#aside from the bed thing which can’t be helped lol

[highh-thoughtss]

No wonder I don’t wanna have sex when I’ve been a**aulted, my mental health is slowly declining, I hate looking at myself naked so assume my boyfriend would feel the same and am always self-conscious, my energy is in the gutter, and my bed is in the same room as my work station!

[merlucide]

The matchmaker has found a match……

your match is…. (REQ4)

HIORI YO!

x an Introverted, stubborn, thoughtful, + responsible gn!reader

I believe you two would be a great match!!

Both of you are rather reserved, and I think you too have a lot in common ! (aside from being a sadist…..unless-)

I think you guys would fall under the Highschool sweethearts trope <3

You both shared a few common classes together and sort-of became friends:)

Hiori admired your thoughtfulness towards your friends + Family and your flexibility.

And *poof* Hiori had a crush on you!

He asked you out on an evening date to the strip mall, which you accepted >:3

There was little boutiques and restaurants, he led you to the arcade and payed for all of the machines/games.

He let you choose the majority of the arcade games, which included the claw machine

Hiori tried to win you that ugly-cute panda that clearly had a factory malfunction, unfortunately he was running broke by the failed attempts.. 🫠

The games he chose was those shooter games, which obviously, he got the highscore in it every time.

Even though the claw machine was a sad fail, with all of the tickets he won on the shooter games, you can pick out a prize!

You choose the [ prize ] and left the arcade

He then took you next door to the Ice Cream Parlor and ordered a chocolate cone-cup for himself and a [ fav flavour ] for you ^^

You both walk around the mall with your ice cream and mindlessly chat, then start heading home

Hiori walked you back to your home (since it was dark, but he normally walked you home anyway^^) and right before you turn away he softly says “Wait,”

His eyes are focused on yours as he took a deep breath before saying his next words

”Listen.. I think it’s best if I come clean about this now.. um, I having feelings for you [Y/N]. And I have for a while. ..I need to know if you feel the same or not. I understand if it’s unrequited,”

You’re just kinda like ‘😧 ?!’

He just awkwardly-nervously stands there, his face blank and honest, contrasting with his frantic tapping foot lmao

You tell him that the feeling is mutual and he asks if you’d do him the honors of being his S/O :)

He offers you a polite kiss on the hands and runs off (he definitely yelled ‘ YESS!’ When he was far enough away lmao)

Now that’s how [Y/N] and Hiori got together 😌 now for general HCS!

Movie nights are definitely a thing for you guys, you created a wheel where it picks the movie and snacks you guys watch/eat (you both put your favorite movies/snacks in it ofc)

Hiori is a sucker for any type of horror, so hope you aren’t scared of it!

jk he wouldn’t watch any movie w/ you where you would be scared 😌 he likes action movies too :D

Will seriously watch anything you want though

Also video game dates!! again he played like only shooter games (+ Minecraft) so if that’s not your vibe ..😭

You guys have a cute lil Minecraft world and he made a zoo full of villagers and kept them in cages💀

also KNOWS how to use redstone, like yalls base is insane

your beds are obvi side-by-side <3

Super supportive of your hobbies!! You have a game? He’s coming!! Get a good serve in? He’s cheering!! Ref calls red flag? He’s booing!!

Sometimes he does struggle to match your enthusiasm due to his experiences with sports, but he is happy you enjoy it :)

He would talk vent about it every now and then, but wouldn’t want his issues to become ‘your’ problem :(

Gets on you for when you neglect yourself !! Acts like a nagging mom about it lol. He gets real serious about your mental and psychical state, saying how ‘just because you are always helping your friends, doesn’t excuse you neglecting yourself. You can’t keep giving if you don’t take care of you too, okay?’

he means well 🙏

You guys get into petty fights now and then, but that’s pretty much it. Obviously arguments are inescapable but for you both it’s pretty rare

likes slow days with you, you do your own thing for a bit and he does his

He really loves the comfort of knowing you’re there, even though you aren’t touching or speaking.

Hiori is probs a 6/10 on the affectionate scale, he does need touch but it doesn’t have to be dramatic, just simple pinky holding + a cheek kiss is enough for him :)

Loves giving you piggyback rides if you let him :3

Oh your feet hurt? Well hop on!

Loves doing little things for you, hand him that orange babe, he’ll peel it for you and remove all of the white stuff 😌

also his hands are so soft- he has a few calluses but still so soft. His nails are perfectly trimmed all the time, chipped nails? Don’t know her

— actually I lied, he bites his nails like CRAZY. they are so short he doesn’t give them the opportunity to get chipped 💀

If you ever wanted to paint his nails he wouldn’t argue :) just please, no greens or oranges

In conclusion, yours and Hiori’s relationship is pretty smooth and understanding! He gets you and you get him :)

(this was written b4 the egoist bible came out so 💀)

runner ups!

Kageyama Tobio

Kunigami Rensuke (pre wc)

Reo Mikage

(for the anonnie who requested this! hope this met your expectations!! also sorry if you don’t like Hiori or wtv 😭)

[kunikinnie]

a/n: this one was in the drafts for a long time lol anw hope you guys like it!

birthday

Today passed quicker than you expected. Since your birthday plans were canceled due to his work, you had much more time to do other things - although of course the disappointment did not fully dissipate. 

You were typing away at your laptop, focusing on work that demanded utmost attention, and by the time you had finished the clock almost struck midnight. Was it that late? Oh well. One last look at your phone messages was all you had to do before sleeping anyway - your heart was especially expectant when you checked on his conversation - but there was nothing. Such was life, you thought, and you were about to tuck yourself in when a loud knock interrupted you. 

Curiously you strode to your door, and the moment you opened it you nearly gasped at the mess of a man standing in front of it.

“Wh-what am I looking at…?” you asked in confusion.

“Your boyfriend…?”

Tetchou was far from presentable: his cap was barely on his sweaty hair and his uniform stained with blood aside from the torn and frayed portions. It was the complete opposite from the bouquet of flowers in his two fingers that were immaculate and fresh.

“No, I mean what is that?” 

Your eyes were fixed on the large triangular metal sheet with “Happy Birthday” hastily painted on it. The marks of steel being ripped from its center were apparent, so this could only be…

“I thought flowers weren’t enough so I wanted to make a placard… but I didn’t have any materials so I just used this traffic sign that I accidentally cut off during the chase.”

The absurdity of it all made you question your sanity. So he couldn’t find an illustration board or something similar but there was paint lying around? Were you just in a fever dream? That was the most logical explanation, but the strength of the scent of his sweat when he stepped closer to you suggested otherwise. 

“Sorry… is it too much?” 

The puppy eyes that you kept falling for had landed a critical hit once again. Yes, it was too much - too much compared to what you had expected he would ever do for you for something so inane as this. Yet your heart couldn’t help but swell with delight at his efforts.

“You didn’t have to, but thank you..”

Without further delay you let him inside your warm apartment. He handed over his bouquet and the improvised placard which you placed on the table and swapped for your own present. All the while you continued to barrage him with questions and words of concern: Why was his uniform in tatters? Was he injured? Why did he push himself to come here today? Yet he answered none of those and simply sprawled beside your bed. 

“At least change first, please?”

“Too tired… ran all the way here,” he panted. The image of him running poker faced with the giant stop sign was one you never thought you’d have to imagine, but then again nothing was impossible with Tetchou.

“Besides,” he continued, eyes only half open. “I promised you I’d come today. You were so excited so… can’t… just…”

You quickly caught him before his face hit the floor. He should have come tomorrow instead. Or maybe on the weekend if he was that busy. A few more days to add to the weeks you hadn’t seen him in person was nothing compared to his immediate welfare.  

The guilt and gratitude overflowed as you pulled him up to your bed. He always took care of you whenever he could, so helping him get a good night’s sleep is the least you could do in return. And that in itself was something you were more than glad to do for him - why would you do any less for the love of your life?

You placed a soft kiss on his forehead.  “Thank you, Tetchou,” you whispered before finally retiring for the night in your spare futon.

taglist: @stygianoir, @irethepotato, @kisara-16reblogs, @thatdazaikin, @dazaee, @menshusband, @celestair, @bloobewy, @renaxnnas, @kunikida-simp

[thewintersoldierdisaster]

a/n: merry christmas eve and happy sunday! the promised andrei christmas fic (written extremely fast and edited even faster lol) title is from cher’s new christmas song which is a bop and a half so i suggest listening. going to be quiet the rest of the year to stockpile some writing, but happy new year everyone, i’ve been beyond grateful for the love my fics have gotten this year 😘

word count: 3.9k

tw: minimal smut, unprotected sex, brief fingering

summary: christmas eve at the svechnikov house is a chaotic but fun affair

“Mama?”

“Yes, my love?” You look up from the bowl of cookie dough batter. Evie was supposed to be helping after waking up at the ass crack of dawn, but the lure of rearranging all the decorations on the small tree in her room was more appealing. Your little perfectionist oldest daughter had shifted ornaments no less than fifteen times since you’d put the decorations up right after Thanksgiving.

Alina hops from foot to foot and you don’t necessarily love the sparkle of mischief in her eyes. “I catch Santa!”

You squint at her. “You’re catching Santa? Santa’s not a lizard in the backyard,” you say gently.

“I catch Santa,” Alina repeats. “Tonight! With presents!”

It clicks in your head - she means that she wants to stay up late and catch Santa leaving presents - and you laugh. “Oh, baby, you can’t stay up to see Santa, otherwise he doesn’t leave presents, remember?” You set the bowl of dough aside and scoop Alina up into your arms, sitting her down on the counter. She pouts at you, chubby little fingers reaching to play with the strings on your hoodie.

“Wanna see Santa,” she huffs. Her little pout is identical to Andrei’s and it makes you smile. You love seeing your husband’s traits and mannerisms in your girls.

You lean in to whisper conspiratorially, “guess what? Someone better than Santa is coming in a little bit.”

“Who?” Alina perks up, eyes going wide as she bounces a little. “Mickey Mouse?”

Another laugh bursts out of your mouth and Alina giggles with you, always ready to laugh with whoever’s around. “No, not Mickey Mouse,” you giggle, tickling her sides lightly and enjoying her childish laughter. “Babushka and dedushka!”

Alina shrieks happily and you catch her when she launches herself forward off the counter. The kids love when Elena and Igor come to visit and they don’t know that this trip will be extra long, as they’re staying for nearly three weeks. Once Andrei finishes his workout, he’s supposed to be going off to pick them up from the airport.

“Bring puppy?” She asks, little arms locked around your neck and wide awake considering it’s not even seven in the morning.

“No,” you shake your head, “they’re not bringing the puppy. He has to stay home where he has his bed and all his toys.”

That would be the last thing you need in the house - in-laws, three kids, a husband who’s traveling several days a week, and to add a dog on top of that? No, thank you.

“I share my toys,” she says sweetly.

You press a kiss to her cheek. “Yeah, you do share your toys with Evie and Kira. But puppy toys are different. Why don’t you go draw a picture to give Babushka when she gets here?”

Alina nods wildly and wiggles her way out of your arms and down your body before running off to the kid sized table you have set up in the den with all their craft supplies. She’ll be distracted for at least ten minutes, which gives you enough time to get the cookies on a baking tray and in the oven. Why you waited until Christmas Eve morning to make the cookies for Santa is a question for another day.

You’ve been awake since 4:30 already and your energy is starting to flag, so you make a quick mug of coffee before portioning out the sugar cookies and dipping them in the green and red sugar sprinkles. While you sip at the drink and finish the cookies with your other hand, your mind wanders to everything that has to get done today. There are a few more gifts that have to be wrapped, but for the most part you’d managed to get everything you and Andrei bought for the kids and his parents wrapped at night. You’d also wrapped all the gifts Elena and Igor had bought for the girls and had shipped directly to your house.

Dinner tonight is going to be chill and Elena had insisted on handling most of that, so you don’t worry too much about the menu. You’ll be helping her, since most of the recipes are from your childhood, but she loves cooking when she visits so you don’t mind letting her.

You decide that you’ll have Andrei take all three girls with him to the airport so you can have a minute to shower - hair wash and shaving included - without little hands knocking on the bathroom door.

Otherwise, you have to iron the girls’ outfits and tidy up the chaos before the girls hopefully go to sleep early so you and Andrei can set out the presents.

“Thinking hard?” Andrei’s teasing voice startles you out of your mental to-do list. You turn away from the counter and take him in with a smile. He’s sweaty from his workout, hair falling over his forehead that he swipes back with his free hand. Kira is on his hip, a giant four-toothed smile on her face. You nudge at her round cheeks with your knuckles, grinning back at her.

“Were you Papa’s workout buddy?” You ask her in a bubbly voice. “How’d he do?”

“Papa!” She yelps, smacking at Andrei’s chest with her hands and cuddling closer to his side. She plants a smacking kiss against his cheek, her favorite party trick to get adults coping over how cute she is.

Andrei kisses the top of her head and rests his cheek against the crown. “She’s a good cheerleader,” he laughs. And as if they practiced it, Kira waves her hands in an imitation of jazz hands. You laugh and kiss your youngest on the tip of her nose, making her giggle.

“Give me the baby and go shower,” you say, already taking Kira into your arms. She transfers easily, snuggling into your neck, one hand splayed over your chest. “I need you to take all three with you to the airport and you’re going to need to get going if you want to get your parents on time.”

He looks at the clock over the stove and frowns a little. “They don’t land until 9:30, plenty of time.”

“Yeah,” you nod, untangling your hair from Kira’s grip, “but you have to shower, the girls have to be changed and put in the car, and you have to drive to the airport. Time goes faster than you think, please just get everything going?”

Andrei nods and grips your chin in his hand to tilt your face up for a kiss. You melt a little, humming quietly. “Okay, solnyshka. We will go when everyone is ready. Do I need to pick anything else up?” He asks, tickling Kira’s back.

