#at this point it was you snooze you loose

[hesztia16]

Promt:

Bruce kept trackers in the people he loved. Ever since Dick was a young boy prone to get kidnapped. Some with consent, some… not so much. But it was a crime he was willing to commit, if only for the way it calmed his nerves when he looked at the little dots on his screen.

Alfred, in the kitchen, working tirelessly on lunch.

Tim, in Drake Manor (much to his annoyance, but he was working on that one), probably enjoying the weekend before school.

Dick, in Bludhaven (again, much to his annoyance) spending his day off with some friends in a coffee shop.

Barbara, in the library, helping visitors.

And the one little dot that always pained him to look at, but couldn’t bring himself to disarm, right above-

Where is it?

There.

Why in all Hell’s name was his son’s body in the hospital instead of the cemetery?

[mixingandmelting]

Secretly Admiring You Artistically

Summary: How he's expressing that you're in his mind through art

a/n: based on scenes in the comics as civilians

Dick: Doodles

He’s dying. Actively decaying in real-time. Why he brought back the notepad from his day job as an officer home or why Haley pulled it out from his bag and gave it to you, he has no idea. To make matters worse, he’s crouching on the ground with both hands covering his very-much burning face as you stand in front of him silently, flipping through each page that’s filled with doodles of you rather than work notes he should’ve been taking for the cases he’s working on.

 It isn’t an exaggeration to say his world revolves around you. He’s not ashamed or has any problem expressing how much of a simp he is for you whether it’s to you or everyone both verbally and physically, 24/7. Seriously, he can’t go a day without getting a kiss from you or telling you how much he loves you, no matter the situation. He’s constantly stuck to your side, always smiling from how you showered him with affection back, spoiling him silly to the point he’s thinking he’s the luckiest man in the world. But artistically? He drew a stick figure once during a game of Scribble. Tim was for sure that it was a basketball hanging on a fishing pole. Bruce had told him he can help him get enrolled for art classes. 

“So, did the sarge or corporal see any of this yet?”

“No…,” He manages to wheeze out. He needs the ground to swallow him up right now. He still can’t believe this is how his (poorly and very much terribly drawn) doodles of you are discovered and exposed to you of all people. When he hears the notepad being closed shut, he musters all the strength in his mind and body. “...Can I please have my notepad back now?” He knows the answer. And he knows what’s about to happen next. But maybe today he’ll be lucky he’ll get it back- 

“Nope.” The way you pop the “p” at the end of the word - of course you wouldn’t. He doesn’t even need to look at you to know the type of grin you have on your face.

With that, he gets up and yells your name as he gets up to chase after your running form. Sure, he’s dreading what exactly you might do with the doodles but his heart is filled with adoration from how he still managed to give you happiness from them. You are the most lovable person in the world to him - he can’t wait to kiss the ever living lights out of you when he gets you.

Jason: Poetry

Oh. Well. This is embarrassing.  He rubs the back of his neck, face completely dyed red. You snuggling your face into the crook of his neck while embracing his biceps is fine. In fact, he loves waking up to see you sleeping peacefully next to him. His heart always swells with affection from how you feel so warm and right in his arms while being reminded how you genuinely enjoyed and appreciate him and his presence.  The problem was the book lying open on the coffee table next to him. The book filled with romantic poems that he placed on his face after deciding to take a power nap which ended up as a snooze session.

He had been reading each poem, using a sticky note and red pen (because he’s not a heathen to ruin such beautiful and sacred text) to mark which parts or lines reminded him of you the most. Each sticky note had arrows drawn with whatever note he’d make about you, placed on the long-edge of the pages. It was obvious you had found out the contents of the book before joining him on the sofa as you had done the same, only your sticky notes were sticking out from the shorter-edge. 

“Jason… What’s wrong?” He quickly turns his head away, covering the lower half of his face. The fact you aren’t even letting go when you usually would makes things worse, your grip tightening instead of getting loose. He doesn’t turn around to know the expression you’re making, feeling you nuzzle into his side.

“...Are you telling Roy or the others about this?” 

“What? Hell no. This is only for you and me- why would I want to share it?”

With that, he topples over you and wraps himself around you like a giant, warm teddy bear. On top of relief, he’s filled with childish glee from getting to share something that’ll only be meant between you and him. It gets a chuckle from him when you laugh at how ticklish he makes you as he snuggles into you, eventually making you two fall asleep in each other’s embrace with smiles on your faces.

Tim: Photography

He’s pacing in circles in his room. Then he’s flopping onto his bed and screaming into his pillow. Pacing in the room. And again, screaming into his pillow. He’s been repeating this exact pattern for ten minutes straight now after finding the photo album on his desk. How Stephanie found out about them or why she showed them to you when you stopped by while he was out, he doesn’t know nor want to know. But he’s pretty sure  that he's doomed. Best case scenario is break up. Worst case scenario is you choosing to never see him again because you found him creepy. 

But, it’s not his fault, okay? He’s really down bad for you. Even when he’s dating you, he keeps finding himself falling for you deeper and deeper to the point he doesn't want to miss a single moment whenever he’s with you. So, every time the two of you went on dates or plainly hung out, he’d take pictures of you. You standing on a hill during a sunset, looking outside with the window down in his car, laughing in front of a bonfire with a marshmallow on a stick in your hands. He can’t imagine life without you. He needs to be with you even if it’s in a photo. 

Finally, he  gets back up and dejectedly drags his feet to the desk. Might as well put the album away before more people find out about it. Or so he thought when he suddenly freezes at the sight of a note sitting on top of it. There’s only a single sentence in your hand writing, making him do what it says. Having memorized the order of the photos in each album, he immediately finds a photo of him laughing while sitting on top of the hood of his car. It sits adjacent to a photo of you doing the same, making it look like the two of you were laughing while looking at each other. Heart skipping a beat with tears threatening to spill, he doesn’t look away when he grabs his phone and dials your number. 

