Would you stop already?” you say, swatting his thigh. You feel his smirk against your skin.

“How’re my girls doing?” he asks. You chuckle. He was a bit stunned at first to find out that you’re having a girl. You thought he might’ve been hoping for a boy, easier for him to connect with someday. But the way he dotes on you sometimes, now, you can already tell he’s going to spoil your daughter rotten.

“We’re good,” you reply.

He sighs and settles in comfortably against you. This is your favorite thing, and you think it’s his too. After a long day, it’s your time to just rest and be with each other, either watching TV or catching up about the day. It’s everything and nothing at all.

Eventually, his voice interrupts the quiet again.

“You smell different, you know.”

You quirk a brow at that one. “What do you mean?”

When he shakes his head, you feel the tickle of his hair under your ear.

“Hmm, I dunno. Earthy, I guess,” he says. “Pregnant.”

You have to laugh. “I smell pregnant? Not sure if that’s a compliment.”

“Oh, it is,” he nods. His lips press a line of tantalizing kisses down your throat and collarbone. You smile and curl up a hand to sink your fingers into his hair, gently massaging his head.

It’s taken you some time to figure out exactly what a transgenic is, exactly, and you’ve come to realize that all of them are spliced with a little something special. Each and every one of them, from Alec and Max, to Joshua and the others who live in Terminal City—whether they look human or not, they’re unique in some way. It gives them certain…traits. Ones that betray the animal DNA they were partially created with.

As the events of this afternoon replay in your mind, your smile begins to slip.

“That was too much today, at the market,” you tell him, now that he’s calm. “What happened there?”

Alec stills.

“Nothing, just…you didn’t hear him. The guy was a smartass,” he says.

“What, couldn’t handle a taste of your own medicine?” you quip, but you squeeze his arm gently. It rests above the swell of your belly. “No, it was more than that.”

His jaw clenches; a telltale sign that he knows exactly what you’re talking about, even if he doesn’t want to answer you. You turn your head and scooch back a little so you can see his face better. His playfulness is long gone, but he meets your gaze.

“I think…” you whisper in his ear, tapping his arm with a finger, “that you have a bit of wolf in your cocktail. Not as much as Joshua, obviously, but still.”

Alec blinks in surprise, and he breaks into a smile.

“Oh, really? What gives you that idea?” he asks.

“Do you want the list chronologically or alphabetically?” you say. Alec rolls his eyes, but you level him with a wry look. “Sense of smell. Excessive protectiveness—”

“Excessive?” Alec raises a brow.

“Not to mention the biting, Count Dracula,” you finish, gesturing with a smile at the back of your neck. There’s a mark there that he refuses to let fade away.

Now, he becomes sheepish. His plush lips form a bit of a pout.

“I thought you liked that,” he says, his eyes glinting with mischief. You reach out a hand to cup his cheek.

“Oh, it’s hot as hell,” you tease back. You draw him in, guiding his face to yours for a slow kiss, simmering with heat.

“But it’s…possessive,” you say, after you break from him. Your words are a mere whisper in the small space between your faces. “Like you’re claiming me.”

The green in Alec’s eyes have darkened a touch. They roam your face.

“Well, you’re mine, aren’t you?” he asks. But his tone is deceptive. It’s anything but a question.

Your lips curve into a smile. You thumb at his chin.

“Yeah,” you reply.

Alec’s hand slides up your neck to cup your cheek, guiding you to him this time as he claims you in a more devouring kiss. He steals your breath, over and over, plying you with his tongue and with the weight of his body wrapping around you. He moves you gently onto your side and swipes your hair out of the way, so he can kiss his way down your neck.

He stops for a moment at that mark, where he grazes over the sensitive flesh with a hint of teeth. You shudder. Hot tingles run down your spine, pluming warmth and wetness between your legs.

“Alec,” you breathe, almost on a gasp. You feel him already hard and ready, pressed against you.

“I got you, sweetheart.”

His voice is smooth in your ear, but you’ve known him long enough to hear his need. It echoes your own. You take his hand and begin to lead him where you want him, all while he buries his face into your neck and inhales your sweet, familiar scent.

“Always,” he says.

AN: Short and sweet, but I had fun revisiting the Being Human world. I'd love to dip back in again someday! Until then, I hope you enjoy! 💜

I have a few more stories for Jacklesverse coming soon...

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@ultimatecin73 @jesllianaquilesrolonsworld @lovelystoriesaj @onlyangel-444

[cherrygenshin]

Obey Me! Rut HC's - pt.2

Warnings: NSFW, SMUT. Minors DNI. Again, no special warnings, just breeding.

GN reader.

Satan

His rut is average, lasting up to a week.

He's not too big on nest building, he finds it gets too stuffy in his room with too many items in it (let's be real, it's really cause it won't fit due to all his damn books)

Actually remains kinda the same? Just touchier?

Won't let you leave his room once you enter, if you do leave he won't let you back in, no matter how desperate he gets.

Snaps VERY quickly, but will try his best to keep his cool around you. He's just so worked up, he can't handle the pressure.

In post nut clarity he will be very smoochy to you, thanking you for putting up with him and giving you the best food he can find.

He's not great at regulating his emotions at the best of times, but now instead of 'ANGRY ANGRY ANGRY' his mind is full of 'BREED BREED BREED'.

Enjoys bending you over so he can pound in to you and groan lewdly in your ear.

PLEASE scratch him up, your marks on him means he's fucking you just right, he wants to see them.

Asmodeous

Longest rut out of everyone, tbh he kinda always wants to breed and be bred so it's not that different for him.

He will seek you out the moment he feels it coming. He normally has demons lining up around the block for a chance with him, but he'll choose you over anyone else. Of course, if you're down to enjoy his rut with more people, then he's down for that too.

Prefers being bred over breeding, I HC that he's got both a juicy cunt AND a nice dick. He uses both, but definitely prefers getting his pussy filled.

You think Levi was loud? Try Asmo. He LOVES the sound of his voice, and he knows you love it too. He will moan the house down.

He's ridiculously sensitive and very bratty, will try and push you further in to him/push himself further in to you, he's very needy.

Unlike his brothers, he's actually not very clingy during his rut, and enjoys his personal space, like taking nice long baths before the next wave of horniness overcomes him.

Overall he's very casual about the whole thing. You wanna breed him? Okay. You want him to breed you? Easy done. As long as someone gets to enjoy him, he's happy.

Beelzebub

Another vote for average rut length, lasts about a week.

Enjoys making a lil nest for you and him to spend the week in, takes pride in his nest building abilities.

OKAY so, Beel wants a family. Idc what anyone says, he's a family man through and through.

Being that he wants a family, his rut hits him very hard. His desire to breed completely overwhelms him, he becomes the most animalistic out of all his brothers.

Also, BIG DICK = LOTS OF CUM

He will FOLD you like a deck chair, just to shove his cock as far into you as he possibly can.

Grunts and groans, will also grip you tight enough to leave bruises, he just loves u so much he wants to be as close to you as possible

"Gonna cum in you darling", "gonna make you a parent", "Fuck- you're gonna be so hot carrying my child."

Will literally carry you to impale u on his dick if you get too tired, he is not stopping until you're pregnant.

Belphegor

Lucky ass bitch has the shortest rut, lasting only two or so days.

Probably will sleep through it ngl wet dream city

If he happens to be awake, he won't ask for help directly, he'll just expect it.

He kinda already has a nest in the attic, won't really add much more to it. He'd rather preserve energy to be able to fuck you properly.

Another for 'I don't really want kids but damn nutting in u is kinda nice'

Gets more whiny during his rut, when he's close he'll let out the most angelic soft moans and whines you've ever heard.

Although he isn't super energetic on the best of days, being in his rut really saps all his energy. He's got a cycle of fuck, sleep, fuck, sleep.

Unfortunately you will have to feed him as he really does put his all in to fucking you, he doesn't even have the energy to feed himself afterwards.

Big on show, don't tell. He won't tell you how much he loves you (he's getting better at expressing his emotions, but he's getting better!) But the way he holds you close as he sleeps says more than words ever will.

[captain039]

Couch time

Logan (Wolverine) x mutant!reader x Wade (Deadpool)

Warnings: Fluff, swearing, comfort

It’s a little too quiet in the apartment, Blind Al has gone on a well needed vacation at a lovely olds people get away home you rented for her, the woman didn’t even say thank you, packed one bag and left within half an hour. You don’t blame her, living with Wade was hell, living with Wade and Logan was also hell, living with Wade, Logan and you was just downright cruel that even Satan himself would not be here. You stare at the ceiling, in your towel having just gotten out of the shower. Neither of the boys were home doing god knows what, but you’re thankful for the silence, apart from the ceiling fan squeaking every time it moves. You flick it off with a wave of a hand and sigh, hands resting behind your head again. You go off on a day dream not hearing the door open till a loud gasp rings out and something drops to the floor. You frown screaming when you see Wade and Logan in the apartment doorway, you slam your door shut with your powers and calm your heart down.