You shake your head, “just your parents. Next year they’re coming here earlier. None of this flying on Christmas Eve business.”

“I will tell them,” Andrei laughs before heading upstairs to shower.

Four hours later, after you’ve finished taking the cookies out of the oven, showered, and pulled together a quick little breakfast spread, Andrei’s car pulls back into the driveway. You pull open the front door with a huge smile on your face, laughing when Elena’s dragged into the house by Evie and Alina, Kira held on her grandmother’s hip. Andrei and Igor are back at the car, handling all the bags.

“Moya devushka,” Elena greets you with a warm smile and a tight hug, Kira squeaking and complaining when she’s caught in the middle of the two of you. “Ah, prosti, myshonok.” She kisses Kira’s head.

“Mama!” Evie dances at your feet, tugging on your sweater. “Babushka said she’s staying forever!”

“Mid-January, at least,” Elena shares a smile with you, helping you usher the girls inside. Kira clings to her like a koala and you love how much the girls love their grandparents.

Evie widens her eyes - Andrei’s eyes - at her grandmother, “that’s like forever! And look,” she grabs Elena’s hand, pulling her to the living room, “r’member we showded you our tree on the phone? Now you can see in real!” Alina trails along after them, clutching the stuffed Grinch that she’d recently decided was her new best friend.

Confident that the girls are handled, you head back outside to help Andrei and Igor with the bags. Your father-in-law greets you with a kiss to the cheek and waves off your help, “you have strong men. Go with Elena and girls.”

You know from past experience that it’s basically useless to fight with him, so you grab up Elena’s oversized purse from the backseat of the car and run back inside with it, wearing a sneaky little smile, before Igor can chastise you. Andrei’s laughter follows you inside.

“Elena,” you call out, “do you want your purse or should I put it in your room?”

“Oh! Bring it here,” Elena looks over her shoulder at you from where she’s sitting on the ottoman, having been oohing and ahhing over the drawings the girls made for her. “I have surprises.”

You hand over the bag, talking over the girls’ excited squeals, “you shouldn’t have. It’s Christmas Eve.”

Elena waves a hand in the air at you and if it were anyone else, you’d be annoyed at the dismissive gesture. “Small things,” she explains, reaching into the bag and drawing out little toys and Russian candies for the girls. “These were your Papa’s favorite,” she explains, handing Evie a wrapped chocolate.

Andrei appears behind you and leans forward, snatching another candy out of his mother’s hand. “Still are,” he winks at the girls. He unwraps the chocolate and pops it in his mouth before giving you a quick kiss. “I’m going to clean out the car,” he gives Kira a faux-glare, “one of the myshonok spilled her Cheerios.”

“It was Kira,” Evie pipes up, chocolate smeared around her mouth. “She spilleded out the whole bag!”

Kira, recognizing her name, giggles and chants, “Mama! Papa!”

“Our messy little girl,” you ruffle her hair gently. “Not too much candy, okay? It’s still really early.”

You know you’re going to be ignored, but you have to say it if only to stave off the mom-guilt. With the girls distracted by their grandparents - Igor’s wandered in and is telling Alina a joke she surely doesn’t understand yet - and Andrei busy with the car outside, you take the opportunity to slip upstairs and finish wrapping the few gifts that had been delivered in the last few days.

When you come back downstairs after finishing up and taking a few extra minutes to just breathe in the relative quiet, everyone’s huddled around Elena’s phone FaceTiming with Geno and his family. Everyone chatting in rapid fire Russian, even your kids, and you smile. You love that the girls are fluent in Andrei’s native language and it’s good practice when they talk to his family. The girls giggle with their cousins and you pull out your phone to snap a candid shot before joining the call, waving to Geno and his wife.

You stand behind the couch, looping your arms around Andrei’s neck and resting your chin on his shoulder, just enjoying the lively conversation. You’ve learned some Russian over the years, but you’re nowhere close to fluent and once they all start talking so fast, you’re basically lost at sea.

Andrei leans his cheek against yours, holding out his hand while he talks to block Evie’s foot from hitting him in her attempt at showing off a cartwheel. She pouts at Andrei when he tells her to sit down - that you understand, at least - and Andrei huffs in exasperation when Elena turns right around and clearly reprimands him for stopping Evie. Your head is starting to swim a little from all the noise and you press a kiss to Andrei’s cheek before standing up and heading into the kitchen.

A dog barking joins the chaos and you know Geno’s brought Igor’s dog on the screen. The girls squeal with delight and you know this means you’re going to get a barrage of begging for a puppy.

“Mama,” Evie skips her way into the kitchen, “can we show Babu and Dedu Belle’s christmas?”

The call with Geno is either done or the girls had gotten bored of sitting in one place. You nod, knowing she means the Beauty and the Beast Christmas movie, and say, “sure, bunny. Ask Papa to put the movie on the TV.”

The movie keeps them occupied for a little bit, even after Elena leaves to come help you in the kitchen. You work quietly with your mother-in-law, chatting easily about the girls and the plans for their extended trip. You’ll have a more involved celebration on January 7th - when Christmas is traditionally celebrated in Russia - with Elena making dishes that Andrei remembers from his childhood. But with the girls being raised in America, it’s easier for them to have Christmas traditions in line with their classmates and friends.

You’re incorporating some of your holiday traditions - namely the relaxing aspects of the day, watching movies and spending time with the kids - and it’s nice to not have to worry about going super over the top. Tomorrow, Andrei and his dad will grill steaks and you’re making a few side dishes and Evie helped make some cookies during the week. More than anything, you’re just excited to see them get into Christmas and to make memories with them.

The girls go down for their naps and you and Elena get to finish prepping dinner. It’s a quiet rest of the day, until suddenly it’s after dinner and the girls are bathed and changed into their matching pajamas - little candy canes printed on a white background - and Alina’s chattering about catching Santa.

“Where did she even come up with that?” You ask Andrei, laughing a little. “She said it this morning too.”

“Ah,” he gives you a sheepish smile and you’re instantly on guard, “maybe I said something. They asked about Santa and magic.” He shrugs. “I don’t know how to explain so I said to stay up and see how he does it.”

You snort a laugh, filling Kira’s bottle and closing the lid. “Yeah, that’ll do it. Better hope she knocks out like usual or we’re going to have a long night.”

Andrei settles his hands on your hips and pulls you close, kissing you gently. “I think there was enough excitement today. They will sleep, solnyshka, don’t worry.”

Resting against his chest, you loop your arms around his lower back, excitement bubbles up in your chest for the girls to see their gifts. “I know I’ve said it before,” you mumble into his chest, “but thank you for agreeing to do two Christmases.”

“Anything for you, solnyshka,” he replies, dropping a kiss to the top of your head. And then you’re interrupted by the two older girls, running in and begging to set out the cookies for Santa. Andrei lets you go and lifts both girls up onto his hips, telling them, “make sure you pick good cookies. I think he likes ones with a lot of sprinkles.”

He winks at you over the girls’ heads and you suppress a little smile while you put the cookies the girls select on a special plate. The plate of cookies is carefully arranged on the coffee table, next to a glass of milk that Evie had very carefully carried from the kitchen.

“Can we watch Frosty, Mama?” Evie asks, giving you puppy eyes. She’s already tucked up on the couch in between her grandparents, one little hand wrapped around Elena’s forearm and the other clutching her Stormy plush - this version has a little Christmas sweater on and you’d tried to resist buying it but you’re weak when it comes to saying no sometimes. Alina’s already looking like she’ll pass out any second, head resting on Igor’s chest. Andrei has Kira in his arms, rocking from side to side so she’ll fall asleep.

“Okay,” you nod, “but as soon as Frosty’s over, it’s time for bed. Remember, Santa doesn’t come if you’re awake.”

Behind you, Andrei snorts a quiet little laugh and you know exactly why, but you refuse to dignify him with a response. You press your lips together to smother a laugh of your own.

“I’m not gonna sleep,” Evie informs you, apparently on Alina’s side with wanting to catch Santa. “I’m not even sleepy, Mama.”

Her sentence is punctuated by a huge yawn and you catch Elena’s eye, both of you muffling laughter.

“It would not be so bad,” Elena says, stroking Evie’s braided hair, “to close your eyes a little, zaychik.”

Evie wrinkles her nose and shakes her head, but you’re not surprised when all three girls and both grandparents are all passed out before Frosty even gets on the train to the North Pole. Andrei’s already brought Kira up to her crib and now he helps you bring up the older girls, lifting their combined weight easily into his arms while you wake up Elena and Igor.

“Jet lag,” they both laugh tiredly, Elena giving you and Andrei kisses on the cheek before retiring to their room. Igor offers to help bring the gifts down to the tree, but Andrei says something in Russian and his father nods, closing the door behind him.

You leave the doors to the girls’ bedrooms cracked a little, hoping you’ll hear them in case they get up. Tossing Andrei a Santa hat you’ve kept around just for this moment, you grin, “let’s get this done, Saint Nick.”

Andrei jams the hat on his head and gives you a crooked smirk. “Red is my color, solnyshka,” he teases and swats at your ass gently when he follows you to the second guest room that’s been serving as your gift and wrapping room.

Between the two of you, all the gifts are brought downstairs in less than an hour. Andrei likes to deposit the boxes randomly, leaving the huge box that you know is a Barbie Dream House for the girls to share right in the middle of everything. You shake your head and move it towards the back, making sure the presents are arranged nicely and there’s room to walk around all the furniture. You spot a handful of gifts labeled in Andrei’s messy scrawl and it makes you smile.

“Last one,” he says, setting a smaller box on top of the rest. “Time for bed?”

You survey the scene, skipping over the gifts and landing on the plate of cookies. “Oops, no! We almost forgot the cookies, take a bite out of one or two,” you suggest, knowing his massive sweet tooth. Andrei bites off half of a tree shaped cookie and holds out a second to you for you to bite.

A yawn escapes as you’re chewing and you cover your mouth immediately, mumbling an apology. Andrei scoffs and rests his hand on your lower back to guide you up the stairs, “let me take my zhena up to bed.” His voice is low and deep, warm despite the tiredness lacing his tone. The Santa hat is crooked on his head and it makes him look boyishly handsome. You recognize the look in his eyes and you add a little sway to your hips on your way back to your bedroom.

“Your parents are right down the hall,” you say quietly, even as you pull your pajama top over your head and push your pants and underwear to the floor.

Andrei raises an eyebrow at you, hungrily taking in the sight of your bare body. Your nipples tighten under his scrutiny and you feel a rush of warmth between your legs. He steps forward, crowding you until the backs of your knees hit the bed and you fall back, landing flat on the mattress with your legs splayed open. He leans one knee in between your legs and covers your body with his to kiss you deeply, sliding his tongue into your mouth. You moan softly when he pulls back, one of his hands sliding up your side, over your chest, to rest at the base of your throat, “guess you’ll have to be quiet, solnyshka. Can you do that for me?”

You nod, hooking your ankle around Andrei’s hip and pushing at the waistband of his joggers. “Get rid of these,” you demand and Andrei kisses you again before standing up and stripping, his clothes discarded to the floor in seconds.

“Remember,” Andrei grins, running his fingers over your sensitive clit, making your back arch off the bed and a sharp gasp escape your lips, “quiet.”

You bite down hard on your lower lip to prevent any noise from escaping as Andrei pumps his fingers inside of you, curling and flexing them until you’re dripping down the curve of your ass. “Andrei!” You can’t help but moan his name when his fingers press up against your g-spot.

“Ah,” he tuts, pulling his fingers from your cunt and covering your mouth with his palm. “Quiet.”

With his hand muffling your noises, Andrei kneels between your open legs, lining up his cock at your entrance and sliding into you with one smooth thrust. You whine behind his hand, clenching immediately around his length, legs coming up to wrap around his waist. Sparks dance behind your eyes, pleasure building low in your stomach.

Andrei fucks into you with a steady rhythm, his hand warm over your face. You roll your hips, meeting him thrust for thrust and before you realize it, your orgasm is building and cresting, flooding your veins with fire. You bite down on Andrei’s palm and he hisses, finishing inside of you with a few more thrusts.

Everything is hazy and sticky and you blink up at Andrei, trying to focus on something other than the selfish desire for a second orgasm. Andrei’s hand shifts from your mouth to cup your cheek. His eyes twinkle with mischievous glee and you brace yourself for whatever he’s about to say.

“Santa was not the only one coming tonight, huh?”

“Oh my god,” you burst out laughing, push at his chest, “I hate you.”

Andrei kisses you sweetly, laughing too. “Sorry, that was bad,” he climbs off the bed, pulling you to your feet so you can both shower quickly and he can change the sheets before you go to bed.

It feels like you’ve only gotten ten minutes of sleep - thanks to a pair of wandering hands on your husband - when your bedroom door bangs open and Evie’s screaming, “SANTA BROUGHT PRESENTS!” She jumps onto your bed, bouncing on her knees in between you and Andrei, shrieking with delight. Andrei catches her around the waist and pulls her into a big hug.

“You’re going to wake the whole house, zaychik,” he teases, giving you a sleepy smile over her head.

“Everyone’s awake! Babu’s makin’ coffee and she said I had to wait five whole minutes before I woke you and Mama,” Evie informs him. “Can we pleaseeeee go open presents now?” She throws her arms around Andrei’s neck and pokes her lip out in a pout until he nods and she scrambles off the bed, racing for the stairs and screeching, “Papa said we can open!”

You yawn and slump against Andrei’s side, grinning tiredly, “I wish we could bottle her energy.”

“I will work on it for your birthday,” Andrei teases, kissing you warmly. “Merry Christmas, solnyshka.”

“Merry Christ—“

“MAMA! PAPA! PRESENTS!”