“So? Are we hanging out tonight?” 

“No, we’re doing more than that. We’re going to go all out, my treat.” 

The way you chuckle does so many wonders to him. With that, he rushes to get ready. Even if he can’t give you the whole world now, he plans on making tonight the best night of your life since there’s no other way for him to express how much he loves you when words can’t cover half of them.

Duke: Notes

He’s an idiot. That’s what he mentally screams to himself when he drops the pile of handwritten notes right in front of you. Not once had he ever mentioned that he had collected all the notes you wrote to him including the ones back before the two of you even got together. All of them were written as your way to cheer him on, secretly giving them to him in every way you possibly can. It’s as if nothing could stop you from passing him a note, whether it’s during class, passing in the hallways, eating lunch, or slipping them in his school bag. There were even times you managed to place them in his textbooks, right where the assigned reading starts.

All those notes you passed to him, he found solace. He feels that he’s being mentally and emotionally supported unconditionally, no matter the circumstances . You don’t know how he cherishes the smiley faces you draw on them or the words you write. Each and every note he treats like they are a piece of you. It led him to keep a few in his pocket, pulling one and reading it to get the extra boost he needs to get through whatever he’s doing even if it’s homework or patrolling the city. 

Now here he was, caught red handed. He’s so nervous and on the verge of a mental breakdown, fearing that you might think he’s strange. Immediately he starts to ramble, spewing every excuse in the book while watching you pick the notes that dropped from his pocket off the ground. 

“They were growing into a pile inside my bag, so I was kind of in the middle of-”

“Do they work?”

He stops and blinks at you. What do you mean they work? There’s a light blush coloring your cheeks, your hands gently straightening each note to stop them from wrinkling and getting damaged further. 

“Are they making you happy?”  Oh. Oh. He pulls you into a strong hug, hoping his actions convey how he feels about you. It’s not the notes that’s making him happy- it’s you and your efforts to make sure he is that makes him the happiest man in the world.

Damian: Sketching

No. Just no. He’s so embarrassed that he can’t muster a single word right now. You were teasing him a minute ago about how he must have sketches of you when he refused to show you his notepad he carries around. Little did you know and much to his horror, you were completely right and that exactly was the reason why he didn’t want to show it to you. In fact, he had been finishing another sketch of you before your so-called attempt to sneak up on him. You being you, you kept probing him into showing his sketches and with him being so flustered, he ended up getting the notepad snatched out of his hand leading to the current situation where both of you are standing with the biggest blush to be seen from mankind. 

It’s not two sketches he’s drawn too. There’s a whole comic strip he drew in there featuring one of his favorite moments he had with you on top of all the other sketches, some being portraits, some being a compilation of various expressions you make on a daily basis. The way he’s constantly stuck about you has gotten to where Jon had gotten smug at guessing what he was thinking of when Jon found him suddenly grinning to himself. That day, the two of them got grounded by their parents once Damian started to threaten Superboy by getting kryptonite out and the other shot lasers out of his eyes as self defense. 

“They’re so beautiful.” Your muttering snaps him back to reality.

Not wasting a second, he grabs his notepad back. Pride damaged and completely panicked by showing a pathetic side to himself to you, he tries to go somewhere, anywhere, away from you. Only to stop when you grab his wrist. 

“Damian, you're absolutely talented.” 

He mentally groans. He hates how you’re sincere and genuine in these moments. You don’t know how much he treasures you because of this - being open, honest, and accepting of his every being. Worse is you not being aware or truly choosing your battles - it’s how you are; it’s part of your nature. Accepting his loss, he sits back down. He refuses to admit how affected he is by the way you smile with excitement when you pick up his sign. Letting his shoulder brush against yours, the two of you go through his drawings with you commenting on each one while he snarks back though it’s softer and filled with fondness.

[sincerelybubbles]

hotch x shy!bau!reader <3 fem content: slight age gap implied. reader is new to the team and more on the introverted side! not proof read, as is my hubris.

Tired, nerves buzzing from a night spent up and chasing sleep that was not welcoming, you throw your bag down on your desk and go off in hunt of coffee. You usually try to curb your caffeine intake, especially with the travel associated with your new job, but this morning is a happy exception to your new rule.

"Here," Emily says, watching you scan the cabinets of the kitchen. You hadn't heard her walk in, but she's offering you a mug with a sympathetic smile. "Long night?"

"Yes," you say, tone thankful, and spin to figure out the coffee machine.

"Three weeks and i haven't seen you use that once," she comments, sipping from her own warm mug and watching you settle the filter in place.

"I've stayed away. it's harder to sleep when I get back because of the jet lag, anyway, don't need to add coffee at all odd hours to the list, too."

It's the most you've said in casual conversation like this. To say you've been shy with your new team would be an understatement. You're good at your job, you were pulled from the academy early to do this for a reason. You fit well into the team, generally. You like listening to Spencer ramble, especially on the longer flights. Rossi's dry humor reminds you of one of your old professors you grew up admiring. JJ is a constant breath of fresh air, Morgan's consistent strength has built up your own moral. Garcia took no getting used to, lifting you up and settling into your life easily. Hotch is intimidating but kind under the colder-tones, long glances sometimes distracting but oterhwise comforting. Emily is easily one of your favorites on the team, friendly and whip-smart. But, at the core of it, you're shy. Painfully so, even.

The team caught onto this quick, settling into the truth that your observational nature that makes you so adept at noticing the smaller details is bound to weep into your social life as well. So, despite your comfort levels rising with the team, you find these situations hard. Do you explain your nightmares to Emily? Share that you're a diagnosed insomniac who spent the night watching FRIENDS reruns after chasing sleep that pranced beyond reach?