“It’s ok Babe! Honestly, I didn’t see anything!” Wade giggles afterwards like some evil mastermind that tells you he did see something. Not that the towel didn’t cover the important bits, but laying their with it just covering your boobs and hitting your upper thigh was more skin than you’ve shown either man, any man for that matter. You grumble hover your clothes to you before getting dressed and going on your phone, not daring to open the door. You stay in your room out of embarrassment and pettiness to Wades constant nagging till it goes surprisingly quiet again and a small knock comes.

“He’s gone Bub” Logan calls out and you shiver a bit. Damn him, damn them both actually, and their stupid masks. No you didn’t have a mask kink. Well that’s what you tell everyone else. You peek out seeing Logan sitting back down on the couch, newspaper in hand and a mug which is probably filled with whiskey. You sit down on the couch wishing Wade would buy a bigger one seeing as all three of you cannot fit on it, and the other chairs are uncomfortable. You lift your hand, open the freezer from your spot on the couch, open the cupboard hover a glass and pour yourself some juice before floating it over to you. You glance feeling eyes on you seeing Logan staring with a small smile before he goes back to reading his newspaper. You flush press your thighs a little tighter together and sip your juice. Wades back quickly and he grins when he sees you making you throw a book at his face with your telepathy. He groans and you glance to Logan who smirks but continues to read. You smile to yourself before you turn on the TV. Wade forces himself between the two of you, Logan swears and you grumble getting comfortable again. Wades arm goes behind your back casually, his other behind Logan. It’s roughly dinner time now and neither three of you want to get up.

“Take away?” You ask.

“Fuck yes” Wade says and you look to your room and hover your phone to you.

“So cool” Wade giggles and you roll your eyes ordering some take away.

After dinner you’re all watching some crappy horror movie the channel chose, you’re leaning heavily against Wade without realising and apologise when you catch yourself doing it a few times. He just smirks at you and you shrug it off before you rest against him again and frown as his arms goes around your shoulder, while his fingers draw lazy patterns on your arm. It feels nice and you find yourself lying more on him and your eyes getting heavy. You try to stay awake but you lean against Wades chest and fall asleep surprisingly easily.

Wade smirks when he feels you lean against him before you sleep and his heart picks up. He looks to Logan who looks seething with jealousy and it makes him smirk. Logan is either choosing to ignore his arm around his shoulders or is waiting till you’re asleep a little while longer to slice it off. Only he doesn’t and Wade finds himself tired too, what more perfect pillow than a human/Wolverine heater. Wade shuffles a bit making sure not to wake you, you stir a bit and he freezes before you relax. Wade leans against Logan pushing his luck with a small smirk as he tilts his body to rest his back against Logan’s shoulder/chest area while tugging you closer. You go willingly even with your mumbled sleep talk you lay on his chest fully as he lays against Logan.

“See this is nice” he whispers teasingly and Logan grunts in warning.

“Oh come on as if you’re-“ Wades stunned to silence for the first time as Logan’s arm he’s leaning on goes over his chest and over your back, holding you both to him.

“I’ll slice your fucking tongue out if you don’t stop talking” Logan growls and Wade shivers in response before nodding enthusiastically. Logan rubs your arm gently and Wade grins at the content look on your face.

[joemama-2]

Midnight Baking

megumi x reader

a/n: a little cute fluffy drabble after my last megumi post, he's so lovely.

"move over.” megumi's gruff, but tired voice startles you, almost causing the whisk in your hand to fall to the ground. you turn you head over your shoulder, it's dark and late at night so you have to squint your eyes to actually see him. he's rubbing his eyes, standing in the doorway to the kitchen. only then do you realize that he wants you to scooch when he lazily motions with his hand.

confused, you move a bit to your right and he walks to the sink, turning the water on and getting started on washing the several dishes you already had in there. he wants to scold you about the number, especially since you obviously just started. but everytime he does, you hit him with a "i'm baking, obviously i'm gonna dirty dishes".

"did I wake you up?" you ask, voice quiet in case he actually is just sleepwalking, which would explain this. never has megumi helped out with your late night baking scandals, considering he wasn't an insomniac like you and he was a pretty heavy sleeper.

"no." he mutters, a lie. "i was awake for a while, figured i'd help you." his hands work diligently at the dishes, lathered in soap suds. and you can't help the small flutter of your heart and grin forming. but, he quickly adds on. "don't wanna wake up to a shit ton of dishes to wash either."

"hey!" it's a little too loud since he gives you a side glare, causing you to lower your voice. your attention turns back to whisking. "i always clean up after myself."

a huff. "you mean I do." you want to roll your eyes, but you know he won't see it, so you hold back.

a small silence envelopes you too and he finishes washing, wiping his hands. "brownies?"

"mhm." you nod. "but i'm adding some matcha in them, cause remember you said you had them that one time at that cafe you didn't invite me to."

a sigh is held back from him. you two have gone over this already, he says it was a lunch invite from itadori, but you say it was a date and he's cheating on you. "didn't think you remembered that."

"why wouldn't i?" you look at him, setting the whisk down. "i remember everything you tell me."

god, he feels his cheeks heat up. he fights back a smile, instead huffing. "yeah, yeah, whatever." he reaches up to grab one of the trays from your cabinets. a thought goes through his mind that makes him wonder how you would reach it if he wasn't there.

setting the tray down, you begin to fill it with the matcha brownie mix. "you need to start just reading a book if you can't sleep." he says.

you scoff. "i'm not you."

"what's that supposed to mean?"

"it means you're a bookworm." he frowns, that cute one that makes you kiss it off his lips every time. after the mix is successfully poured in, he opens the oven and places it in. you already had it preheating.

he leans up and see you licking the whisk clean, like always. and like always, he allows you to offer him some, tongue swiping over the same areas yours just did. "a cute bookworm, though." you say, gently chuckling as you welcome his arm around your waist to bring you closer.

"i'm not cute." he holds the whisk out for you to get the last few licks, because he knows you'd throw a fit if he took it all. been there done that. his thumb absentmindedly rubs soothing, small circles along your hip.

"uh huh, sure you're not, cutie." he grimaces and you laugh, hand cupping his cheek as you two share a light kiss to one another's lips. at least that's what you think before he dips down for another. and another. and ano--

"okay, okay." you huff playfully hand squeezing his cheek. "don't get ahead of yourself, you'll hurt yourself."

his face buries itself into the crook of your neck, inhaling your oh so sweet scent, placing a small kiss to your pulse. "shut up." he grumbles.

you two move to the couch, laying on him and idly playing with the hem of his shirt as you discuss mundane things to pass time until the pastries finish. you tilt your head up to meet his eyes and he's already looking at you.

he stares back. "what?"

"nothing, just thinking."

"about?"

"how much i love you."

and you always knew just the right things to say. his ears heat up again. "why are you being so cheesy right now?"

"can't i express my love to the greatest, bestest boyfriend ever?" you scoff.

"i'm your only boyfriend." he retorts. his eyebrow raises as you look away, holding back a smile. "don't do that." he nudges with his shoulder.

"do what?"

"not agree with me."

you roll your eyes now, looking back at him. "don't get your panties in a twist, you already know you're right." he says nothing and you let out an overdramatic sigh. "you're my only boyfriend."

he hums in approval, it's your turn to nudge him. "your turn?"

"for?"

"tell me you love me and that i'm your only girlfriend and i'm the best." now, he turns his head away, inhaling a hiss as if you couldn't be further from the truth. "megumi!" you say, lifting your body up slightly.

he lets out a small chuckle, pulling you down and kissing your lips, thumbs caressing your cheeks. "you're my only girlfriend, you're the best, and i love you."

you smile. "i love you more."

he lets out a small sigh, but gives into your cheesiness. "i love you most."

[magoapple]

Telling the kids they're going to be a big sibling

Pairing: hyung line x reader / maknae line

Genre: marriage au

Warnings: some suggestive but mostly heart clenching fluff

Summary: You two decide to tell your older kid(s) that they're going to be a big brother/sister.

BANGCHAN:

You found out you were pregnant again almost three months ago. Chan came up with the good idea of waiting until things were in the safe zone to tell your son Jesse, he was going to be a big brother. While Jesse was in school, you and Chan decided to go shopping and get a few things. Once you made your way back home, you got everything set up. “Channie, do you think he'll be happy? Like actually thrilled?”

Chan came to your side and wrapped his arms around your waist. “He's going to love it. I grew up with a younger brother and sister, and it was wonderful! I'm positive that Jesse will be thrilled.” You smiled and finished up what you were doing and set it aside until your son came home. Now you just had to occupy your thoughts and calm down.

When Chan went to get Jesse, you set up the house. You finished putting up the last decoration as they walked through the door. “W-wait, close your eyes!” Both boys quickly covered their eyes, making you laugh. “Okay now you can open them.” Chan opened his before Jesse and stood by your side. On the count of three, the both of you popped confetti cannons. “Surprise!”

“Woah what's all this for, it's not my birthday and I didn't pass a test, so I'm confused.” Chan ruffled his kids' hair and handed him a card. “It's something different but good, you see your mom is pregnant, which means you're going to be a big brother.” Once the words big brother left his mouth, Jesse's eyes shot towards you. “Is it true! Wait, really!” He ran, hugged you both while jumping up and down. “Oh I wished this would happen, and it did, I have to tell Minji!” The boy ran off in fits of giggles, leaving just Chan by your side. “I told you he'd be thrilled.”