[fillinforlater]

Eleven to One: Fine Feet

Male Reader x Kim Minju

Length: 1238 words

Tags: feet kink, yup, feet licking, feet worship, feet fucking, white polish and other white stuff, choking, making out, surprisingly soft, Daddy kink, perfect_baby_girl!Minju

TW: feet and a lack of editing lol

Inspiration and Credit: @sooyadelicacies, my partner in crime. Love you, buddy.

(A/N: Another for Minju on Minju Day! Truly the only one, prettiest, most perfect, wonderful Angel. Enjoy!)

"Hi, Daddy!"

"Minmin, you haven't completed your training, because you don't know how to use your feet." 

"What does that mean, Daddy?"

Minju looks so innocent, laying on the bed tummy side, her bare feet in the air. Her eyes sparkle, not of pureness as they used to, but of excitement because of that one word: training.

"Stay just like this," you say, your heart thumping against your chest. You climb behind Minju and kneed her soft soles, "Minmin baby girl, all of Daddy's whores—yes they can suck cock, yes they have tight holes and know to be good girls—but what truly separates them from any other—" 

You slowly raise her feet and bring her toes to your nostrils and inhale. The feeling on their bottom side is admirable and a soft sheen of light hitting her soles makes them look like a golden item in a video game. They are something you can’t resist, you need to take it, touch it, experience it.

"Hng, Daddy, that tickles," Minju giggles gleefully. 

"They all have these gorgeous feet," you continue, not paying attention to Minju's reaction, not even her moans when you begin to suck on her toes and lick down her soles with lust. It's almost as if you were starving and lapping at the only delicious thing you had. You switch from licks to kisses to then graze her beautiful soles and then spread your saliva on every part of pale skin.

Minju looks over her shoulder, her wet orbs jiggle lightly as she savors your enjoyment of her feet. But they are not perfect. Something is missing.

"Minmin, why are you not wearing any polish?"

"Huh?" Minju responds, visibly dazed, a bit of drool in the corner of her mouth. For this thoughtless behavior, you spank her firm ass. Horny anger overtakes you for a split second and you shout:

"Get up and put it on now!"

Minju's feet quickly leave your grip, which you will only lament for a short while. She quickly disappears in the bathroom. At least she learned to leave the door unlocked.

Shake your head rapidly, then take a deep breath. This isn't you. Maybe the lack of sleep lately has gotten to you. Your self-control is at a low point. Irrational and quick behavior, just because of a pair of feet. 

It's not any pair of feet. No, that is true, you tell yourself and look down. Your dress pants have bulge. Not the first time that this happened, but today it twitches exceptionally strong. You flex your thighs and calves to get some of the blood out. It feels like Minju left forever ago, but it's probably just been two minutes.

The clock has never moved this slowly. At times like these, you're happy that a smartphone can be so distracting. You pull the device out, scroll through mails, messages, and a dozen missed calls. The deal is close to being done, but huge barriers are ahead of you.

Look up from your phone. Barely ten minutes. That has to be enough time. You unbuckle your belt while darting for the bathroom door. Open it slowly so as to not scare the clumsy Minju too much. 

You can't help but gasp. Fuck, Minju looks too damn good sitting on the empty counter. Her face is too pretty, her thighs too smooth, her feet too fuckable. She puts aside the white polish and with an adorable smile and faint blush, shows you the painting on her nails.

“Does it look good, Daddy?”

You wordlessly reach for her feet and place them on your crotch. Then you go for her face, cupping it with both hands and initiating a swift torrent of kisses on her lips. Minju moans in surprise. Her breath is still quick when you disconnect your mouth from hers.

"Keep rubbing your feet on it," you command gently and put your thumb on her lips. This might be the most beautiful she has ever been and her natural skill of grinding her feet on your bulge makes you want to own her even more than you already do. 

"Daddy's hand," Minju whispers dazedly. She begins to kiss your thumb, then moves into your palm and to your wrist. Her lips place wet kisses everywhere and you react with a long groan. A simple tug with your free hand and your pants fall down to reveal your fully erect member.

Minju's soft soles wrap around your cock like her pussy does everyday. It's muscle memory for you to reach for her throat at this point, not necessarily to choke her, but to show her how much you own her. She gives into it easily, her eyes closing as you begin to thrust in the gap of her feet.

"Shit, this—fuck."

Awkward. You fail to string a proper sentence together. In an attempt to forget this tiny slip up, you begin to jolt your hips forward then backwards. Of course, it's unlike any pussy, but you tried to treat it that way. This gap has to be fucked with more care. In other words, it's time to take Minju softly, which is as rare as the sun hiding behind the moon.

Spit in your hand and lube up your cock a little. Minju giggles at the tingly sensation at her feet. She finds a better position for what you're trying to do. Even with her eyes closed, she learns to adapt. Her fresh polish glows in beautiful white and you begin to give her feet a good, slow fucking.

"Daddy~" Minju coos and you press down on her throat a bit, "I-I'm glad you like them."

You won't admit it to her, but you actually like everything about her. Each part of her body wows you day in and day out. A new found love for her nooks and crannies, curves and holes, for her horny and not-horny personality. With a sigh you give in and kiss her forehead, her cheek, to make it rosier.

"You're doing so good, Minmin," you say and groan when you're able to pick up the pace a little. The softness stimulates the sides of your cock, but the texture is the reason why you might actually cum. All you need is this tiny kick, this burst that will make you burst. You lean into Minju's ear and whisper a spell.

"Move them, Minmin. Move them like you move your hips when I fuck your. Daddy will give you his load. Do it!"

Minju opens her dizzy eyes a tiny bit and starts to jerk off your cock. You hold onto her shoulder and throw your head back. This orgasm is approaching faster than you anticipated, but you're not holding back. You can only think of Minju's white polish as your white shoots out of your throbbing cock. Ropes splash onto the counter top, up to Minju's shorts and her long sleeve. She hides her blushing face behind one hand.

"Hng~ Daddy likes Minmin's feet so much," she moans somewhat shyly.

You regain control with one breath and bite down on her lip. It's not enough to make her bleed, but Minju still flails and surrenders to you. She is yours. You then shove your fingers down her shorts and feel for her soaking wet slit. Of course she is like this.

"I think my Minmin deserves to cum for being such a good girl."

[krayonkiddos]

agere outfits!

im sure it’s obvious but just in case, the order goes patton, roman, logan, virgil, janus, and remus :3

i’ve never made outfit collage things before, so i hope y’all like these!!! i did my best haha

now for ages and headcanons and such under the cut :3

patton:

age range: he usually reaches like,, tiny baby age. i originally thought he’d be a bit on the older kiddo side cos i thought it’d be cute if he was like “i wanna help take care of the others even if im regressed” but nah his brain is like “you’re an infant now, let others help you whether you like it or not” ksjdjfkf

he’s nonverbal when he regresses, aside from the occasional single word sentence (such as “up!” or yes and no, though he usually nods or shakes his head for that)

it actually took him a while to realize he was an age regressor. he was the last of the group to realize their regression (though everyone else had their suspicions lol)

he doesn’t have a specific caregiver, everyone kinda takes turns caregiving, but baby patton is very (hilariously) attached to remus. his nickname for remus is “mouse” because he can’t really say remus or duke. mouse is just easier (roman is a bit jealous of the affection baby patton has for his brother, but he’ll take that to his grave)

roman:

age range: he goes from roughly 5 to 7, a bit younger if he regresses from stress

he started out being a rather proud regressor, not wanting to accept help from anyone. nowadays he’s the opposite, being extremely needy and clingy lol (no one really minds)

if you think he loves disney when he’s big, hoo boy little him is alllll about it lmao. he’s especially into bluey, watching at least one episode every time he regresses (and usually it’s not just one lmao)

big him isn’t really the biggest fan of remus, but when he regresses it’s a different story. he thinks of remus less as an annoying twin brother and more like a cool uncle that lets you do things your parents wouldn’t let you do. he’s embarrassed by this in a non-regressed state, and it doesn’t help that remus teases him endlessly for it lmao

logan:

age range: similar to roman, roughly 5 to 7, but much younger when stressed. he also has a tendency to age up slightly when others regress in his company. like if he’s seven, but patton goes baby mode, suddenly he’s twelve. not fully out of the headspace, but not as young as he’d prefer

surprisingly, he can be a bit of a brat. i mean this with love lmao. when he’s on the younger side, he has to have everything go his way or else. he also doesn’t handle rejection well. the others learned this very early on, and they each have different ways of dealing with it. but little logan’s smart and caught on to that, so when he needs or wants something, he chooses the big side he goes to carefully. little schemer <3

when he’s on the older side (or really when anyone is younger than him, which happens a lot), he becomes very protective. especially of patton, since he’s baby. he’s surprisingly good at knowing what patton needs, and verbalizes it on his behalf

when he’s feeling sad or stressed, he goes immediately to virgil. and if he can’t go to virgil for whatever reason, he goes to virgil’s room and lays on his bed. or, if he can’t go into virgil’s room, sits outside virgil’s door. virgil is his comfort person <3 or- comfort side. whatever kajdjfkf

virgil:

age range: he’s a teen regressor. like, 14 to 16 ish. he gets even more emo when regressed and no one knows how it’s possible skdjfkfkf

he has a paci he rarely uses, and it took a long time for him to become comfortable using it. he only really uses it when he’s particularly stressed (which, i mean, he’s kinda always stressed lol but the paci is basically for emergencies)

he’s an extremely protective older brother to everyone, and is almost like a caregiver even when regressed. on days where everyone’s regressed (as rare as they are), it’s him against the world lmao though he can enlist help from thomas (or remy if thomas is asleep) (remy only shows up in the mindscape when thomas is asleep)

he doesn’t need a caregiver since he’s always old enough to care for himself, but there are days when he goes to janus. he’s always mortified by it when he ages back up, but when he’s in the throes of teenage angst he needs janus’s support more than anything. he’s just grateful that janus doesn’t really bring it up when he ages up

janus:

age range: usually about 3 or 4, and doesn’t really go outside of that

lil dude loves hissing. but not like mean hissing, just excited hissing. he just goes “ssss!” and everyone knows he’s happy. the hissing is usually accompanied by hand flapping. stimmy lil snake <3

loves giving everyone hugs all the time. he just clings and won’t let go. he’s probably given the most hugs to either patton or roman, the latter of whom is basically always caught off guard by it. patton was caught off guard the first few times but has since adjusted (and happily so)

much like how little patton is very attached to remus, janus is extremely attached to roman. initially, roman wasn’t a fan of this, as he wanted as little to do with janus (both big and little) as possible. but once the two of them managed to bury the hatchet (as in, janus actually apologized), roman didn’t mind as much. it took a bit to become fully comfortable, but now roman is quite fond of little janus (and maybe big janus isn’t so bad <3)

remus:

age range: he could be any age, really. he doesn’t have time to figure out how old he is, he has mischief to get up to. he’s usually pretty capable when regressed, so he’s probably older than most of the others. he doesn’t act like it tho lmao

dude loves aliens. wants to be one. also pirates. his aesthetic can be summarized as alien pirates. or pirate aliens? thats actually why janus has an alien stuffie, it makes him think of remus <3

loves messing with the others when they’re also regressed. says things like “you’re now aware of your own breathing” and no one is a fan <3

definitely the most physically active of the regressors. if he’s not running, he’s jumping. and if he’s not jumping, he’s running kajdkfkfkf bro wears everyone out, even fellow regressed sides. the only one who can calm him down fully is janus, but only when janus isn’t also regressed. if janus is regressed he’s joining in on the chaos

thats the end of the post. i love these guys so much <3

[psithurista]

approach shift pt. nine

pairing: Peter Parker x f!reader (TASM/Andrew Garfield version) length: 4.3k rating: explicit 18+ warnings: Mentions of death, fingering, a quick wristy (lol)

Peter Parker is a weirdo. A hot, distracting, irritating weirdo. And you can’t afford distractions right now. So there’s only one thing to do.

a/n: Last full chapter but there will be an epilogue in the not-too-distant; I'll probably have more notes then. Thank you x

series masterlist

The back of your head is torturously itchy. 

You try surreptitiously to press your knuckles to the spot, just to relieve the worst of it. The nurse sitting closest to you glances up at you from over the top of her monitor and guiltily, you clasp your hands back down into your lap. 

It smells sour in here, like soft plums left to rot. Whichever industrial cleaner it is this hospital uses, it’s definitely not one anybody’s trying to market for domestic use. It’s probably cheap as fuck, you contemplate, your hand drifting back up towards your head.

“You can go in now,” a new nurse says beside you. You jerk your hand away. “He’s awake. I let him know you’ve been waiting.”

“Oh, thank you,” you say, unpeeling yourself from the plastic waiting room chair. “I won’t be very long. I just wanted to say hi.”

She gives you a mild, distracted okay-that’s-nice-whatever smile and disappears. You push open the door to the room she’d just exited and duck inside. 

It smells far better in here. There’s a vase of opening lilies leaving red pollen-stains on the table in front of the window, and the lavender-powder smell of clean sheets. Doctor Brant is propped up in the bed, frowning hard at the tablet in his hands.

“I hope you aren’t working while you’re meant to be resting,” you say.

He tilts his head down to peer at you over his glasses. “Oh, no. It’s just sudoku. It’s good to see you.”

“You too, Doctor. How are you?”

He nods, and sets the tablet aside. “Well, they’ve finally taken me off the oxygen so I expect I’ll be allowed to leave soon. All things considered, a little smoke inhalation injury at my…advanced age could’ve been far worse.” His eyes glint a little bit. “Were you injured?”

You shake your head. “A concussion, but I’m fine. The. He. Um. You know. He got me out, before he went back for you.” 

“You shouldn’t have stayed to look for me.”