"You're better than me, then," Emily says, smiling over her mug. Her eyes tell you she's pleased at the little crack into your life that you've let her see. They're all like that: insufferably kind and polite with your introverted nature but greedily sipping up everything they can learn about you.

"It's a new development," you admit, clicking start on the machine and settling back against the counter facing her. Something about your sleepiness makes it easier to talk, your tongue looser, your ache to let loose around the team more profound. "I'm sure most of us are insomniacs, though."

"Not me," Emily says, chuckling. "I get home and feel like I don't wake up until I get back here."

"Ah, well, I'm sure it can feel like a curse no matter what way you fall," you say with a shrug. Emily lifts her coffee in cheers to that.

"Morning," Morgan says, turning into the kitchen and giving you a surprised smile. "Hello, sunshine, you're looking bright eyed today."

You let out a small laugh, shaking your head. "I know, I know."

Emily points with her chin at you, "She's making the coffee this morning."

"Ah-ah, remaking it because you and pretty boy always get here first and finish the first pot." Morgan teases her with a slight shake of his head, grinning and opening the fridge to pull out the creamer.

"Well, you snooze you loose. Or," she sends you a smile, complete with a little nose wrinkle and a tilt of her head, "you don't snooze and still loose."

"Clever," you say, voice dry with humor, hiding your laugh by turning around as the pot finished brewing. "I'll remember this later."

"Careful, she's got teeth," Morgan warns Emily, reaching around you to grab the coffee before you can and filling his cup.

"Hey!" You call in protest, voice raising louder than usual and a pout hitting your lips. Morgan laughs, white teeth on display, eyes crinkled at the corners.

"Here, here," he says, placating, tipping the pitcher to fill your cup as well. "Any sugar or cream to placate the beast?"

Before you can answer, a laugh on the tip o your tongue, Hotch walks in and settles his watchful eyes on you, interest sparking them. You shrink, not in fear but in self-awareness, and send him a closed lip smile. Stepping away from Morgan, you turn quickly to fix your own coffee.

"Good morning," Hotch says, nodding at Emily and Morgan, answering Emily's question about Jack's recent sickness (he's recovering well, thank you) and trying to catch your eye.

You duck away, cowardly and regressing back into your shell, deciding it's time to get to work and stop indulging. You catch Morgan tease Hotch as you leave, though, "Aw, you've scared her off."

You try not to think about it as you duck away, pushing all thoughts of your boss away.

You're unsuccessful.

The problem isn't that you're afraid of him because you think he's mean or unkind in any way. He's done his best to welcome you to the team, allowing you to take investigations in your own direction and listening to your insights since day one. There was a brief moment in your first week where you felt tested, like his questions weren't to gain your insight but to see if you were up to the task, but you slipped past that easily. you have the credentials to back yourself up. you're quiet, yeah, but you're always right on track to where you need to be. pulled early from academy to jump into investigating was hard but it made this easy. a few years of experience under your belt and the job feels natural and, even with the shift in teams to join the big guns in Quantico, you feel like you're exactly where you're meant to be.

No, embarrassingly, this has nothing to do with you not liking your boss or being afraid of him. Rather, he makes you too comfortable. He ducks his head to hear you speak as you walk and talk, settling deep eyes on your face. He's sturdy, dependable, and exactly everything you're all too interested in.

You hate it, harboring a school crush on your boss like you're a teen pining over your teacher. You know it's normal, you know it's perfectly reasonable and there's absolutely nothing wrong with being attracted to him, but you still slink away from him more than the others because of that attraction.

Because it's more than physical.

He listens when you talk. Granted, so do the rest of the team - they're profilers, of course they catalogue everything everyone is saying for future reference. But, beyond that, you catch him paying attention. He complimented your new blouse earlier in the week and it caused air to catch in your throat, suffocating you. It looked new, bright white and without wrinkles, but you knew he must have been looking, noticing, to remember you not wearing it before. He's kind, remembering details about you and the team and using them to aid in everyone's comfort. He knows Spencer can't handle dairy and you've heard him reminding an intern to stock the dairy-free alternatives for creamer in the jet. He brought you a neck pillow on your second flight because you didn't have one.

That gift you accepted with stuttering thank-you's and a flushed face. It hadn't flared this crush, but it definitely aided in your ability to accept it when you finally got around to no longer avoiding how he made you feel with every kind smile and gentle good morning.

You settle down at your desk, putting your steaming mug on a pile of paperwork you really need to sort through, and try to physically push the thoughts out of your head by ranking your hands through your hair, lifting it from your forehead and squeezing your eyes shut. Today isn't the day. You're too tired, sure that the team will be flying out today, and really need to be on your A-Game.

"Everything okay?" A calm voice asks from your elbow. When you look up, you decide the universe hates you. Hotch is leaning on the desk adjacent to yours, holding his own travel cup full of fresh coffee, chin tilted down to check on you. His gaze is kind, light on your face, and his eyebrows are lifted slightly. You get the feeling that he's doing everything in his power to present himself as less imposing.

"Yes, of course," you answer automatically, heart thudding in your throat.

"You know, you shouldn't lie to profilers," he says, tone teasing, voice still low. "If you're tired, it's okay to admit it to me, too."

You're about to brush him off when something in your brain freezes before clicking into place.

He's looking at you, pleading, expression open. He's usually guarded, professional. Caring, but with a guard up. Rare are these moments of genuine asking, especially rarer so are the moment of pleading hidden behind a mask of gentle humor. You think, briefly, about how it must seem to him. He heard you, Emily, and Morgan joking in the kitchen. You haven't been here long, you're shy, but slowly thawing to everyone but him. He doesn't know your reasons, he couldn't, you've made a genuine effort to hide them, and you force yourself to see it from his perspective.

