#and you can't even be bothered to do anything about it

[pomegranatesarchive]

not so secret santa

pairing: max verstappen x redbull!reader

part of redbull!reader

summary: secret santa has never been your favorite holiday tradition; in fact, you’ve always found it more stressful than fun. but this year, it’s somehow even worse—because out of all the people you could have drawn, you ended up with your teammate, max. [3.4k]

warnings: JOS VERSTAPPEN!!!! oscar piastri and his existential thoughts (and mental breakdown) fluff, reader having a breakdown over gifts. reader and daniel riccarido content. reader has 'she/her' pronouns. (yn) used once.

.

"Can't I skip it this year?" you grumbled, watching as the F1 social media admin walked up to you, a phone in one hand, and a Christmas hat in the other.

The woman frowned behind the camera, shaking the hat slightly, "You love Christmas." she pointed out.

You nodded, pocketing your phone in your back pocket, you were on your way to the garage before you were stopped by the last person you wanted to see.

You had no problem with the admin, on the contrary, you found her delightful, but she was making the round of secret santa, and that's why you were hoping to avoid her.

"Christmas and Secret Santa are not the same." you quipped, reaching your hand into the hat and swirling around the tiny slips of paper. You took a deep breath, grasping one before pulling it out, the camera following your every movement.

You leaned by, opening the slip away from prying eyes, "Shit." you cursed, quickly trying to put the paper back into the hat.

The admin laughed, leaning back, "No switching!"

You groaned, "C'mon please!"

She laughed, shaking your head, "Nope! Show the camera."

You grumbled, slowly turning the paper, Max Verstappen.

The woman laughed, delighted by the odds, "Okay. You remember the rules?"

"Don't tell anyone." you grumbled, pocketing the slip of paper, "I never know what to get!" you whined, as much as you loved Christmas the gift-giving part was something you despised, you always second-guessed yourself, and could never pick out what you deemed a 'good gift.’

"You have until two weeks from now." she beamed, before walking away, no doubt on her way to find her next victim.

.

Later that day you had a list of those who could help you on the hunt for the perfect gift. The first person on your list for help was, unfortunately, out of all people, Jos Verstappen.

Truly he was the last person you would ever want to talk to, but you thought that if anyone could be able to help you with picking out a gift, it would be Max's dad.

You would've gone to his mother, or even sister first. But they rarely visited the garage, much less when Jos was around, which you entirely understood.

"Get him something for racing," he spoke simply, you stood near him awkwardly, this was only your second one-on-one conversation in all the years you've been racing with his child, and moments like these reminded you why you avoided him, "Gloves."

You blinked, "You don't think I should get him something more personal? I mean I've known him for a while now."

"You've known him for a while and still don't know what to get him?" he sent you a look, and you resisted the urge to snap back, taking a deep breath.

"I'm bad a gifts."

"Then don't get him anything," the man shrugged like it was the most reasonable thing, "He hasn't been doing good enough to deserve a good Christmas." he scoffed.

"He's leading the championship." you laughed in amazement, truly not understanding how a father could say such things about his own child.

Jos' eyes snapped over to you, "Norris is catching up, he's not doing good enough."

"Not good enough?" you gaped, taking a step back, deciding to let it go and not start an argument in the middle of the garage, "Nevermind. Nevermind. Thank you for your…help.” you didn’t bother giving him a fake smile, turning on your heel quickly and walking out of the garage.

“Asshole,” you whispered to yourself, walking quickly with eyes on the ground.

“My dad?” you stopped abruptly, looking up to see Max in all his glory standing in front of you.

“Hm?” you blinked, staring up at him.

He pursed his lips, hands on his hips, “You were talking to my dad.”

You nodded slowly, debating whether to lie or not, “…I was.”

He hummed, left eye slightly twitching, “Okay. Why?”

Your mind went blank, thinking of any excuse you could use, “Um…”

Max eyes you, nodding along with you, “Um…”

"I just wanted to catch up."

In hindsight, you definitely should've come up with something more believable.

Max shot you a very telling look, letting you know that he didnt believe an ounce of what you were saying, "Catching up? With Jos?"

"Yes?" you squinted up at him, tone not as believable as you wanted it to be.

"You don't catch up with Jos. You don't like Jos."

You tried to look offended, "I can catch up with Jos."

Max let out a short laugh, eyes glancing behind you, no doubt to his father, "No. You don't like him." he repeated, "Most people don't like him."

You stared up at him with a blank look before letting out a deep breath, "You're right, I don't like him."

Max nodded once more, an amused look on his face, "So why were you talking to him?"

You balled your hands into a fist wanting nothing more but to tell him that you were on a search for the perfect gift, but you resisted, "I wanted to catch up with Jos but then he opened his mouth and reminded me why I stay away."

Max said nothing, simply staring down at you, a certain look in his eyes, you sighed, "I promise."

Finally, Max let up, giving you a smile, and patting your shoulder before walking towards his father.

With a grimace you quickly spun on your heel, catching Jos's eyes, you pressed a finger to your lips, hoping you would get the hint—it appeared like he didnt by the way he looked at you in a mixture of disgust and confusion.

You watched them anxiously for a moment, before scurrying away, choosing to not see the moment Max realized you had lied to him.

Back with the Verstappens, Max was eyeing his father oddly. He knew you had just lied to him, your anxious tone and the way you balled your hands into fists told him you were lying, he just didnt know about what.

"You two were catching up?" Max voiced his disbelief, the last thing he expected was for his father to continue you lie.

"Yes, Max." his father sighed, already annoyed by the talk you and him just had, and now he had his son asking him the same question over and over again.

"About what?" the exasperation in the racer's voice pulled a smile to Jos's face.

He turned to his son with his arms crossed, "Win this race, and I'll tell you."

Max blinked, truly that was the last thing he expected to come from his father...and it made him mad. Years of winning and winning, and the man couldn't tell him this one thing? When had he ever asked for anything from him?

Max scoffed, rolling his eyes before walking away, ignoring his father's calls behind him.

.

There was something so intimating about Oscar Piastri and his blank face. Maybe it was because of how calm cool and collected he was, while at the moment you were the exact opposite. Either way, you were cursing Secret Santa for putting you in this position.

It was the day after your pick when you ran into him in the hotel reception center, he was sitting on a couch, eyes and face blank.

You contemplated walking away multiple times, but you knew you needed all the imput you could get to get Max the perfect gift.

"Hey Oscar..." you sang awkwardly slowly sliding down to the spot next to him.

He blinked slowly, turning to you slowly, "Hey." he mumbled, before turning back and facing straight, no doubt creeping out some of the people walking by.

You argued with yourself mentally, trying to build up the courage to talk with the man next to you, "So uh.. who'd you get for Secret Santa?" you tried, cringing into yourself.

"I'm not supposed to tell you."

"I'm won’t tell anyone."

"You'll tell Max." you didnt bother trying to defend yourself, knowing he was right, you would've definitely blurted it out to Max.

"Yeah.." you mumbled slowly, prusing your lips.

"You got him right—Max?" he asked simply.

You snapped your head over to him before looking around the hotel reception room crazily, "Shh!" you whispered and shouted, "He could hear you."

Yesterday after Max's conversation with his father, you were sure he was going to come back and let you know that his father had spilled the beans, teasing you over not being able to keep 'secret' Santa a 'secret' for longer than 24 hours.

But he never did. Instead, he complained about Jos for almost a full hour, not once did he bring up the gift situation.

"Yes. Because I'm sure he can hear me from the track...from here."

You shrunk slightly in embarrassment, you were not aware he had left the hotel, "You never know." you scoffed, rolling your eyes, "So uh.. you're good at gift-giving, right?"

Oscar tilted his head in thought, "I mean, I don't think it's something I'm known for."

"But like, you're good at it right?" you tried leaning towards him.

"Yeah, I guess so."

Happily, you slightly bounced on your spot, "Great!" you paused, "So like, hypothetically, if you got Max for Secret Santa," you saw a small smile spread on Oscar's face, "Hypothetically, what would you get him?"

Oscar hummed, "Hypothetically..." he dragged the word out, he paused before seeming stumped, "I don't know.."

"Oscar!" you groaned, slumping in disappointment.

"I seriously don't know," he whispered to himself, seemingly distraught, "Wow...I don't know."

The room's tone shifted as Oscar kept mumbling to himself.

"It's okay Oscar," you smiled awkwardly, "I don't know, I don't know, I don't know..." he muttered to himself, avoiding eye contact.

"It's okay.." you patted his arm, noticing more and more people were glancing your way, yet he didnt stop mumbling to himself.

You laughed awkwardly, slowly getting up, "Yeah okay." you mumbled, looking around before walking away, leaving him with his mumbles.

You circled around the hotel lobby for what felt like hours (it was three minutes) continuously taking peeks at Oscar, who continued to look in horror at a revelation that he, did not know.

After a few more circles, you thankfully spotted the next person on your ‘help with gift’ list, Lando. He was exiting the elevator, a concerned look on his face as he started heading towards Oscar.

You took off in a quick jog, cutting him off mid-walk, he stumbled on his feet trying to not bump into you, “Hey!” you greeted gleefully, blocking his eyesight as they trailed back to Oscar.

"Hey." he blinked, shooting you a quick smile before his eyes inevitability trailed back to Oscar, who had a deep frown on his face.

"I need your help," you pursed your lips, Lando looked down at you in confusion before looking back to Oscar, contemplation clear on his face. You decided to clear the air, "Oscars fine. He just's...thinking, about what I'm going to ask you actually!"

It took a second before Lando nodded in acceptance, "Okay? What’s up?"

"I got Max for Secret Santa, and I want to get him something super good, but you know I'm bad at gifts right? Yeah, I got you for Secret Santa last year and it sucked," you rambled as Lando nodded with a frown, recalling when you got him a replica of his helmet, like his own helmet, it would've been thoughtful if it wasn't, his helmet, "And I asked Jos and he was no help, so then I asked Oscar but I think.. I think I broke him."

Lando looked down at you blankly, opening his mouth and closing it a couple times, before finally, he took a deep breath, "Okay.." he dragged out, "Why don't you try anything racing-related?"

"That's what Jos suggested."

Lando jumped back in disgusted, "So let's not get him anything racing-related."

You nodded in agreement, "I was going to get him a new cat but that seems like a big commitment."

Lando hummed in agreement, "Especially because he just got one, what's its name? Donatello?"

"Mhmm."

"What if you don't get him a cat, but get him something for his cats." He rose up a brow.

Your face lit up before it slowly dimmed, "But isn't that like getting his cats something and not him something."

Lando shrugged, a small frown appearing on his face, "That's all I got."

You groaned throwing your head back, "No! Lando no!"

Lando laughed, his eyes crinkling in amusement, "I'm sorry!"

You moved to his side, putting your head on his shoulder, "What'd you get Zhou?"

Lano beamed, "A pillow of his cat, Sweetcorn."

You gasped, an open-mouth smile on your face, Lando quickly cut in, "No you cannot use that idea!"

You faltered, looking up with a glare, "Have I told you how much I hate you?"

Lando looked down at you with a cheeky smile, "Many times, yes."

You grumble to yourself, slight smaking him on the shoulder before turning and walking away, onto the next and final person on your list.

.

You had lost Daniel Ricciardo's phone number. That was a big problem seeing as he was the last person on your 'quest to find Max the perfect gift' list.

You had gotten a phone two months prior, actually, Max got you a new phone, claiming that your old phone was 'deteriorating.'

During the process of switching phones, all of your contacts were deleted, a problem that was solved as you went around the track asking for all the phone numbers you could get, the problem was that Daniel was no longer at the track. You told yourself that you would get to it eventually, but you never did.

And now you were in this horrible situation, you had to somehow get Daniel's phone number from Max, without explaining why you needed it.

You could've gone to literally any of the other drivers, but they all seemed to be strangely avoiding you. (Little did you know Max had figured out the next part of your plan and told everyone to ‘hide’ from you so you had no choice but to go to him.)

He was sitting next to GP, pointing at something on the screen his mouth moving widely. You snuck up behind him, giving GP a look, hoping he would take the hint. Thankfully he did. He only took a couple seconds patting Max on his back and walking away.

Quickly you slid into his seat, shooting Max a smile.

His eyebrows shot up instantly, "You're done avoiding me?"

You laughed fakely, looking around the garage, "Me? Ignore you? What? Outrageous Max, just—outrageous."

The driver shot you a look, making you clear your throat awkwardly, "Do you have Daniel Riccarido's number?" Stupid question, of course, he had his number.

"I do." Max nodded simply, you winced you had hoped that he would just offer it on the spot, but of course is it really Max if he isn't difficult?

"Great!" you nodded enthusiastically, "..Can I have it?" you added quickly.

Max smiled to himself, turning his body toward you entirely, his head leaning on his palm, "Why do you want it?"

You faltered, swallowing thickly, "Why?" you stuttered, trying to think of a great excuse.

"Mhm. Why?"

You stared at him, "Because he's my friend. And—and I miss talking to him."

Max's smile got wider, "I got you a new phone two months ago, you haven't said anything about talking to Daniel?"

Shit. He was catching on. "I want to ask him out!" What?

You blinked, shocked at what had just come out of your mouth, Max on the other hand looked more amused than ever, "Oh?" he tilted his head, "Really? You and Daniel?"

You nodded painfully, "Yeah—yeah, um I've been thinking about it for a long time?...and this just seems like the right moment, ya know?"

Max was beaming ear to ear, "No, I don't know."

"Okay well, you don't need to get it. I just—I need his phone number please."

Wordless, Max handed you his phone, watching as you opened it and sent yourself Daniel's number, you hopped off the chair, giving him one last awkward smile, "See you later!"

Max watched you go with a fond smile, shaking his head. God he couldn't wait to see what you would get him for Secret Santa.

.

"I'm surprised to hear from you!" was one of the first things Daniel said when he picked up the phone. You were currently in the bathroom with five minutes to spare before ths race started.

"I lost your number!" you defended yourself, peeking under the stall to see if anyone had entered the bathroom, thankful nobody had, "I need your help."

"How may the wise Daniel Ricciardo help thee?"

You pulled a face, shaking your head, "What should I get Max for secret santa?"

"Easy. Get him something family-related."

You got a hear a pin drop. Easy. Something family-related, of course! Max loves his family!

"You are a fucking genius, Daniel."

"So I've been told." you could hear his smirk through the phone. Unfortunately, you didnt have time to hear him continue, "While I have you, how has your season been—“

"Sorry Daniel, can't talk, thanks for the insight! Oh and by the way, if Max or anyone asked I declared my love for you on this call and you very kindly rejected me? Okay? Okay!" before he could splutter out anything, you had already hung up.

.

Max stood in front of the camera crew, a smile on his face as he shook the small envelope, "So it's not a new cat?" he quipped.

The people behidn the camera laughed, the social media admin shrugged with a grin, "It still could be."

Max shook his head as he started to slowly and carefully open the envelope, "I don't think she could manage to fit a cat in here." nobody picked up on the 'she'

Max hummed as he peeked inside the envelope, "I see a note, should I read that first?" he looked at the admin, who shrugged.

"Okay.." he dragged out, pulling out the note, he cleared his throat as he started to read, "Happy Holidays Max! I hope you're reading this after you've opened the actual present..." Max paused, slowly turning up to the crew who were shaking in laughter, he shook his head deciding that it was too late to stop, "Getting you a present was very very, very difficult, but after some help, I was able to make my choice, I really do hope you enjoy the vacation with your mom and sister," he paused before continuing, "And don't worry about booking hotels or babysitters, I got it all done, Merry (early) Christmas Maxie, with love—your secret santa."

With a huge smile, Max placed the letter onto the table, before excitedly reaching into the envelopes, and pulling out three plane ticks, "Wow." he gasped, turning the tickets and showing them off to the camera, "It's three tickets to Greece for me, my mom and sister," he beamed, examining them further, "I've always wanted to go." he whispered to himself.

The camera crew smiled to themselves while the social media admin leaned in with her eyebrow raised, "Any idea who your secret santa was?"

Max nodded almost instantly, laughing slightly, "It's (yn) I recognize her writing."

The admin laughed, shaking her head, "That's cheating Max!"