You sit gingerly on the very edge of the chair next to the bed. “I thought. I didn’t think he’d made it to you in time. I thought you were both.” Your voice starts to sound weird, so you stop talking.

He folds his hands together over his chest. “It’s strange. I remember the first time I saw him. I didn’t understand what was happening. I thought it must have been a stunt, or an advertisement for something. Silly, really. And yet he’s saved Oscorp from itself more times than it deserved. After Connors and Dillon and that whole terrible disaster with young Harry. It’s too much. There’s no reason for anybody to endanger themselves in that place ever again.” He takes his glasses off and sets them beside the bed. “Which is why I’ve resigned.”

You stare at him. “You. What?”

He smiles at you; the expression a little indulgent. “All those years of work, gone. And for nothing. I’m sure you’ve already heard what happened?”

You have. It’s been all over the news the entire week. First the speculation: was it an attack? Was it political? Was it another disgruntled ex-employee? A competitor? And then, later, the worse, more boring truth: regular old corporate negligence. An undertrained technician who’d tried to prematurely purge a vac test chamber with concentrated oxygen. An alarm system two years overdue for maintenance. And floor upon floor of laboratories filled with dangerous substances, improperly stored.



Nobody else in your department was seriously hurt. But others weren’t so lucky.

“When I started with Norm, it was all about changing the world for the better. And in the end, we’ve helped nobody.” He shakes his head. “If you’ll forgive my language…Fuck Oscorp. I’m ready to start over.”

You grin at him, even though it feels a little watery. “I’m…really happy for you.” And you are. In the brief time you’ve worked under him, his passion has been obvious, but he’s always seemed so bogged down by the minutiae of red tape; appeasing a board of investors with no interest in the importance of his life’s work beyond its potential profitability. 

But it also makes your already-uncertain future with the company even foggier. You’ll need to find someone else willing to offer you a similar graduate position, and you already know you won’t find anything else quite as specialised as the work he’s been doing. 

He takes a sip from the glass of water beside his bed, then sits back with a sigh. “Publicly-funded research is a far less glamorous world than that of private enterprise. We’ll be relying primarily on grant funding and academic support. There won’t be any glass fountains or vertical gardens, I’m afraid.”

You nod sympathetically. “I can imagine. It’ll be a big change.”    His eyebrows draw together at you. “I would understand if your answer is no.”

You blink. “My answer?” you say, like a genius. 

“If so, I would, of course, write you a glowing recommendation. And I have plenty of contacts I could put you in touch with, if you’d prefer that.”

Holy shit. Is he…? “Hold on. Are you offering me a position with you?”

“Well, yes.”

He grunts as you dart in and hug him. “Oh! Yes! I mean, of course! I would love to. Thank you so much. You won’t regret this.”

“Uh.”

You lean back as he smooths his blankets down. “Sorry,” you say, a little sheepish. “That was unprofessional.”

He tries to look stern, but it’s unconvincing. “Well, yes,” he says again. “But I’ll choose to ignore it just this once.”

You stop by to see Bear on your way home. The roller doors in the alley beside the grimy little theatre are propped open so you can see all the half-painted set pieces inside, and there’s a bunch of people dressed all in black gathered around smoking. 

“Are you gonna be home tonight?” you ask, watching her inhale the deli sandwich you’d brought after correctly guessing she hadn’t stopped rehearsing long enough for lunch.

“I can be if you want,” she says, her mouth full of half-chewed food. “But I was kind of planning on staying at a friend’s.”

You press your knuckles absently against the back of your head and leer at her. “Would this friend happen to be the same person who wanted you to move in after one salad date?”

“If you don’t stop scratching your stitches I’m calling the hospital and narcing to your doctor. And yes.”

You make a face. “I’m not even touching them!”

She stuffs the rest of the sandwich in her mouth and wipes her hands on her jeans. “I’m seriously cool not to go, though. It’s totally fine.”

She’s barely left you alone since you got back from the emergency room, even setting alarms and checking up on you throughout the first couple of nights. You know for a fact she’s had to cancel other plans for you—again. You shake your head. “No, go. I kind of want some alone time anyway.” 

It’s another cold, bright afternoon. You walk into the feet of your shadow and spread your fingers beside your body as your arms move, watching them elongating out on the pavement in front of you, lost in thought. You’ve been lost in thought a lot, lately.

You’re just past the end of your block when you catch sight of the figure sitting on the stairs outside your building. Long legs in faded jeans are stretched out and crossed over at the ankles, and there’s duct tape around the toe of one sneaker. You slow to a halt on the sidewalk. A woman behind you huffs with irritation, veering around you, a giant paper grocery bag clutched in her arms.

He looks up from his cracked phone screen as you draw level with your door. His hair is as chaotic as ever, stuck up in every direction, except for at the nape of his neck, where it curls gently around in little flicks. He looks tired. He’s always looked tired, the whole time you’ve known him, but you notice it differently now. Like the holes in his jeans, and the bruise on his jaw, and the angry-sore-looking blisters on his knuckles. 

He smiles a little, jerking you out of your silent staring. “Hi. Sorry. I didn’t wanna just show up unannounced. I’ve been trying to call, but,” he holds his phone up, and you shake your head.

“My phone was—”

“Yeah, I figured.”

The wind lifts the edge of your scarf and shivers under the neck of your coat. There’s something sweet in the air; like cinnamon sugar, maybe someone baking from one of the open windows overhead. “Do you want to come inside?”

His expression is soft as he considers you, looking up through his lashes. “Okay.”

Neither of you speak on the trip upstairs. Your hand accidentally brushes his as you reach out for the elevator buttons, and you both pull away, as awkward and over-polite as strangers. 

He stands a respectful distance back as you open your door, and you lead him inside, waving your hand vaguely toward the sofa. “Do you want a drink?”

He folds himself into the seat nearest the window, hunching over and shoving his hands between his knees. A cold drift of sun touches his jaw. “Um, no thanks, it’s cool.”

You sit down beside him, folding your hands across your lap like you’re about to get a class picture taken. 

He chews his lip, runs his thumbs over his burned hands. Outside, a car horn beeps. “It’s not because I didn’t trust you,” he starts. “If you’re wondering. I don’t want you thinking that’s the reason.”

“It’s okay,” you say. “You don’t need to explain.”

“I just want you to know—”

“I know.” You try to smile at him, and it feels a little watery. “I get it. I know why you couldn’t tell me.”

His brows bend together just enough to mark out a pained line. “I’m sorry.”

You shake your head. “Really. Don’t be.”

It falls silent in your living room. The little clay pinch pot in the centre of the coffee table Bear had brought home from the artists’ market watches you both watching one another; soft-skinned and tender as nervous newborn things.

“You might die doing this,” you finally point out. “One day. All those times you’ve been hurt. You might…not come home.”

He nods at the floor. “Which is why I couldn’t really ask you to, you know. Waste your time with—” he waves his hands vaguely back and forth between your bodies. “It’s not worth it. And, like, trust me, I would never, ever want to drag you into any of the shit I’m involved with. I didn’t mean to fuck you around so long, knowing you wouldn’t...” He looks back at you, his dark eyes soft. “It was just. The happiest I’ve been in a really long time. I couldn’t stop myself. I’m sorry. It was shitty of me. Selfish.”

You stare at him for a few seconds in stunned disbelief. Then you laugh. You don’t mean to, and his head jerks back, startled. “Are you serious?” you manage.

His eyes are huge. “Uh. Yeah?”

You laugh again. It sounds a little manic. “You’re unbelievable.”

He flushes. “Could you maybe quit laughing at me when I’m trying to—”

“Peter. You saved my fucking life. Twice. Even after I was a total asshole to you. You saved me.”

He shifts uncomfortably in his seat. “Yeah, look, I don’t want you to feel weird about that. Like, it’s totally, one-hundred-percent not a big deal and I never want anybody to feel like—”

“You help people. Strangers. Every day. For nothing. And they aren’t even grateful. The things people write about you.” He hasn’t moved, and you realise you’re talking louder than you need to, considering he’s right in front of you. “You’re the least selfish person I’ve ever met,” you tell him, emphatic, needing him to get it. “You’re a good person, Peter. I’m so sorry I didn’t see that before.” Your voice breaks a little and it’s embarrassing, but not as embarrassing as the fact that your vision has gone blurry and your cheeks feel suddenly too hot.

You stop and breathe for a few moments, willing yourself not to cry. He doesn’t say anything, just studies the edge of the rug as though he’s pretending not to notice, and you’re grateful. 

Then, quietly, he takes a breath. “I was going to tell you. Before the fire. I saw May, and she told me she saw you, and that you’d talked, and. I wanted to explain everything.”

You remember the way May had looked that day in the park; her small, sad mouth, and the way she’d spoken slowly like she was choosing each word carefully. “Does she know?”

Peter half-shrugs. “We’ve never talked about it. But, like, I know she knows. And she knows I know she does.” He gives you a little smile. “It’s easier if we both keep pretending we don’t, though.”

“Does anyone else?”

His smile turns tight. “I guess not. Not really.”

“So you’ve been doing this all on your own? The whole time? How?”

He runs his hand back through his hair. “Yeah. Well, I guess I’m pretty good with DIY now, you know? I wasn’t always. I had to learn. Shit went wrong a lot in the beginning. Shit still goes wrong a lot.”

You lean in a little, curling into the cushions. “What’s the hardest part?”

You’re expecting him to say the fear of discovery, or the isolation, or the sheer physical exhaustion. But he wrinkles his nose. “God. The sewing. It’s so hard. And it’s constant. I swear I pop a different seam every day.” His face goes blank for a moment and he looks at you as though a brand new thought has just occurred to him for the first time. “It’s actually really nice. Getting to talk about this.”

“Am I allowed to ask about the outfit?”

He slaps his hands over his face. “You are absolutely fucking not allowed to ask about the outfit.”

Your mouth drops open in outrage. “I wasn’t gonna laugh! I just want to know why—”

“Look, I was going for, like, a velodrome thing. Like for speed and better flexibility and less wind-resistance and then like, anonymity as well, obviously, and originally—”

“What about the, uh, pattern?”

“Yeah, okay, okay, it seemed cool at the time! I was fifteen!”

The thought of Peter as a child, alone, in danger, no doubt even ganglier and nerdier than he is now, sends a fresh pang of sadness through you. You try not to let it show. “Do you eat the webs?”

He stares like you’ve just asked if he’d like to swap heads with you. “What?”

“Certain types of spiders go back and eat their webs after they’re done with them. Like, to replenish the protein they expended making them. Do you ever eat yours?”

The expression on his face is the funniest thing you’ve ever seen. “Uh, no. It’s inorganic. Like, it’s a, like essentially a nylon polymer composite. It’s not edible. I mean, I’ve never tried, but it’s designed to dissolve after a few hours, so I guess if you did really want to eat it, it wouldn’t hurt you…” He trails off, sheepish, looking at you sideways. “You’re fucking with me.”

“Yeah,” you say, unable to stifle your smile any longer. 

He grins and ducks his head. He hasn’t shaved today, you note; there’s a little bit of stubble along his jawline. 

Your chest hurts. Seeing him, being close to him, just like before. It pulls open the ache of missing him, turning it from a bruise into a wound. You know you shouldn’t. You tell yourself not to. But you do it anyway.

“I miss you.” Your voice is barely louder than a whisper. 

He looks so fucking sad. His eyes are huge and pained and so close, and then they dart down to your lips, and you see it; the precise split-second the urge hits him, then the one after as he fights it, and your heart sinks and you’re about to lean back but then his mouth is on yours and it’s soft and it’s warm and unbearably gentle as his hands sweep up to the base of your neck.

It’s not the best kiss you’ve ever had. 

You’re twisted uncomfortably to face him. Your hands lay shocked in your lap, and you’re pretty sure he can hear you attempting not to sniffle too much with your breathing, and you’re so busy worrying about it that you forget to open up to him; his tongue touching the edge of your lips. His fingertips brush the stitches at the back of your head and you flinch, pulling away.

“Oh, shit, sorry, I’m sorry,” he says, visibly mortified. 

“It’s okay,” you say. “Didn’t hurt. It’s just sensitive.”

“For kissing you,” he clarifies. “I know we’re not, like…you know. Anymore.”

That hurts. You shake your head. “We could be. We could try.”

“I can’t ask you—"

“No. Don’t do that. What do you want?”

He exhales through his nose and a tiny, pained sound escapes with it. “It’s not that easy—“

“It is. It is that easy. What do you want?”

“You have no idea,” he says, suddenly. “God. You have no fucking idea how bad I want you. I want this. You’re the only thing I. Fuck.” He knuckles at his eyes, frustrated. “You just have no idea how bad this could go.”

“I do,” you tell him, gently. “I know exactly how bad it could go. And I’m sorry, Peter. I’m so sorry that happened. It’s so, so fucked up that that happened and I’m so sorry, and I know nothing I can say will ever make any of it any less fucked up, but fucked up things happen. They happen all the time for normal people, too. And fucked up things are going to keep happening and it’s inevitable and it’s part of being alive and that’s why we just need to take that risk every day, and choose to—to try to just be happy in as many stupid fucking hopeless ways as we can anyway, because we deserve to be happy. You deserve to be happy.”

He’s staring at you like he wants to believe you. Like he wants to cry. “You need to know,” he says, reaching his hand out, pulling it back. “I can’t promise you this’ll be okay. If you still wanted…I would try. I would try so, so hard for you. Harder than I’ve ever tried at anything. But I—I still just have no way of knowing that it’ll be okay.“

You smile at him, shaky and sure. “That’s any relationship, Parker.”

This time when he kisses you, you’re ready. Your mouth opens eagerly under his, catching the faint metal-salt of his skin, the dryness where his lips are ever-so-slightly windburnt. 