"Sorry," you say, softly, slowly. "I didn't sleep well. First nightmares and then insomnia. Hence," you gesture toward your mug. You shrug, heart beating out of your chest, eyes searching his. Nice, be nice, be open and kind and yourself. "At least I have FRIENDS reruns to keep me company."

You see something relax in him at your gentle offering of the information. He sends you a not-quite-smile, nodding once and pushing himself off of the desk he was lightly leaning against.

"Take a few minutes, I'm sure JJ will call us in soon." He scans your face for a moment before looking down at your desk. He reaches forward, slowly but with purpose, and lifts a file that has been nagging you for days. The new computer system is hard to get used to and the paperwork load is heavier than you've experienced before. "I can help you with this to ease some of your load, too."

He's walking away before you can protest, tucking the file under his arm and ducking into his office. He moves swiftly, leaving no room for argument, and you're left at your desk, mouth agape and heart in your mouth.

"Wow," Spencer says, jolting you in your chair to spin around and face him. His desk is near yours, across a walkway, and you hadn't registered him sitting there. You think he was nose-deep in a book when you walked in but you hadn't been paying attention. "I don't think I've seen him warm up to someone that fast," Spencer admits, leaning back in his seat and giving you a confused look, eyebrows lowered. "Actually, he's never offered to help me do my paperwork. Ever."

"That's because you read far too fast for it to actually help you," you offer, mind racing, words hollow as your thoughts are elsewhere.

Eyes trained on the windows of Hotch's office, you take his advice and relax for the few minutes before JJ comes to gather you all in the conference room. Coffee on your lips, you let yourself smile behind the rim of your mug. You can't imagine how you could think of anything other than that, really.

[thegnomelord]

yk how they cover fighting dog's eyes in order to calm them down? would that work on Hound or just rile him up more? if it'd calm him down I can imagine when/if he's "better" enough he'd start shoving his face into price or any of the other 141 to feel safer/calm, like nuzzling in between their shoulder blades/neck or if they're lying down together just pushing his head into their arms 😶‍🌫️

hmmm Price holding Hound against his chest to calm him while he claws and begs into his captain's skin for forgiveness because he acted out again, even if Price had already forgiven him🤔

if the loss of sight just makes things worse then I can see all of them always making sure Hound can know where they are, making noise when they can and maybe even dragging their feet a bit so he doesn't swivel his head around constantly to look for them😚 ignore this if u want tho reading it back is making me cringe a bit-

No, no, anon this is great! Y'all are giving me so many ideas♥️

I definitely think Price would have done that to Hound before he got captured, putting his beanie or just his hand over Hound's eyes and talking about Hound like he wasn't even there to basically calm him down. Like you know how you're a kid sitting between your parents and they're talking about you but you're snoozing or something like that. It would have just been comforting for Hound.

But Makarov soured it by using sensory deprivation as a punishment. And a pretty severe one at that, so Hound gets extremely violent when his sight is deprived.

But also like, when Hound's better, letting them cover his eyes as just this huge show of trust just melts my heart. Like:

CW:SFW just a bunch of fluff, cuddle piles

This feels. . . strange.

You're laying on top of Price, practically crushing him beneath your weight, your head and shoulders pushed beneath his loose shirt so you can lay your head on his naked chest. It's dark, and warm, the scent of musk and sweat curls in your nose as his thick chest hair tickles your face with every even breath, his heart beating so calmly beneath your ears.

It's strange. It's the best way you can describe it; a part of you is disgusted with the proximity, panic occasionally jolting through your system and lining your muscles with lead as your body expects for the hit to come any moment. Only for a calloused hand to run down your spine gently, turning your tense muscles into mush.

"You're alright lad." His voice rumbles in his chest, a type of tone that is both calming and commanding. "Just listen to my voice yeah? Good boy," A pleasant shiver runs up your spine as the praise, a low whimper escaping you as you nuzzle your head further into his pecs. Your head feels stuffed with cotton yet his low praises still reach your brain, and it feels strange to get them without any work, to be praised just for simply existing, but it's also. . . nice.

"Oi Price-" You tense immediately as the door suddenly opens, loud voices shooting lightning into your muscles. Price scruffs you through the shirt before you can react any more, calming you down to the point you don't even notice what they're talking about.

"Wh- Soap!" Price shouts.

You feel the bed dip, a disgruntled sound leaving your chest as a body shuffles under Price's shirt next to you. Soap's scent hits your nose before his head bumps into yours, "Yer like a pig in shite pup." His hair scratches your face as he makes himself comfortable on Price's other pec, and you don't need sight to know he's grinning like a fool. "Cozy in 'ere."

"How comfortable are his tits?" Ghost's voice reaches your ears, and it must be his body that lays down next to yours, supporting some of your weight that you're not crushing Price by wrapping a loose hand around your waist. His body is solid against yours, both of them are, Johnny's arm wrapping around you just bellow Simon's hand, unapologetically groping your ass.

"Boys!" Price sputters, and without sight you can only imagine how flushed his face must be, he always got red as a lobster when you'd tease him. "Can't you be decent for one day?"

"We're wearing pants aren't we?" Gaz's laugh sounds somewhere behind you, and you're pretty sure it's Gaz that lays down between your legs, using your ass as a pillow. "Oh, wow," You hear him mumble as if astonished, heat burning across your skin as you feel him nuzzle into your ass.

A low whine escapes your throat without notice, and you're not sure why, just something about the way they handle you, like you're made of glass, makes lightning crackle down your spine.

"Do you want to stop?" Price's voice is non-judgmental, his hand brushing your hair that peeked through the stretched taught neckline of his shirt.

You shut your eyes, breathing in deeply. "No." You say, your arms gripping Price's pudgy stomach even tighter.