Max shook his head, pointing at the woman, "It's not my fault I'm good at this!"

The admin waved him off, "Okay! Okay, you were right, it was her."

Max smirked, "I knew it," his eyes unfocused, wandering over to behind the group of people in front of them, curious they all trailed their eyes over to where he was staring, "I guessed right! You can come out now!" Max yelled out, the camera crew gasped as you peeked out of a thick pillar, hopping over to them with a smile.

"She was there the whole time?" the mic man whispered to the cameraman, who shrugged, mouth open in surprise.

"I don't know...but that's slightly scary."

You walked over to Max with a smile, letting out a small squeak as he pulled you into a tight hug unexpectedly, "You guessed so quickly" you groaned, feeling him press a kiss on your head.

"I found your list," Max whispered in your ear, laughing as he felt you tense up.

"Like the list?" you groaned, feeling embarrassment flood your system.

"The list," Max confirmed as you two pulled away.

You winced avoiding eye contact.

Max laughed, reaching over to squeeze your hand, "Thank you. Really. I love the gift."

You smiled proudly, before turning to the admin who was watching the scene with a small smile, "I'm warning you right now that I am never doing secret santa gain."

The woman giggled, a cerstain gleam in her eye, "We'll see about that."

.

a/n: truly impressed with the writers who write 4k words and UP fics, this one is 3.4k and it took me well over two weeks to write (which is why its being uploaded after christmas) anywhoo i hope you guys enjoyed!!!

[thekaratcake-blog]

Okay lets start immediately with, I'm not using race as a tool, crying hate doesn't absolve you of wrong doing and spreading misinformation, I don't need to be black to tell you it's shitty to justify the shit used to ensalve your ancestors, that's just obviously fucked up

Once again you immediately go to the rules for hebrew slaves, the year of jubilee only applies to hebrew slaves, the death penalty is only for kidnapping, whereas selling and buying slaves is explicitly allowed, but they are generally instead the children of the slave traders or of course, prisoners of war or slaughter, that of course does not make it better and is where a lot of the african slaves in america came from

You clearly missed my point about the shellfish, it's that god can prohibit shellfish but not slavery, you are seriously arguing that god will tell people not to eat a certain food but not bother to say you can't own slaves, I do not lack maturiy but I guess your opinion is noted, if of course you are using personal views of me as a person to try to dismiss my points however, that is what we call and "ad hominem attack" the slavery commanded in the bible for non hebrew slaves is of course, directly equivelent to american chattel slavery, stop using hebrew slave laws, you're seriously arguing that because they treated people in their group better it's fine and ignoring the ones outside of the group that were treat exactly like your ancestors

Job was literally punished and tortured by god to prove a point, that's fucked up no matter what you believe and it's also god directly killng children

My grammar and spelling is perfectly fine, and you have still failed to give a reason why we should take exodus 20 as direct command of god, but exodus 21 directly following it as anything other than that, you have just decided that arbitrarily because it fits your worldview, whereas it's context and place in the bible would dictate that it is, infact, divine instruction

Also if your god is that sort that even allows slavery to happen, that's fucked up, but you still haven't given me any good reason why it was allowed and not commanded, because again, everything else would say otherwise

You did a great job of dodging the questions about the slave's bible or god just murdering children

Kinda funny how you only address the points you think you have an excuse for, and what exactly implies I "desire so badly for my question to be answered" I honestly couldn't care less because I know the answer will avoid the real bad stuff and just use someone else's bad apologetics, however, of course, it'll reflect quite poorly on you and your religion if you can't answer these questions, so I'll lay it out again

Tell me the difference between the rules for specifically non hebrew slaves and american chattel slavery, as none of the rules you've mentioned up to this point apply to non hebrew slaves

Explain the existence of the slave's bible if you don't think it played a large role in american slavery

"Well we can't understand god so whatever he does is fine" is just a terrrible cop out, but I get it, you can't actually justify his horrible action so the best you can do with "well we just can't understand it"

And if you want, lil bonus question if you of course, are even able to respond or give a shit to, what's up with god killing children? The first born sons of the egyptians? And demanding a sacrifice of a lamb and the smearing of it's blood on the doorway to mark the children he is not to kill

And bonus 2, just the entire slaughter of the caananites

[himasgod]

Wanderer x Cheerful! Reader Headcanons

Where you are traveling companions, and he is gentle with you while you are hyperactive and cheerful.

A series of headcanons based on the relationship you would have with Wanderer if you were a bit clumsy, but very happy and hyperactive. It contains a NSFW section and each headcanon section has sample dialogue.

While you talk non-stop about seemingly trivial things, the Wanderer stays silent, listening to you with a mix of exasperation and fascination. Although he pretends not to pay attention, he can remember every detail of your stories.

"And then the cat jumped off the roof and landed right in my arms! Isn't that amazing?" "More amazing would be if you stopped risking your life for stray animals." "I wasn't risking my life! I just wanted to help him." "Of course, because you're the heroine of all the cats in trouble."

He acts like he’s annoyed by it, always having sarcastic comments ready to respond to your quips, but he actually loves seeing you cheer up. Your laughter is a sound he’s learned to value.

"Look! I bought this ribbon for my hair. Don't you think it looks pretty?" "I don't know what's worse, the ribbon or the amount of time you spent picking it out." "You're so insensitive! I'm not asking you anything again." "It suits you, by the way."

Your energy often brings him out of his state of alienation. Although he finds it hard to admit it, being with you makes him feel more connected to the world.

At first, the Wanderer finds it difficult to fully trust you. His fear of being betrayed makes him keep an emotional distance, but your warmth and patience manage to break down his barriers little by little.

"Why do you always act like you're waiting for me to betray you?" "Because betrayal is the only constant thing I've ever known." "I'm not like everyone else." "That's what everyone says."

When he feels overwhelmed by his past or his internal struggles, it is with you that he finally allows himself to be vulnerable.

"Do you want to talk about it?" "No. Just… stay here." "I'm always here." "I don't know why you trust me so much, but… thank you."

Sometimes you stay silent, resting your head on his shoulder as he closes his eyes and strokes your hair gently.

He loves to make you blush, Wanderer enjoys seeing you embarrassed too much. It can be as simple as getting too close to you or murmuring something in your ear with his low, soft voice.

"Did you know that you look cute when you're focused?" "What are you saying?! Don't just say things like that all of a sudden." "What's wrong? Can't you handle a simple compliment?"

Your reactions are his weakness, even though he constantly annoys you, if someone else tries to make you uncomfortable, his protective side comes out. No one can bother you except him.

"What's someone like you doing traveling with him? You're probably more of a bother than a help." "Say it again and make sure you have somewhere to hide afterward." "Wanderer! It's not that big of a deal…" "I don't care what they think of me, but no one has the right to talk to you like that."

Although he is not the type to openly express affection, his subtle gestures speak for themselves. He places his large hat on your head when the sun is shining hard. He makes sure you always have enough water or food during your travels. If you're hurt or tired, he stops immediately, even if he pretends it's for practical reasons.

"It's so hot here! The sun is burning my head!" "I'll give you my hat. Stop complaining and keep walking." "Thanks… but you could say it nicer, you know?" "That would be unrealistic."

His touches are slow and deliberate, as if he's afraid of breaking something fragile. He prefers quiet moments where he can hold your hand or play with a lock of your hair while you talk.

"Why do you always look at me like that when I'm talking?" "Because you make those weird hand gestures. It's… entertaining." "I don't make them weird!" "Of course not."

Your joy brightens his darkness, your optimism helps him see the world from a more positive perspective. Although he doesn't say it out loud, he realizes that you're a constant light in his life.

"Isn't the sunset beautiful? It's like the sky was hand-painted." "It's just light refracted off water particles." "You're so boring! Just admit it, you like it too." "Maybe a little."

His calmness balances your energy, when you're too excited or anxious, his soft voice and serene presence help to reassure you. Sometimes it's enough for him to take your hand and say, “Breathe. I'm here.”

"Let's go explore that forest! What could go wrong?" "A lot of things. Starting with your tendency to run without thinking." "But you would protect me, wouldn't you?" "That doesn't mean you should purposely put yourself in danger."

Although you're opposites in many ways, you both find something unique in each other that makes you feel complete. To you, he's a safe haven; to him, you're the spark that keeps his soul moving.

Sometimes you argue over silly things, like who's right about a road or how to cook something. It always ends with him winning with his logic and you throwing a pillow or an indignant look at him.

"I told you this was the right path." "And I told you maps don't lie." “Then the map is wrong!” “Or your sense of direction sucks.”

He likes to give you nicknames that annoy you but that you find strangely cute.

“That silly smile again? I should call you ‘Little Sunshine.’” “That's not a nickname! And I don't have a silly smile.”

Even though it's rare, there are times when your clumsiness or your witticisms make him genuinely laugh. When you listen to him, you can't help but stay silent, admiring how beautiful his laugh is.

“I’m fine, don’t worry!” “You’re a walking disaster.” “Are you laughing at me?! It’s so weird to see you laugh!” “Don’t get used to it.”

NSFW.

You notice that something strange is happening when you're talking about anything stupid nonstop and his gaze has a different kind of shine, one that's not curiosity. When you notice that predatory shine and something dark in his eyes, while his pupils descend towards your lips wet from talking so much, you know what he's thinking about instead of paying attention to you.

And so, at the moment when you continue talking, distracted by seeing his eyes like that, you get stuck while speaking and a small smirk covers his lips as he asks you, please, to keep talking.

So, while you are both distracted and trying to continue talking about anything, you notice how his hand absentmindedly travels to your thigh to give it a squeeze.

You're cooked. When Wanderer wants something, he gets it, greetings.

He teases you, whispering in your ear that you dare not continue talking as he begins to lower his lips to your neck.

Likewise, as he fucks you, he murmurs that he would love to see your hyperactive smile that you hide while you bite your lips desperately trying not to moan his name so as not to give him more reasons to tease you.

In truth, he is much softer with you, so those moments are something special. Protect him, he loves you very much, do not hurt him.

Here is my masterlist, in case you are interested in any more of my work or want to send me a request <3

[peppermintquartz]

Read this first

Read this second

Read this third

---

He doesn't like to lose his temper, but this once he wishes he's well enough to physically throw every last one of his visitors out of his room.

He can't, so he uses his words instead. "Get out."

"Buck," Maddie begins placatingly.

"Out!" Buck hates the way she flinches and the way her eyes shimmer with tears, so he turns away from the sight.

"Buck, we didn't mean to lie to you, you needed to rest-" Chimney puts in, but Buck grabs the bottle of water from his meal tray and hurls it in their direction. Chimney catches it before it hits anyone or anything. "Buck!"

"Out! Get out! Get out get out get out!" Buck shouts with all the strength he can muster, and the commotion must have caught the attention of a passing nurse, who firmly ushers Maddie and Chimney away from the room. once he's left alone, Buck collapses back into the pillows. His bruised side hurts and so does his head. His right ankle is throbbing.

The nurse comes back and sets a new bottle of water next to him. "I'm guessing that was not the most restful of visits, Mr Buckley. Let me check your vitals, hmm?"

"They lied to me," Buck mutters. He shuts his eyes and covers them with his forearm, for good measure, while the nurse takes his blood pressure using the other arm. The edges of the bandage around his skull brush against his arm. "They told me Tommy's alright, that he'd been here. They fucking lied to me."

The nurse hums sympathetically. "Who is this Tommy?"

"Tommy Kinard. He's in the ICU." Buck's lips wobble. "He saved my life and he's in the ICU and I can't go to him. They won't let me."

"You are still recovering yourself, Mr Buckley."

Buck sniffs and smiles weakly, lowering his arm to see who the nurse is. "Nick, hi. Everyone calls me Buck."

"Oh, so you're the miracle," Nick says with a smile. Nick looks to be about Tommy's age, his plump features and confident manner very assuring. "They tell me you and your team are frequent visitors. That's not a good thing, Buck."

"Tommy joked that we should have our own wing." Buck can feel his throat closing with emotion. "We,uh, we seem to have pretty bad luck."

"But they call you the miracle. Said you survived being struck by lightning and your heart stopped for over three minutes."

"Three minutes and seventeen seconds."

"Wow," Nick marvels. "That is a miracle." Then he removes the blood pressure cuff and shines a penlight into each of Buck's eyes. "Well, all seems good. I hope this Tommy guy recovers too, Buck."

Just then, Bobby walks in. "Hi, kid. How are we doing?"

"I wanna see Tommy," Buck says immediately.

Bobby's lips tighten. "Buck, I've been to see him. He's... he's unconscious. I don't know if it's a good idea for you to go up there and see him like that."

Fed up, Buck pushes himself off the bed and tries to stand on his one good leg. "I'm sick and tired of everyone telling me what they think I should or shouldn't do, or lying to me, or stopping me from contacting him," he snarls. "Everyone trying to decide what's good for me. I don't give a shit. I want to see him."

When he wobbles, Bobby catches him and sits him back down. Buck is breathing hard, and he doesn't even bother to try to hide his tears of frustration and worry.

"Pops, please," Buck begs, bringing up the old nickname. "He saved my life from Irene. I need to see him. If the worst happens and I didn't even get a chance to... I can't. I can't, Bobby. The look in his eyes before the semi hit us... I need to see him."

Bobby sighs. "Yeah, okay. Let me get you a wheelchair."

"No, crutches will do." Buck grits his teeth. "I can move. My injuries look a lot worse than they are."

"Kid, you were one massive bruise from shoulder to hip, you had a major concussion and you now have seven stitches in your scalp, and you twisted your ankle."

"Tommy's in the ICU," Buck counters. "I'm fine. Crutches."

---

Bobby fills Buck in on the severity of Tommy's injuries as they navigate their way to the ICU. it helps Buck to mentally prepare himself, but seeing Tommy in the bed, unconscious, looking the worse for wear - it breaks something deep inside Buck.

Once the nurses in charge have their information, Buck hobbles over to the chair the other guy - Sal, he thinks, recalling a photo Tommy showed him before of the old 118 - vacates.

Tommy looks horribly frail, connected to too many tubes and wires, his handsome face hidden by the ventilator. His hand is icy cold when Buck holds it.

"Tommy, please," Buck whispers. "I need to say it back. I need to. you can't- You're not allowed to make a dramatic declaration like that and leave me. Baby, you gotta wake up. I have to say it back to you."

He doesn't even know he's weeping until he realizes that the mask on his face is damp from absorbing his tears. Sal and Bobby have retreated outside the door.

Buck squeezes Tommy's cold, limp fingers and presses the back of the hand to his cheek. The monotonous beeps and steady hisses don't change at all.

"You're not allowed to play the hero and exit my life, you understand? You must wake up and get better. I need to apologize and we need to talk, we have so many memories to make together, you can't just leave me like this." Buck is sobbing now, and he feels a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. "I need to say it back. You gotta wake up so I can say it back."

"Tell him anyway," Bobby says quietly. "Maybe he needs to hear it."

Buck looks over his shoulder and meets Bobby's gentle gaze. Behind him, Sal is watching stoically, but his eyes on Tommy are filled with concern.

Wiping away the tears under his eyes - a futile gesture, since his mask is already pretty wet - Buck leans forward to get as close as he could to Tommy's ear.

"Tommy, I love you. I love you so much. Come back to me so I can prove it." He presses the tip of his nose to Tommy's cheek. "I love you. Please, wake up."

[rocketbaby]

please can you do some pro hero izuku… maybe with secret dating? but he gets jealous or something… ugh i love jealous izu!!!

would love nsfw too but not required! 🩷 thanks in advance if you do the request!

Argshhshh i love this sm,thank you for the request!!<3

Izuku is 25 here and reader is 20+(Afab reader)

Tw this is nsfw

---cumming inside, penetration, reader receiving, fingering and I think that's all,lemme know if I missed anything

-he cums so quickly he can't last long:((

Izuku was always the type of guy who enjoyed keeping things more private and especially since he became a pro hero,he thinks it's mature this way.Not because he was embarrassed of you or because he had something to hide but he believes that if no one knows about it(your relationship with him),no one can ruin it.