All the breath leaves your body in a rush. You shove your hands up through his hair, lifting up onto your knees and sliding across his lap until you’re straddling him on the couch. 

He tilts his head back to work his tongue into your mouth, one of his hands sliding up underneath your shirt to find the edges of your bra, and it’s awkward and clumsy and you’re both breathing hard by the time he manages to get your jeans unzipped and his hand cramped into your underwear. 

“Holy shit,” you gasp, half-dizzy from kissing without pause. You almost bite him when his fingers find your clit. “Can you—yeah, like that, oh, my God—"

“Hold on, it’d be better if, let me…” he murmurs, frustrated, and you let out what could only be described as a yelp as he lifts your entire weight up to easily shove your jeans and underwear the rest of the way off your legs before settling you back down over his lap. 

You’re stuck between trying to grind down against the front of his jeans and trying to give him enough space to work his hand back between your legs, ultimately deciding on the latter as he finds your clit again, this time his attentions unhampered by clothing. 

His body hasn’t forgotten yours. It only takes a few moments of searching before he has you melting into the palm of his hand; your bones soft and hot inside you as you roll your eyes closed. It’s easy with him, just like before, but better.

You’re almost close when he eases two fingers inside you, and that’s easy too, so easy, the way you give for him. Your forehead rests against his as your lips come apart; too focused for kissing anymore.

“I missed you,” he breathes, working his wrist. “God, I missed you. I missed you so much.”

You flex your thighs as you rock with the movement of his hand, and that’s when you need to touch him, urgently. It takes a little repositioning before you manage to open his jeans and ease his cock out, wrapping your fingers loosely around him. 

You feel him tense and shudder as you stroke him, too slow to really get him anywhere, too lost in the way his long, firm fingers curl inside you. 

He noses along your jaw, mouthing lazily at your damp skin, his eyes closed, and then he’s there, right where you need him, and you’re clenching and biting down on the sounds trying to escape as you come apart sudden and hard around him.

You’re still loose-limbed and shaky when he pulls his slick fingers free, gently moving your hand out of the way to grasp himself instead. You feel a little guilty; you’d almost forgotten about him straining in front of you, but he doesn’t seem to care as he jerks himself quick and short in his fist. His other hand cups the swell of your ass as he huffs hot breath into your hair, your neck, coming sudden across the inside of your thigh.

You slump your weight against him. 

Neither of you speak for a while. Your hand is curled between your bodies, trapped where it’s warm and you can feel his heart slowing in his chest. He runs his hand absently from your hip to your thigh, then back again.

“Peter,” you murmur.

“Mmm.”

“You do need to promise me one thing, though.”

He moves, just enough that he can look up at you. His cheeks are flushed. “What?”

“We can never. And I mean never. Tell Bear we fucked on her couch.”

His eyes widen in horror. “Oh, my God. She already hates me.”

“I know. But it’s okay, because we’re not gonna tell her.”

“I just don’t know if I can keep that secret; I’m not good at subterfuge, y’know, I’m just not that kinda guy—"

“Yeah, yeah, okay—"

“—and you should see me under pressure; I fold like origami—"

You kiss him again, just to shut him up, and feel his lips curling up against yours. 

Your thighs feel sticky and gross, and you’re starting to get cold, and when you get up you nearly fall over from the cramp in your leg from sitting so awkwardly, but you’re too happy to care in the slightest. 

You stand together in the bathroom, cleaning each other up. Every time his eyes meet yours in the mirror you both smile again, giggling and getting in each other’s way, like idiots.

It takes twice as long as it should to get back out to the couch, and you’re hoping he’ll curl up with you again but then you catch him glancing toward the window. “You need to go,” you say. It’s not really a question.

He hedges. “I kind of do, but…”

You offer him a little smile. “It’s okay. Go.”

He nods. You walk him to the door, where he pauses. He chews at his thumbnail, looking at you sideways again from under his eyelashes.

You watch him for a few seconds, waiting. “What?” you finally say.

He presses his lips together, runs his hand through his hair. “So. It’s probably, like, kind of weird. To ask. At this…uh, juncture.”

He’s nervous, you realise. It’s excruciatingly endearing. You nudge him. “I feel like weird’s kind of our thing.”

He grins. “Yeah. I guess. So. I was gonna ask if you’d like to go out. For dinner. Friday night.”

There’s absolutely no way to prevent the smile slowly pulling at your mouth. “Peter. Are you asking me on a date?”

He laughs, a little self-conscious huff. “Uh, yeah. Like. I mean, I wanted to way sooner. But. I guess I wanna try doing things properly this time. If you want.”

You can think of a thousand different things to say, but most of them are embarrassing, so you settle for keeping it simple. “Yes. Fuck yes. Obviously.”

He blinks. “Oh, okay, awesome, holy shit. Okay. Should we…? I don’t have your new number.”

“Oh, yeah, I need to get yours again too.” You pull your phone out and make a new contact before handing it to him.

He stares at your screen for a second, then he snorts. “You have me in your phone as ‘p.p.’?”

You wrinkle your nose at him. “Why? What do you have me as?”

He laughs again, quiet, shaking his head. “Doesn’t matter.” He hands your phone back. He takes a few steps out the door, then he sticks his hands in his pockets. “So. I’ll see you?”

“You will,” you tell him, watching the way his jaw juts crookedly when he smiles. 

He’s halfway to the elevator, walking backwards, his hands still in his pockets when he calls back to you. “Friday, Miss Jersey.”

You laugh. “Quit disturbing my neighbours.”

You stay there long after he’s gone, leaning against your doorframe, smiling to yourself, aching with stupid, giddy affection.

[arabellavernierwrites]

hiiii i love your work so far and you have such an easy to read and chill writing style i love itttt

idk how to do requests lol but ok:

would you do a super fluffy spencer reid x reader during season 5 when he’d been shot in the knee (or maybe he’s injured in another way i don’t mind) but he’s having trouble showering bc it hurts and it’s difficult and the reader basically washes his hair for him? and idk if you want to extend it maybe they could cuddle up and watch a movie or something? idk i thought it was cute hehe

nothing nsfw just a lil angst and mostly fluff

thank you so much !! :)

wash day. s.r.

summary : after being shot in the knee , spencer had been struggling to take a shower. in a moment of desperation , he lets you help him.

word count : 1669

warnings : mentions of injury , mentions of pain , mentions of fighting unconsciousness , descriptions of self-loathing , suggestions to nudity (bath)

a/n : hi guys ! thank you so much for sending in another request , it really brightens my day knowing you guys want to read my writing , and like it enough to want to send requests ! so thank you for being so good to me and offering so much kindness. i want to thank @c-m-stuff for being supportive of literally everything i post , so go celebrate maya’s 100 followers for mood boards , promoting your own fics , and headcannons (ends july 10) ! and thank you so much to @kaitlynpcallmebeepme for sending me such sweet and encouraging words the other day , she has so much amazing works that you have to check out. i cannot thank you all enough for being so wonderful to me. my requests are still open , so please send more ! and thank you to all that send requests in ! hope you have an amazing incredible wonderful day. love you guys !

you returned from work to a fairly quiet household. not much of your usual setting was disrupted, aside from a few of spencer’s things lying around.

a few weeks ago, he had been shot in the knee, causing him to hang around at home a lot more than he typically would. partially because hotch told him off every time he spent even 5 minutes exerting more energy than he needed, and partially because he loved spending every second with you. even though it was something you were sure he wouldn’t ever admit, his heart swelled every time you looked after him.

aside from a few misplaced items, spencer was nowhere to be found. a cause for concern, you decided to check the bedroom to see if he had hit the hay early that day, only to be met with an empty bed.

you jumped as a loud clatter of metal rang out in the bathroom behind you, “spencer? are you alright, sweetheart?”

the shower timidly turned on, the water pattering off the tile below, muffling the sound of his voice, “i’m alright”.

spencer didn’t often lie, he didn’t have to. he knew that whatever fib he told wouldn’t stand a chance against his truthful tone. which is why you knew he wasn’t alright.

“can i come in?” you asked sweetly, placing your hand on the door knob.

“of course,” he muttered quietly, defeat evident in his voice.

you opened the bathroom door to spencer seated on the edge of the tub, his crutches fallen to the ground, his shirt drenched, and his hair partially wet. he looked up at you through his lashes, a hint of sadness and a plea for help swirled within his gaze.

“what happened?” you asked, sincerely, taking a seat next to him.

his lower lip threatened to quiver as his head turned to the floor, embarrassment not allowing him to meet your eyes, “i feel gross”.

you rubbed a hand up and down his back, the wet fabric clinging to his skin, “what do you mean?”

“my hair feels gross, my body feels gross,” he shook his head softly, “i just wanted to shower. but i can’t”.

“it’s difficult with the leg, isn’t it?” you questioned, he nodded his head.

“i tried earlier when you were at work, but this happened,” he pushed his hair off of his forehead, showing a small, red welt near his temple, “the movement is painful too”.

“my sweet thing,” you tutted, “did you clean it?”

he shook his head, the shame and frustration of not being able to care for himself returning. insecurity building with each day of failed attempts at getting clean. feeling uncomfortable, gross, and unattractive made his mind hazy with self-repulsion.

“it just hurts,” he whispered, “it’s too painful to do by myself”.

he thought back to the first time he tried to shower on his own. he bumped his knee while trying to take his clothes off. the pain was so excruciating he spent several minutes fighting unconsciousness, gripping the bathroom countertop to keep himself from collapsing on the floor, hot tears streaming down his cheeks as he breathed deeply. he spent the rest of the day in bed, his head buried into the pillow, desperate to dull the ache that seemed to consume his entire body.

“well, i’ll help,” you stood, turning to face spencer, “let’s get you a nice bath”.

you reached out, assisting him in getting up from the bathtub to sit on the lid of the toilet seat.

“is it alright if i undress you?” you asked, holding onto the bottom of his sopping shirt. he nodded, allowing you to take full control.

you gently peeled his shirt over his head, tossing it into the laundry basket next to you. his shoulders were hunched over, clearly experiencing some discomfort with being shirtless when he felt so self-conscious about his current, un-showered state.

you knelt down in front of him, helping unclip and remove the mechanical brace that had been keeping his leg at a slight angle. it was placed on the bathroom counter as you took your time removing all of his remaining clothing, needing to maneuver a few times to rid him of his pants and undergarments.

despite being as careful as possible, he was full of whines, groans, and pained whimpers.

“i need a second,” he quietly panted, discomfort firing off throughout his body.

when he was ready, you braced each other’s arms, taking your time as he struggled with his balance getting into the bath. wobbling, nervous, and gripping you tightly, spencer had finally been able to get in there for the first time in days.

“look at you,” you cheered, celebrating his victory as he failed to hide a smile, “i’m gonna have your back face the faucet”.

he grimaced as you helped lower him to sit in the tub, his pain evident in the white-knuckled grip he had on your hands.

“i’ll be back in just a second, okay?” you hurried into the kitchen, grabbing a cup from the cabinet, and a small towel from the hall closet.

you placed the cloth over his bandaged knee, being as cautious as you could to not touch it, “i don’t want this to get wet”.

spencer looked up at you with appreciation for your kind heart. his sweet brown eyes with his long lashes, you couldn’t help yourself from leaning in for a kiss.

“i love your hair,” you smiled, filling the cup with water from the running faucet behind spencer, “you have the softest boy hair ever”.

spencer chuckled, “what does that mean?”

you leaned him back slightly, pouring the contents of cup on his head, angling it to not get any water in his eyes, “i feel like guys always have really coarse hair. sure, it might be healthy, but it isn’t soft like girl hair”.

“you have much experience with guy hair?” he asked, humor evident in his tone.

“not necessarily,” you squeezed yourself a handful of shampoo, “girl hair on the other hand”.

spencer laughed, for the first time in days it wasn’t feigned or forced, “i know. you can’t keep your hands off penelope, emily, or jj when they visit”.

“part of girlhood, i guess,” you shrugged, “we spend our recesses in elementary school braiding each other’s hair, help each other curl our hair for middle school dances, and eventually completely fry it together in high school”.

“the only two people that touched my hair before you were my mom and that one guy at supercuts,” spencer closed his eyes as you emulsified the shampoo at his roots, massaging in the frothy suds.

“i kinda miss the elevated bowl cut,” you teased.

spencer groaned, trying hard not to roll his eyes, “i don’t”.

you rinsed his head clean of the soap.

“when you used to gel it back for work? super hot,” you reached for your pricey conditioner, an expense you liked treating yourself to every once in a while.

“when we watched all of those black and white films together,” he reminisced, “that was my homage to gregory peck. or at least my attempt at it”.

“it was cute,” you nodded, “i really liked the glasses with it too”.

you rubbed the conditioner together in your hands, fingering through his long locks to free them from any knots that may have tangled themselves together from the shampoo.

his body relaxed itself, no longer so tense from the awkwardness of trying to get into the bathtub.

you appreciated this moment of silence. just you and the man you love more than anything. something as simple as washing his hair being the highlight of your day, solely because it’s time spent with him. a simple conversation between the two of you enough to make your heart swell the way it did when you first met.

“we’re almost done,” you rinsed the remaining conditioner from his ends.

as the last cup of water rid his hair of any product, you prepared yourself to help him up.

“we did it!” you cheered squeezing out any excess water from his dripping hair.

the thought of getting him back on the floor safely was daunting. it was difficult before, but now everything was sopping too.

you were slow and careful, assisting him in getting back on his feet. you gripped him harder than necessary, worried he was gonna come crashing to the ground and split his knee back open. your brows furrowed in concentration, both of his feet coming to rest on the bath mat.

you grabbed a towel from the rack as he caught his breath, unable to hide the pain from his face.

gently, you dried him off, wrapping the cloth around his waist as you ordered him to sit back down on the lid of the toilet seat. he panted in victory, his first shower in nearly a week had been completed successfully, all thanks to you.