You feel Johnny shift closer to you, his lips blindly brushing against yours. "Aye, yer fine bonnie." He grins, and pushes his head to meet your lips in a proper kiss. You can taste the aftertaste of tobacco from his cigarettes and the mints on his tongue.

This is nice. You could get used to this.

[shuaraes]

five minutes | c.sc

- he has never seen such a picturesque sight draped in morning light

oneshot | 1.3k | domestic!au | fluff

if choi seungcheol could choose one memory to keep after death, it would be the ones like this. the ones where he rises slightly early and gets to watch as you wake up to the world. for him it’s the little things: sunshine falling atop his sheets, your limbs intertwined, the pout in your voice begging him to come back to bed. though seungcheol knows for a fact, he would always hit snooze if it meant five more minutes with you.

~ pairing . choi seungcheol x gn!reader

~ content . non idol!au, early mornings with choi seungcheol, oddly sentimental moments lmaoo, fluffiest of domestic fluff, brief banter

~ tw/cw . one slightly suggestive allusion to hickeys but apart from that none at all!

~ song rec . come to me - seventeen

~ author’s note . here’s the surprise i was talking about! apologies for being so inactive, life just had to take priority for once. but i had some free time so i wrote this as a little writing exercise. also i just imagine seungcheol to be the best to wake up to lmaoo. sorry for once again proving i don’t know how to write anything that isn’t pure unfiltered yearning 😭 hope you guys enjoy anyways!

FOR ONCE, IT IS NOT THE DRONING SOUND OF AN ALARM THAT WAKES HIM

but instead the light of the morning - rousing him with its golden-honey rays. Slithers of sunlight burn against his droopy eyelids and he curses himself for forgetting to close his curtains in the evening. He wonders what the time is. With the advent of summer, guessing the time has been harder than a blinded game of Russian roulette. It could be anywhere between 5:30 (he could afford to sleep for a couple more hours) or 11:25 (he might as well not bother showing up to work).

Seungcheol rolls onto his back and cradles his skull with his palm. He drifts his eyes up towards the cream-coloured ceiling, feeling an inexplicable lightness in his chest as it rises with his every breath: ocean waves at high tide. Even though the future stresses of the working day loom at the forefront of his mind, they aren’t tormenting him like they usually do. He isn’t dreading the ring of the alarm. There’s something in his mind and soul that’s scarily at peace, a calmness he only thought he would feel in his dying hours. A sharp snore cuts his train of thought short. Feeling the warmth pressing taut against his side, he realises what the feather-weight feeling in his chest was for.

He flips over to look at you, out like a candlelight. Seungcheol swears he has never seen such a picturesque sight draped in morning light. No painting in a museum could ever come close to this sight of you. Your legs are curled into your torso and hands loosely gripping the sheets. Seungcheol’s eyes are drawn immediately towards your lips, your pillow-soft sighs drift onto the pillow where a tiny pool of salvia is. A thin sheen of sweat, illuminated by golden rays, wraps around your body like a second skin, causing you to glisten like the sun during dawnbreak.

In this moment, you are so peaceful, so calm, so vulnerable. You’re like a god to him, a statue chiselled painstakingly out of marble. Seungcheol has to hold himself back from caressing your puffy cheeks, terrified he’d wake you. You’ve been working long hours recently and today’s your only day of rest. Apart from that, something about watching you catch up on some well-deserved rest burns his heart white-hot with passion.

‘I must have been a saint in my last life to deserve this,’ Seungcheol thinks. As clearly and effortlessly as the chime of a bell of a small bookstore, you entered his life, taking him by surprise. You were like a whirlwind and Seungcheol was enraptured in the eye of your storm. Each day he was falling deeper and deeper, closer and closer to the point of no return. The way your smile and sense of humour makes him float above the clouds, almost as if is high on your presence. If he is, then you’re his favourite drug, that itch that you can never scratch enough, that song that no matter what he does cannot get out of his head.

He thinks about how much he loves you. How much he longs for you when you are not near - how much he wants to worship you until marks, the same colour as pink lemonade, pepper your chest. It almost brings him to tears: the intensity of his feelings in contrast to the softness of the morning light. You’re the most beautiful person to him - mind, body and soul.

Right now, Seungcheol feels content, not in the way you do when finishing a task or lying down with a stomach full of your favourite food. This is different. A contentedness he knows he may never be able to feel again, but the moment is so perfect that he doesn’t need to feel this way again. This morning is already more than enough.

RING-RING

Seungcheol rolls his eyes as the sound of his alarm vibrates deep through his ears. He checks the time. Fuck. He only has 35 minutes to get ready (he could have sworn he set it for earlier). He tries his best to move cautiously, trying not to wake you. But as he sees your body start to shift, he knows his attempts are in vain.

“Sorry sleepyhead,” Seungcheol coos his voice so sweet that it almost fully distracts you from the alarm's monotonous cries. You reply with a quiet 'morning' but you’re not sure if he hears: the sound being muffled by the sheets. He traces mindless patterns across your exposed skin. His fingertips leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. You squirm slightly at the ticklish feeling, trying to curl away from his touch. Seungcheol can only laugh.

“What?” He knows he’s teasing, the grin on his face ever-wide.

“Shut up…” You turn your body to face him as he sits up, a yawn escaping from the depths of his chest. “How long have you been awake for?”

“A while.” He stretches over your body to hit snooze and you hear the light crackling of his bones as he moves.

��So you’ve just been watching me drool in my sleep this entire time, weirdo.” You say mimicking his previous teasing tone. Seungcheol rolls his eyes but still helps you rub off a small string of dried salvia sitting on the corner of your lip.

“Maybe, maybe not. Though, you are a wonderful sight to behold in the morning.”

“You’re mad.”

“Madly in love with you.” You snort at his words and playfully smack his bare chest as whiny ‘it’s true’s' fall from his pink coral lips. He smiles so wide, that you catch a glimpse of it through the blinding sunlight - a look at his sweet gummy smile. So wide that you can’t help but smile as well.