LEE KNOW:

Ever since Minji heard that Jesse was going to be a big brother, she's been bugging you and Lee know about a sibling. That was well over a month ago, and you're here now staring at a positive pregnancy test. Lee know was off to pick up your daughter, and you didn't know how to react. Of course, it's been talked about, but you couldn't just flat out say it. This needed to be special for the both of them.

You grabbed your purse and headed to the store as fast as you could. You grabbed a card and a baby onesie hoping you'd make it before them, but that wasn't the case. Lee know had his phone and was about to call you as you walked through the door. “Mommy!” Minji ran and hugged you, grabbing at the bag you had. “Oh this uh Min wait-” Lee know grabbed the bag and looked inside confused.

“Well I have you both here so, well, I found out today you're going to be a big sister, Minji!” The little girl squealed and hugged you tightly and her father. “This is the best. I can't wait to tell everyone at school tomorrow!" Lee know pulled you into his arms and kissed you. “We're pregnant again? This is the best day”

CHANGBIN:

Getting pregnant the first time was very hard for Changbin and you. You had complications during the birth and were honestly a bit frightened to go through it all again. Changbin understood your fears and you both were content with your twins. However, similar to any kid they would ask about siblings, and you didn't know how to break it to them, neither did your husband.

You spent countless nights awake thinking of what to do, and it finally hit you.

It was around 1am and you shook Changbin awake. “Mmm baby what is everything okay?” You laughed a bit and moved his bangs from his eyes. “Yes, just, you know how Cho and Areum have been wanting a little sister.” Changbin sat up, nodding at your words. “Well we can get them a puppy, it's not like a sibling but in a way it is, and you used to want a dog so bad when we first got together.” You really hoped he liked the idea.

He did, and you found yourself adopting a little chocolate lab. The twins were over the moon and named him Max. As luck would have it, the following year you got pregnant and weren't as scared any more you were actually quite excited. When it came time to tell the girls, you and Changbin went all out and had a party and gave both girls baby dolls. It took some understanding, but once you told them you were having their baby sister they couldn't be happier and Max was delighted as well.

HYUNJIN:

It's been 5 months since you had your son Jin young when you found out you were pregnant again. Of course, you weren't surprised, as you and Hyunjin were inseparable. It was still shocking. You put Jin young down for a nap and thought of cute ways to break the news to your husband. You were positive he'd be thrilled, but had slight doubts.

You phoned Lee know's wife and talked to her about it. She congratulated you and talked about how she told Lee know and Minji. She gave you cute tips, and you were off to the store with your son. You didn't want to be cheesy or cliché but Hyunjin loved all that, so you went to the bakery and had a little cake be made. You got a few things for supper and headed back home, where Hyunjin was waiting for you.

“Ah ha there's my beautiful wife and handsome little boy” he took Jin young and kissed all over his face. You always knew he'd be a great dad. “Well I actually have a surprise, and we get to have dessert before dinner.” You took out the cake and told him to cover his eyes which he did but confusingly.

“Baby what is… You're pregnant?” The cake was his favorite flavor and written on it was 'Dad of 2' his face lit up and looked at Jin young. “You hear that little man you're going to be a big brother” The scene that played you wanted it to last forever.

◄Tumblrs system works on reblogs so if you'd like to support my content please reblog but do NOT feel obligated to►

[ihavenointerestinreallife]

filming a sex tape w/ homie… :3 not beta read. enjoy anyways 18+ mdni

—

It was 12:23 AM, most of America was sleeping, or at the very least settling down. But not you, you were wide awake, and definitely not your Supe boyfriend.

Your nimble fingers worked urgently to get the shitty, grainy laptop webcam to be at the perfect angle. You grasped the laptop monitor with a sense of haste, undertones of anxiousness not going unnoticed by your partner standing a few inches away. Homelander watched you perform your intended execution; find the best angle to record a sex tape.

His arms were folded over his chest, as if he were a child being denied. “Is this really necessary babe? I mean, cmon, it’s not like anyone is gonna watch it.” He stated matter-of-factly, his eyes devoid of any emotion. But you knew he wanted this from how he acted the day leading up to the act; more touchy, more possessive– as if the knowledge of what was to come heightened a sense of ownership over you.

Any disinterest he showed in this moment you knew was fabricated. Being a Supe yourself you had heightened senses, and the sweat dripping down his forehead coupled with his rapid heartbeat made you blatantly aware of his want, his need to be so intimately claimed by you.

You plopped yourself on Homelander’s black leather couch to see the view of yourself in the webcam. “God, with how rich this company is, you'd think they could afford technology with better quality than this shit.” You rolled your eyes while checking yourself out, flipping your hair to the back to get a good view of your clothed breasts.

Once again Homelander scoffed at your actions, this time at you caressing your own breasts– especially now that your peaked nipples were so painfully obvious to him. “I thought this was supposed to be our sex tape, not yours.” He grabbed your body with ease, not setting you down until he was seated in your previously occupied position, and you in his lap.

“You’re right babe, this camera angle does suck,” he paused, moving your hair from one side to the other to begin peppering kisses down your neck. “Barely fits us both, which is crazy considering how fucking small you are.” Homelander shuffled forward, unintentionally teasing himself in the process when his semi-hard on rubbed against your clothed crotch. He reached in front of you to angle the monitor up to a point where it caught a glimpse of both of you– your lightly flushed face and his eyes dark with need.

His fingers danced up and down your arm, slowly creating goosebumps in their wake. “When you asked me to do this the other day, I thought you were fucking crazy,” he said, huffing out a small laugh against your shoulder blade. “But now I know I was the crazy one for not thinking of it sooner.”

His earnest tone made you release a small whimper of need, forged from the desire to be wanted even more by him. Homelander let out yet another chuckle against your back, this time adjusting to where he was sitting up straight and you sliding further down his lap.

“You know,” you began, pausing to bite your lip to suppress another whimper when he began rubbing your thigh, “Ashley is gonna kill us if this gets out..”

He pulled back, scoffing with what you couldn’t tell was actual annoyance or not. His blue eyes, now tinted with a shade of black from his blown pupils, bore deep into yours on the screen– you thought your heart was going to explode out of your chest. Homelander’s eyes trailed down after a moment, beginning to rub your thigh again. “Fuck Ashley,” his eyes snapping back up to meet yours in the computer screen, “and fuck everyone else that isn’t you and I.”

Truthfully you were ready to start recording ten minutes ago, but now your hands inadvertently rushed to hit the record button, earning a small smothered laugh from your partner. “Oh baby, you really are desperate aren’t you.” Homelander said with a newfound deep, husky tone– he was a natural.

As if he could sense your rapid heartbeat, he took control to save you the trouble. His gloved hands maneuvered your body to twist in a somewhat uncomfortable way, but it became worth it when your lips locked. The two of you collided like animals, teeth almost clanging together from how bad you wanted the other; but truthfully, you both needed each other– in more ways than one.

Whimpers and muffled moans spawned from your throats, you sang together as if you were doing a duet you’d done a hundred times. Sex with Homelander was passionate; rough when needed, but always creating a sense of bliss whenever you both came together. The two of you had an unspoken dynamic, something you shared about who controlled the power during these moments; it was a matter of whoever grasped that power first, and it seemed he had this time.

Homelander forced himself to take his lips off of yours by pulling your hair, forcing you off as if he couldn’t bring himself to do it alone. “Face the camera honey, don’t be greedy. Show ‘em how sweet you are to me.” He doted, rubbing your cheek as he faced you back towards the camera.

When you hadn’t moved after a moment, he let out a low grumble that resembled a growl. His fingers pulled on the hem of your shirt, beginning to tear it in half before you grabbed it from his grasp and pulled what remained of it off. “That’s a good girl,” he praised you, fingers teasing your pebbled nipples through the lace material of your bra.

He leaned back against the couch– slightly out of the camera's view– to admire the set you wore for this occasion. You felt his cock grow under the confinement of his suit as he realized the colors resembled that of his own personal brand: red white and blue. Fuck, he thought, hand rubbing up and down the exposed skin of your sides, drinking in the view in front of him like he couldn’t get enough.

“Ladies and gentleman, America’s favorite whore.” He bestowed that title on you as if it were a royal position, then sitting up and wasting no time unclasping your bra as if it were a lock hiding buried treasure.

He continued addressing the nonexistent crowd– one that would hopefully never exist– as he kept his eyes on you. “I don’t know why she insists on wearing this unnecessary thing all the time, a slut like her should always be ready for me. Isn’t that right sweetheart?”

You were in a daze, staring at Homelander’s face on the screen– it seemed as if the only thing keeping you from zoning out was the flashing red button that signified the ongoing recording. Homelander got tired of waiting though, despite how stupidly cute he thought you looked, and he grabbed your jaw with his glove; an act he knew you loved.

“I asked you a question,” he flashed his canines to the camera, “and I intend on getting an answer.” He especially knew you loved when he was mean.

You spoke for the first time since the camera began recording, finally setting it in stone that it truly was America’s most beloved Supe couple about to have raw, unedited sex right on camera. “Mhm, fuck,” Homelander hooked his thumb in your mouth, a taste of rubber flooding your tastebuds as you desperately tried to suck it, “‘m such a slut for Homelander..”