“you did a great job,” you grabbed the other towel, draping it over his head.

placing both hands down, you rubbed in circles. drying his hair fairly quickly, you tossed the towel off to this side, landing in a crumpled bunch at the bottom of the laundry basket.

spencer smiled up at you through the hair that hung in front of his face, “thank you”.

“of course,” you swept it out of his eyes, “let’s get you into some comfy clothes”.

as spencer sat on the edge of the bed in his plaid pants, you were planted cross-legged behind him, hair brush in hand. you took your time, tender strokes through his nearly shoulder-length hair. brushing and brushing again, he progressively slumped over, tiredness trying to take over.

“how about we call it a night?” you asked, turning him to lay down next to you.

“okay,” he answered quietly, pulling you into his arms as you turned off the bedside lamp, “thank you for your help today”.

you grinned, giving him a quick kiss, “anything for you”.

[samsexualdeancurious]

Separate Showers

Pairing: Sam x Reader

Words: 996

Summary: A little post-hunt recovery

Warnings: Ambiguous Reader gender, non-sexual nudity, the bunker's shower room (thank god for Jerry Wanek's set photos lol), fluff

A/N: Just a dumb lil thing I wrote to get it out of my brain.

---

To say today was a long one would be an understatement. It feels like an eternity before you’re finally making your way down the bunker steps ahead of the Winchesters. You feel gross from the long drive. You might enjoy a road trip but even you have a limit and you definitely reached it sometime during these last few hunts.

“I need a fucking shower,” you complain.

“I think we all need a shower.” Dean’s right behind you on the steps, stinking like road sweat. You wrinkle your nose and he gives your shoulder a little shove. “Shut up. Like you’re any better.”

That’s true. The Impala’s AC went out just into Kansas and the last few hours of the drive were absolutely miserable as a result, even with all four windows rolled down. You don’t want to even think about how you might smell.

Sam is quiet as he follows you back to your bedroom. It’s clear your big-brained boyfriend is feeling more than a little overwhelmed and exhausted. He needs some non-diner food, some quiet time, and maybe a nap. Or a run. Knowing Sam, probably a run.

“Separate showers?” you suggest and Sam’s hazel eyes are grateful as he nods. “All right. I’ll meet you back here.”

It took you a little while to get used to the gym shower set-up the bunker has. Even now, you have a strong preference for the stall furthest from the door so the boys won’t walk past you on their way to their own shower. Not like it’s anything Sam hasn’t seen before but there are no shower curtains! It’s the principle of the thing.

Awkward set-up aside, the bunker showers are downright magical. Probably literally magical, knowing the Men of Letters. The hot water never seems to run out, either, which is fantastic. You take your time scrubbing all the sweat and dirt from the road from your body and then waste a little more time just enjoying the steady pounding of water on your shoulders and neck.

When you do finally step out of the showers, the boys are in their own stalls. Sam’s clothes are in a pile on the floor outside the stall right next to yours and as you stop to gather them up along with your own, you can resist peeking in.

“Hi,” Sam says with a soft smile, pushing his hair out of his face.

You can’t help a grin as you lean against the dividing wall, taking in the sight of him. The way the water highlights every perfect curve and point of his body as he tips his head back to get his hair fully under the spray. “Hey, gorgeous.”

“Don’t you dare have shower sex right now,” Dean calls from a couple of stalls down and you can’t hold back a laugh.

Sam shoots you a smirk and leans out of the spray to kiss you softly. While he might look absolutely amazing, especially naked and wet like this, neither of you is really in the mood to do anything even if Dean wasn’t in the room.

“Don’t worry, you’re delicate ears are safe,” you tease as you shoot Sam one last little smile and begin making your way from the room. You don’t look but you’d bet money that Dean flips you the bird as you go by.

You’re sitting on the end of the bed, having completed your post-shower routine, when Sam comes into the room. He’s dressed in just an old pair of lounge pants and the sight of him padding barefoot into the room warms you to your core.

“Feeling a bit better?” you ask as he rubs at his hair with a towel.

He nods, wiping water droplets from his forehead. His eyes are on the item in your hand. You smile and hold the hairbrush out in offering.

“Want me to?”

“Hell yeah,” Sam sighs and you laugh softly.

“Well, c’mere then.”

Sam tosses his towel in the hamper and lowers himself to sit on the floor between your feet, back against the side of the mattress. His hair doesn’t really need to be brushed like this. The man was blessed with magic hair that just needs fingers combed through it after a shower or in the morning to look perfect. It’s really not fair. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t enjoy the process of it, though.

You work methodically, taking your time as you start with his ends and make your way up. Sam is practically melting under your hands. When you’re done with the brush, you set it aside and begin gently massaging his scalp. Sam moans softly. His head tips forward and you move your ministrations to his neck and shoulders. In no time, he’s leaning heavy and sleepy against your knee.

“Sa-am,” you murmur, leaning down to press a kiss to his temple. “C’mon. Up.”

He grumbles but allows you to guide him up onto the bed. Once he’s snuggled up against you, head resting on your chest, he’s out in seconds. It’s only early afternoon but you don’t mind holding him while he naps. Not when he snuffles softly and nuzzles against your T-shirt.

A soft knock on the doorframe draws your attention from Sam’s relaxed face to the open doorway where Dean’s standing. He’s dressed completely in his usual jeans and layers but his hair is still damp from his shower, sticking up all over like it does in the mornings before he’s gotten around to style it. You give a little wave.

“He sleeping?” Dean asks, careful to keep his voice low.

You nod.

“All right. I’m going to get started on dinner in a bit. Think he’d be up for something light? I’m thinking some soup and grilled cheese.”

That sounds delicious. Hopefully, Sam will agree. You nod again and Dean shoots you a thumbs up, flipping off the lights and closing the door as he leaves you to watch over Sam’s nap.

[vodika-vibes]

Hello there Vod'ika

Just a quick warning I am dyslexia so I hope I type this right.

So just imagine Alpha 17 or Jango (or any of the hot clones that you can choose) "Take it off or I'll make you sweetheart". just if you're taking ask right now. If not I love your work.

Only Girl In his World

Summary: Life on Kamino is horrifically dull. Oh sure, you’re more than happy to share an apartment with Jango, but right now you don’t have anything to do since his son hasn’t been born yet. So you have to make your own fun.

Pairing: Jango Fett x F!Reader

Word Count: 1245

Warnings: Spicy ish. Reader is a brat, intentionally

Prompt: "Take it off or I'll make you, sweetheart."

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @kimiheartblade @mire-draws-things

A/N: You gave me the choice of writing Jango and I couldn't not do it, lol. I love him so much. Anyway, I hope you like it! Also, I have a fever of 102, so I'm so sorry if it doesn't make sense in some places.

Bored.

You are so very bored.

You twist on your bed and kick your bare feet up against the window. It’s cool to the touch, which tracks with the rain pouring from the sky on the other side.

Kamino sucks.

It does.

There’s no nightlife, which means you can’t go dancing unless you want to dance on your own, and it means no drinking because you are incapable of drinking the bitter swill that Jango calls alcohol.

There’s no entertainment at all in Tipoca City. No movie theaters. No cafes. No libraries. 

You heave out a heavy sigh and allow your head to fall off the bed, your hair brushing the floor and you look out the bedroom door and into the main part of the apartment that you share with Jango.

He’s not here now.

Oh. He’s on Kamino, but he’s not home now.

He has to go and get some testing done before the Kaminoans start gathering his genetic material to start the cloning process. A fact that he bitched about while you made breakfast for the pair of you this morning.

He hadn’t been very impressed when you pointed out that he was the one who agreed to a ten-year contract. Still, aside from a scowl and a tug of your hair, he wasn’t overly upset with you.

You still don’t have any regrets about agreeing to come with him.

Jango is Jango, after all. And you’d follow him into hell without question.

You try not to think about how you probably are before this whole thing is over.

You stay on your bed for a moment longer, before you heave out an explosive sigh and roll so that you topple on the floor. There has to be something here for you to do.

Some video games, some movies, something.

You poke around the living room for half an hour, and, upon finding nothing that will help you banish your boredom, you sit on the floor with an unhappy huff. 

“I should make Jango order me a game system.” You grouse to the empty room as you hit the button that will open the closet door, hoping against all hope that there might be something in there for you to do.

The only thing inside the closet, aside from towels and other linens, is Jango’s armor. 

He couldn’t wear it to the testing, after all.

“Honestly, would it kill him to put his armor in his room? What if I needed a towel?” You stand and lightly grab his helmet, absently turning it in your hands. 

It’s heavier than it looks. Jango always acts like it weighs almost nothing.

You lightly trail your fingers over the paint around the visor, easily finding scoring on the metal that wasn’t noticeable from a distance. You knew, logically, that Bounty Hunting was a dangerous profession.

And Jango is one of the best bounty hunters.

Somehow those two facts didn’t connect until just now, when you’re looking at the old damage to his armor.

Is that why Jango hired you for this role? So that his son will still have a guardian even if something happens to him?

How…depressing.

You jump when the apartment door slides open, and turn to look at Jango as he steps into the apartment.

Somehow he looks more annoyed now than he did when he left.

“I’m back.” Jango greets you and then pauses when he sees you holding his helmet, “What are you doing?”

You glance at his helmet and then at him, “I was looking for something to do.”

“And you grabbed my armor?” He asks amused.

You huff, and turn to place the helmet back on the stand, “I was hoping there would be something to keep me entertained in the closet, your armor nearly gave me a heart attack.” You say as you round back on him.

“That right?”

You set your hands on your hips, acid on the tip of your tongue, but you let the vitriol die when you see the look on his face, “How was the testing?” You ask instead, “You look exhausted.”

He makes a face, “I feel like a prized bull.”

“Well—”

“Do not.” Jango warns.

You shrug, “Look, we both know you’re here as their stud, Jango.”

He groans, “You went there. Of course you did.” He walks over to you and drops his forehead on your shoulder.

Absently, you card your fingers through his curls, “They can’t want that many more tests before they start gathering specimens for the cloning,” You offer in a, hopefully, soothing voice.

“At least two more months of testing.” He corrects as he shifts slightly so you can feel his warm breath against your neck.

“You poor thing.”

He pulls away and flashes a small smirk at you, “Distract me.”

“What? You want, like, stand-up comedy or something?”

You start when you feel his warm hands against the bare skin of your waist, one of his hands sliding up under your thin shirt. “I had something a little more entertaining in mind.”

“You know, at this point I might as well just move into your bedroom,” Your breath hitches as his thumb brushes the underside of your breast.

“Mm, sounds like a plan, we can get you moved after.”

You squeak as he crowds you back to the couch, bumping you against the back, “You’re going to be too exhausted to move me after,”

He growls against your neck, actually growls, and you release a shaky, and highly aroused, breath. Jango tugs on the hem of your shirt, “Take this off or I’ll make you, sweetheart.”

You should obey him. Jango likes it when you obey him. He gets all hot and bothered and gives you exactly what you want. Which is generally his mouth pressed against your pussy…but you don’t want to obey him today.

Today you’re feeling a little contrary.

You giggle and press your lips against a spot just under his ear, and you suck a mark onto his skin. Jango groans at your actions and pulls his face back away from your neck.

You lean in so your lips are just over his and a broad smile crosses your face, “Make me.” You whisper.

His gaze snaps to yours, and something predatory slides through his eyes, “If we weren’t on Kamino, ad’ika,” He almost purrs, “I would put you outside and tell you to run while I hunt you down.”

You feel a thrill of desire at the thought and are disappointed, once again, that you’re on Kamino.

“Don’t be so disappointed, brat,” Jango warns as he smoothly pulls your shirt off and tosses it to the side. He bites down on your shoulder, pulling a startled yelp from you, “You’re still going to be punished for being so disobedient.”

You giggle, “Oh no~”

There’s a spark of amusement on his handsome face, and his hand lands, heavily, on your ass, making you squeak. “Bedroom, ad’ika. I need to find my binders so I can punish you properly.” He roughly grabs your chin, “And you’d better be naked when I get in there.”

“Or what?” You ask cheekily.

He chuckles, a low noise that makes you shiver, “Well if you want to find out, continue disobeying me.”

He really isn’t making you want to obey him today. But a broad grin crosses your face as you turn and flounce into Jango’s bedroom, this is definitely a cure for your boredom.

[wardenswateringhole]

I would love a little drabble about taking care of a sick Ingo (BW Ingo or PLA Ingo, not picky!). He'd hate being unable to take care of the reader but he secretly likes being taken care of, even if he doesn't want to admit it at first. ;w;

(While I do have something already written here, I think this does call for a couple of more flavorful bits. The rolling storms and pollen allergies actually helped in writing this one. lol.)

SUBWAY BOSS INGO

Ingo groaned as he tried to get out of bed. His head was heavy and muscles were sore. His voice was distorted from nasal congestion. Ingo still rose, slowly and painfully. His uniform was put on slowly as he braced himself against the edge of the bed. A loud sneeze sent him tumbling backward onto the bed and brought you running into the room. He was a sight. Sprawled spread eagle on the bed with his shirt buttoned lopsided and his pants on one leg still.

He flailed weakly like a turtle attempting to right itself after being flipped onto it’s shell. You already had your phone out and was calling Emmet. Ingo would not be coming into work today. Emmet read you loud and clear despite Ingo’s slurred protests in the background.

You helped Ingo undress and get back into bed as he continued to complain and whine. He was fine! You were overreacting! He needed to get to work! People depended on him to get things done! He was tucked in gently, not strong enough to actually fight you. You shushed him and rubbed his fevered forehead. He seem to almost purr and lean into the gesture.