If Seungcheol were to describe his personality in one word, it would be a realist, maybe a cynic at times. But when it comes to you, he’s a dreamer. You’re the painter who colours over his grey corporate days, the person that keeps him going when his 9–5 starts to feel like a 24-hour shift and it’s your smile he thinks of at the neon red stoplight when he’s racing back home (he hopes you feel the same). He realises that he would do anything for you and it doesn’t anger him in the slightest.

“After you’re off from work, we should do something. Take advantage of the good weather and longer days.” You muse, still looking up at him. With the way tiredness pulls at your eyes you resemble a baby deer. Seungcheol doesn’t even let you finish your sentence before he’s humming in agreement.

“That would be lovely. Hmm, a walk around the city seems nice, there’s this pop-up museum that I think you’d like. We could also-“

RING-RING

You both groan at the cursed sound. Reluctantly, Seungcheol attempts to rub whatever remnants of sleep are left in his eyes (it doesn’t work, he feels more tired afterwards). With a chaste kiss on your forehead, he tries to free himself from the hold of the duvet and many blankets intertwined with his limbs. If he eats breakfast quickly, he may be able to get to work on time. However, as his legs hang over the side of the bed, Seungcheol feels a vice-like grip tighten around his wrist.

“Don’t go.” Your voice sounds so tired yet commanding, as if you were a witch, forcing him into a trance.

“But lovely, work-“

“If you can shower quickly, you can spare five more minutes with me.” You whine. To Seungcheol, there is no point trying to fight it, you’ve already won.

“I suppose I could."

The light giggle that escapes your mouth seals the deal as you drag him back down to drown in the sheets. He throws an arm around your middle and pulls you impossibly closer. Seungcheol knows his alarm is going to go off again in the next five minutes, but as you melt into his embrace like candle wax and press kisses along the base of his neck, he couldn’t care less about hitting snooze again.

For you, he could spare five more minutes.

For you, he would do anything.

[007reid]

u have absolutely no idea what 'coffee caramels' did to me omg 😭 u write spencer and his mannerisms so WELL hsbsghdbdh so i come to u with a lil request if that's okay with u !!

spencer insists on playing pretend-doctor for reader who's sick (but denying it) so he invokes his technically-a-doctor card and gives his second opinion just to take care of reader n smother them w looooove

essentially just him teasing y/n and being the stupid Cute attentive nerd he is <3

(inspired by S5E3 where he gets stuck at the bau w garcia bc he was being stubborn abt his injury)

i am never ever Normal abt this guy 😞 i look forward to reading more of ur work and losing my mind over reid with u, aine !! mwa

hiii tysm for requesting, youre so fucking sweet!! <33 drop an emoji to let me know who you are and let’s loose our mind over our fav boy together anon!!!! also sorry this took so long, i wrote like 3k but then hated it so i started over, i love this prompt sm so i feel like i had to do it justice.

pspspsp i love s5 spence so fucking much... his hair went from beautiful to ethereal to mad sexy...s5 treated us well. requests are ALWAYS appreciated !!!!!!

soup. spencer reid

spencer reid x fem!reader, 3k

you've been off it for so long, dodging virus after virus and disease after disease and just right when you thought that you are immune to sickness, you caught it. the inevitable fever.

there was no denying it, you've tried. after getting a headache, you popped a tylenol before you went to sleep, nonchalant. the next morning was when reality really came crashing down. a sore throat.

it progressively got worse throughout the day, and when you came crashing into bed after a long day at work, your nose was feeling stuffy and your were coughing, spewing sickness everywhere you went. you woke up in the middle of night sweating like you had just ran a fucking marathon and only able to breathe through one nostril unless you shift your body entirely.

you did not take to these news well. firmly in denial, you still planned to show up to work the next day.

except you didn't show up to work. sickly and delirious, the part when you press snooze then snooze again slip your mind and at one point you must've turn off your alarm entirely. drifting in and out of consciousness and slipping into dream after dream, it gets harder to tell what is real and what is not.

"y/n? y/n!"

now, it is very probable that the voice isn’t actually real, because why the hell would you be hearing spencer reid’s voice outside of work? the chances are slim to none, and despite the heat pounding at your skull you manage to smile. there is something unexplainably comforting about spencer’s voice, soft and deliberate. it would be foolish to say that under the mad spell he’d cast on you (him simply saying two words) he’s managed to melt away your headache, because he didn’t. you still feel like shit.

“y/n?”

you frown, the voice sounding too insistent and real and not matching up with the visuals of your dream. you feel a tapping on your shoulder and when you blink your eyes open you could’ve screamed.

you jump up and then backwards, huddling your blanket with you, scared for your life. because right in front of you is perhaps the most intimidating creature on the earth; spencer reid in a purple sweater vest with his face so close to yours he could breathe in your sickness, hair tucked carefully behind his ear.

“spencer?” you ask incredulously, but instead your voice comes out a rasp. you clear your throat, feeling something warm creep up your cheek. it might be a blush, but you blame it on the chills. you keep blinking, trying to regain your vision and feel instantaneous embarrassment. you look a mess, sick and dehydrated with dry lips and bad hair and you probably reek of morning breath. and spencer’s there, looking like heaven’s finest angel, smiling at you like he’s smiling at a person and not a monster. spencer has the tendency to treat and look at everyone like they’re the love of his life. you sort of hate it.