He's also a bit scared of dating you because if any villains would find out about it,they would use you to get to izuku and he just couldn't risk you getting harmed in any way. He wouldn't allow anyone to hurt his pretty girl.

So when you and him started dating you both came to an understanding and you won't reveal the relationship for a while at least.

Since no one knows about you and him,you would often get hit on and most guys that would pass by you would always find a way to flirt with you.

You were good looking so can you really blame them?

Izuku would avoid being around you in public spaces because he wouldn't want the villains to get the idea that you two were close. But he noticed the way every single guy just drools over you. He noticed everything.

He wouldn't think of himself as a jealous type of person but that's because he didn't have a reason to be jealous before. He surely does now.

He absolutely hates the way people just won't stop staring,never getting their eyes off you. He gets so angry but you won't really be able to tell because he's actually pretty good at hiding it(sometimes)

He doesn't like how guys look at you so lustfully,when they look at you like you're an object just for their pleasure. It was making him see red.

When he gets home from patrol one day,he slips his hero costume off, putting on a more comfortable fit. He makes his way up into your bedroom, checking to see if you're there. And you,bless your heart,were snuggled up with your blanket. His poor baby was cold.

As he saw you,his face immediately just softened up. He had to admire you for a bit. God you looked so beautiful and gorgeous. And man he just loved how hot you were. He always feels so guitly when he thinks about lustful things with you because he doesn't want to be like those guys who always flirt with you. He doesn't want you to think that he sees you as an object, because he doesn't. He just can't help himself.He gives you a warm smile.

"Hi honey. What is my pretty girl up to? You look cozy in there"

He said with a chuckle at the end. He always talks so sweetly with you,how can you not fall in love with this man? You return him a smile.

"hi baby,I didn't even hear you. when did you get home?"

"just a few minutes ago,honey. How are you doing, pretty girl?"

He seemed a bit off today. He was just as sweet as he always is with you,but for whatever reason you could tell something was up with him.

"I'm good,thank you. Just a little cold. Is something the batter,baby? You seem like you're bothered by something,what happened?"

Izuku sighs as she lowers his head a bit, looking down at the floor. You knew him so well,of course you do, you're a smart girl. Nothing goes unnoticed by you. He stands where he is,at the entrance of your bedroom and shakes his head

"it's nothing serious darling,just thinking about stuff"

You were about to say something back to him but before you get the chance to,you see him making his way to the bed. He gently slides in next to you and snuggles up to your neck.

You giggle. "What's up with you today?"

He let out a groan, keeping his face buried at the crock of your neck,his breath tickling you a bit.

"too many guys started hitting on you recently..ion' like it at all,it's pissing me off"

He mumbled to you. His voice was so low but still gentle. His hand makes it's way to your hip, his grip on it firm.

"ah baby yeahhh I know,it's so annoying but I promise I always try my best to ignore them"

He hums as he gently starts placing small,wet kisses to your neck. His breath was ticking you again, making you giggle a little bit.

As he hears your giggle,he lets out another small groan,the vibration of it feeling nice on your neck. He keeps planting kisses here and there as his hand moves to your thigh.

"those guys are assholes.."

He mumbled in between the kisses as you just nod, agreeing with him. His hand started caressing your thigh, moving up a bit higher. He then places one last kiss on your neck and lifts his head up to look at you

He smiles warmly and then leans in to just plant a small smooch on your lips

"they'll never get to have you, pretty girl. You're mine and I'm all yours. I wish I could show them what imma do to you tonight, sweetheart. They'd be so jealous"

His hand moves even higher, teasing you a little,right around your core. A soft gasp leaves your mouth as you didn't expect him to be so direct. You don't mind it,of course you don't,you love this actually. It's just that he's acting different today. You do have to admit.. he is very attractive when he's jealous. He tried to not show his jealousy as often or to sometimes hide it but when it's visible it's just so hot. You can't help yourself

"Mm..izuku"

He groans as his hand makes its way inside your PJ pants. His fingers started rubbing your core though your panties all while he grinds his hips against your thigh. He just couldn't help himself

"is this okay,honey? Can I keep going?You just gotta say the word and you know I'll stop.."

"yes izuku,it's okay.. please just don't stop"

He hums as he nods. His fingers then move your panties to the side a bit. You were wearing the ones he got you for your birthday. What a sweetheart you are.

As izuku does that you try to also slide off your pants too, making it easier for him

His fingers gently rub your pussy, finally entering you. He was experienced with the human body so he always finds your sweet spot very quickly and today was no different. His fingers side in deeper, pressing up against your spot, making you let out a gasp

"god you feel and sound so good,honey..I'm just so fuckin pent up because those guys got me mad,I need to remind you that you're mine, pretty girl"

He didn't waste any time nor did he give you time to reply to him. He sat up, quickly removing his belt and unbuttoning his pants.

"I need to have you.. please"

He said with a pleading tone, looking up at you with gentle eyes. You just gave him a slight nod as it was hard to talk at this moment for you. Everything felt a bit overwhelming but not in a bad way,you knew izuku would stop if you wanted to.

He removes his pants and then quickly takes off his boxers too. Poor boy,he just couldn't hold back anymore but can you blame him? You looked so sweet and delicious.

He gently takes his cock in his hand, giving it a few strokes. He was already so hard for you he really couldn't hold back anymore. He gently places his other hand on your chest, slightly pushing you down on your back.

"I need to be inside you,honey"

"please izuku,just do it already" You whine to him

He groans as he strokes himself a few more times and then he aligns his cock with your core, sliding inside so easily. It slid in so fast,you were so wet for him,He giggled a bit. His breath becomes a bit more uneven as it was hard for him to stop himself,He just needed you so bad and you were right here, giving him what he wanted and needed so bad.

He grabs onto your hips, holding you with a firm but gentle grip as he starts thrusting. His hips move at a quick pace, whining and groaning while doing so.

"fuck,I needed this so badly..I need you so badly"

He whispered to you as his hips seemed to just move on their own. After just a few more minutes of him thrusting,he managed to hit that spot you just love so much. As it was mentioned before,he's very skilled in human anatomy and he knows what and where it feels good for you, that's why it didn't take a lot for him to find your sweet spot.

You gasp and let out a loud moan and he grinned at your reaction. He was a slut for giving pleasure to others. His hips pick up the peace, thrusting inside you quickly.

"ngh..spread those legs for me,baby..I need to make you feel good"

Izuku said as his two fingers make their way between your legs, quickly finding your clit. His fingers move at a somewhat fast peace as he grins down at you, his hips never stopping as he kept pounding into you

"mmh..I'm close, honey. Should I pull out?"

He asked with a somewhat concerned tone. He wanted to cum inside so bad ,he really did but he knew it wasn't right unless you gave him permission to do it. He looks at you with a pleading expression

You just let out a softer groan,your head leaning back onto the pillow

"fuck.. please don't pull out, please izuku,I need it inside" you beg him

Poor izuku didn't waste any time as his thrusts became more uneven, trying to pick up his speed. He was so desperate to cum inside,he always had to fantasize about that he's just so lewd but it's not his fault. Of course it isn't,you're just fuckin hot,that's on you.

His fingers never stopped rubbing your clit, trying to pick up the speed a bit,and god it felt so good,your fingers will never compare to his as they were doing the job better than yours.

He groans and grunts as he keeps pounding into you and after a few more thrusts it finally hits him. His mouth opens up to let out an almost feminine whine, resting his head on your chest while he cums. He couldn't stop himself,this man always cums so hard and you knew it but you loved that about him. It was so hot to you

Your hand rests on his head, stroking and playing with his hair a bit as you were waiting for him to calm down. It takes him a while but his hips still twitch on their own as he was still inside you

He came so much,as expected, and it felt so good he didn't even want to pull out. You were just so warm like this

"you did so well,izuku"

You whisper to him. Your voice seemed a bit sore and tired because this was pretty Intense. It may not seem like that but he surely can get you tired so quickly when pounding into you

Izuku didn't reply,he was almost asleep. This man ended up not pulling out,his head was still resting on your chest,it was his favorite place to sleep cause you were just so soft.

He is so tired after that,he just gets exhausted so easily,he has no stamina,poor boy:(

Sorry chat this was a bit rushed:( Merry Christmas to everyone tho<3

[st4rrzynight]

𝐈 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔, 𝐈’𝐌 𝐒𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐘 — 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐠𝐞 𝐛𝐮𝐞𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐬

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 — 𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐠𝐞 𝐛𝐮𝐞𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐬𝐨 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐫, 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐬 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐮𝐩 𝐛𝐞𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬/𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭– 𝐧𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐧𝐨 𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐚𝐟𝐚𝐫

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

ʳᵉᵃᵈᵉʳˢ ᵖᵒᵛ

𝟏𝟎:𝟓𝟑 𝐏𝐌. i anxiously stared at the time on my phone. it has almost been an hour and paige still hasn't shown up. tonight is my birthday, she promised she'd show up after she washed up from tonights game.

i'm looking around as my friends converse around me in my apartment. my roommates have already questioned me on the absence of my girlfriend. i wish i knew why she wasn't here either.

i enter the passcode to my phone in a hurry as i pull up her contact and type out a message.

Paige 💜🫶

hey, where are you? everyone’s asking about you... are you on your way?

i'm so sorry, babe. i can’t make it.

what?

i know, i know. I feel awful about it, but something came up the team wanted me to come celebrate tonights win with them

its my birthday paige you promised you would be here. going out with the team is suddenly more important than your girlfriends birthday?

it's not just "going out". it's to celebrate tonights win, and it's kind of a big deal. if i don't show up, it could look bad. i don't want to let them down, you have to understand.

no paige, i don’t understand. I’m standing here, surrounded by my friends, and i have to keep making excuses as to why you’re not here. do you know how embarrassing that is? to not have my own girlfriend show up to celebrate my birthday??

i'm sorry, okay? i’ll make it up to you. i’ll take you out somewhere nice tomorrow just the two of us, yeah?

no paige it’s not about “making it up.” it’s about showing up when you say you will. but you NEVER do.

that’s not fair. you know how much pressure i’m under i just want to celebrate the win, look i'll make it up to you tomorrow i promise.

paige i am so tired of this. seriously, you keep making empty promises, you get my hopes up only for you to tell me a half assed excuse that you pulled straight out of your ass last minute.

please don’t do this right now. i’ll call you after i leave.

don’t bother, we're done.

what??

read 10:56

what do you mean were done??

read 10:58

y/n answer me please baby

read 10:59

please ill do anything ill make it up to you i promise please answer my message baby

⚠︎︎ not delivered

꥟

ᵖᵃⁱᵍᵉˢ ᵖᵒᵛ

two years. 730 days. i lost her two years ago today, i lost it all. i know it was my fault, i put everything above her and i deeply regret it. now i have to live life in regret watching from the sidelines as she celebrates her birthday once again. this time, with her girlfriend.

her laugh filling the air knowing i used to be the cause of that laughter. admiring her from across the bar, sitting in between my teammates as they make conversation yet i can't bring myself to take my eyes off of her.

i scan ever inch of her body my eyes stopped on her wrist, then her fingers, then her neck. every single piece of jewelry i got her, gone. none of it in sight as if it never existed.

a hand on her thigh from a woman who was a copy of me. blonde, blue eyes, tall, and she plays soccer. but its not me. it will never be me again.

i can't even blame her, thats why i hate it. i hate that i can't hate her no matter how hard i try because in the end i will always love her and it will always be her.

even if i'm not her happy ever after. i distract myself trying to find someone new but it never ends well. i always find similarities between the girls i've gone on dates with and her. thats what attracts me to them, the fact that they slightly even look like her. but they will never compare to her full look, no one will.

so for the rest of time ill find myself watching from the sidelines seeing her take on life with someone who isn't me by her side, someone who looks like me but is not entirely me.

it will always kill me, it's going to eat me alive till i die. knowing that i'm not hers anymore, i won't be looking for her in the student section knowing shes there. instead ill be looking for her in the student section in hopes she decided to show up, but i know she didn't. she's going to be in the student section of the soccer games watching and cheering on her.

i won't be able to buy her flowers anymore, instead i watch as she gets gifted flowers by another woman. except those aren't her favorite. they're the wrong flowers.

i wont be able to buy her the perfume she always wears when it runs out, her signature scent that i always loved. instead i watch as she gets gifted perfume by another woman. she sprays it into the air and by the time it reaches where i sit i know its not the one she loves. its the wrong perfume.

i won't be making late night sephora trips, picking out her favorite makeup products when shes running low. instead i watch as she gets gifted makeup by another woman. its the wrong brand.

because of my mistakes, ones that i regret so deeply, i now live with the gnawing feeling knowing that she now loves a woman who doesn't pay attention to small details and gifts her all the wrong things, on her birthday of all days, but she showed up. i didn't.

clearly i lacked attention to detail as well if i couldn't see how much i truly disappointed and hurt her and didn't even show up. i wish it went down differently.

every shooting star, every coin toss into a fountain, every time the clock hits 11:11, every fallen eyelash, every dandelion, my last two birthdays, my only wish was to have her back.

but i cant.

not anymore.

and it hurts.

i open up my phone clicking on her contact, i type out one last message, even if i know she won't ever get it. i type it out and send it as some type of closure.

𝐢 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐢'𝐦 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲.

⚠︎︎ not delivered

𝐚/𝐧 — 𝐧𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐢 𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐦𝐲𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢 𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐬𝐨 𝐢𝐟 𝐢 𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐛𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐍𝐎 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐛𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲, 𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 ��𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫

𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝, 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐮𝐩 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐢𝐭.

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 —

@uwupaige @jadasogay @sweetluna20

[thelonelyshore-if]

Ravi Winter Drabble

Happy Holidays again, here's a present for you all <3

When is a funeral not a funeral?

When nobody died? When he isn't home but instead crowded in the foyer of a friend of a friend? When he's wearing a wool jacket and a plush scarf and thin leather gloves instead of his usual suit?

When it's a party?

Ravi stands hunched in the nook beside Yasmin Bakir-King's front door. His arms are folded across his chest. One hand is tucked in his armpit; the other clutches the thin stem of a chapagne flute like it's his lifeline. Impatience makes him antsy. He keeps raising the glass to his lips and trying to take a sip, even though he drained it dry ten minutes ago.

He doesn't know what to do with the damned thing, is the problem. It's empty, and he has no desire for a refill, but walking it to the kitchen would require pushing through a crowd of faces that swim and spin in his vision, strangers in all but name.

He can't put up with the staring.

Better to lean with his back against the door, hoping upon hope that the cold green metal does something for the scorching heat of the room. The wool of his jacket is too thick; a rivulet of sweat has started carving a path down his spine, and the skin around his neck itches, but removing either the coat or the scarf is a surrender.

So instead of surrendering, Ravi prays. He waits, holding one of Yasmin's glasses hostage and silently begging god and the Fog and literally anything that will listen that you'll just hurry up and get back to him.

How did he end up here?

Most years he spends the night before the Squall huddled in his office, listening to music and knitting, or doing a puzzle, or tucking into a book. It has never bothered him that everyone else in town is having some sort of get together. He isn't everyone else.

Yasmin throws one of these things annually. It's his first time in attendance. He wasn't invited. You were invited.

Jay tries to drag him along to this every year, and he declines. He should have said no when you asked, too. Even when you turned your pleading eyes to his and explained that you wanted to see what the whole 'Squall Party' thing was about.

It makes sense, that you're unfamiliar with the Squall. It's so very Easthaven. Ravi knows the power of it better than anyone, so it comes as no surprise that things are different in the outside world. He could have told you anything you wanted to know bundled up together on his couch, in truth, but…

You were curious. And he can't resist you when you're curious.

It's something about the way your eyes light up when you have a new mystery to solve. Like you see the world as a puzzle—so long as you get all the pieces you might finally be content. Your thirst for knowledge infuriates and fascinates him in turn.

Plus. Well. Ravi struggles to deny you anything.

So he’s at the party.

At the very least, he’s near the party. Waiting by the door, with this damn glass in his hand, eyes frantically searching for a sign of you.

The heat in the house is becoming unbearable. Ravi loosens the scarf around his throat, seeking out any ounce of relief he can find. Should he go out for a smoke? The night air would provide the respite that he craves, and a cigarette would calm his nerves.