“Does you head hurt?” You asked. He nodded silently, still savoring the sensation of your hand massaging his skull. You chuckled over how that was all it took to shut him up.

You left him to rest and with promises of soup and medicine. Ingo protested weakly once more, much like a child who had to miss a much anticipated field trip. His head was laid back limply against the pillow and his eyes were drifting closed before you even left the room.

You woke him later with soup you had made and medicine. You helped him sit up and sat the food tray in front of him. He knocked back the small cup of bright orange syrup before diving into the soup. You wondered how that didn’t make the soup taste bad.

“I can’t taste anything anyway…” He answered with his blunted goopy voice. “But I appreciate this very much dearest…”

You turned on a show you both liked and sat with him as he ate. Soon the bowl was empty and put aside to make room for cuddling. He grunted against your chest. “I shouldn’t be near you… I could get you sick…”

You rubbed your fingers through his hair and shushed him once more. “It would be worth it.”

Ingo’s eyes opened and looked up at you. They looked so tired and pitiful but still shined with that familiar look of love he would give you all the time. “Thank you taking care of me, my love. I will be returning the favor ten fold later.”

He put his head back down and wrapped his arms around your torso tighter. “As soon as the room stops spinning…”

----

WARDEN INGO

This could not be happening. Calaba had given him a look as soon as he began sniffling. Ingo had insisted he was fine and went on about his duties, despite Calaba warning him he would regret not resting then and there.

He regretted not resting then and there.

He rose at the sound of knocking at his door. That’s right, you were supposed to come by today. You were both going to go enjoy a day by the river. He wrapped blanket around his shoulders and answered the door.

The man looked like death warmed over. His normally bright and alert eyes looked like they were trying to slide off his face. Despite his insistence that he was fine, you managed to force your way into his home and ordered him back to bed.

Ingo awoke suddenly. He didn’t even realize he had drifted off. His home was filled with the aroma of warm food, which he could only get a faint hint of. But he recognized it. It was something you had told him was a favorite comfort food. His stomach grumbled in anticipation for the food, but some part of him felt bad. He was the one to usually cook for you…

It wasn’t long before you had a bowl ready for him. You served him his meal and took yours as well. A book was taken from a small shelf. A book you had both been enjoying together. You read to him between bites as he ate. Your voice was nice to listen too, and the embellishments you put on the descriptions of the scene were amusing, silly voices and all. Something bothered him though. He was usually the one to read to you…

The food was finished and dishes cleaned. Ingo hated watching you clean everything without being able to help out at all. Any effort to help was met with a stern warning that he would lose his legs if he got out of that bed. All he could do was watch as you cleaned the dishes and tidied up his living area. That was his job, not yours.

“Dearest. Please…” His voice warbled out, weak and croaky from sickness. “Come here.”

You did as he asked. He took your hand and rubbed his cheek into your knuckles. “I love you to the moon and back. Thank you for taking care of me so well…” His face looked up at you so pitifully. “But please… take a break… Join me for some rest?”

You couldn’t say no to such a sad pleading request. He scooted over to give you room. You both spent the rest of the evening cuddled in bed and just enjoying one another’s company. Ingo would never say it out loud, but he felt that was better than a trip to the river any day.

[johnslittlespoon]

Just read this and now I can’t stop thinking about how Bucky would get Gale to finally be comfortable bottoming. Idk I just have a headcanon that at first Gale only tops y’know cos of all the Internalized Homophobia™️…..what do you think?

-🍒

LOL the way i didn't even register that there was context missing until i saw the second ask (also wait i love the emoji sign off, that's so fun for repeat anons if anyone else wants to do that (/‿＼✿))

i'm so torn with my take on this tbh because it varies greatly for me from au to au, but in general canon i definitely think the same; even if it's not 'active' homophobia, he still grows up not acknowledging that part of himself (or even being aware of it, maybe not until he meets john, but i think something deep in him still knows that he feels something when he looks at boys the same way he feels something when he looks at girls).

and he never feels any sorta bad way about john when john bottoms, there's never judgement there, it's just this mental block he can't get over when it comes to himself but he wants to so badly, feels so frustrated that he can't give himself the same kindness and grace he gives john (which john points out the first time they talk about this.)

i think the only thing that would help him grow more comfortable with it/the idea of it is just growing closer to john and realizing he can fully trust him with anything. knowing that john will never judge him or think less of him, knowing that his hands and words will never be anything but gentle towards him, knowing that john loves him unconditionally and is so so patient with him; that would finally be what helps him make that decision.

i don't think he'd tell john far in advance, because he'd be scared of spooking himself out of it. he's probably going back and forth in his head up until the moment he actually decides to do it, but him and john are in bed and john is cupping his face with so much tenderness and kissing him so sweetly and when john reaches for the lube and goes to work himself open, gale's hand unthinkingly settles on john's wrist. mumbles against john's lips, "i think i wanna try it, tonight."

john goes very still and looks at gale with so much warmth and pride because he knows it's such a trust thing for him, his chest is all fuzzy knowing gale is willing to let his guard down with him like this, even if they don't get very far. asks if he's sure, so careful to make sure gale doesn't feel pressured, and gale promises him that he is. i think realistically gale might want to prep himself the first time, because it gives him some control in a situation where he's feeling very out of his comfort zone, but i also love the idea of gale letting john take his time with him, showering him in kisses and love bites and praise to distract while he works him open, lightheaded with the noises the new type of stimulation drags from gale.

it takes gale a bit to get used to it, and john moves slower and more gently than he's done with anything else in his life, and gale's probably pretty tense and nervous this first time, but he ends up liking it a lot more than he expects, and john is obviously thrilled that he has a new way he can dote on gale and make him feel good. he almost can't handle the vision of gale below him, strong legs wrapped around his waist, golden hair splayed out over the pillow, looking up at him with so much trust in between needy messy kisses.

and in my head, once gale is comfortable with it, he bottoms more often than john does because he likes the juxtaposition of being so vulnerable with john, but also knowing that john will let him have control in that position (aside from the days where he doesn't want to think and make decisions, and lets john take the reins.)

he has fun playing around with that type of control too, like as mentioned in a prev. ask, having john sit on his hands, or keeping them in place on his own waist just to feel them tense with restraint when john's holding back, or tying them behind his back when he really wants to make him squirm.

they're both switchy/verse–y, but i think it's just easier physically for gale to bottom since he's got a slightly smaller/more lithe frame, john is more muscular/boxy and probably less flexible so gale bottoming makes quickies and such easier too lol. i think gale is more particular about sex and control and all of that, whereas john is often more than happy to go along with whatever gale decides on, easygoing and eager to please and turned on by literally anything gale does. :^)

[berrypass-de-murdler]

thank you + ep 88

I'm so sorry for freaking out...

I've been trying to get a handle on my emotions, but I feel like I'm in a downward spiral a lot of the time - I come from DeviantArt and Discord where things have been rough to say the least, and it gives me a LOT of paranoia for other sites. I had to leave the Murdle Discord server after I was scolded for being too affectionate to my murdlers. That as well as my psychiatrist not giving me a straight answer on whether I have autism (my god what do I have why will no one tell me) really takes a number on my ability to talk to people and create art

I am essentially void of human companionship aside from talking to a couple people through Discord (mostly raven) and Fletch (who is my blood-related sister so it's a little different lol) and it's made me crazy lmao. All I ever want is to be loved no matter how cheesy it sounds <3

Your words genuinely touched my soul and helped me to calm down, and I love you all so much <3

awkwardly transitioning into usual episode...

Background Marengo is designed by Fletchinderat based on my idea of a faceless mannequin, she designed the dress pattern though. I love her!

DON'T READ THE EPISODES UNTIL YOU'VE FINISHED THE FIRST BOOK!!

Logico can finally walk straight again. He heads to the next stage for filming. It looks like Irratino’s mansion. It looks like… Irratino’s mansion…

There’s a dumb-looking fake Irratino standing there - a lifeless robot. It has this uncanny smile. It’s not Irratino’s smile. Logico KNOWS Irratino’s smile.

The fake 50-car garage, the fake hair-textured grass, the fake cauldron-sized bed… it’s all FAKE. Just like everything that Irratino gave him… Logico’s tears flood as he remembers the past two season finales. He can scarcely tell which was worse. He sees robots of the Duke, and Brownstone, and Azure, and Obsidian…? The Obsidian robot looks a LITTLE too realistic, and it makes him uncomfortable. He hasn't thought about Obsidian since the first season!

FAUX OBSIDIAN: Welcome back to the game, Deductive.

With one more 180 degree spin, the Irratino robot is dead flat. Just like he pretended to be on the island. The robots are killing other robots… this is ridiculous. 

FAUX DUKE: I want to rob a grave. FAUX AZURE: I love hypnosis. FAUX BROWNSTONE: In the name of God, small spaces remind me of my monastery.

You know, normal things they would say. Logico gets a phone ring and IMMEDIATELY flips his mood.

IRRATINO: SQUEEEEEE!! The robot playing me died?? Was it handsome?? LOGICO: No. It couldn’t be. IRRATINO: AAHHAHAWW LOGICO. Hehe. So what’s been going on with you? LOGICO: Oh, just another DUMB MYSTERY! There’s more of these creepy robots and there’s even one of Obsidian, if you can believe it. IRRATINO: Wow, I thought Midnight flat-out said that they weren’t gonna have her in that movie at all! :0 LOGICO: …what

Gico runs over and finds the Obsidian twirling a stick. 

FAUX OBSIDIAN: Imagine if he really DID die when you met him.  LOGICO: Jesus Christ, these… wait a second… ohhhhhh… you’re the real Dame Obsidian aren’t you!  OBSIDIAN: Of course, Logico. I thought you figured that out already. Have you figured out the significance of THIS yet? 

She points to the Midnight Prop Shop’s MPS logo. Logi squints. That CAN’T just stand for Midnight Prop Shop. Does it stand for My… Painful… Scream?? No… that’s-

Oh, Obsidian is gone. Shocker.

The end!

I apologize again </3

The power of Goat Lord compels you!

See you next time murdlers

[satanscatsworld]

*rolls out from under your bed on a car creeper* May I ask if you could do the last prompt about anxiety and triggering situations, but with Lilia and Cater?

TWST boys’ headcanons with an introvert MC who has anxiety, nervous ticks and who always selflessly insert themself into triggering situations! Lilia + Cater!

What are you doing under my b- oh nevermind- lol.

Sure thing! I hope you will like it, I tried my best ^^!

Enjoy <3333333

Part one with Leona, Jamil, Azul, Floyd and Crewel right here.

----------

Lilia Vanrouge

Oh, that one… How could that one ever miss something about you?

Lilia is sharp when it comes to these things. You see, he’s fairly… Old and experienced, despite not looking like it, and he also raised two wonderful boys that you know well.

He met enough people through ages to learn and read through them.

And you were no exceptions! He could read through you like an open book, and it didn’t take him long before noticing what was going on.

The way you were always saying yes to any request, no matter how awkward it could make you feel, and how busy you were. Oh little one, you just couldn’t say no, could you?

But what also caught his eye, is the was you never turned out anyone, even though the situation triggered you.

Which caused you, and he noticed it pretty quickly as well, to trigger your nervous tics.

He particularly noticed how you would always need to have something in your hands. Be it your rings, or, if you didn’t wear/like jewellery, your phone, your fingers, whatever your hands could grab and crush between them.

Even to the point where it would physically hurt you to do so, you just couldn’t help it when those episodes stroke in.

He didn’t wait long before taking the matter into his own hands though, and soon enough, you would have your boyfriend magically appearing above your head, a sly and cunning smirk on his lips, and scaring the others away.

“Prefect, could you please-” “BOO!” “AHHHh!”

Jokes aside, it would happen a lot. And if people didn’t get the hint, Lilia would tell them himself to grow up and not rely on you for anything and everything, and especially something they know you don’t like to do.

As for your hands, he would help you to take care of them: applying a healing cream, bandages if your nails stabbed your flesh, and he would absolutely not prevent you from nervously holding things in your hands.

Though, to help you calm down he would offer you his hand.

“My, My, Love, one must not refuse a fae’s request, I’ll may end up landing a curse upon you… Haha, gotcha! Just kidding. May you hold my hands? I’m quite the anti-stress par excellence, hehe.”

Cater Diamond

Ay, that one is so underestimated!

Cater may look like he’s an airhead, your typical classmate play-boy, but he’s definitely not and he’s a lot more than that.

He’s actually got quite the observing eye, almost nothing can go past him without him noticing.

He notices when you change your haircut, he knows your favourite things, he notices pretty much anything if that’s about you, his beloved lover.

But this time, only this time, you were the one coming up to him.

It was after a pretty bad triggering episode, the task given to you left you in a pretty bad state, and you struggled very hard. You were so tired of your body not listening to you.

You were so tired of the anxiety crawling on your skin, carving in your flesh, owning your body like its own.

You were also so flustered and awkward after, because some of your classmates happened to witness it, and gave you very heavy weird stares.

You cried in Cater’s arms after that, metaphor or not, when your boyfriend saw your pale and distressed face, he immediately ran up to you and hugged you tight.

Either you tell him or not, he noticed what was going on.

Annnnd you, my friend, is getting pampered!

He wants you to rest, he even gently scolds you for it, and he puts his mind into protecting you even more. That is to say: if he’s not with you, he will tell Adeuce to look out for you more and tell people to scram, if he’s with you, he will wait for you to speak for yourself, and if you can’t, he will for you.

Also! You will often catch him using his unique magic, that literal cheat code, so that even if he’s too busy at the moment, one of his clone will check up on you.

Cater is literally one of the sweetest beans ever, and never judged you for being yourself, especially not in such situations.