“hi y/n,” he breathes, crouching down on the floor before you on the bed. “i—“

“what are you doing here?” you’re too impatient to wait, still in shock.

now. you try not to make it obvious that you have a mad crush on spencer, because if the fact were to spill, you’re not eager cleaning up the consequences. it’s an unestablished, unspoken rule that should be common sense that no workplace dating will be allowed and usually it’s a ridiculous rule, because who the hell would want to date their coworker, like actually? work crushes are normal but they exist only in a part of your day, an eye-candy for you to stare at to get through the day, then you go home or go out and forget about them. who actually has serious work crushes, actually? actually? it’s ridiculous.

your defense is completely solid, you’d say. your number one defense is you can’t help the fact that you and spencer were meant to be friends. the moment you joined the team, you and spencer clicked together like two lego pieces, despite your clashing personalities. you find it refreshing to have someone like spencer, someone who’s soft and sweet but cunning and resourceful but thoughtful and kind, and it was equally refreshing for spencer to have someone blunt and straightforward but still patient enough to put up with him.

spencer doesn’t like physical touch but ever since your first week he made you the exception and if you could, you would parade the privilege around like a badge. what can you say, you’re proud to be spencer’s little exception, anyone would be. he makes you feel special, differently than the others do and what’s a girl to do? to have that great of a relationship with a coworker and not be work spouses and not be actually head over heels with the guy? how laughable.

it’s not something you’re proud of, however. you know it’s a lost cause, chasing after spencer. it hurts, sometimes, but you always patted yourself on the back with an ‘it is what it is.’ spencer, as sweet and vulnerable as he is, has layers behind his thinly veiled heart. he talks a lot but he never talks about himself and he never talks about the past so he doesn’t have to revive it, so all the memories are just wounds left out and neglected to burn. spencer’s trouble, definitely trouble, but it’s hard to be aware of the workload that spencer reid is when he’s rambling to you about something as innocent as halloween or knocking his knuckles on your knee during a flight trying to get your attention.

spencer blinks sheepishly, settling criss cross apple sauce on the ground, lanky legs twisting uncomfortably. “you didn’t come into work and you didn’t answer your phone,” he explains. “emily told me to go check on you.”

you nod. he’s here because emily told him to. it makes a lot more sense now. “i’ll head in the office now,” you say, making your way out of bed, wiping at your eyes. “sorry—“

“no you’re not,” spencer says immediately, not even hesitating. he places a hand on your upper chest, pressing you back down on the bed. the butterflies at the pit of your stomach throws a fit. you know he means nothing by the action—has spencer reid ever been the one knowledgeable about romance?—but knowing that doesn’t help the heat that spread up your cheeks that’s definitely not from the sickness. “you’re burning up,” he says. “i’ll get you some water. you should clean up,” he says, uncrossing his legs difficultly and then stumbling out the room, mismatched socks slipping on the hardwood floor.

you take advantage of the time that spencer’s not there and race to the bathroom, ignoring the blackout and the dizziness that threatens to make you faint from getting up too abruptly. you squirt some toothpaste onto your toothbrush and by the time you exit the bathroom, spencer is already there, waiting, except he’s by your desk, hands on a book.

typical.

he perks up when he hears your footsteps pad into the room, turning around, looking like a child who’s been caught with your book in his hands. you smile at him, albeit it’s a pathetic smile. you feel dizzy.

“you like toni morrison?”

“i love toni morrison,” spencer chirps, excitement bouncing all over his face. “especially her masterwork, beloved,” he looks back down at your red copy admiringly then sets it down. "get back in bed," he says, and you can't wrap your hand around how ridiculous the situation is. your coworker, or work crush, is at your house, checking your temperature and shooing you to bed to rest. "i bought you soup so you can eat up, i--"

“you bought me soup?” you ask, incredulous. spencer nods seriously.

“it's proven that eating soup makes people feel better, not just some stereotype. the right amount of sodium can help help relieve sore throat pains and the vitamins and minerals found in soup can play a very large part in recovery...i had a feeling you were going to be sick, it’s the weather, you know? everyone is catching the cold. you need to eat it before it gets cold, the heat helps with nasal digestion and also sinus pressure and it'll be useless if you ate it lukewarm...i’ll be right back…” and with the babbling his voice fades out as he walks back out to the living room, leaving you alone standing on the side of your bed. you look at the forgotten copy of beloved set carefully back onto your desk, smiling to yourself slightly before climbing back into bed, because spencer says so and spencer’s always right but mostly because your legs feel like they’re going to give out.

spencer is speedy, striding several steps at once with his ridiculously long legs that looks unnaturally lanky but once he reaches your room again, soup and spoon in hand you were already nodding off, head lolling and eyes slipping shut. spencer stops at your bed stand, thinking to himself for a second before balancing the plastic bowl of soup on one hand and using the other to gently nudge at your face, waking you up. he grimaces when he feels that your skin burns to the touch, a bright tint to your cheeks that he hates himself for liking because you're sick, he shouldn't be thinking that you're pretty or stuff like that.

spencer waves the thought away, determined to focus on his mission. deliver soup, make sure you're okay, and send his farewells. that's what emily told him to do, and even though derek added a "kiss her goodnight too, loverboy!" he's only going to listen to emily, because emily knows best.

yes. perfect. that's exactly what he's going to do.