Ravi reaches behind his back with his free hand and grabs at the door handle. The shiny brass knob is cool under his fingers, and that’s enough to convince him. He’s about to open it when–

“Leaving without me?”

He drops the doorknob like it burned him, whirls around to face you. His heart jumps into his throat and instant relief unburdens him, sending a looseness throughout his body that summons a warm smile. He can't help it. The mere sight of you calms him.

The relief fades somewhat when he notices Yasmin following you, eyeing him suspiciously. You shoot him an apologetic look before turning to finish your conversation.

"Thanks again, Yasmin," you enthuse, expression shifting into a smile, "This was great."

“It’s no problem–it’s best you get home before the storm starts up,” Yasmin gives you a friendly nudge. She pauses and looks at Ravi, some of the warmth draining from her face. Her brow furrows, and she says, “Are you stealing that?”

Ravi grimaces and looks down at the stupid glass in his hand. He can’t exactly tell her that he was scared of walking it back to the kitchen. Because that would be ridiculous. Instead he offers Yasmin a pained smile and explains, “I was just finishing it.”

She rolls her eyes and holds out her hand. He hands it over, relief and chagrin making him all the more eager to flee right fucking now. Yasmin takes the glass, bids you a safe journey home, and vanishes back into her house.

“Sorry it took me so long. Got caught up with some of Jay's friends,” you explain, pushing past Ravi to get to the door. He trails gratefully out after you. The moment you pull the door open a brisk winter wind tumbles inside, brushing against his face and soothing some of the warmth.

“It’s fine,” Ravi says, and then realizes how short he sounds. He clumsily rushes on, stumbling, not wanting to hurt you–especially because it is fine, he agreed to this, he just wants to go home, “I’m��not very good at these things.”

You lean in and press a kiss to his lips. His eyes flicker shut and he immediately melts into it. Your lips are gentle against his. Warm—but nothing like the sweltering heat inside the house. This heat is pleasant, liquid, and it takes all he has not to swoon like a teenager with their first crush.

Your touch is grounding. For the first time in half an hour he feels solid; like a human being rather than a ghost hovering at the fringes of reality. He reluctantly pulls away, because the two of you can't make out in Yasmin's front yard, but he's left smiling.

Ravi steps around you, off of the porch and toward the sidewalk. You start to follow, but before you get far you stop short. He glances back. What…?

Ah.

The night sky stretches overhead, precisely the color of ash. You stare upward, head tilted as you take it in. Snow twirls on the breeze. Ravi makes note of the wind, the amount of snow falling. Not bad enough yet that he should worry–you should still be able to get home safely.

“Is this it, then?” You turn and ask.

“The Squall? Not yet. This is just…winter."

"Hm."

You reach a gloved hand out. Snowflakes land and start beading on the thick yarn, the cold bolstering them, saving them from melting into oblivion. Ravi watches you, fondness wiping away all of his panic and discomfort until all that remains is affection welling in his throat. He wants to kiss you. He wants to wrap his arms around you, pull you down into the snow, feel your face pressed against his neck. He wants to—

The wind picks up. It turns the snowflakes sharp. Minuscule shards of glass that slice and cut. They sting at his eyes, at his cheeks, and he knows that the longer you both stay out here, the more risks you’re taking.

He wants to take you home.

Your safety is paramount. Typically Ravi could keep you safe from anything the Fog might throw at you. He knows it and it knows him. It wouldn't take you from him, and is curious about you on top of it all. It would only hurt you to keep you.

He hopes.

But the Squall is different. It's something wild and untamed, something that goes beyond his connection to the Fog. Better not to mess with it, to get you somewhere secure to ride out the storm.

Ravi turns to tell you that it’s time you both get to the hearse, but before he gets the chance he finds you crouching at the edge of the sidewalk. You’re bent over, faced enough away from him that he’s unsure what your hands are doing. He hesitates for just a moment before slowly approaching. Did you drop something?

You turn a mischievous smile up at him and whip something in his direction. A bundle of snow, wet and cold and altogether unpleasant, smacks him in between the eyes. He takes a stumbling step back. His hand darts up to his glasses, foggy and beading with sudden moisture. 

“Oh, shit, Ravi, I didn’t mean to hit you in the face!” you gasp.

You rush up to him. He ensures his glasses are in one piece and wipes away some of the snow. He meets your eye and finds you holding back amusement. Ravi smiles at you–the smile that is just for you, nobody else gets to see him so soft–and it gives you permission to laugh. The sound tumbles out of you like music.

Maybe he can be reckless, just for tonight. The Squall won’t come until morning, not truly, and he wants this moment to last forever.

Ravi takes one calculating look at the snow piled up on the yard before wrapping his arms around you and throwing you both to the ground. It takes you by surprise and you let out another breathless peal of laughter, this one a little scared and a little excited, as you both tumble into the snow bank. The snow cushions the fall and he lands, his face pressed against the icy wetness, his arms still holding you tight.

“Call this my revenge,” he announces, satisfied by the surprised look on your face.

“Bastard,” you grin, but it holds no bite.

The world comes to a pause. Snow falls all around you both. He feels the coolness of it on his cheeks. Watches it bead in your hair and on your collar like droplets of water, except the flakes are crystalline and lovely. The night air is fresh and clean-smelling. Quiet.

It’s his turn to kiss you.

Ravi doesn’t have to go far to catch your lips in his. You’re bundled together in the snow, clutched close to his chest, like the precious thing you are. He wishes he could keep you there. 

He kisses you, and it’s warmth and joy and peace and relief. The party doesn’t matter. The Squall doesn’t matter. All that matters is the way you press your face close when he cups your cheek with a gloved hand. The feeling of your lips, hot and sweet as they brush against his. You pull back for just a moment, your lips still ghosting over his, and he can taste your breath.

“We should stay here forever,” Ravi whispers.

“In Yasmin’s yard?” you tease, giving him another quick kiss, snaking your hand behind his head until your fingers are tangled in his hair. His breath catches in his throat. He watches you, enraptured, as you add, “Not the best place to ride out a blizzard.”

“They wouldn’t find us until spring,” he joins in on the fun, playfully tapping his forehead against yours, “It’s romantic.”

“On that terrifying note,” you smile, rolling onto your back and sitting up. You brush some of the snow off of your shoulders. He doesn’t want you to leave, doesn’t want to be responsible. Just a little while longer. Wind howls through the trees, though, and you’re right. The longer you stay out here, the worse the storm is going to get.

Ravi detaches himself from the snowbank, clamoring to his feet. He holds out his hand and, when you take it, pulls you upward. You smile and hook his arm into yours. Press yourself tight against his side. Maybe it isn’t staying curled up together in the snow, but it’s incredible. You’re here. You’re together. 

Now you just have to ride out the storm.

[enbyfvcker]

~ Comfort ~

Logan didn't need comfort. He never had. He remembers all the time he spent living in forests when he just needed to isolate himself for a while. Anything worked for him, really.

Wolverines can sleep pretty much about everywhere. So, the first couple months after he moved in with Wade, he'd just crash on the couch. Sometimes, Wade would awake in the morning to see Logan sprawled on the floor and snorting after probably falling off the couch in his sleep.

He tried many times to convince Logan to sleep with him on his bed, but he always refused. Wade got that couch on a goddamn dumpster, and it couldn't possibly be comfortable to spend nights on.

So yeah, maybe he wanted to have a big gruff Wolverine laying next to him on his bed, but he also cared about him being comfortable.

He wanted it to be a home for Logan, even if it was a really small crack apartment.

Wade googled about Wolverines and how they nest, and he realized that Logan didn't really have much. He didn't have anything, really, since he dragged him here from a whole other universe.

So he would buy pillows, blankets, and plushies for Logan. And the grumpy idiot would pretend to hate the little hello kittys fluffy miniatures, but one day Wade's heart almost fully melted when he woke up in the middle of the night for a midnight snack, and catched Logan sleeping with all the gifts he gave him all around him, wrapped in a blanket with red and yellow heart patterns.

Sometimes Wade would awake hearing grunts and screams, rushing to the living room to see what was wrong only to find Logan trashing in his sleep, probably deep in a really bad nightmare, his body sweaty and brows furrowed. He looked in pain, and it broke Wade's heart. He imagined the terrors Logan was probably reliving in his mind.

When the sun hits Logan's eyes and he opens them, he feels slightly lighter. As if his body's relaxed for what felt like forever. He looks around and doesn't see the usual living room, and he realizes that he's in a bed. Wade's bed. Wade isn't here, but all the blankets, pillows, and plushies are still all around him.

"What the fuck..."

"Morning, peanut!" Wade announced with an excited tone as he entered the room wearing an "Kiss the cook" apron and toasts on a plate along with a mug.

Logan gives him a confused and annoyed look. "Did you- Did you carry me over here in my sleep?" He asks, incredulous. His bones are fucking made of adamantium. He weighs like 300 pounds. And how the fuck did he not wake up?

"Yes, princess. Bridal style and everything. Only the best for my baby girl."

"Wade-" Logan warns through gritted teeth.

"Alright, look, I just couldn't take you looking so uncomfortable anymore. Besides, you got so peaceful after I put you here. You can't really complain."

"I can, and I will. I told you not to bother. I don't give a fuck about comfort."

"Well, I do. Now get a break on being all grumpy, I made you breakfast." Wade offers Logan the plate with toasts and the mug with black coffee, the way he likes it.

He just grunts and accepts it.

The next nights, the lumpy couch remained empty. Logan would slip into the covers with Wade, the pillows and plushies all around them, and Mary Puppins layed on their feet. Wade was wearing a Spider-Man themed pajamas, and Logan was in his boxers and one of Wade's silly shirts with an unicorn printed on it.

"We look like such a happy family!" Wade says in a dreamy tone in the middle of the night, the room dark as he lays face to face with Logan.

"Shut up. Go to sleep." He groans gruffly, eyes closed.

"Sweet dreams, peanut. I know mine will be. You're always in them. God, I had one these days where you d-"

"Go. To. Sleep."

Some mornings, they would wake up tangled, arms over chests, legs over legs, so close they could feel each other breathing. Sometimes, Logan would wake up first, and when he opens his eyes to see them tangled like that as Wade was in deep slumber, he just smirks and closes them again, drifting back to sleep.

After that, he noticed that the frequency of his nightmares was getting lower. But whenever he'd have them, eventually, Wade would always be right there next to him to comfort him back to sleep.

[makeitmingi]

In Sickness And In Health

Genre: Romance, Fluff, Comfort

Pairing: Seonghwa x Reader (y/n)

Characters: Doctor!Reader, Boyfriend!Seonghwa

Summary: Seonghwa has always been known to be the mother of the group, the one that takes care of everyone. But what happens when he falls ill? Luckily, his girlfriend is a doctor and will nurse him back to the health, just like he would for everyone else.

Word count: 4.7K

Story warning(s): Mentions of needle used for medical purposes, medications, being sick.

"Seonghwa?" You called out softly when you entered your shared house, closing the door behind you, but was replied with silence. You dropped your duffel bag onto the counter to take out the IV drip kit, fluid bag and medication.

Earlier at work...

"Hey, Hongjoong. Sorry I missed your call. What's up?" You called your boyfriend's best friend once the patient queue was freed up and you had a small break.

"Sorry to bother you, (y/n). I know you're working... Hwa's probably gonna kill me for telling you this but he's sick."

"Hwa's sick...? What do you mean?" Your eyes widened.

"Yeah, he knows you're on night shift and you know him, he never likes to have people take care of him... But he sounded quite bad over the phone and he didn't even let us to over to check on him..."

"Mhmm, I know exactly what you're talking about. Thanks for letting me know, Hongjoong. I'll go take care of him." You said.

"Let me know if you need anything."

"Thanks, I'll update you." You hummed and hung up with the captain before returning back to work.

So that's why, before you left work, you grabbed an IV drip set and all the necessary medications from the pharmacy that you may need to nurse Seonghwa back to health. Being a doctor has it's perks in that sense. And you were so worried about Seonghwa's condition that you ended up leaving your shift early.

"Seonghwa?" You poked your head into your shared room and was surprised the find the bed empty. You frowned, where did your sick boyfriend disappear to?

"Did he go out...?" You walked to your office and it was empty too. Then you checked the guest room.

"Oh, there you are." You sighed in relief.

On the bed of the guest room, there was a shivering lump under the blankets. You approached quietly and pulled back the covers, not wanting to surprise him too much.

"Seonghwa..." Your heart broke seeing Seonghwa so sick. He was shivering so much, lips quivering and cold sweat on his forehead.

"(y/n)?!" Seonghwa opened his eyes and was shocked to see you standing there.

"W-What are you doing home early? Did something happen?" He blinked, as if he was worried you were a hallucination caused by his fever. You could tell he was worrying about you.

"Hwa, stop worrying about me right now. I came home because I heard you were sick!" You frowned. Seonghwa cursed Hongjoong's name under his breath, knowing that only his best friend would rat him out to you like that.

"Come, let's get you back to bed. Why are you sleeping in the guest room?" You asked, pulling the blanket away to help him.

"Because I didn't want to spread my germs on our shared bed and I've been cold sweating. I'm so gross. You can't afford to get sick, love." Seonghwa quivered.

"Ah, Seonghwa... You know I don't care about that. We're getting you back to our bed. Come on." You helped him up.

"You should wear a mask." He tried to cough away from you.

"Park Seonghwa. Let me take care of you, okay? Stop worrying, please." You begged. He looked so sick and he was still fretting over you, it caused an ache in your chest.

"Okay, okay." He noticed your desperate tone and slipped under the covers of your shared bed, letting you tuck him in.

"Here." You put the thermometer in his mouth then went out to get the IV supplies from the counter.

"Luckily Nurse Jung let me borrow one of the portable IV stands to take home." You chuckled as you wheeled the IV stand in and fixed the height beside Seonghwa. Then you removed the thermometer from his mouth and checked. Seonghwa's fever was so high if you didn't have the IV, you would have taken him to the hospital.

"Oh, Hwa." You softened, feeling guilt bubble in your chest. But for now, you pushed it down. Seonghwa needed your focus and attention right now.

"Let me wash my hands first." You went to wash your hands and prepared the IV port to put into Seonghwa's arm.

"It's alright, baby. Slowly." Seonghwa said when he noticed your hands shaking slightly as you wiped his skin with an alcohol swab.

"Take a deep breath." You instructed and inserted the needle with precision. Seonghwa's face scrunched at the pinch, which made you feel worse.

"Sorry. It's over." You pouted.

"It's okay, love. Not your fault." He gave you a small smile. You grabbed a syringe to add the ampoule medications into the IV bag.

"Alright, there we go. It'll help with symptoms and your fever should subside quickly." You told him as you adjusted the dial flow once the drip was hooked up to the bag.

"Can you hand me another pillow?" He requested. You nodded and placed a bolster under his IV arm so it'll be comfortable.

"I'll be right back." You went to get rid of all the trash in the area and wash your hands. While you were outside, you prepared a cloth and a bucket of cool water so you could wipe him down. And you put some juice into a tumbler for him.

"I missed you." Seonghwa smiled as he watched you put the tumbler of juice and bucket on his nightstand. You started with wiping his face, feeling how warm his face was.

"Your hands are cold." He chuckled, placing his free hand over yours on his cheek.

"They're not. You're just warm." You smiled softly as you gently wiped his neck too. Then you rinsed the cloth and wiped his arms.

"Hwa, careful." You hissed when he lifted his IV arm, trying to make it easier for you to wipe his entire arm. He pouted at you and placed his arm back down.

"I need to wipe your legs too." You told him.

"But it'll be cold." He whined, quickly gripping the blanket since he knew you were going to yank it away.

"Just for a bit, Hwa. Come on, be good~" You cooed at him, which made him frown. He liked to coo at you like you were a baby and of course, you will take the opportunity to do the same to him now.

"Fine." He sulked and let you pull the blanket away. His first instinct was to him to curl his legs up. You raised his pajama pant to wipe his leg, rinsing the cloth before moving onto the next. But when you were done, you didn't let Seonghwa cover himself entirely, only covering his legs from his hips.

"But I'm cold, baby." He said, shivering.