#Snuggles #CaringBoyfriend #FavouriteGingerBoy

“MC-ey, look what I got! This is a new plaid blanket, it’s extra soft. Oh, I also got ya one of those essential oil diffusers, I heard it was pretty good to help you calm down with a familiar scent you liked. Here, let’s get comfy!”

[thesparklingwriter]

a trip to remember

“Forgive me, you simply cry a lot these days."

tags: pet names, Zhongli is very pure, soft Zhongli, fem!reader, Zhongli and reader are in a relationship, reader is still pregnant lol, they're kind of on their honeymoon, they're in Inazuma

ao3 link | taglist | masterlist | next

please do not repost or edit my work without credit. reblogs are greatly appreciated!

i'm also taking requests for the rest of the flufftober days, PLEASE leave any suggestions, no matter how self-indulgent they may be, cause i am running out of ideas...

taglist form

“Zhongli, I appreciate all this, but I really do feel a bit too nauseous to be shooting across Teyvat. Can’t we just delay our honeymoon? We aren’t going to die without it.” Even as you complain, you pile an extra set of clothes into your bag. You know he’s going to insist you go, and you don’t actually mind, but if there’s any chance you can change his mind, you’ll take it.

“It’s my fault we didn’t go closer to when we were wed and I don’t wish to delay it further.” Zhongli turns to look at you as you collapse onto the bed with a big huff. “And let us be realistic, when do you expect us to go after the child is born?”

“Can’t we just ask someone to babysit for us when they’re like four?” You ask. You and him both know you’d never let anyone babysit your child whilst you were out of the nation. No way.

“You deserve a break, love.” He sighs.

“I know, I know.” you sigh. “Take a break, stop working yourself so hard, I know it all.”

You want to continue, but Zhongli looks so suitably frustrated and sympathetic at the same time that you stop in your tracks. You feel bad for eliciting that kind of response in him, so you take a deep breath, crack a smile, and pull him into a gentle kiss. “I know it all, so let’s go. I won’t complain. If I do, you have my permission to throw a rock at me. Okay?”

“I would never throw a rock at you.” Zhongli chuckles, smiling softly.

He would never throw a rock at you, sure, but he would throw you smug looks when he could tell you were on the verge of complaining. Which was often. You refused to let Zhongli carry you, as you claimed it was unnecessary fanfare, but your feet hurt, all the time. By the time you got to Inazuma, you were tempted to buy a cart and insist Zhongli drag you around town in it. You suggested it, and he pointed out it would be significantly more conspicuous than him carrying you.

And, all jokes aside, you were looking forward to going to Inazuma most. You’d heard only good things about the nation—their food, their clothes, and their murderous archon. You’d been trying your best to drag information about the Raiden Shogun from Zhongli, but he seemed to avoid the topic.

“Come on, what’s she like?”

“I cannot pass judgement on her actions, but I’m impressed by her tenacity.” Zhongli says finally.

Which, in Zhongli terms, is just a way of getting you off his case.

“Alright, I get the hint.” You huff. “Let’s talk about something else.”

“But, my love, it was you insisting we talk about the Raiden Shogun,” Zhongli teases, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you close. As much as your mood swings have been giving him whiplash as of recently, he can’t help but find them endearing. Which serves to irritate you further.

“I don’t care anymore. Let’s look at the clothes stalls. I want to get a traditional Inazuman dress as a souvenir.” You beam, dragging Zhongli along behind you. You figure that if you’re going to have to be here, you may as well enjoy yourself thoroughly. It’s not like you’re going to have much time to visit in the near future anyway.

The streets are strangely quiet or the time of day—had you been in Liyue, you would have had to fight through the crowds, and you also would have had to fight through the inherent stress that would cause.

“It’s so quiet here. Imagine if we’d been out and about at this time at home,” you marvel, as you peer into another store, bowing politely to the stall owner.

“It’s not usually this quiet,” the owner admits, shrugging lightly. “But there’s a festival on the other side of town, so I assume most people are there.”

As you engage them in polite conversation, Zhongli looks at the clothes up for sale. At first, he wonders why the clothes are so small—but of course, that was his own myopia coming into play. He never considered that stalls like this would sell clothes for infants. By the time he’s had a good enough look at everything on sale, you’ve already taken directions from the shop owner to find a vendor for the dresses you’re looking for, and you’re waddling down the street, promising to come back when you’ve secured your loot.

“Can I help you at all?” The vendor smiles.

Zhongli glances back at the wall of clothes, smiling softly to himself. “If you wouldn’t mind terribly.”

Zhongli keeps his purchase a secret until you get back home—despite your constant complaints about his secrecy. It’s not like you’re trying particularly hard to get the information out of him. You ask, and then you fall asleep, exhausted by the events of your honeymoon and the constant travel.

You don’t see the item Zhongli bought until a few months later, when you’ve forgotten about the whole situation in its entirety. When he brings it up, you curse him for his sneakiness but wait to see the reveal in hopeful anticipation. In the back of your mind, you’re hoping for jewellery, or a new vase to replace the one you accidentally broke whilst attempting to make a surprise dinner (No, you don’t want to talk about it. It’s a sensitive subject.)

So when Zhongli hands you a wrapped package with two sets of baby clothes inside, to say you're surprised would be an understatement. And maybe it’s the hormones, or that fact the clothes are exactly what you’d pick, but tears begin to prick at your eyes.

“You don’t like them?” Zhongli asks. He’s learnt the hard way that, as of recently, your tears can mean anything—from implicit joy to bone-shattering pain. He’s figured it’s better to ask than to jump to conclusions.

“Of course I like them.” You sniff. “When have I ever not liked something you got me?”

“Forgive me,” he chuckles, sitting beside you and pulling you into a hug. “You simply cry a lot these days.”

You pull away from him. “Of course, I’m crying all the time. I’m eight months pregnant and All you do is pull stupid little adorable stunts like this! I have every right to be emotional.” You sob, holding the clothes to your chest. “They’re beautiful.”

“I’m glad you think so.”

a/n my irl friend told me to write this and, whilst i'm not the kind of girl to sit down and do as she's told, it was actually a pretty good idea so i merged it with one of rin's ideas which means i have now officially finished all four even though it wasn't a checklist. as usual, will check tomorrow, i think this is kind of bad but it's content so i won't complain

[fangaminghell]

Ava Alone

Summary: Ava finds herself alone after the fall. She has a lot to think about.

Notes: Several things! 1) POKEMON DESOLATION SPOILERS AHEAD DON'T READ IF YOUR UNFAMILIAR WITH THE GAME!!! 2) This fic takes place within my own version of events of desolation, where things are extended more. The player takes like. A week to climb down that Silver Rise, bc it's a fucking mountain. Of course that's subject to change, but for the sake of this fic, that's the case. 3) I dunno if this would be ooc for Ava or not lol. I'm kinda using my own hcs here and 4) Asra is my protag oc! i think that's everything so I hope you enjoy!

~~~~~

Her landing wasn’t exactly painless, but thankfully, it was painful either. How she survived the fall, she doesn’t know, and honestly, she doesn’t want to know. The first thing she clocked in was that Asra wasn’t there. Asra wasn’t there. A panic starts to settle in her stomach as she forces herself up from the ground, wincing as she does, and her head turns left and right in hopes that she can find her best friend….but nothing. 

Ava frowns, just now realizing exactly where she is. Well….it certainly isn’t the sky. Trees and grass are all she can see...shit did she fall in the middle of some woods? 

“Great,” she mumbles to herself, fully picking herself off the ground and trying to once again, take in her surroundings. She can’t exactly complain about her landing spot - it’s a goddamn forest, her element really - and she could be lying if she said it wasn’t just a bit cozy. She didn;t sense an immediate danger, and the serenity of it all was peaceful. 

“Welp,” she mutters, “ Where do I go from here?”

She starts to walk, wincing a bit as she realizes- for what seems to be the millionth realization today - that her body was more roughed up than she initially thought. But it’s whatever. She can deal with it. So she keeps trudging on…

~~~~~

Addenfall is a nice place, Ava decided. A small community with nice people in a nice area - what more do you want? The minute she showed up in the town, she was immediately taken to the pokemon center to heal up - both her and her pokemon. She insisted that she was fine, but they pretty much forced her to rest, which. Sure. Whatever. Not like Asra is still out there somewhere and she’s not looking for them. It’s not like Asra, for all she knows, could be dead-

Her breath hitches, and she rubs two fingers against the bridge of her nose. Okay. Maybe…maybe rest sounds like a good idea. She needs to get her thoughts in order. She needs to think of a plan.

“ Alright Ava, recount the steps. How did you get here?” 

She closes her eyes, and thinks back to the events leading up to now. They just got a way to get to Cellia….they took the Jinx teleporter and….

Ava’s eyes shot wide open, and a wave of anger crashes into her. Scarlett was there. Scarlett sided with those…fucking lunatics! And for what? A stupid dream? Those people almost killed her! And she had the fucking gall to-

“ You know what? I’m done thinking,”Ava huffs, turning aside in the bed Nurse Joy gave her. She forces her eyes shut, not letting herself even think of that girl she once called her friend. She doesn’t deserve that title. Not anymore.

~~~~~

It’s been a few days. Still no Asra. Once she was given the okay by Nurse Joy, she immediately started searching. With the help of her pokemon, she pretty much looked through the entirety of Addenfall Woods - nothing. The scary thought that Asra might be dead was growing louder by the day and she just desperately wanted to be proven wrong. Or….or maybe Asra joined Team Cresent, too. Ava shakes her head- no that’s ridiculous. Asra isn’t like Scarlett. They at least have a good head on their shoulders. 

She sighs, taking a rest near a tree within the woods. She once again tries not to think of a familiar pinkette. Tries not to think of her face right before Ava fell.  Because it’s not worth it. She made her choice, so it isn’t worth it…….right?

Ava looks down at the back of her hands, resting on her knees. There’s a few more scraps there, from all the looking that she’s done for the past few days. Going from her fingers to her nails, a vibrant shade of green pops out. Oh right. Her nails. The nail polish chipped now, given everything that had happened to her for the past….week? God she doesn’t even know. She frowns at her nails- she doesn’t even like nail polish that much honestly. Why was she wearing it again?

“ Ava, stop squirming, you're going to smudge your nails!” Scarlett huffs, pointing the tiny nail brush at her. Ava rolls her eyes, looking at the hand in Scarlett’s. 

“ I can’t believe you two convinced me to wear this….” she says, looking down at her nails, most of which are now coated in green nail polish. She can hear Asra laugh lightly. 

“ Scarlett wanted us to match, somehow,” they say, and while they are behind her, Ava can feel their small smile on their face, “ Besides, you could have said no. We all know, you could have said no. But you didn’t~” 

Ava groans, resting her head on her non nail polished hand, “ Yeah yeah, you two are sooooo lucky I like the both of you,” she can’t exactly hide her smile, looking at Scarlett who’s smiling back.

“ It’ll be worth it, trust me!” she beams, then focusing back on Ava’s nails, “ Besides, it’s been foreeeeever since we had a makeover together! Even if it’s just nail polish!”

Scarlett finishes a nail, and examines it with her critical eye. After a few seconds, she nods, smiling. 

“ I just think it would be nice to bring something old to our new beginning. Don’t you think?”

“ Venusaur?” Ava jumps slightly at her pokemon’s cry. She looks to her side to see her Venusaur looking at her with worry. She straightens herself up, wiping whatever it was in her eye. 

“A-ah! I must have zoned out huh? Let’s head back to town, hm?” she tries to prevent her voice from shaking, and tries her best to give her partner a reassuring smile. Venusaur Ava’s smile wavers a bit, feeling some more tears threatening to fall. She gets up immediately, turning away from her partner.

“I’m fine! Really! It’s getting late, so we should really get back,” 

She hates that she’s hiding from her Venusaur, she hates that she feels like she has to, but she does anyway. She can hear Venusaur sigh, and starts trudging along with her back to Addenfall Town. She makes a mental note to smother Venusaur with treats as an apology.

~~~~

Was I a good friend to her?

The question plagued her ever since she woke up the next morning. It left an empty feeling in her gut, and for once, she can’t push that thought out of her mind. 

“Of course I was,” she’d try to reason with herself, “ We’ve been friends since high school, why wouldn’t we be?” But it was never enough. The question repeated itself over and over in her mind, a wave a guilt would wash over her as she thinks back to every interaction the two had.

“ I should have paid more attention,” she would chastise herself later that day, “ I should have talked to her, should have been nicer to her- fuck and I was so quick to throw her away! What was I thinking-”

“Saur?” Once again, her Venusaur snaps her out of her thoughts, looking at her with such concern. The shame of hiding before crept up on her once more, and she leaned towards her partner, hugging it as she whispers,

“ I think I’m a bad friend.” Her voice was quiet, broken, and it took all her strength not to cry. Venusaur coos, gently tapping Ava’s back, as if to say “ That’s not true”. Now it’s Ava turn for disbelief. But she holds her Venasuar anyway. It gives her comfort, at least. That’s the best thing she needs right now.

~~~~~

It would have been officially and week since Ava found herself in Addenfall. Still no Asra. Still no Scarlett. She refuses to believe Asra is dead. And she prays that Scarlett isn’t fully gone. She tried traveling through Silver Rise Forest, but it’s fucking cold, cold and cold. Literally one of the worst places for her and her grass types. And she tried getting through that joint, she really did. Didn’t help that it was so big. She had to cut her loses and hope for a miracle.

Addenall is still as nice as it ever was. She tries to help around where she can, but she finds herself going out for walks more than anything. It’s nice. Helps with her stress. But that isn’t always enough now is it? So imagine her surprise when she she walks out of town to see a Black Fox grunt harassing one of the townspeople. And righteous anger rages within her and she finds herself storming towards the damn grunt, ready for him to feel her wrath.

Good, she thinks. She needed an outlet.