Homelander’s free hand palmed your left breast in response, the other still held in your mouth because he just knew it was causing a pool down in your panties. And he’d be right, like always; you’d be a fool to think he didn’t know your body better than you did.

You began to grind slowly on his lap, careful not to set too fast of a pace, lest he deem you too greedy and halt your movements altogether. Homelander wasn’t an idiot; he could feel your slow movements whether you tried to hide it or not– and your erratic heartbeat was a dead giveaway, anyways. But he didn’t mind– instead, his hand occupying your breast came down to roughly grip your thigh, urging your movements to gain speed.

And you did just that, gasping whenever your clit rubbed against his equally needy cock. You knew that your boyfriend’s superhuman strength would be the cause of the bruises that would appear on your legs soon, but you didn’t care– in fact you loved when he would mark you up and make you his, you craved ownership just as much as he did.

“Look at you,” Homelander vocalized as if he were singing a song to you like a bird. His right arm came down, taking his thumb with it, and pulled you flush against his chest. His eyes met yours for a brief moment as your bodies collided before turning back to the camera, “getting my suit all wet, humping like a bitch in heat– some might say she wants to be watched.”

You let out a loud moan at his words, choosing an even faster pace than the one you went at before. Homelander stopped speaking, instead choosing to sit in silence and drink in the sounds you gave him. He could tell you were getting close from how desperately you began to grind in his lap, and he'd be lying if he said he wasn’t getting close to that point himself.

Both your eyes and his met again, longer than just a brief moment this time. He held you there without a word– you knew that he was forcing eye contact with you and breaking it would result in a punishment. “I know how bad you wanna cum on my lap,” Homelander took pride in the fact that he could get you off practically without touching you, all he had to do was maneuver his hips into a perfect angle that could grind against you until couldn’t take it anymore. “I know baby, I know- but we’ve got an audience to impress.”

He gave you no time to react to the fact he was unbuckling the golden belt that hung around his waist, having to arch your back in order to act with one hand; his other was busy forcing you in place by a rough grip to the shoulder. Despite your attempts to look back over your shoulder and watch the way he prepped himself to fuck you, it was to no avail. “Keep your eyes forward, honey.”

You threw your head back in a fit as if you were a child being told no. A small whine of impatience slipped out, earning you another breathy chuckle from Homelander. He gave your attitude no attention, instead rubbing small circles on the flesh of your ass, creeping closer to the lingerie seemingly vomited on by American patriotism. Fuck, he thought– this time expressing it aloud. It was in these moments you felt your relationship with your Supe boyfriend become the most aflame; his possession, need and want to claim you whole. You wouldn’t be surprised if he devoured you one day.

Homelander’s fingers, still gloved, slowly moved the lacey material of your panties to the side. One hand rubbed teasingly up and down your soaked slit, the other jerked his cock slowly– not only was teasing you, but he was teasing himself. “Look at the camera, sweetheart, I want you to tell them why you think Homelander should give you his cock.”

It was an interesting request, the man spoke as if he really was convinced this would get out. “H-homelander should– fuck,” you were cut off by the tip of his finger shoving its way inside you– not all the way, but just enough to make you ride it as if it were the best thing you’ve ever felt. Clearing your throat, you continued, “Homelander should give me his cock cause I’m his good girl, his good slut.”

Your response must’ve satisfied him based on how he picked you up as if you weighed nothing and turned you to face him. He wasted no time maneuvering your body to an angle in which the camera could watch his cock slip inside achingly slow, his head falling back against the couch in pleasure. You both let out loud moans in responses as if you were teenagers again, lost in the feeling of the first time.

Once sheathed fully inside your cunt, he waited til the first pulse of your walls to begin moving. Homelander’s hands gripped the fat of your hips and moved you himself, not giving you a chance to contribute to move on your own. He was groaning– growling even at that point, you knew his possession of you peaked during these moments; it was a high.

“Look at the way your pussy grips my cock, like she was fucking made for it.” His eyes met yours, now ignoring the audience that never existed in the first place. “Maybe you were made for it baby, what do you think? Not made to receive Compound V, no– not even to save the world.” His pace began to increase, the sound of skin on skin echoing through his large penthouse. “Just made to sit pretty and take it.”

Homelander licked his lips, thumbs rubbing circles to make up for the rough grip he had. The movements of his arms had you bouncing up and down on his lap, and his eyes were fixated on where your cunt swallowed his cock– it was like where the ocean met the sky, a renowned beauty. You knew he was obsessed with how he’d trained your body to act under his command, something he didn’t even have to try to do. It came easily, being Homelander’s.

His hand gripped the base of his cock and pulled it out achingly slow, earning a whine from you in response. He clicked his tongue at your obvious need. “Turn around, angel,” he commanded. You were quick to oblige him, flipping to have your back flush against his chest in a flash– you loved being a Supe. His hands rubbed on your sides, and you could feel the heat from his body radiating through his suit on your back.

Homelander flashed a smile at you on the screen, to which you smiled back. He kept your eyes there, fixated on the sight of his messy appearance as he slid back inside you. He watched on the monitor as your mouth went agape, but all he did was laugh; he mocked you– eyes wide, lips open and an overly exaggerated moan. To anyone it might have spawned embarrassment– but it only stirred you on, made you moan again.

That must’ve ignited some nasty, primal urge in him; the fact you got off on him lowering you to stare of inferiority, the way your half lidded eyes locked on to the sight portrayed on the screen. He made sure to show the camera each and every time your cunt swallowed his cock full. Homelander felt so full of himself here, he basked in the knowledge you were addicted to the feeling only he could give you.

His gloved hand wrapped around your throat, sparking you to grind your hips faster on his lap in an attempt to reach your peak. Nothing but a gentleman, Homelander was set on always making you cum before himself. Of course, there were times he failed– he blamed it on the fact your pussy was just too made for him– but he paid it back tenfold, giving you as many orgasms as you could take.

But at the end of the day he was human, too, and you could both tell you were getting close. “Cmon baby, fuck, I know you’re getting close, I need you to show ‘em how you cum on my cock.” He panted out, expression now seemingly dazed too at the way you tighten when he squeezes your throat. You loved watching black spots dance in your vision, a stark contrast between the abundance of pleasure you were receiving.

You nodded. “Yes, let me show them,” you choked out with all the air still left in your lungs. Your ears began to ring, blood trying its hardest to keep you conscious but alerting you to its incoming failure.

Sensing your impending asphyxiation, he let go– but Homelander had no intention of giving his girlfriend time to bask in the new air now swarming in your lungs, instead bringing that same hand down to rub harsh figure eights on your puffy, swollen clit. It was almost as if he was in a rush to get you to cum, knowing the new sensation would bring you to that place.

And he was right, your head fell back on his shoulder as your body shook upon your orgasm. He fucked you roughly through it, hips still snapping at the same pace as your evident release began to coat the fabric of his suit. Your shaking hands found their way onto his cheek, moving your head slightly to the side in order to pull his lips to your own. It felt like grabbing a table to avoid falling, he was your hold.

The kiss kept going while he finished inside you. His hips slowly began to stammer, only stopping completely when both of you whined in oversensitivity. Instead of slipping out, Homelander kept you locked in a kiss, only breaking it to touch foreheads with you– a silent way of asking if you were okay. You’d nod, smiling.

He’d pull away after a few moments, turning his attention back to the screen as if he’d just remembered it was going. “Well folks, I hate to cut it short but I’ve got to go fuck Miss America– again,” he spoke as if he were a goddamn talk show host. “But this time all for myself.”

You giggled, burying your face into his neck as he stopped the recording. Of course, you knew Homelander wasn’t bluffing, he never lied about when and where he’d fuck you. After taking you once again on the couch, he’d take you in his bed– once, twice, until you both fall asleep.

A nice slumber, your naked, sore body wrapped in the sheets with his. The room smelled of sweat and sex, but you loved it. You’d even argue the sleep afterwards was the best part of it all…

…until a frazzled redhead practically beats the door of Homelander’s penthouse down, screaming about how your naked bodies are now plastered online. Oops.

—

i need God

[absolute-flaming-trash]

Pairing: Yandere!Mahito x Reader

SFW

Word Count: 1'745

Warnings: Yandere, Kidnapped Reader, Captive Reader, Implied death and torture (not reader), Brief descriptions of blood, Possessiveness, Implied abusive behaviour.

Additional Notes: Ya girl gets chronic nightmares, so I'm being self-indulgent here.

Nights like these were always rough.

It was cold. Cold enough that you could see your breath every time you exhaled, and you wrapped your arms around yourself for an additional layer of protection against the frigid air.

The sound of the hammock’s ropes resonated throughout the empty chamber of the sewer, creaking as you rocked it back and forth. The hamstrings in your calf had begun to burn over an hour ago from the repetitive motion of pushing from the heel of your foot to the ball, but that didn’t stop you from doing it. Back and forth. Back and forth. Each motion accompanied by the sound of rope straining under weight.

At times you swore the weight of sleeplessness added onto your actual biomass.

He wasn’t there. Mahito usually wasn’t when you woke up like this. Cold. Tired. Achy. It almost made you miss him, but the sane part of you that remained was thankful for the absence.