"I know, Hwa. I'm sorry but if you bundle up like this, you'll warm your body up too much. The air conditioning will help with the fever." You kissed his forehead.

"I'm going to shower. You try to get some sleep first." You told him. He nodded, eyes already half closed.

'Hey, Hongjoong. Thank god you text me, his condition was terrible... But I put him on a drip, he should be fine. - (y/n)'

'That's good to hear. Hwa's lucky to have a doctor girlfriend or else I would have to drag his butt to the hospital and that'll be a whole nother thing. - Hongjoong'

'He's a horrible patient. But I'll keep you updated. - (y/n)'

With that, you went to take a quick shower to wash off the smell of antiseptic and germs from the hospital.

"Soup... Soup... Soup..." Since Seonghwa fell asleep, you decided to start a soup going, digging through the fridge for ingredients.

While the soup was boiling on the stove, you quietly moved the air purifier from the living room, into the bedroom. You also refilled his waterbottle with cold water. Then you went to change the sheets in the guest bedroom.

"Myers' cocktail with Peramivir administered at 3:08pm. Temperature taken 39.2 degrees." You wrote down the information on your phone, just in case.

"That's done." You turned the stove off for the soup and went to check on Seonghwa.

To avoid waking him up, you used your forehead thermometer instead of the one that needs to be in the mouth.

"38.3..." You whispered. Covering your mouth to yawn, you went to retrieve the bucket and filled it up with fresh water, along with the cloth from before.

Were you tired? Of course, you worked the graveyard shift at the hospital last night. But your priority now was Seonghwa.

"Mmm..." Seonghwa let out a soft whine in his sleep.

"Sorry, Hwa. I'll be quick." You whispered, rinsing and wringing the towel before gently wiping his face and neck. Then doing the same to wipe his arms.

"Baby?" He croaked out, slowly opening his eyes to see you standing over him to wipe down his arm.

"I'm sorry to disturb your sleep, I just wanted to try and bring your fever down faster. I've made soup for you when you feel like it. You can go back to sleep after this." You whispered with a soft smile. He nodded his head, a small smile coming onto his face as he watched you take care of him.

Seonghwa always liked taking care of people, whether it's his family, his members and of course, he LOVED taking care of his precious girlfriend. He always put others' needs before his own.

Until now, he is still the best person that takes care of Hongjoong when he's busy being the captain of the team.

"Actually, I'm a little hungry." Seonghwa admitted.

"Oh, okay! It's good that you have an appetite. I'll finish here and get you some food." You threw the cloth into the bucket and brought it out. Then you got some soup for him.

"Here." You placed the tray on the foldable table on the bed. Then you helped him sit up.

"No rice?" He gave you a sad face.

"You know you can't eat rice when you have a fever, Hwa. When your fever subsides, I'll make you rice porridge." You told him, going to open the window to let some fresh air come in.

"Sit with me, baby." He said. You hummed, pulling a chair to sit at his bed side to watch him eat.

Seeing Seonghwa eat so slowly, you figured his throat must be hurting him. It hurt to see your boyfriend like this. You were out the whole night, taking care of others when you couldn't even care for your loved on who was suffering alone at home.

"This is delicious, baby. Tha- Why are you crying?!" Seonghwa panicked when he turned his head to see tears streaming down your face. You didn't even realise that you were crying.

"I'm sorry." You looked down, shaking your head as you wiped your tears with the sleeve of your hoodie.

"My precious baby. There's nothing for you to be sorry for." He reached out to hold your hand since he couldn't reach your face.

"B-Because... What kind of doctor am I? I treat people for a living and I didn't even know you were sick! Hongjoong had to tell me and I find you in that condition. You always take care of me and I can't even-"

"Okay, okay. Breathe, my love. Breathe." Seonghwa calmed you down, moving his tray away to make some space for you.

"Come here, love." He patted his lap and you moved to sit with him, being extra careful of his drip.

"Ouh, my precious baby. My love." You hugged each other for the first time that day, Seonghwa coddling you and cooing at you like you were his baby.

"No, stop! I'm supposed to be taking care of you! Not you comforting me." You wailed, wiping your tears. Seonghwa kissed your temple, rubbing your back. Honestly, this was what Seonghwa wanted to feel better too. He missed you and just wanted to have you as close to him as possible.

"I've been waiting to hold you since you came back but I didn't want to get you sick. And I'm so gross and sweaty." Seonghwa chuckled.

"You won't... Even if you did, I don't care." You mumbled.

"No, you need to rest." It took everything in you to separate yourself from Seonghwa's embrace and placed the tray in front of him so he could continue eating.

"You take very good care of me. You're a great doctor and a great girlfriend, your patients are lucky to have you. I'm lucky to have you."

"You always take such good care of me and I couldn't even do the same." You slumped.

"Don't say that. We take good care of each other. You've just finished a night shift and yet, you've been running around to take care of me." He held your hand in his, rubbing the back with his thumb.

"Eat while I get you your medication, okay?" You stood up and went out of the room.

"Your drip is done so you can take these." You handed him a small dish with the medication on it. Before he ate the medication, you disconnected the drip from the needle port in his arm. Then you carefully removed the needle, placing a band aid over.

"Thanks, baby." Seonghwa smiled and ate the medication, chasing it with gulps of water. You gave a small smile in return and cleared up the area before washing your hands.

"Luckily I didn't throw away your sharps bin." He called out to you as you were throwing the used needle away.

"It's not even half full, I just keep it around for cases like this." You replied.

"Baby, I'm being a good patient and resting. You should also be a good baby and rest. Come on, I know you haven't taken a break since you came back and you worked graveyard." Seonghwa said.

"I will... Later..." You replied, taking the empty juice tumbler and placing it in the kitchen.

"Baby..." Seonghwa frowned in disapproval.

"I'm fine, Hwa. I promise." You squeezed his hand, taking the thermometer and taking his temperature. Finally, his temperature was now a low grade fever.

"Thank goodness I don't have to take you to the hospital now. But I'll continue to monitor your temperature." You informed, taking your phone to note down the temperature and medication log. Seonghwa curiously leaned closer to you to try and take a peek at what you were writing down.

"Wow, I'm like your patient. Just that I have you to myself and I don't need to share you with other patients." He grinned.

"You are my patient. Even though it's usually the nurse that does the charts, not me. And you never have to share me, you know I'll alwyas prioritise you and your health." You scoffed.

"I know. I just like hearing you say it." He grinned.

"Hmm, on second thought, I think the fever has made you even more delusional." You chuckled, placing your hand on his forehead.

"That's impossible. I have the best doctor in the world taking care of me." He grasped your hand to kiss the back of it. You smiled and pressed your cheek against his.

"Now come to bed." He whispered.

"I will. Just let me clean up the kitchen. You should sleep more." You replied. He hummed obediently and let you tuck him in.

"Come back soon." He smiled. You closed the window and quietly left the room to let him sleep. Although, you didn't just clean the kitchen. You knew Seonghwa was particular about cleanliness so you did his daily cleaning routine for him, knowing he couldn't do it today.

"Lint roller, vacuum, wet tissue mop then lint roller." You tried to remember his cleaning sequence and took the necessary equipment you needed to clean.

However, you didn't want to wake him so you didn't use the vacuum, instead you used the broom to sweep the floor.

"Ah, finally done." You fell back onto the couch with the lint roller in your hand.

"Baby...?" Seonghwa came out, wrapped in his blanket. He woke up to find his bedside empty and when he felt how cold the sheets were, he knew you didn't come to bed like you said he would.

"(y/n)-" Seonghwa paused when he saw you asleep on the couch, still gripping the lint roller in your hand.

"Sweet girl." He cooed and put his blanket aside before gently easing the lint roller out of your hand and putting it aside.

Looking around, Seonghwa knew that you must have done his usual daily cleaning routine for him. He smiled softly, brushing your hair away from your face, you knew him so well.

"Rest well, my love." He kissed your head and placed the blanket over your body instead.

Seonghwa went to the room and took his temperature, writing down the reading and timing on a post it, knowing that you would want to log it in later. He was still running a low grade fever and felt aches in his body but he felt 10 times better than he did this morning, all thanks to you.

"Hongjoong ah." Seonghwa made the phone call in the room, not wanting to disturb you.

"Okay, listen Seonghwa. Before you come at me all mad, you were so sick and didn't want any of us to help you. That's why I told (y/n), okay? So it's your fault."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. You so owe me." Seonghwa rolled his eyes, even though he knew Hongjoong couldn't see him.

"You have a doctor girlfriend to give you first class care. I don't owe you anything. But I'm guessing you're feeling better already?"

"I do, thanks to her. She's resting now, poor thing worked the whole night and came back to take care of me. She didn't even have time to sit down and catch a breather." Seonghwa sighed.

"You both take care of people before you take care of yourselves. See? That's why you're made for each other."

"Right..." Seonghwa scoffed.

"Anyway, do you two need anything from us? The others should be done with their schedule and I just left the studio. I can pick up whatever you need."

"You shouldn't be around the house for too long or you might get sick too. But if you could drop dinner off for us, it'll be a great help. I don't really want (y/n) to do anymore cooking or for her to be eating ramyeon." Seonghwa knew you too well.

"Sure. Send me what you want and I'll go pick it up, drop it off at yours."

"Thanks, Hongjoong ah." Seonghwa said and hung up. He texted over the food for Hongjoong to buy, knowing your likes and dislikes.

As much as Seonghwa wanted to snuggle with you, he had to hold himself back. Firstly, he didn't want to wake you. Secondly, he was still worried about getting you sick.

"Ah..." He winced and dramatically held his arm back as he stood before you.

"Once you recover, you can get all the cuddles from her." He took a deep breath and returned to the room.

And of course, he found his nintendo switch in the charger, you must have put it there, knowing he would be bored and want to play when he wakes up.

When you woke up, you sat up in shock. You didn't even know when you fell asleep. But the curtains to the living room were drawn and there was a blanket placed over you.

"Yeah, she's still sleeping... I want her to get as much rest as she can get since she worked graveyard... Thanks, Hongjoong ah. I'll see you." You heard hushed whispers from the bedroom and assumed it was Seonghwa speaking to Hongjoong over the phone, maybe updating him on Seonghwa's current condition.

"Oh, baby! You're awake." Seonghwa was heading back into the living room and spotted you standing there, half asleep and confused.

"Was that Hongjoong?" You asked.

"Mhmm, he picked up some dinner for us. I didn't want you cooking and I shouldn't be cooking for you when I'm sick." He said, placing the empty cups on the counter.

"Ah, I'm fine to cook, Seonghwa. And besides, there's still some leftover chicken soup for you." You yawned, shuffling to him.

"I know. But I also know you'll give all the leftover soup to me and make ramyeon for yourself." He stated.

"I..." Your cheeks heated up as he exposed you. Seonghwa chuckled, watching you stand there, still half asleep and a little lost, with the blanket wrapped around your body like a child.

"You should be resting... Let me do all the dishes..." You said to him.

"I feel better already, baby. I took my temperature down and even took the medications." He said, showing you the post it note with all the temperature readings, the medications he took and the timings of when he took them.

"Let me feel. Come here." You reached up to feel his cheeks and forehead in your hands.

"Your fever is gone. Let's hope it stays that way. But still, you're not fully recovered." You frowned slightly. You were relieved that his fever was finally gone.

"After this." He kissed your knuckles.

"Let me put this back." You bundled up the blanket and folded it properly, returning it to the bedroom.

"Gosh, I didn't even know when I fell asleep." You rubbed your cheeks and let out another yawn.

"Poor baby. You were probably so tired and running on adrenaline to take care of me. Once the food is delivered, we should eat and go back to bed." Seonghwa frowned sadly.

"Yeah, we should." You smiled softly.

"I bought some immunity juice thingy in the fridge. You should drink that. It's good for you." You pointed.

"It looks horrible. Tumeric, black pepper, orange, ginger, carrot, apple, cucumber... I think just reading this is making me feel more sick than I already am." Seonghwa took the bottle out, cringing at the colour and ingredients listed on it. You took the bottle from him and poured him a glass.

"It's good for you." You re-emphasised and held it out to him. Seonghwa sighed in defeat and grabbed the glass to drink it. He gulped the whole thing down, shuddering when he finished.

"Now, you. You're always around sick people, you should be drinking it too to build immunity." Seonghwa refilled the glass.

"But..." Your face fell.

"Be good, baby." Seonghwa shot you a pointed look, repeating your own words back to you.

"I take you being able to boss me around as a sign that you're feeling better." You raised an eyebrow with him but still drank the immunity juice. Seonghwa was right, the taste was vile.

"See? Horrible, right?" Seonghwa chuckled and engulfed you in a bear hug, rubbing your back while you nodded glumly.

"There, there." He comforted. Seonghwa's hugs felt like home, you nuzzled your cheek against his chest and closed your eyes. It doesn't matter how long you are away from him, you always miss his hugs and his warm embrace.

"My love, are you falling asleep on me?" He chuckled.

"Shhhhh..." You hushed him. Seonghwa sighed in defeat and stroked the back of your head. He guided you to the couch so he could tuck you under his arm.

"Don't sleep, Hongjoong's coming to delivery dinner soon. After that, you can sleep." He said.

"If you don't want me to sleep, stop being so comfy and cozy." You grumbled. Seonghwa laughed at your nonsense.

"Wait! You should be the one resting! Not me!" You shot up suddenly, making Seonghwa jump in shock. He didn't have time to protest as you pulled him up from the couch and brought him back to the room.

"There. Stay here until I get the food from Hongjoong." You pulled the blanket over his legs.

"My love-"

"Shh, rest." You placed the Nintendo switch console in his hands and exited the room to prepare his next round of medications, as well as fill up his water bottle for him.

"Hongjoong ah! Thanks again for doing this... No, he's not sleeping, you can see him if you want... That's right, you need to remain healthy as the last Matz standing... Don't make yourself sick taking care of the kids and not of yourself." Seonghwa heard you talking to Hongjoong, it was nice to hear you so comfortable with him.

The love of his life and his best friend.

"Mmm, I will. Take care and let me know if you need anything!" You bid Hongjoong goodbye and brought the food bags in.

"Stay there, Hwa! I'll plate everything up." You said just as Seonghwa was about to stand up from bed. You knew him too well to know what he would do.

"Do you have a camera in here?!" Seonghwa yelled back.

"What are you talking about?" You chuckled as you entered the room with a tray of food for him. You placed the tray on the bed for him.

"Where's your dinner? And don't tell me you will eat after me. I won't eat unless you eat with me." Just like you knew Seonghwa, he knew you very well too.

"Fine, I'll go get my food." Your shoulders slumped and you went to get your bowl of noodle soup.

A nice silence fell over the both of you as you ate, the both of you were rather quiet eaters. Just that usually, you and Seonghwa would put food on each other's spoons but with Seonghwa being sick, you both didn't want to risk cross-contamination.

"I'll go take a shower. I really want to get out of these clothes." Seonghwa said with an uncomfortable frown once dinner was done. You nodded and let him shower while you cleaned up.

"Don't go under the hot water for too long, Hwa! It might trigger your fever again." You knocked on the door.

"Yes, Dr (y/l/n)." He replied. You laid on your side of the bed, checking your phone for messages.

"I'm back." Seonghwa wrapped his arms around you from behind, pulling you flushed against his body. He was still slightly warm but the medication seemed to really help.

"Still feel ill?" You ran your hands through his hair.

"No, I'm a lot better but the body ache is still there." He smiled softly, grabbing your hand and kissing your fingertips.

"I've set an alarm for you to take your meds, so don't swear at me for waking you up later, okay?" You joked, knowing that Seonghwa would NEVER ever swear at you.

"You don't have to wake up, baby. I can wake up on my own to take the medication, just put it on my table." Seonghwa said.

"It's fine. I want to, it will make me feel better knowing your temperature and reaction to the medication." You insisted. He knew there was no persuading you otherwise so Seonghwa just nodded and pulled you to him. You both didn't care about getting you sick anymore, you just wanted to be as humanly near him as possible.

"Thank you for taking care of me, baby." He kissed your forehead.

"What's there to thank for? You're always taking care of me and making sure I'm at my best." You looked up at him.