He had already seen far too many sides of you for your liking. Him seeing another would be… well. Gut-wrenching was always a good way to describe it, but violating came closer.

Back and forth.

Part of you wondered where he went in the evenings. Curses didn’t sleep, and he typically got his fill of you during the daylight hours, so - as far as you knew - once you drifted off he was gone in favor of unleashing whatever horrors he desired to inflict that night. Sometimes you’d hear distant screams echoing along the vast expanse of the sewers, and you knew he wasn’t far.

Those nights you folded the single pillow in the hammock over your ears and muffled the sounds of suffering to the best of your ability.

But there were no screams tonight. Just the creaking of the ropes and the distant drip of water from a leaky pipe.

“Trouble sleeping?”

Mahito’s sudden voice from behind startled you so badly that you over-calculated the rocking motion of the hammock and sent yourself spiraling onto the concrete floor.

A new sound filled the air - his degrading, overzealous cackle bouncing off the walls while he held an arm over his stomach, doubling over at the sight of you.

“Look at you, you should see your face!”

The tired glare you sent him only earned another round of laughter and you sat up with most of your weight supported behind you on the palms of your hands.

“I thought you went out.”

“I did~.” He said, reaching out and pulling you back up to a standing position by your upper arm once he was finished with his laughing fit. “And now I’m back.”

You hummed lowly in acknowledgement, brushing bits of idle debris off your clothes using your free hand but stopped when his grip tightened on your bicep.

He leered closer to you, the hot rot of his breath hitting you directly in the face.

“Well?”

You swallowed. “Welcome back.”

He grinned, teeth flashing in the dim lighting before he pulled you with him, falling backward into the hammock with you between his legs, back resting against his chest.

It was deceptively domestic, especially when he ran his fingers up and down your arm absentmindedly. The additional warmth of what little body heat he provided did not help in the delusion, either.

“Why are you awake?”

“Couldn’t sleep.”

“I know that.” He poked your cheek, the nail of his finger digging into the soft skin and leaving a crescent moon shape. “I asked why.”

You shrugged, not giving a verbal answer outright, but the sigh that followed gave away far more than you intended to.

Mahito clicked his tongue and put his hand under your chin, forcing your head to tilt back so you had no choice but to look at him. It was a little awkward with the semi-upside-down positioning, but things like that were never of any concern to him.

“Details, sweetheart, stop stalling.”

You made a face at the pet name he had chosen for this week. It was tacky and tasteless, but in your opinion anything he picked was. That being said, it was better than what he had chosen the week before.

“I have nightmares, okay?”

His face filled with child-like wonderment and he let go of your chin. A small grunt of relief left you and you rubbed the back of your neck while Mahito repositioned the both of you so he could look at you better - slotting you beside him.

“Poor little thing gets nightmares…” He cooed mockingly, running a hand through your hair. “Am I in them?”

It took everything not to sneer at him. Of course, that would be the first thing he would ask. Not that you were surprised, but that didn’t lessen the near-overwhelming desire to kick him in the teeth.

You forced your feelings down and shook your head. “Not all of them.”

His smile returned, eyes gleaming at the subtext of your words. “But I have been.”

You cringed and went to look away from him, but his cool fingers wrapped around your jaw and brought your gaze back to his.

“What happens in these dreams?”

“A lot.” Your answer was clipped, not wanting to offer more, but his grip didn’t waver. Your jaw clenched. “I can’t remember all of them.”

“But you remember some.”

“Some are hard to forget.”

He pulled you closer - wrapping his arms around you so you were completely trapped against him in an embrace that made your skin crawl.

“I’m all ears~.”

Your lips formed a thin line, the silence and tension between you growing ever palpable with each second you remained quiet.

Mahito sighed, tracing patterns along your back, but his amusement never wavered. “Do I kill you, is that it?” He let his fingers slide up along the upper half of your spine, dragging them across your shoulder blade and back down again before repeating the motion. “Do you beg me for your life like you’ve heard so many do before you?”

He giggled and ran his other hand along your jaw, “You can tell me~.”

A shiver went through you, from the cold you reasoned, but you still stayed quiet - not willing to confirm the small yet horrifically accurate details of his guesses. 

Anything you feared him doing to you in the waking world, he’d done in your dreams. Killing you. Maiming you. Making you wish you were never born, but really that one was a constant even when you weren’t asleep.

He chuckled again at the silence and patted your cheek, “So predictable, I wonder if that’s what you dreamed about tonight for you to be so mousey…”

The near-hopeful curiosity of his tone had your stomach in knots and you swallowed bile.

“It wasn’t.”

“Hmm?” His expression fell, a bit of disappointment shifting onto his face but it was quickly overtaken by interest and the patterns being traced along your back came to a stop. “What was it then?”

You made a face. “Does it matter?”

“Oh, sweetheart, yes it does.” Mahito squeezed you tighter, the look on his face a little… manic. “I want to know what’s going on in that little mind of yours.”

He tapped his fingers twice against your temple in emphasis, each time making you flinch a little bit. “Spill.”

Your tongue darted out to moisten your lips, the skin already chapped and dry before you had even begun.

“It’s a reoccurring one, and it’s always the same.” You started. “I’m in a building that has endless halls and endless rooms. There’s no light coming from an obvious source, and it doesn’t illuminate everything - leaving some parts in complete black.”

Mahito raised an eyebrow, seemingly not very impressed so far, but you continued.

“There’s no exit. No way of getting out. Any emergency exit leads to another hall, and any stairs that would lead to the roof are sealed off by a wall that shouldn’t be there.

“None of the rooms are the same. Some are harder to get into than others and they don’t have a door. I have to crawl on my belly or shimmy my way between two panels that are so close together that I can’t even breathe as I move through them…”

Even the memories of the claustrophobia made you shiver.

“Sometimes the rooms are… coated. Absolutely coated in blood, but there are never any bodies. It’s thick and hot, like it had just been spilled…”

Mahito huffed, toying with a strand of your hair. “Doesn’t seem that bad, I thought you’d have thicker skin after all I’ve done to you.”

That made you both flinch and cringe, but it was quickly overtaken by a wave of anger and you shot him a look. “You asked.”

The words were bitter - doing nothing to mask the sickeningly real sting of hurt you felt.

“Now, now, don’t be like that.” He cooed, holding your chin between his thumb and index finger. “Go on.”

Your frown deepened and you shook your head. “That’s essentially all there is to it.”

Mahito sucked on his teeth and tsk’d. “‘Essentially’ isn’t everything, what are you leaving out?”

The look on his face was still one of morbid interest, but you could see the impatience starting to build behind his eyes.

Impatience meant boredom, and boredom was never good.

“...As I move through the rooms, I sometimes feel like I’m being followed by something, but when I look back there is nothing there.”

Something more serious replaced the look in his eyes in the time it took to blink. “By something or someone?”

“I don’t know!” The frustration fully bled into your tone for a moment and you cleared your throat after a beat. “I just know I can feel whatever it is watching me, sometimes so closely I can feel them breathing down my neck…”

You rubbed your neck in discomfort as if you could still feel it. “It stays that way until I wake up…”

Mahito was silent for a bit, his expression not changing and he gripped you to the point it was painful. Controlling.

Possessive.

Eventually, his grip loosened, but only enough so he could slide his hand down along your neck, the touch lingering.

“Sounds like you need different dreams, then.” He said, cold fingers wrapping around your throat, but not squeezing just yet. Goosebumps blossomed over the flesh and this time you knew it wasn’t from the cold.

“I can help with that~.”

© absolute-flaming-trash 2023. Do not repost, modify, copy, or claim.

[re-d4cted]

something about how throughout this whole qsmp stream q!phil has been taking a bunch of unnecessary damage, as if he's trying to make sure he's actually awake. jumping off the wall as soon as he logged on, constantly doing risky bucket clutches, purposefully jumping off high spots without even trying to clutch

and then now asking fit to hit him to make sure he's still awake....

this combined with how he seems to not know what's real and what's not anymore, asking fit if he's seeing the same things he is seeing and admitting that he can't tell anymore

this cubito lore is going to kill me...

[peaches2217]

Anyone order some Expectant Papa Mario? No? Too bad, I'm in brainrot tonight.

I'm so sorry.

Mario's the kinda guy that will drop EVERYTHING to go coo and make faces at and play with any baby that crosses his path, so it's really no surprise that he starts doing the exact same with his own kid... before she's even born.

It starts when Peach excitedly calls him into the bathroom while she's getting ready to shower one night and shows him the absolute tiniest, least noticeable bump in her abdomen, so small it took getting naked and looking at herself in profile in the mirror to even recognize it. It's been a few weeks since they got the news, but this is when it really hits both of them that Oh, there's a baby in there. And suddenly Mario's kneeling down so he can kiss and press his cheek against Peach's stomach, talking to it like whatever's within can actually hear him yet — "Look at you! Already getting so big! You keep getting big and strong for us, okie-dokie? Mwah! Mwah! Mwah!" And Peach eventually has to push him away through fits of laughter because that area is way too ticklish for all that kissing. The nightly ritual of Storytime (amended to Daddy-Daughter Storytime when finding out they're having a girl some months later) begins the following evening and is religiously observed to the day of her birth.

The first time he feels their daughter kick, it's in response to Peach's voice. Mario spends the next several nights with his head against Peach's chest and his hand on her belly, singing lullabies and telling their baby all sorts of stories, jumping back and forth between English and Italian, trying to see what will get her to react to his voice. But Peach's voice is the only one to get a response out of her for a while, leading Mario to, of all things, start making bribes. He'll get her a whole stable of Yoshis, she'll never have to so much as touch a vegetable if she doesn't want, he'll have an entire castle built from scratch just for her, and all she has to do is kick his palm, right now. Peach tries to offer suggestions for his bribes, but he dramatically shushes her if she speaks any louder than a whisper. The offers are only valid if she kicks for him and him alone!

One such night, after much giggling between the couple but little success, Mario gives up for the evening, assuring his little albicoccetta that he'll spoil her no matter how stubborn she insists on being. "Papà ti vuole tanto bene," he tells her. And then he feels a nudge against his hand, just as he finishes speaking. He proceeds to tell her this exact phrase every night before bed for the rest of his natural life.

The bribes make a return as Peach enters her third trimester and their little girl's nighttime activities prevent her from getting a decent night's rest. It's annoying, yes, but still those nights always feel worth it; whether it's at 10 PM or 3 AM, Mario will get her a warm drink, help her get comfortable again, and proceed to offer impractical material riches to their baby in exchange for settling down for the night. Sometimes that's enough, and he'll ask Peach to remind him to add everything he's offered tonight to their ever-growing imaginary list of things they're obligated to give their child once she's born. Other nights, just hearing his voice won't calm her down, or Peach will be sincerely uncomfortable to the point of pain, or they'll both be too tired to keep up the comical charade, so he'll just hold his wife close and hum songs or mutter half-awake nothings to soothe both of his girls.

(One night in particular, he tries the gentler approach of kissing her belly and asking their baby nicely if she'll consider mellowing out. The resulting kick to the face is shockingly strong, enough that it actually kind of hurts; he and Peach just stare at each other in dumbfounded shock for a moment before collapsing into laughter. "Rude!" he chastises, wagging his finger at her stomach. "You're grounded! You're not allowed to leave your room for the next two months, capito?")

Mario's in an absolute panic by the time he reaches Peach's bedside, berating himself for leaving her side for even a SECOND, asking her how she's managing the pain, reminding her to breathe, he's here, he'll see her through this — but her water just broke like ten minutes ago and the contractions are easily manageable, so if anyone needs all that attention and comfort, it's him. After assuring him that she's alright, Peach takes his hand and presses it to her belly, where he quickly feels a feeble kick. "She's saying she can't wait to meet you," she tells Mario, and yeah, that's enough to calm him down for now. "You be good for Mama," he answers back with a cheeky grin. "Don't give her too much trouble, alrighty?"

The request ultimately goes unheeded, because it's another ten hours before it's over, and it's almost surreal to think something that small could cause so much agony. Half a day's worth of tension and fear and helplessness comes crashing down watching their daughter take her first breaths against Peach's chest, hearing her first tiny cries, and the rush of all these huge and conflicting feelings makes Mario's legs feel weak. "Combinaguai!" he finds himself saying, hovering a hand nearby but not quite close enough to touch her. She looks so fragile. "What did I say? 'Don't give Mama too much trouble!' That was a lot of trouble!" His teasing makes Peach laugh, and hearing that carefree laugh after she's endured so much suffering brings him so much relief that his throat closes up, and suddenly he can't say anything else.

"Hey," he manages a short time later, cradling his daughter for the first time while nurses see to Peach. She looks even smaller all swaddled and clean, fast asleep in his arms, and for the first time since he began talking to her, he's at a complete loss for words. That is, until she stirs at his timid greeting, blinking up at him with drowsy topaz eyes. Peach's eyes. And suddenly Mario has everything to say. There's so much he wants to tell her, so many promises he wants to make, so many stories he wants to recount, so many jokes he wants to crack, and he wants to do it all right now. But he doesn't even know where to begin. So, for the time being, he tells her the one thing his exhausted brain can actually put into words right now, choked between joyful tears and the heaviest, most overwhelming affection he's ever felt in his life:

"Ti voglio bene. Ti voglio bene. Papà ti vuole tanto bene."

[oddballwriter]

Post-Nap Lunch

꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦

Summary: A blurb with Marc just being a new dad and doing new dad things 

Warnings: It's mentioned that reader was the one who carried and birthed the baby and breastfeeds so yeah, take that as you will. 

Author’s Snip: Girl dad Moon dads are best Moon dad.

Notes: I didn't proof read this I just wanted to make something 

I’ll shut up now. Enjoy! And don’t be afraid to request.

꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦

"She's so little." Steven mused from the inside as Marc fronted as he looked at your newborn daughter, Abigail, Abi for short, napping in her crib.

"Well of course she is, Steven. She had to fit in there somehow." Marc said as he also looked at the infant lay peacefully and occasionally suckle on the pacifier in her mouth in her sleep.

"She kind of looks like a potato." Jake commented as he also watched from the inside of the head space, earning a small scolding from the rest about saying such a thing about their daughter. Even if she did look like one, a little.

This was the first time they were actually alone to take care of Abi. You had healed enough from the birth and decided to try and get back to work bit by bit. They, of course, knew the schedule that was settled for her since they've been right beside you in taking care of her but this was that first time that they were actually left to tend to her. And it was a bit intimidating since they're all new dads and worried that something would go wrong.

"Why are we watching her sleep again?" Jake asked.

"This is usually the time she wakes up from her nap, and she's usually hungry when she does." Steven explained. At least that was his reasoning. Marc agreed with him, and that was partially why he was there, but also because he just has a paranoia that something will happen while she sleeps.

"Well why don't we just do something till she wakes up. We have the baby monitor." Jake mentioned, "The most that would happen is that she'll fuss for a bit before we get her." Jake added before Abi starts to wiggle causing everyone to go silent.

She lets out the faintest little grunts before stretching out her little limbs. It takes another moment before she opens her eyes and looks around, now awake.

"Hey there, babygirl." Marc says softly as to not scare her. It takes only a second for Abi to realize that Marc is here before raising up her arms and making little grabbing hands as she makes a few louder noises, wanting to be picked up. Marc unlatches the bars of her crib and gently scoops her up and cradles her closely and securely to his chest, making sure he's doing it right. He's used to the small amount of weight that Abigail has to her so he's less offput by it and slowly walks out of the dimly lit nursery to the brighter rest of the house so that her eyes can adjust.

Abi rubs her eyes a bit before gripping at Marc's shirt. "Yeah, yeah. I know. You want lunch. Don't rush me." Marc comments as he walks towards the kitchen. Though Marc paused once he got there, a thought just now hitting him.

He'd have to get the baggy of milk from the freezer, a bottle from the cabinet, put some of the milk in the bottle, and heat it up while holding Abi. He knew that it was possible. Jake can cradle using one arm, Marc saw him do it. But he doesn't know how to do it and he can't just switch, especially while holding a baby. Marc took a moment before Steven budded in "Just set her down, mate. Her rocker is right there in the living room.".

"But I'm already holding her, and she might fuss or cry." Marc mumbled more so to himself. "She can still see you from there and it just takes a minute to make the bottle." Steven answered.

It took a bit of thinking but Marc managed to think of something. He gently placed Abi in her rocker and hit the mobile above it. And it actually worked. She got distracted long enough by the spinning and trying to grab at it that Marc was barely able to prep the bottle with milk and place it in a pot of hot water to warm up before the infant noticed that her dad wasn't there anymore. Only letting out displeased noise.

"I'm still here, sweetheart. Don't worry. Daddy didn't go anywhere." Marc said as he knelt down next to the rocker so that she could see him. It was so heartwarming to see Abi's face go from agape and confused to a gummy smile once she saw him again. And something that would be more heartwarming to you, if you were there, was Marc referring to him as "daddy" instead of just saying "I didn't go anywhere.". That was more of a thing that Steven and Jake did.

After a while of talking to and cooing at Abi, and distracting her with another mobile spin, Marc got the bottle.

"Okay. Now time for what you actually wanted, huh." Marc stated looking down at Abi and trying to get the bottle into her mouth, but she wouldn't put her mouth on it for some reason. Instead she just turned her head and made a grunt noise in disapproval. "Yeah, I know it's not the real thing but the real thing isn't available right now so we gotta do it this way." Marc said as he tried to coax the nipple of the bottle into her mouth some more.

After a few more seconds of trying, Marc decided to change position... literally, and scooped Abi up and sat on the couch to comfortably hold her and her bottle. Which, with her now being cradled, was now taking the bottle just fine and started drinking.

"There we go." Marc relieved. "Yeah, you would be used to eating this way wouldn't you?" Marc asked humorously while looking down at his daughter. Not like she'd really understand since she's an infant, or care since she was too busy going at it with her food.

Marc honestly had to take the bottle away for a moment to force her into a break because she was eating her post-nap lunch so fast, earning an "Okay, calm down.".