"Yeah, but I like to take care of you. It's not a chore at all, it makes me feel useful knowing I can help you. And with your job, you always take care of patients. It's nice to be taken care sometimes."

"Seonghwa, you're always useful, no matter what. I've never saw you as useless." You said.

"I know... It's just a personal feeling." He shrugged.

"I could say the same for you. You're always taking care of the other members and especially Hongjoong. So you can take a break and let me take care of you." You giggled.

"We'll always be here to take care of each other. You know like they say... In sickness and in health." He stroked your cheek.

"Exactly." You smiled softly and closed your eyes to join him in dreamland.

~

Masterlist

[thewitchblue]

"I told you not to touch that."

You had warned a very curious Tim repeatedly. This one wasn't anything harmful. You simply didn't want him touching your potions. It was a very annoying potion to make.

You had left it boiling on a burner while you got a snack, but Tim shut off the burner to touch your half-baked potion. You had no idea how long he's had it off the burner, but it wasn't boiling anymore.

"What does it do?"

He didn't have the guts to do anything but hold the boiling hot beaker. At least, not in front of you. He felt like he was a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

"It was SUPPOSED to be a present for Jason, jackass. Now it's ruined."

You aggressively took the breaker from Tim and borderline slammed it down on your windowsill. You stormed over to your burner and turned it on again. Maybe you can salvage it. It had stopped boiling because Tim was too curious for his own good.

"Oh."

Tim looked embarrassed. You didn't bother to tell him it was liquid weed, so Jason could stop stinking up the manor when he smokes.

You were sick of getting accidentally drugged because Jason left brownies out without a "do not eat" sign. You think Jason secretly likes drugging people, but there was an unspoken agreement: shut up and leave the drugged person alone.

You were hoping this potion would get him to go to you instead of some shady drug dealer, but Tim doesn't need to know any of this. This is between you and Jason.

"Do me a favour and never touch my stuff. My next potion won't be so friendly."

You grumbled. You were the family witch. Yes, the stereotypical potions and general magic. You learned from Constantine and Zatanna how to use spells, but potions are where you shine.

You are called The Alchemist at night and are feared mainly due to how prepared you are. You had a potion for anything and everything.

The villains actively avoid you as a result of your preparation. You're seriously more prepared and paranoid than Batman in a lot of cases.

Scarecrow is the only one salty enough to go after you. He wanted you as an apprentice, but he's not getting anywhere by kidnapping you on the occasion. Come on, just give him one potion that he can replicate if he can't have you on his side!

Joker found you boring, Bane doesn't want to tango when you take away his muscles with a potion, Ra cares more about physical combat, and the list goes on. It's ridiculous, truly.

You were actually quite close to Poison Ivy, however, and she supplies you with various plants for you to use. You even send her photos to update her on how the plant is blooming with a thank you text (yes, you have her number, score!)

Being a Wayne helps with the potions as well. You can get you an endless supply of various metals, chemicals, and powders to work with alongside the plants. You often question if you are on a government list somewhere. It doesn't look good to order 15 kilograms of gunpowder and potassium nitrate.

The family doesn't know any of this, but then again, they don't know much about what you do. They rarely ask questions about your potions except nosy Tim, who refuses to leave your room until he knows more about whatever potion you are making at the time.

"I was curious!"

He tried to defend himself, which failed as you retorted,

"And you could have had your finger dissolved if you touched it! For the brains of the family, you really are stupid."

Does he have no sense of self-preservation? Why on earth would he touch a mysterious liquid? Survival of the fittest indeed.

Tim scoffed. How else is he supposed to find out more information if he knows nothing about the process? You had all your potions memorised! No recipe book, no paper trail, you even have a witch/magic users pack between Zatanna and Constantine, so they won't tell the family anything. He can't even identify all the plants you use so he could test them.

"You're lucky I make weapons for you guys. Some of this stuff takes weeks! I have 9 of you guys running around, using MY supply because you guys don't use your potions wisely. What if I needed the paralysing potion for Bane, but uh-oh, you stole it from me, so I can't do anything."

Tim had no excuse. He's, admittedly, stolen more than a handful of potions to reload his weapons, and he's not the only one. He tried to smooth over your irritation. In a nervous tone, he said,

"I'm sorry. I would be surprised if you didn't notice the missing potions, though."

Damn right, you'd notice it. What kind of alchemist would you be if you didn't notice your missing stash and resupply? Granted, you also have the power of bullshit spells that you learned from John and Zatanna, so you aren't entirely helpless, but it's annoying reaching for an imaginary potion on patrol and needing to trudge all the way home just to restock.

"I think you need to keep your hands to yourself. I might have to redo this potion now. Please tell me you didn't touch the potion itself."

You wouldn't know how to handle a high Tim Drake. You tried to keep your eyes on him while putting your potion back on the burner. Is the weed in his bloodstream, or are you safe to continue your drug cooking?

He gave an awkward smile. He may or may not have smelled the potion. It smelled like a freshly mowed lawn, and the tiny sip he took tasted like an apple. When all you got was silence, you groaned and said in disbelief,

"Oh, fuck, of course you did."

Just your luck. The drug will hit Tim any second now. You ran a stressed hand through your hair before turning to him and saying sternly,

"You are going to sleep on my bed and let the potion run its course. Do. Not. Leave. This. Room. Got it?"

Tim looked confused, but what does he know about magical potions? If you say let it work through him, he'll follow instructions. He sat on your bed and then it hit him.

"Woah, what the hell did you do to me? Were you trying to lace Jason with something?"

You frowned and physically pushed him onto the bed. You quickly swaddled him like a baby in a sea of blankets.

He can not leave this room. Bruce would murder you. You were supposed to be the good one. The only one who caused no problems (to their knowledge).

"Tim, look at me."

Tim did not, in fact, look at you. He was distracted by all the plants you have in your room. Did someone drop off more plants in the time he's last been in here?

"Did you get more plants?"

You huffed. You didn't. They have only grown since he's been snooping in your room. You tried to get his attention by snapping your fingers and calling his name,

"Tim?"

When he continued to look around with rapidly reddening eyes, you squished his face in your hand and forcefully pushed his face until it faced you.

"Tim, you are going to sleep. I'm going to play some music for you and we are going to forget all about this when you feel better."

You can make a potion to erase recent memories. Tim can't know you are making drugs in your room. Nobody can know except Jason.

You decided to turn on some calming music in hopes he would drift off, which seemed to be working as his eyes drooped, and he smiled at you like he knew something you didn't. He was lost in his thoughts, clearly.

You wondered what was going on in that big brain of his. It didn't matter. He can blaze in blissful peace while you deal with his mess.

You kept the music quiet and soft like he was at a spa. You hoped the combined warmth of the blankets with the soft music would work faster.

With a sigh, you stood up from your position at his bedside. This is not good. Tim needs to learn when to leave your stuff alone. What if you boiled his blood or poisoned him? It's best to leave the witchcraft to the witch.

You watched him like a hawk. His thoughts seemed to be slowed and sluggish. You supposed you can bottle your potion after all. Should you put a dropper on it? Normally, your potions soak through the skin and clothes, but you were extremely careful with this one.

You gave his forehead a small kiss once he fell asleep. You went to your bottles while shaking your head in disapproval. You were very happy with the results of the potion, not so much with the tester. You would hate to think about what could have happened if you didn't swaddle him. Would he be walking around high and babbling about funny potions? Probably. He was already hallucinating pleasantly by the time he passed out.

You were so lucky that Tim didn't get the potentially dangerous symptoms. You can handle a mellowed out Tim, but not if he was going through psychosis.

After successfully bottling and hiding the potion, you pulled out one of your memory potions.

You felt bad drugging him then making him forget about it, but you can't have him telling anybody, whether accidentally or purposefully.

You know you could just tell Bruce that Tim touched a memory potion on your burner, and he'd believe you, but why draw in the eyes of Batman? He would want to know about all future potion making.

You frowned as you put one drop on his forehead and watched it sink in. He won't remember any of this.

You were a bit overprepared, but you were Batman and Constantine trained. Of course you'd have some weaselly way out of accidentally drugging someone.

Oh, John would be so proud of you.

[leighsartworks216]

Doctor's Orders

Zayne x gn!Reader

I was working on a longer form version of this that just Was Not Happening, but this came out so easy so it's the version you're getting

@midiplier You sent your ask while I was writing the long-form version and I wish I got it out sooner but fuck it Christmas angst I guess

Warnings: grief/mourning, hurt/comfort, Christmas, childhood friends, cuddling, crying, not proofread, possibly OOC

Word Count: 839

Main Masterlist

First Love and Deepspace Masterlist

Second Love and Deepspace Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

The lights twinkle in a little dance around the tree. Glass ornaments hang delicately along its branches. Tinsel shimmers and shines. The star at the top stares down at you.

You wipe your cheeks with your sleeves and the back of your hands. The tears keep coming, no matter how hard you try to stop them. They pool without ceremony in your eyes and slip free without even a sob to accompany them.

Zayne lowers himself to the carpet beside you. He doesn't speak. Doesn't say that you should be in bed. Doesn't need to ask what's wrong. What he does do is offer you a box of tissues. You grab a couple and hold them to your eyes, hoping they'll suck up the moisture.

This is the better alternative. Only a couple days before, Zayne visited your apartment to find it woefully devoid of any decoration. Dishes sat untouched in the sink, laundry overflowed the hamper, and the bags under your red-raw eyes spoke volumes. When Zayne asked you to spend the holidays at his place (practically running down an entire list of your excuses to convince you to please get out of your house), you packed the essentials and settled into his guest bedroom.

"I’m sorry for waking you," you croak out with a pitiful sniffle.

He shakes his head and offers you another tissue. "You didn't wake me," he assures. You can't tell if he's just lying to make you feel better or not, but it's a lot easier to believe he is. A whole lot easier to blame yourself than odd coincidence. "If you're about to apologize for being a bother, I'd rather you just blow your nose."

You take the tissue and turn your face away as you blow your nose. "That obvious?"

"You've apologized seven times already for intruding, even though I'm the one that invited you to stay," he gripes, but there's no real frustration behind it. He reaches for a blanket off the couch. It's barely used. He unfolds it and drapes it around your shoulders. "You don't have to apologize for your grief."

You shoot him a sardonic look. "Even if I'm mean to you?"

He smiles slightly. "Especially if you're mean to me. I know you well enough not to take it personally."

"You're so weird."

"If you say so."

You can feel the exhaustion in your back, your shoulders, under your eyes. You want to go to sleep. You want to curl up in bed and shut your brain off and pray it doesn't show you anything worse. But you don't. You turn back to the tree, trace your eyes over the same ornaments you've already memorized by now, and let the tightness in your chest weigh you to the spot.

You exhale shakily into the still air. The lights become a blurry bokeh as your eyes unfocus, staring at the ornaments Zayne's parents sent him from their travels. You'd numbly helped him set it all up a few days ago. You were so checked out that the loss didn't register. Now it keeps hitting you in full force, over and over.

Zayne must recognize your internal plight because he wraps an arm around you and pulls you into his side. You fall easily into his chest. His shoulder makes the perfect pillow to cry into. He rubs your arm up and down, doing his best to ground you and comfort you in one.

"I'm scared to go back to sleep," you admit in a choked whisper. "I'm scared I'll see their faces. And then I'll wake up and they aren't here."

He rests his cheek on your head. Josephine and Caleb had meant a lot to him, too, especially growing up, before he left. Countless memories of life when being carefree was expected. When getting into trouble was the norm. Days when he was still struggling to use his Evol, much to Caleb's amusement. Days when more time was dedicated to using it to form popsicles out of soda and poor attempts at sculptures to cheer up a certain other child.

Time truly does not change much.

"We'll stay up all night, then," he whispers back, feeling awfully like two children hiding under a blanket from the monsters of the night.

You scoff even as you turn further into him. Your wet cheeks are warm against his neck. "That doesn't sound like something a doctor would say."

He chuckles. "What if I said it was doctor's orders?"

A mangled sound escapes you. Zayne can only be sure it's a laugh with how your lungs spasm with the burst of exhaled air. "Then I guess I have no choice but to listen."

It's not ten minutes later that you're fast asleep in his arms, uncomfortably sitting on the carpet as legs fall asleep and backs ache. Zayne doesn't move from this spot, the silent aegis against all your fears. He will be here when you wake up. That means more to you than any gift under the tree.

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope @deepzombieyouth @huen1ngk41 @armycaratlover @cheesemachine44 @nyx2021 @angel-jupiter @thelittlebutton @pikachuzhc @pomegranatepip @cordidy @an-ever-angry-bi @thejysemongko

[papasbaseball]

The Wizard x Reader (Wonderful Wonderful Girl) | Chapter 7

Pairing: Wizard x F!Reader

Rating: Teen (Rating to Increase)

Warnings: Power Imbalance, Boss/Employee Relationship

Summary: Being a maid in the Royal Palace of Oz is not half so bad. Despite the meager wages, everything else is provided for you for an honest day's work. It can be unnerving working for the most powerful man in Oz, but you are able to avoid him most of the time. This changes during Lurlinemas, your paths soon becoming inextricably intertwined.

Word Count: 3,724 of 19,250

Start | Prev

AO3 Link

The festivities start before the sun sets. I watch as it sinks below the horizon, a fat red apple amongst the crooked charred tops of green houses and shops. Its dying light falls gently on the shoulders of ladies and gentlemen as they arrive, like a glowing kiss of welcome as strokes of real gold, gold that could be minted, bathe their cheeks and laughter-filled smiles. They arrive in pairs, by themselves, in whole parties that tumble out of stuffed carriages. I watch from the window of my room, having already been done up for an hour at that point. I have dragged the vanity stool over to the window so that I can watch better. Anything to pass the time as I wait for the inevitable final guest of the party: myself.

I have no desire or intent to go down to the feast because I knew that he would be there: the Wizard. Every stroke of the makeup brushes this afternoon felt like porcupine bristles being dragged across the skin of my cheeks, eyelids, and lips. The lips had stung the worst, right in the spot where he had touched his thumb. It was embarrassing really, the way I fell for it all. Emily didn't know anything about what had happened in the throne room, but her words from weeks ago echoed in my head as she wound locks of my hair around the hot iron. You're not the first dummy to try and sleep her way to head maid. The fact that I wasn't the first one was what was eating at me. Was this the kind of treatment that they got? How many had there been before me?

I shake my head at that. No, not before me. I am not a part of any line of women who would sleep with the Wizard, and I do not want to be any part of that line. I'm sure he has needs that are natural to his human body, just the same as he needs to bathe or dress or sleep, but I refuse to think of him like that. It feels disrespectful to even think that he could be so carnally biased that sleeping with him would earn you a higher rank and station, rather than merit.

The thought of him brushing my lips stings me again and I wince, getting up from the window and throwing myself on the bed. There is something about watching the guests arrive that is causing my mind to lose itself, fixating on... I grit my teeth as I push my face into the pillow, not even trying to protect the curls Emily had set or the makeup that had been painted. The cotton pillow is soft against my made-up face and when I try to breathe in, my lungs are confused by the lack of oxygen. Good. If I knock myself out maybe I'll get out of the whole thing altogether.

There is a knock at the door and I dig my claws into the comforter. It's only been a few minutes since Emily left the room and already someone is coming to bother me. I breathe in the pillow quicker, hoping to speed up the process. There's the sound of the door opening and then an unexpected voice.

"You planning to fall through the floor to get to the party?" Bruno says. He bats at my shoe. "C'mon. He wants you downstairs."

What? So he can embarrass me? It was one thing when we were in the darkness of the control room, or even teasing remarks in front of Humak, but to do it in front of hundreds of strangers? "I'm not going," I muffle into the pillow.

"I don't know what you said, but you'd better get up before I make you," he says.

I turn my head just enough and find myself involuntarily sucking in clean air. "I said 'I'm not going', okay? You can't make me."

"For Oz's sake," he says, and then he yanks me by the ankle as I squeak in protest. "This is the hill you're going to die on? A stupid party is worth your sister's life?" He yanks me once more and I tumble to the floor, the wind going out of me in a yelp.