[sugawhaaa]

Soul x reader

At p1ece

{SOUL VER}

💋Pairing:: bf! Soul x keehos sister

💫Genre::fluffest fluff to ever fluff. Like I'm actually giggling and kicking my feet rn

💋Summary:: your keehos little sister and recently you started dating shota. It's not that Keeho doesn't approve of your relationship he's just a little protective.

💫A/N:: If you're not Korean just pretend that your keehos adopted sister and that's why he's so protective. If you are Korean he's protective because...he is idk LOL

💋Word count:: 850

💫Warnings:: none(?)

It was late in the night and you were scrolling through your phone. Suddenly you got a message from soul.

Bae: why u still awake (°3°)

You chuckled and opened the message.

You: I could ask you the same thing

You replied and instantly you saw three dots pop up on your screen.

Bae: smh

Bae: thinking bout you //^-^//

You liked his message and looked at your brother on the other side of your room. Fast asleep in his bed.

You: Wyd rn?

You wanted to sneak into his room but you needed to make sure he was okay with it first.

Bae: sitting in bed (,,°•°,,)

You: can I join you :3

You hesitantly sent it to him. Your heart raced as you waited for him to reply.

Bae: doors unlocked :3

You crawled out of your bed and snuck past your brother to the door. You carefully opened it and crept out into the dark dorms. You looked across the hall to see Soul's door open a Crack. You grinned and went over to it, carefully opening it. He looked up at you and smiled, waving for you to come inside. You shut the door and hopped on the bed. He had his switch in his hand.

"I was wondering if you wanted to play animal crossing with me?" He chuckled as he opened the console. You smiled. Playing animal crossing with him was as comforting as being in your nice warm bed after a long day. You brushed back his hair with a smile.

"You know me too well," you said as you put your head on his shoulder as he opened the game. The loading screen illuminates your faces. You strummed your hands through his blonde and blue hair like a harp as the clicking on the buttons echoed throughout the room. His plushies made a nice throne for the two of you as you snuggled against him. You could hear his heart beating softly as you put your head on his chest. Your hand rested on his stomach and you moved your hand up and down slowly. "You're growing a lot of muscle here," you teased and pinched his abs playfully. He giggled with his fang teeth poking out, his cheeks turning pink.

"Break dancing really improves your muscles," he explains as he continues to play his game, your hand under his tank top. "I don't work out hardly ever, it's just dancing tones your body," he smiled softly.

"I see. That makes sense though," you say as you watch him change his character's outfit.

"I see you're growing in certain areas too," he teased as he looked at your revealed chest. Your tank top hung low and was tight-fitted. He kissed your neck softly.

"Perv," you said as you hit him playfully. He laughed before you heard footsteps in the hallway. You covered his lips and he blushed, his heart skipping a beat. Your body was pressed right against his and the feeling was so overwhelming to him. If he was in an anime his nose would be bleeding and hearts would flutter from his head. The footsteps went back into their room before the door shut. The two of you sighed simultaneously before chuckling. You snuggled back down into the bed sheets and wrapped your arms around him.

"I think I'm gonna try to sleep now," you hummed as you closed your eyes.

"Oh do you want me to turn the switch off so it's less bright?" Shota said as he turned down the brightness manually. You shook your head.

"No, it's okay. Watching you play is calming," you explained as you cracked your eyes open to watch him play.

"Okay baby," he said as he patted your head. You blushed and grinned cheekily.

You sigh and melt into his arms "I always feel at peace with you…"

°☆° next morning °☆°

"Why were you in Soul's room last night?" Keeho confronted you as you made coffee.

"Huh?" You said tiredly as you poured your coffee into a Pikachu mug.

"This morning you weren't in your bed and you and Shota came out of his room. Also this," Keeho stated before pulling out his phone. He showed you a photo that Soul took last night. You were asleep on him and he took a selfie and put text over it saying "Got your sis in my lap :p" you blushed and noticed in the photo there was a little mark where Soul had kissed you. You covered your neck and blushed.

"Soul!" You shouted as he crawled out of the bathroom. He made a little hum noise as he came over to you. "First of all, that's a very nice photo you should send that to me," you said as you gestured to the photo Keeho held up on his phone. "Secondly…" you said before your voice went to a whisper in Soul's ear. "You could've told me that the "kiss" you gave me was a hickey!" You whisper yelled and Soul just shrugged poking his tongue out. "You're lucky you're cute,"

[ghostofskywalker]

Stop Running From Love

Crosshair/Fem!Reader

Words: 2,968

Summary: Lost after finally escaping from the Empire, Crosshair crash lands on your property. While he's recovering, he realizes something important about himself, but it takes the meddling of his brothers for him to actually admit it.

Prompt: “Falling in love, no, it ain’t for the weak" (In The Kitchen, Renee Rapp)

Notes: this is a gift for the lovely @intricatechaosofyou in the @cloneficgiftexchange song lyric exchange! I thought Crosshair fit the vibes of this lyric especially well because he would be the most apprehensive about falling in love. there's some canon divergence here, and in my head it takes place in a world where crosshair escapes the empire sometime in season 2. I hope you enjoy it :)

Clone Troopers Masterlist

When Crosshair first opened his eyes, he didn’t recognize his surroundings. He remembered the escape pod hurtling through the atmosphere of a planet he didn’t recognize, and of course he remembered crashing on the outskirts of a forest and field, but that was about it. By the time he hit the ground his vision had gone blurry, but he remembered the jolting feeling before all his other senses decided to sign off as well. 

Now, the first thing he registered was the wafting smell of something cooking in the next room. It had been so long since he had any kind of food other than stolen Imperial rations, and even then, he could tell that whatever was being made now would be infinitely better than the flavorless slop and rock-hard bricks they used to serve at the bases and send on missions. 

The second thing he noticed was how warm his body was. Spending a seemingly endless amount of time trapped with the same air in that escape pod was completely different than the soft blanket that was currently resting atop his body, and there was no way the Empire would hand out supplies like this to clones, let alone prisoners. Running his hand across the fabric, a small smile curled on his lips.

Maybe he was dead. He couldn’t imagine a version of reality where he would be afforded these comforts, not after what he had done to his family. He had spent so much time in that tiny vessel, chasing down an ice cold trail his brothers left in the endless expanse of the galaxy, maybe that crash had finally put that journey to an unsatisfying end. 

But those thoughts immediately exited his head as he heard someone enter the space, and he turned to see you approaching his resting place. “You’re awake,” you said softly, still at a distance. “That’s good, I was just about to come and change your dressings.” 

In that moment Crosshair realized another thing, that his armor was gone. He was wearing the bottom part of his blacks, but there was a loose tunic of unfamiliar fabric resting over his top half. He shifted as he sat up to face you, and he could feel the tightness of bandages wrapping across his right shoulder and upper area of his chest. 

“Who are you?” he said, and this version of his voice was alien to even him. It was scratchy and hoarse, a product of both the injuries and the fact that he hadn’t spoken aloud in quite some time. He hoped his tone wasn’t accusatory, especially if you had taken care of him while he was unconscious. 

You told him your name as you stepped closer, fresh bandages in your hand. “Your escape pod crashed at the edge of my property and when I found you, I didn’t know how long it would be until you woke up.”

If you woke up. You didn’t say that part, but Crosshair was willing to bet you’d considered it. 

“Is the escape pod still functional?” he asked, his voice coming out sharper than it had before. That thing, cramped (and now busted) as it was, was his ticket off this planet.

You stared at him for a moment before responding. You were so close to him now, one hand reaching out to remove his tunic. “I don’t know. It’ll need some new parts and heavy repairs at the very least, but I might be able to make it fly.” 

Whew. That was at least something he could work with. “Where can I find-” 

At this point you had begun to remove his old bandage dressing, but you stopped as you registered his words, raising your eyebrows. “Woah buddy,” you said. “With your injuries, you’re not going anywhere anytime soon. You need to focus on healing, and then we can tackle the task of your ship.” 

He scoffed. Who did you think you were? This was his life, and if he wanted to make terrible decisions he was fully within his right to do that. Besides, the voice in his head he so desperately tried to ignore chimed in, he didn’t deserved to be treated with this kindness. “I need to leave as soon as possible,” he said, his gaze turning steely. 

You returned the expression, gesturing down to the bleeding gash on his chest and burns on his shoulder, which were both thanks to his less-than-graceful landing. “Not in this condition.” 

“It doesn’t matter what condition I’m in, I need to leave.” 

You must have noticed the desperation in his voice, because your tone softened as you began to apply a bacta solution to his shoulder. “Look,” you said. “I don’t know what happened to you, or what you’re looking for beyond this planet, but I do know this. Unless the Empire is seconds behind you, which they aren’t since you’ve been passed out on my couch for over a rotation, leaving hurriedly will do you absolutely no good.” 

“How do you know?” he said, too shocked to elaborate but hoping you understood. 

“Your armor was a pretty dead giveaway,” you said. “And besides, people who aren’t on the run usually let their wounds fully heal.” He was silent, his mind still attempting to figure out exactly what your game was. “I don’t work for the Empire, that’s one thing I can promise. All I want is to help you, but I can’t do that if I’m worried you’re going to bolt the moment I turn my back.”

“Fine,” he said, though it came out more like a growl than he intended. 