"No! I'll run away!" I say, scrambling to my feet. I say this, despite never having thought about it before or knowing how I would survive outside of the Emerald City with no money and a second mouth to feed. I don’t even know how I would get out of the palace without a guard stopping me.

"You look fine," he says. "Now, let's go."

"No," I say.

"What the hell is wrong with you?” he says “You see a ghost or something? There's food downstairs and drinks and dancing.” Dancing. The thought of the Wizard's hands on me again, the knowledge that I'd fall for it again like an idiot... The Wizard had magic in more ways than one.

"I don't want to dance," I say, "...with strangers, that is. Have you seen the Arjiki guards? They're frightening." They aren't, but it's better than confessing my relational problems to no-nonsense Bruno. What would he know of... whatever the Wizard and I were?

"Well, then you can dance with me then," he says.

I blink, having never considered the possibility before. The party would be better than hiding in my room upstairs because I would have an excuse to not see the Wizard. How could he dance with me if I filled my entire dance card with other people? Up here I ran the risk of him slipping away from the party to come torment me in private. "You mean it?" I ask. Bruno simply offers his arm, and I take it.

We take our time walking down to the Grand Ballroom. I ask Bruno how Leo is doing. Apparently, he got in trouble at school the other day for beating a kid up on the playground. I ask him if the kid deserved it and he laughs, asking me about Fileah instead. There's nothing new to report back besides telling him I'm trying to be on my best behavior so I can see her again. We don't talk about the riot. I hope Fileah has stopped talking about it by herself as I hadn't had the chance to tell her to. The Wizard has been keeping me busy with etiquette assignments and other stupid tasks that seem to take up the whole day past when visiting hours are over. As we enter the Grand Ballroom, I can feel the puzzle piece of the confusing social training click into place and realize that he had this party planned for a while and was truly planning to surprise me.

Tulle and taffeta skim across the floor in coiling circles as partners guide them along, sometimes breaking off and weaving in and out of the ladies and gentlemen, all the while laughing. Toward the front of the room parallel to the wall, and on the dais there are tables laden with food. As we draw closer I can see suckling pigs that have been roasted until bronzed, the skin pulled so tight that you could taste the way it would crackle in your mouth without ever sinking your teeth into it. There are turkeys that have been herbed and stuffed and are twice the size of the biggest one I've ever seen. In between the meats are bowls so big that you would have to carry them with both arms filled with buttered turnips, roasted brussel sprouts, sugared beets, whipped and airy potatoes, and several others that I ignore once I see the towers of desserts. The guests who are not dizzying themselves with merriment have taken seats along these tables, filling their plates with any and all of the offerings.

The table on the dais is packed. Fiyero, Humak, and some of their guards that I had seen earlier are seated on the left, a few strangers are seated on the right, and in dead-center there’s him. The Wizard's lips are pressed together in a hard line, goblet draped lazily in hand, and an empty seat beside him. His eyes are scanning the room, and I know he is looking for me.

"This was a mistake," I say, pressing against Bruno to try and get past him.

"I'll be here and ready to dance with you when it's time," he says reassuringly. He takes my wrist which now has a dance card attached to it. Someone must have slipped it on me while I was salivating over the food. Quickly, he pencils his name into two or three slots – I'm not sure how many as I'm watching the Wizard stare at me, not once breaking the gaze – and then he guides me up to the dais. "I'll come get you when it's time."

I climb the stairs on the right side of the dais, trying to find a seat that hasn't been taken already. Unfortunately, all of the seats at the table are labeled with place cards, little bits of cream cardstock that have been etched in curling script with names and titles. I try to keep my eyes on the whirling bodies of the dance floor and away from the Wizard's tiger-like gaze. The dancers seem to have moved onto a reel, two great ovals smashed together as couples take turns dancing down the aisle of refined and all-green and gold clothing. I watch intently, even as I take my seat next to him, even as I can smell the spiced cloud of his cologne, even as I can feel his eyes burning into the side of my face to make it so hot that I wonder if I have a fever and might be excused from the party to undisturbed bed rest.

We sit like this for an eternity, letting the full orchestra swallow up our unsaid words, until a familiar voice asks, "Are you a big dancer?" It's Fiyero, goblet in hand, and much more fashionably dressed than the last time I saw him, a satin blue military jacket perfectly accompanying his blinding smile and the twinkle in his eyes.

I have to ask him to repeat himself, feigning that the orchestra is too loud to hear him. He does, and I swear I could go down to the Unionist chapel right now and thank the Unnamed God for getting me away from the man sitting next to me. "Oh yes!" I say. "I love dancing. I don't get to do it much, so I'm really trying to take it all in."

Prince Fiyero laughs at that. "Wouldn't it be better to take it in on the dance floor?" He offers me a hand, and I don't have to think twice before taking it.

I don't have to imagine that Fiyero is a heartbreaker back in Winkie Country. I can feel my own butterflies flap their wings in curiosity at how graceful and perfectly gentlemanlike he is: the way his hand warmly guides me by the waist, the way he laughs at anything that I say and always has the perfect banter ready to shoot back. Even his eyes, his hair, and his teeth are perfectly perfect, and yet I am still not completely sold. Stopping me from falling for him fully is almost equally the shock that a prince has asked me to dance with him when I had been sharing a bed for warmth and stealing ribbons weeks ago, and the fact that I can still feel the Wizard's eyes on me.

I look to the dais, and even though we are a good hundred feet away, I can see the anger seeping from him, how Humak who was sitting to his right looks at him nervously as if the man in the satin green tuxedo were going to explode and kill him in the process. Good, I think. It was time for him to get a taste of his own medicine. It wouldn't hurt him to see me dancing with the enemy. It's just a little harmless fun so maybe he'd stop trying to mess with my head and toy with me.

I'm not familiar with the dance that plays next, but Fiyero is such an excellent partner that everyone who looks at us would think I had known it my whole life. He jokes with me about how the party hadn't really started until I showed up and I almost believe him. By the end of it, I have a stitch in my side from all of the dancing and the laughing. I feel as if I could down an entire bottle of fizzy wine the way I'm out of breath and giddy to go again. I don't need the wine as I feel a strange warmth spreading within me. Looking at Fiyero, I'm more than glad he came to the Emerald City, and not just glad that he got me away from the Wizard.

"Come on! Come on!" a man in spectacles that pinch his pupils into reptilian slits shouts. "Let's play a game of Blind Man's Buff!"

This sends the crowd into a tizzy of excitement, young women shrieking with delight and pushing each other, the gentlemen gathering closer to the bespectacled man.

"Blind Man's Buff?" I say, grabbing Fiyero's arm. "What is it?"

Fiyero's grin spreads wide in excitement and he pulls me into the throng of those who have had enough of dancing. The man in the lizard glasses is now waving a white scarf as if it were a flag of surrender as the mob pushes in.

"Who shall be our Blind Man?" Lizard Eyes asks.

Fiyero pulls me forward and pushes me to the front. "Take her!" he shouts, waving my hand above my head. "She's a virgin!"

"A virgin!?" Lizard Eyes exclaims.

I'm short-circuiting over them discussing whether I've slept with anyone before when Fiyero whispers in my ear, "It just means you've never played before, love." The butterflies are now beating their wings in earnest.

"Yes! Yes!" Lizard Eyes says. "It will be a special Lurlinemas treat, then. A real game to remember!" Quickly, Lizard Eyes blindfolds me, the world going dark as the soft and warm cashmere is wrapped snuggly around my eyes. Despite the scarf being white, there is still a green light that comes through, and I realize just how truly green the entire palace and city are if even a thick scarf can't block the verdant glow. "Should we make it a special game?" the voice of Lizard Eyes says.

"Lover's fate!" Fiyero shouts out.

"What's that?" I try to ask Lizard Eyes. However, I can't see him, and my guess as to where he is remains in the last place I saw him. I reach out to my right and touch nothing but air. This earns a laugh from the crowd.

"Lover's fate!" people agree, some even starting a chant.

"Lover's fate it will be!" Lizard Eyes says. He must have moved back behind me, I realize, turning in that direction. "You will have to search the room looking for people. Once you grab someone, you must identify them." He giggles.

"Sounds easy," I say. I hope I catch Fiyero, I think. He's familiar enough and I wouldn't mind an excuse to touch that perfect face of his.

"Well, it would be, except you can't use your hands," Lizard Eyes says. "You'll have to kiss them to figure it out."

I want to rip off the scarf and go hide under one of the banquet tables when Lizard Eyes grabs me by the shoulders and starts spinning me around and around until I'm so dizzy that I want to lay on the floor until my head comes back to normal. Even if I lay there all evening, it would never stop the spinning on account of how many strangers there were and that I would have to kiss one of them. The thought makes my stomach go cold, so I know that I have to find Fiyero. Maybe I’ll be glad that I came to the party after all. Maybe...

The mob that had gathered around Lizard Eyes is now quickly dispersing and reeling back in. Their whoops and hollers are growing distant and then occasionally they bump past me in taunt, but I don’t care. Frankly, there are too many of them, and I'm trying to pick out Fiyero's voice. The slight Winkie accent is what I'm looking for, the way it sparkles. I think I hear him 10 feet diagonally to the right of me. I go chasing after it and can hear his laugh as I fall through the air in my attempt to catch him.

"If I had known you wanted to kiss me that bad," he says, "we could have skipped the dancing."

I'm following his voice once again, trying to sneak up on him. "Okay," I say. "So then get over here." Another snatch and a miss.

"Nuh-uh," he says. "I'm undefeated in this game. You can kiss me afterward if you really want to."

I make a dash for him and miss the grab again. I stomp my foot, willing him to hold still.

"You know, you're supposed to chase other people too," he says. Another missed grab.

"Well nobody told me that," I retort back. I fake going after other people, trying to keep his location in mind. When I'm satisfied with enough squeals and laughs, I taunt him again. "Maybe you're undefeated because you're scared."

"I'm not scared," he says. 8 feet to my left. I reach for the rustle of a skirt that I hear closest to me, pretending to chase it as I make a semicircle to cut him off. I shoot my hand out and grab hold of an arm clad in a soft satin. The blue and gold dress military jacket.

"Too easy," I say with a smirk. The room has gone silent and I can't stop grinning at the thought of the Arjiki prince kissing the Wizard’s special guest. Serve’s him right. "Kiss me."

His fingertips are warm as his hands cradle my face. The room is still holding its breath as I feel just the brush of his lips against my own.

"You call that a kiss?" I whisper. "Kiss me."

His lips crush mine openly, an invitation. I let my tongue slide against his lower lip as his tongue slips against mine and into my mouth, pressing my tongue back into submission. It's everything I can do to not fall into his arms and let him carry me out of the party. He was certainly better than any schoolyard kisses and there was a promise of domination in the way his tongue danced with mine that sent a thrill up my spine.

When he pulls away, his name is already on my lips as I tear the scarf off. I don't make it past the first syllable.

It's him. There's a look of hurt in his eyes and I can't help but feel like an idiot. I was so wrapped up in the idea of kissing Fiyero that I couldn't even recognize the same small scars that had touched my hands earlier that day or the way his mustache and goatee had scratched the delicate skin of my lips.

So many things are crashing and burying me like an avalanche: the way he's looking at me, the way the room is still silent and staring at us, the way Fiyero has a shit-eating grin and I can tell he's holding in a laugh, the way I liked it and still want more. This last part is what sends me running from the room and out into the winding halls of the Emerald Palace.

I need to get away from him, to think this out. How was I ever going to face him again? I remember telling Bruno about how I would run away, and now I'm seriously considering it. How much could a train ticket possibly cost? Fileah and I could probably run away and live in the jungle off of the fruits of the forest until we found somewhere nice in Munchkinland to house us. Maybe Bruno had some family outside of the Emerald City that could hide us.

I burst through the hallway and find myself back in the throne room. Sweet Oz, anywhere but here. The face is well hidden amongst the vines again. I consider going up into it to cry – it'd probably be the last place he'd expect to find me – when I hear a queer wooden sound. It sounds like a penny made of wood is spinning around and around before it falls flat. Then the crash happens, followed by cursing.

I run over to the source of the commotion to see Humak Tigelaar with a funny-looking object in his hands.

"Humak," I say through a tear-constricted throat, "you're missing the party."

Humak laughs nervously at this, agreeing with me. It is as he's trying to slip away that I realize what he's holding.

"The Grimmerie," I breathe.

Humak's smile drops and instantaneously he's bolting into the hallways.

All I wanted to do was to be left alone, to just go somewhere where no one would find me while I tried to sort out what would be best for me, what would be best for Fileah. No, in truth, it was just what would be best for me. If I had really been selfless I would have played whatever part he had set for me and done it happily. Ribbons were a fraction of his generosity, and she could have had anything in the world if I had just played the stupid part.

I feel like Lizard Eyes has spun me around and around for a second time as the machine that is Oz the Great and Terrible seems to be floating up with its ropes towards the ceiling, the ceiling falling to the floor. I stumble, feeling for any sort of familiarity or guidepost in what to do, and I keep stumbling, footstep after footstep until I reach the entrance to the Officer's wing.

My voice sounds a thousand yards away as I yell for help.

[nuggeteri]

hello hello i see you are a flower ranchers enjoyer, i am The flower ranchers guy would you like to talk abt them :>

Oh my god I was writing you a one-shot and my fucking website just fucking glitched and erased all of it. Welp. Back to writing I go (another concept though because I am not rewriting the same shit twice)

Also my DMS are open if that's what you meant :333

.

"Are you sure?" Jimmy asks, looking from right to left---almost worried to be getting caught.

Scott doesn't know why he even bothers. They're in the BamBunker and it really wasn't that big. It could all be seen from one look. He guesses it only emphasized on how anxious Scott was about the idea.

Scott doesn't think it should be against the rules if it's his power. He nods.

"Well, okay, but you can't say I gave you permission, alright?" He warns and Scott knows that Jimmy wouldn't do anything even if he didn't listen. Scott agrees anyway. "Yup. Sure. Now let me."

With only minimal sounds of protests, Jimmy turned around, back facing Scott, which the shirt the blond was wearing having two rips, allowing golden small wings to pass through.

Scott knows he could've stolen Grian's wings. They were bigger and would probably get him more success. Pearl would've let him without a second thought. He could probably coherse Martyn. While Lizzie's were fake, they could certainly do the job. But if he chose anyone other than Jimmy, then they wouldn't be getting all red, hot and bothered and Scott having his hands in their wings.

"You've grown some blue feathers." He remarks as he passes a hand through them. Jimmy hiccups, gasps and chirps before managing to answer him--- "Yeah..- I guess? I mean, look at me! Still standing!" He wasn't a canary anymore,Mumbo and Skizz are indeed dead. Scott can give that to him. "Proud of you, Petal."

He passes his hand through a few more of the new feathers before activating his powers. He's not even entirely sure if it would work, but at least, trying it gave him an excuse to pass his hands over Jimmy's soft wings.

It does work. It's not painful, per say, more of uncomfortable to have his back torn off to let wings pass through, but oh well.

It also ripped his shirt and jacket--oh well. He could always ask Cleo to sew it back together afterwards. She wouldn't say not to her soulmate.

"Did it work?"

Scott chirped---it didn't come as a surprise for him, he remembered how being an Avian was from Empires season one-- and it was all Jimmy needed to get his question answered. He chirped back, and oh gosh, not only had Scott missed these Avian instincts, but it made him feel fuzzy to have his partner respond.

He doesn't show it, though. That's Jimmy's thing, as he got redder and redder by the second.

"Aww, Jimmy, are you flustered?"

"Go and catch Tango!"

Right--- because this was also what it was all about. While Scott wanted to run his hands through his boyfriend's unused wings, he also wanted to catch up on his other boyfriend who had been running all around the server not to get caught.

He knew, logically, that Tango would stop for him if he asked. After all, he was still green, and therefore not allowed to attack him. However, that wouldn't be fun.

"I'll send kisses from you his way, then!" He says before flapping his new wings and getting out of the bunker without using the ladders--which he could hear his boyfriend complaining about.

He doesn't care--- he has a mission. Find Tango.

It's not that hard. The Bamboozlers' mountain already gave a good overall view of the server--flying slightly higher made it incredible.

Tango was running circles around Spawn.