A smile crossed your face, clearly happy at the small victory you had won over him. “Excellent,” you said as you finished re-applying his bandages. “And now, since you already know my name, can I ask yours?” 

“Crosshair.” He still wasn’t happy about the current state of things, even though he knew it would be for the best. 

“It’s nice to meet you Crosshair,” you responded, seemingly not bothered by the annoyance in his voice. “Would you like some soup?”  He nodded, and you left the room to fetch it, humming an upbeat tune under your breath as you did so.  

As much as he didn’t really want to admit it, something about you made him want to stay, and the thought was terrifying. 

Over the next few rotations, Crosshair got a glimpse of what it would be like to settle down. Yes, you lived away from others (there wasn’t another home nearby that he could see), but you didn’t do so out of fear, like he would have (and like other clones who defected were forced to). You grew your own produce, sewed your own clothes from fabrics purchased at the local market, and made a life working as a droid and speeder mechanic. In a different life, Crosshair could see himself going about his days in a similar fashion. 

The internal conflict started not long after. The escape pod he had been traveling in turned out to be crushed beyond repair, so you had pulled a decrepit-looking starship from your shed and offered that to him, and he didn’t really have any other options. 

You didn’t let him help because the injuries on his chest were still too fresh, but he made himself useful in other ways as he sat on a chair next to where you were working on the ship.  “Could you toss me the wrench next to you?” 

“The small one or the large one?” 

You poked your head out of the ship’s cockpit. “Small one please.” Crosshair nodded and tossed the tool in your direction. “Thanks!” 

Kriff, he wanted to stay. But he needed to finish what he started, to find his family and at the very least apologize for not listening to them about the Empire. And while you were so kind, could he really ask you to permanently allow him to live here? He doubted you felt the same way about him that he did about you, so those desires would have to remain in his mind for now. 

“Okay, I refitted the hyperdrive and adjusted the control panel in the cockpit,” you said, popping into view and tossing the tools in your hand to the ground with a clatter. “With a new set of converters, she should be able to go as fast as you want her to.” 

“When are you going to let me out of your clutches?” Crosshair asked, leaning back slightly in his chair. 

“Why, you want to escape or something?”  you fired back, raising your eyebrows in his direction as a playful smile crossed your face. “A few rotations probably, once your chest wound closes up more and doesn’t take as much gauze.”

“I don’t want to take up more of your time and resources.” 

“Don’t worry about it,” you said. “It’s been nice to have someone else around here.”

Maker, did he want to stay. 

But he couldn’t. 

In a very Crosshair fashion, he slipped away in the dead of night, the moment his wounds were healed. As much as it hurt not saying goodbye, it would hurt more if your feelings didn’t match his.  

***

On the surface, the man standing at the produce stall didn’t really look like Crosshair (for one, he had a rather striking face tattoo), but you could see resemblance in their mannerisms. Or you were just crazy, because there was no way those two could be connected. At this point, you had accepted that Crosshair was not coming back, and that was the end of things. 

It had stung, to wake up one morning and see him gone, with the cot he slept in perfectly made and a scrawled note on the pillow thanking you for everything you did. Of course you knew he would leave, but you at least expected that you would be around to say goodbye. 

Clearly he didn’t feel the same way about you that you did about him, or this would not have happened. It was stupid, to allow yourself to fall for your temporary houseguest, and you were paying the price for it now. You just didn’t know that paying the price meant you had to be content with seeing ghosts of him at every turn. 

You were looking at the homemade sweets one Twi’lek was selling as you watched as a young girl drag the man with the face tattoo over in your direction. “Hunter, let’s get some candy for everyone back at the ship!” 

You smiled quickly before turning away, they didn’t need you watching their every move. “Do have leftover credits?” 

“Yes, and Crosshair gave me some as well, though I don’t know why.” 

Wait. 

Crosshair? 

Maybe you hadn’t been so incorrect when you noted their facial similarities earlier. 

The man and young girl walked up to the booth, and you couldn’t stop the words from falling out of your mouth. “Excuse me, did I hear you say Crosshair?” 

The man instantly stood up straighter, a threatening gaze on his face. “What’s it to you?” 

But you stood your ground and didn’t back away. “I knew someone by that name,” you said. “I was just wondering if it was the same person, as I’d like to send him a message.” 

At this point, you saw the girl’s eyes widen, and you could hear your name in a quiet voice. The man stopped. “What did you say Omega?” 

“This is the person who helped Crosshair,” she said excitedly. “That must be why he gave me the extra credits when he heard we were coming to this system!”

The man’s face changed instantly, the threatening expression evaporating in a second. “I’m so sorry,” he said. “But usually, people who talk about my brother aren’t exactly happy to see him.”

You laughed and introduced yourself to the two, moving away from the bustling market to talk. “Crosshair told me a lot about his brothers and sister, but he never told me any of your names.” 

The man, who you learned was called Hunter, smiled. “That sounds like Crosshair for sure. He owes you a great deal, for saving his life.” 

“He doesn’t owe me anything,” you said, shaking your head. “It’s just nice to know that he found what he was looking for.”

You didn’t say anything about how he left, not sure what he had told his family. “He should have still waited around to say goodbye though,” Omega said, and Hunter stopped. 

“How do you know about that?” he asked, and you had the same question. 

“I overheard him talking to you and Echo when he first came back and you asked him about his injuries,” she said, before turning her attention back to you. “He really likes you, you know.” 

That was certainly news to you. “He does?” 

Hunter nodded. “The di’kut just didn’t know what to do, and he made the decision he thought he had to.” 

“I wish he would have said something,” you said softly, before you could think twice about it. 

“Crosshair won’t admit it, but he feels the same way,” Hunter said. 

Omega’s voice was bright as her face lit up with a realization. “You should come back with us!”

Immediately, you shook your head. “No, I don’t think that would be such a good idea,” you said. 

“If you’re worried about Crosshair being mad at you, that won’t be an issue,” Hunter said. “But if you’d prefer to move on completely, I understand. We won’t say anything about seeing you here if you don’t want us to.” 

You had to admit, the choice was a difficult one. And despite a knot of worry taking hold in your stomach, you eventually agreed to return to the ship with Hunter and Omega. If all went well, you certainly had enough land and resources for your family to grow by six, and if it didn’t, you could always pretend this day never happened. 

Omega gave you a hug as you nodded, and soon you were walking with the two of them to the rendezvous point, anxiously staring at the sky. What if Hunter and Omega were wrong? Could you handle that embarrassment? 

You wanted to run as a ship descended from the sky, but you stayed rooted in place. As the ramp touched the ground you could see three figures in the doorway, and Omega gleefully shouted across the space. “Hey Crosshair! Look who we ran into at the market!” 

Crosshair’s eyes widened as he registered you standing there, and he pushed past the other two people on the platform to step onto the ground. “We’ll give you two some privacy,” Hunter said, shooing both his brothers and Omega back into the ship. 

“It wasn’t my idea to come back with them,” you said quickly, still unsure if he was unhappy with the current situation or not. 

“I know,” he said. “When I told them how I left, I got a lecture about how I should have said goodbye, and I knew they were right. I need to apologize for that, I didn’t want to take your aid for granted.” 

“Why did you leave?” you asked, your voice quiet. “I didn’t truly imprison you, did I?” 

“It was the opposite actually,” he said, shaking his head. “I liked spending time with you so much that it terrified me, because I didn’t think you felt the same way. It wasn’t fair of me to do that, but I don’t think I would have been able to resist if you asked me to stay.” 

The feeling of worry in your stomach dissipated instantly, and it was replaced with a thunderous herd of butterflies. “Crosshair,” you said kindly, reaching up to softly run your fingertips across his cheek. “I would have never asked that of you, no matter how much I wanted to.”

His hand moved to rest over yours, and the feeling of warmth that overtook your body was honestly a little embarrassing. “I wanted you to ask,” he said. “More than anything. And I thought that these feelings were unimportant, that I could just move past them, but I couldn’t. Eventually it was Hunter who demanded I tell him why I was moping around all the time.” 

You smiled. “Well, you’ve seen my place,” you said. “I’d be happy for you and your family to come live there, if you’d be interested.” 

“Yes, we would be,” he breathed, his hands moving down to rest on your waist. 

Suddenly your faces were much closer than you realized, and your gaze flickered down to his lips. It seemed that Crosshair had the same thought, because he moved even closer. “Can I kiss you?” he asked, the look on his face akin to that of a desperate plea. 

Instead of torturing him any longer, you closed the gap between you two, crashing your lips into his. It was everything you’d dreamed of, the feeling of his hands resting on your waist and his lips against yours for the first time something you would remember for the rest of your days. 

You were so utterly lost in each other that you didn’t hear the ramp of the ship descend again, but the gleeful shouts of Crosshair’s family did pull you two apart. “Shut up,” Crosshair growled at Hunter, whose grin was the widest of them all. 

You smiled, placing a quick peck on his lips. “They’re just happy for you,” you said softly. 

“It’s annoying.” 

You laughed. “Come on, we can always continue this back home.” 

Crosshair’s grip on your waist tightened for a moment. “That better be a promise, mesh’la.” 

You just smiled as you pulled away from him, excited to extend your offer to your new family, whether they knew it yet or not.

- the end -

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