Scott dipped and glided all the way over there.

"Hey, snowbug!" He called out.

"AAAH!" Tango screams---a little loud, which makes Scotts newly obtained head wings flap back in surprise, but other wise, doesn't hurt a fly.

"Since when have you gotten wings?" He asks, flabbergasted.

"Jimmy gave them to me. Powers, remember? I can steal people's hybrid status."

"That is---amazing! Oh my, can you become a blaze hybrid?" Tango proposes and---well, it's not like Scott hadn't already considered it. There were cultural and biological traditions he and his partners couldn't practice. Like wrapping someone around a wing for Jimmy, or have flames intertwine for blazes. He wanted to try all of that. But not right now.

"Later, bug," he informs him, "You've already stolen from me!"

Tango's fire seems to spark at Scotts words---something that he finds absolutely adorable. They were all excited.

"How so?" He still manages to get out.

"Ice is my thing. It's the second time you steal it!"

-

I did get lazy towards the end soryyyy it's soon to be four AM....but flower ranchers

[mentime]

✿ cum undone ✿

title: cum undone

summary: when Billy Butcher isn't coming up with new reasons to hate Supes, he works as a phone sex operator.

w.c: 2.5k

warnings: phone sex, cursing, fingering, slight hint at pain play but only very very slightly, solo masturbation, nothing graphic at all tbh

note: hi first work!! hope everyone is doing well, sorry if there's any typos, kind of rushed it but hope you enjoy thanks for reading <3

What in the actual fuck were you doing?

Your thoughts begin spiralling, and you grasped at your bedsheets to try and ground yourself, but despite your efforts, your breaths were becoming faster and shallower.

And you still couldn't bring yourself to hang up the phone.

See, you had found yourself in a bit of a predicament. It had been building up all week, you've been feeling hot and bothered over small things, it was getting to be too much for you. Which is what lead you to now, watching helplessly with bated breath as your phone dialed the number for a phone sex hotline that you had discovered on the internet in your haste to solve your... problem.

The phone rings once...

This was a bad idea.

Then twice...

This was a really, really bad idea.

Then three times...

This is getting pathetic now, you should really just hang up-

"Hello, love, Butcher here, ready to satisfy every desire you could possibly come up with in that pretty little head of yours", a gruff, gravelly British accent answers on the other side of the phone, reciting what seems to be the company's slogan. You could feel blood flowing to your cheeks and an abundance of heat pooling in your abdomen at the sound of the man's voice alone. "Are ya in need of some…service?"

You scramble to get closer to the phone, flushed and out of breath already. You try to think of something clever to say, something that doesn't give you away as just a total inexperienced loser, but you don't come up with anything special.

"Hi", you manage to will your voice to speak at a somewhat normal volume and pace. "Um, yes please?"

The man, Butcher, on the other side of the phone chuckles at the questioning lilt of your tone, and you feel yourself flush even deeper, although you didn't know that could be possible. When he speaks next, you can hear the smug grin in his voice.

"And what sort of service do ya have in mind, love?", the man continues, and his voice lowers, even deeper, as he speaks again. "I’d be more than happy to accommodate ya."

Your mind comes to a complete halt, both at how fucking attractive this man sounds, and because you actually have no clue what you want from this phone call. Of course, you know the end goal, you're not that oblivious, but you hadn't really thought of how exactly to get... there.

"Oh, um, I don't know", you whisper, shyly. "I've never really done this before..."

"That’s completely fine, darlin’, s'what I'm here for, ain't it?", and even though his words are kind, you could swear you can hear a smirk in his voice. Maybe you're just paranoid. "We’ll take it nice and slow. Why dontcha tell me what you’ve been thinkin’ about?"

You hear some shuffling around and a grunt on the other side of the line, presumably the man getting more comfortable, and even that noise evokes something within you.

"Well,", you start nervously, your tongue darting out to wet your lips. "Um, it's just that lately, I've been getting kind of... riled up over small things, and I haven't been able to really, uh, fix this problem."

You internally cringe at that absolute word vomit that you had just spewed, and you grip at your sheets and screw your eyes shut, nearly hanging up until you hear the man chuckling softly.

"So, what you're tellin' me is that ya need some help masturbating", and you're definitely sure you can hear the smirk in his voice now. "Do I have it right, lovie?"

You nod, unable to command yourself to speak, until you cop onto the fact that Butcher can't actually see you. You manage a quiet little "yes".

"Well, of course I'll help ya, love", Butcher says softly, and you nearly melt as your fingers loosen their death grip on the sheets. "It's me bloody job and I'm fuckin' amazing at it, so we'll have your little problem sorted and you'll be right as rain."

If you weren't so nervous, you'd be full on beaming, and you can feel yourself nodding along to the man's words.

"And 'cause I'm so damn good at what I do, I can already tell you're not much of a talker", and thank god for sexy, intelligent men. "That ain't no big deal to me, love. I'll just tell ya what to do, and your only job is to enjoy yourself and let me know if ya want to stop at anytime."

You nod, and you chide yourself for being so silly, but it doesn't matter because it's almost as if Butcher could sense it through the phone, and he proceeds anyway.

"First, I want ya to get comfy. Do whatever you gotta do, darlin', I'm in no rush."

You hurry to lie back, limbs splayed out over your plush duvet. You try your best to calm yourself down with a few deep breaths, but you struggle to keep your excitement at bay.

"Now, just listen to the sound of me voice", his gravely voice softens, and you focus all of your attention solely on him. "Let me guide ya. I want ya to start by slowly and gently brushing your skin with your nails."

You do just that. You rake your nails softly on the exposed parts of your body, enjoying how it stimulates you and makes your skin tingle.

His voice gets low and soft as he continues.

"Follow the lines of your body, love. Across your stomach, down your sides, wherever it feels nice. If it helps ya, picture me touchin’ you, my hands moving across your skin."

Oh god, why did he have to go and do that. You can just imagine it now, with your eyes shut, breaths deepening as your hands roam your body, an impeccably handsome man, big hands exploring every inch of your skin, leaving a burning trail in their path.

"Good girl, you’re doing very well", his voice still low and seductive. "I want ya to keep moving your hands. Slide them up, higher, towards your tits."

Your face burns at his language, but you comply regardless, shivering at the sensitive touch.

"Imagine it’s my hands that are on your skin, touchin' ya", his voice is as soft as velvet, and even though you can hear the teasing smirk in his tone, you can't bring yourself to care as you get lost in your fantasies of a faceless British man caressing you with all of the care in the world. "My hands moving just as yours are. Do ya like it, lovie?"

You manage to utter a breathless "yes" as you continue your ministrations. You can hear the grin as he continues speaking.

"I’m glad, love. Now, I want ya to close your hands as you reach your chest, let your nails dig into your skin. Not hard enough to hurt, just…enough to feel good, yeah?

You startle a bit at that, but you do as you're told anyway, and find that it actually feels kind of nice, in contrast with the barely there touches from earlier.

"You’re doin' really good. Relax into the feeling f'me, love", Butcher's voice dips into a whisper, and you can hear some movement on the other side of the line as he readjusts himself, but you pay no mind. "Slide your hands higher, higher, until ya reach your neck. Wrap your hand around your throat, darlin'. Not too hard now, don't want ya dyin' on my watch."

"Feels good", you surprise yourself when you huff out a response that wasn't even required, and you curl in on yourself in embarrassment.

He gives another soft laugh as your words. He’s enjoying this.

"Really good, lovie, well done", he cooes slightly, and you can still hear his smile. "'Want ya to imagine I’m in the room with ya, my fingers exploring whatever part of your body I want to."

And oh god, how you want that. One hand leaves your throat to wander down further south, and your body quivers in anticipation.

"Move your hands from your neck now, love", he goes on, almost as if he had sensed that you wanted to speed things up a little bit. "Move them down. Slowly. Across your chest. Down your sides again. Down to your hips. Keep 'em there."

Your fingers venture down further, slowly, and as the heat spreads across your whole body, you can feel a certain wetness building up in your panties too.

"Imagine me lips against your skin. Against your neck, your shoulders, your tits", Butcher continues, his voice still below a whisper, soft and sensual, and it's amazing how just a man's voice could make your body react so much. "Me hands running across your body, down your hips. Across the insides of your thighs, would ya like that lovie?"

You nod and bite down on your lip to refrain from letting out any embarrassing noises.

"Slide your hands lower, darlin’", he pauses for a second, and you can hear his heavy breathing and some rustling on his end. "Run 'em over your thighs, your legs."

"Does it make ya feel good, love?", his words slur together almost, and it turns into a smooth purr, his smirk still audible. "Imagining me there, me hands on your skin, me lips against your neck. Pressin' against ya, and makin' ya shudder. Makin' ya squirm beneath me. You'd probably make the cutest noises too if ya weren't so damn shy."

He lets his words hang in the air for a second, and your brain is still trying to comprehend everything that he'd just said to you. His voice goes even lower when he speaks again, continuing his gentle guidance.

"Slide your hand between your legs, darlin'. Use your other hand to touch the inside of your thigh. Move it up, slowly. Imagine it’s my touch that you’re feelin'. My hands that are makin' ya feel so good."

You reach your fingers slowly down towards the heat, and press against the wet patches on your panties. They're nearly soaked, and otherwise you'd be embarrassed by how undone you've become by just the voice of a stranger, but you can't find it in yourself as you plunge your hand into your panties.

Your fingers circle your lips, and you let your other hand trail into the wetness, rubbing gently as you focus your attention on Butcher's voice.

"Imagine my lips against your skin, tracing a line down your stomach. Where do ya want 'em t'go, lovie?", he makes a soft sound, a mixture between a moan and a grunt, as he continues to speak. He lets out a low laugh. "I'm only fuckin' with ya, I know exactly where you want them to go."

You hear his smirk widening, and you flush even more as you trace little circles around your clit as he speaks.

"Mmm, yes, love, right between your legs, I know. I'd love for ya t'know the things I’m thinking about you, the things I’d be doing to ya if I was in the room with ya right now."

You can't contain the whimper of want you emit when he says that last bit, and you're so stimulated, what with your fingers teasing your clit and his seductive voice on the phone that you can't even muster up any shame.

He chuckles, his voice almost as thick as honey as he speaks.

"Oh, ya like the sound of that, love? Imagining me in your room, on top of ya. Do you want to know what I’m thinkin' about ya right now, darlin’?"

"Mmhm", you just about manage to make out, because even though you were dead set on not uttering a single word unless you absolutely had to to prevent yourself from making a fool of yourself, you just have to know what he's on about.

Your hand works faster and faster, and you slip a finger into the warmth, pumping faster and faster as he speaks.

"I’m imaginin' ya lying on your back, darlin’. I’m on top of ya, me arms pressed against the bed, my body against yours", He lowers his voice to almost a whisper, the smirk on his face audible in his words.

"Imagine I’m on my knees, love, right in front of you, between your legs, me face in front of your hips", your breath stutters as your hand continues to work, maintaining speed and you can feel yourself nearing climax. "Ya want to know some of the things I’m thinkin', darlin’?"

You whimper again, and Butcher takes that as an affirmative.

He laughs again, moving the receiver away as he lets out a chuckle before returning to the low, soft voice. He’s getting much more into this now, his own excitement starting to show in his words. The words are so low that they almost melt together like the sofy purr of an engine.

"I want to taste ya, love. The image of your body, of being so close to ya, it’s driving me bloody mental", he grins, you can hear it in the way he speaks. "I’m thinkin' about how good you’d taste, lovie, how bad I want to taste ya all over. How badly I want to run my tongue over your body, how much I want to make ya moan."

The heat becomes unbearable as you continue to rub your clit in erratic circular motions, and finger yourself.

Nearly there.

"Christ, the things I'd do to ya if I was there", a low laugh escapes his mouth, "you know what my hand is doing right now, love?"

So close, so close.

"And y'know what? If I had ya, pliant and obedient underneath me, I'd lick a fat stripe up your cunt and eat you out like a starving man"

Oh my fucking god.

You let out a moan as you climax, and you hear Butcher grunt in unison. Your vision is a mixture of hot white and blurriness. Your chest heaves as you pant, trying to catch your breath, and your fingers cramp up as you pull them away from the warm, sticky mess that once were your panties.

You hear Butcher moving on the other side of the phone.

"Well, thanks for the wank, lovie, pleasure doin' business with you", Butcher's voice is low, a bit more hoarse now than when the phone call had started, but the smug undertone is still there. "Don't worry 'bout payin', it's on the house since it was so enjoyable for me too."

Your cheeks heat up again as you hear his deep voice chuckle. You can't help but feel a twinge of bittersweetness now that the moment is over, but it's overcome by relief and a warm tiredness that makes your eyelids heavy.

"I hope your little problem is fixed now, darlin'. Call back again sometime, and ask for Butcher."

He hangs up, and you're stuck in your bed wondering how many times is deemed acceptable to ring a phone sex hotline in a week.

[tackykachowch]

You know, I thought about it for a while, and it's literally so jarring that Jinx's mental illness is treated as a plot device in s2. And because of this people in the fandom try to find a reasonable explanation for this change, because writers couldn't possibly do something stupid, right? "Jinx isn't in such a hostile environment anymore so that's why she's more stable", "She's not conflicted about being Powder or Jinx anymore so she's better now", "Silco forgave Jinx and called her perfect so her hallucinations disappeared", "Isha brought her inner piece" etc etc. Like. Mental illnesses don't work like that. At all. And the fact that writers just let this bunch of crap stay in the script and be turned into the actual season of a television show just baffles me. It's not like I'm genuinely shocked - I'm really not, I know that society doesn't care about mentally ill people at all, but to do this in such a way.....it's just plain insulting and idiotic. Like, imagine if Viktor's leg suddenly got better in season 1 act2 because he's not an assistant anymore, he's closer to realizing his dream than ever before, and he has a best friend/lab partner who always supports him. What? Viewers are not stupid? Physical disabilities don't work like that, you say? *Then what is the damn difference*. Mental disabilities are the same as physical, and the fact that they're generally unseen by other people doesn't change anything. They should be treated with the same level of responsibility, seriousness and respect as any other physical disability/disease. Treating this topic any other way is insulting to the mentally ill people in general, it's insulting to viewers' intelligence, and it's insulting to the very nature of human experience. If you can't be bothered to try and understand, to emphasize with people who are going through the problems you want to touch on in your work, why would you want to even create such a work? For what purpose? To stroke your own ego or try to look more "noble" or something? No matter how you look at it, this situation is disgusting. I understand that people in the fandom want to approach Jinx's mental state change in s2 in good faith, but I personally won't take any of it. This is an extremely harmful thing to do, whether intentionally or not. But the thing is, they didn't have the right to be unintentional with this, because they're writers on a big project with a massive audience. If you're willing to take a chance with such a work, well....I won't have you in a high regard, to put it lightly.

[v10l3t-jpg]

another facet of my autistic Gwen headcanon is that she's such a massive bitch because she doesn't allow herself comfort and is constantly one more bad texture/sensation away from a meltdown. I think she would benefit massively from making the switches that I've made — no more underwired bras, no heels or other uncomfortable shoes, no more jeans or actually any stiff or tight fabrics — but she won't.

she can't be seen to be slobbing about in a sports bra (even if no one could tell or would give a fuck) or anything other than pristine tailored office wear; she can't allow herself anything more casual than loafers that pinch and rub because she has to be presentable. it's only on very rare occasions that she'll wear her glasses into work because she has this completely irrational notion that everyone will see this as a lack of effort, that she couldn't be bothered to put her contacts in even though they irritate her already dry eyes and she could do with taking breaks from them more often. her comfort will never be as important as maintaining appearances, she learned that much at a young age.

she has to be perfect, and it doesn't matter about straps digging in and being self-conscious over whether things are clinging too much. she goes home every morning after another stiff-shouldered, aching-headed, easily irritated night with stinging eyes and blister plasters on her heels and round her little toes and immediately regrets scratching at the pink indentation lines on her sides, knowing rightly that there are alternatives available and that what she wears is her business thank you very much, but she will not allow herself that comfort because it lowers a standard — that only she is holding herself to, that only she cares about — and a Bouchard does not lower their standards.