"hey," he whispers, caressing his thumb across the lightly purple patch under your eye, frowning to himself. you haven't been getting good enough sleep, and he feels guiltier for waking you up, but then straightens himself up resolutely--no. emily said the soup must be delivered and consumed--just to melt again when your eyes flutter open, confused and traces of sleep still floating around your facial expression. "sorry," he mumbles, feeling oddly embarrassed. "it's just--i mean, you don't have to, jus' want you to eat something before you sleep again."

you sit up slowly, and once you're fully awake again, the smell of the soup hits you like a bucket of ice and you suddenly feel your mouth watering. you feel like a princess, sitting there with your hands crossed in your lap while you wait for spencer to unwrap the plastic utensils and tissues from its clear packaging, carefully opening up the lid of the soup on the night stand and hot steam floats around the room, engulfing both you and spencer in a bubble of tomato soup.

spencer, a planner that he is, didn't let you eat directly from the plastic take-out bowl from the restaurant and had rummaged through your kitchen for a bowl and pours half the soup into the ceramic, no spillage and perfectly clean. then he hands the soup to you, and you eat.

to say that spencer is concerned is to say the least. you're a profiler, and you're trained to pick up on this sort of thing but you only need to be a child with an undeveloped brain to work out that spencer's worried, watching your every move and monitoring that you eat enough, the crease in his brows deepen whenever you set the bowl down so you pick it up again and stuff two more spoonfuls in your mouth, to hopefully make him worry less.

the silence is awkward, the only sounds in the room is you biting down on the spoon occasionally as you drink your soup and spencer watching intently, hands on his chin and unaware of his staring problem. you and spencer rarely has these kind of silences, the silences where you scramble for things to say because the atmosphere would always be too comfortable. you sneak glances at him as you eat. since spencer's completely oblivious to the heaviness of the silence, you feel it's up to you to break it.

"i'll clock in once i'm finish eating this, don't worry," you say, trying your best to sound reassuring as you try to choke back a spoonful of soup too big. you lick your lips, and spencer is biting his, a bad habit.

"no you're not, y/n," he says, exasperated. normally, when spencer uses his 'i'm right so you should listen to me' tone like this, it means he's geared for an argument and you would be happy to challenge him, but now you can't find the energy for it. yet you muster enough up anyway.

"i'm only a bit shaken up 'cause of the weather," you say, trying to sound as convincing as possible, still in the calm before the storm of the bicker. "'m not immobile. and i already used up all my off days visiting my family--"

spencer, however, didn't bother for the peaceful offering. "you're not coming in today, y/n," he says, and he sounds a bit anxious but you know his true intent. his eyes are mirthful with confidence, and he knows he's already won the argument. despite the buzzing in your ears and the fuzziness in your brain, you can't let the bastard win. you can't.

“i can’t miss anymore days spencer, and i won’t,” you say coldly, but you slurping on the soup hungrily like it’s your last day on earth sort of ruined your cool facade. “i’m not too sick, either, it’ll be useless for me to stay home—“

spencer reaches to press his palm against your forehead, his skin cold to the touch. you close your eyes instinctively.

“you’re burning up,” he announces. “means your sick. you’re not coming in today, y/n.”

“says who?” you say defensively, feeling a bit like you’re loosing.

“says me,” spencer says cooly, cheeky smile at his lips. you should hate it more than you do. “who’s a doctor.”

you scoff. “so now you’re an actual doctor? you got a medical phd on you?”

“i have a bachelor in medicine and enough doctorates to make me slightly knowledgeable in every field,” spencer quips and you didn’t even know that he had a bachelor in medicine. how many fucking degrees does this guy even have on his resume?

“whatever,” you grumble, sounding a lot like someone who’s just got defeated. you set the bowl of soup down on the nightstand and spencer hands you a bottled water before you could think about needing water. you pluck it from his offering hands, muttering a “thanks” under your breath.

spencer laughs quietly, watching you drink patiently and putting the cap back on when you hand him back the bottle, setting it next to your soup. you feel ridiculously babied and your cheeks burn with the guilt you feel. you’re talking him off his office hours just to be here and feed you stuff and make sure you’re taking care of yourself.

spencer, the 24/7 profiler, notices. "is something wrong?" he asks innocently, round eyes blinking and oblivious. bless him. "you got redder. is it too hot? i can adjust the a/c."

“fine,” you mumble, still a little embarrassed with your realization. “little cold, actually.”

“it's the chills from your fever,” spencer informs you. “i…” he pauses, frowning again, frustrated from not being able to finish his thought. he abandons it. “do you need anything else?”

“no spence,” you laugh sort of pathetically, throat strained. “you’ve been an angel already. you can go back to the office, if you want.”

spencer thinks back to what emily had told him. soup. make sure she’s ok. leave. he’s done the past two steps. it’s time he completes his mission.

but…

“are you sure?” he prods, a little bit of him hoping that you'd say no. he doesn't know what it is; something bothering him, making him dread leaving.

you didn't get the cue. "mhmm," you shoot him a reassuring smile. as reassuring as you can manage, anyway, grimacing at the insistent throb in your head. spencer gnaws on his bottom lip, indecisive. you don't know what he was deciding between.

whatever battle it was, he wraps it up quick. "okay," he repeats. "i'll get back."

"you do that."

"remember to drink water."

"i will."

"do you need me to bring you more?"

"i'm okay."

"okay."

"okay."

the conversation feels incomplete and spencer isn't interested to complete it, booting out the door, except he lingers for a bit and awkwardly turns around, hand on the frame. you are already looking at him when he looks at you.

you and spencer are never this awkward, never this hesitant and strange. the tension that suffocates your room feels like signature first-date-tension, the kind of nervous excitement and tip-toeing blind lovers and uncertainty.

"are you sure?"

i'd rather you stay. you push the response away. "i am."

"you have medicine right?"

you do have medicine. for a brief moment, you want to lie about it; want to say that you ran out this morning and then he would run to the store for you and return and then spend more time in your insufferable, sickly presence. you brush the thought away within a second. never in a million years do you want to bother spencer, especially not with a thing as selfish as that. maybe it's because of your biased vision but spencer is looking like he's desperate to leave, practically screaming for outlet at the door. it's time you let him go and indulge in the worst sleep you'll ever have.

"yeah," you say, clearing your throat. "i do."

"okay," spencer says. "i'll go."

"thanks," you add awkwardly. "for the soup. and for coming."

"'course" spencer says absentmindedly, lingering at the door frame but not looking at you in particular, not looking at anything. he snaps back and sends you a wave. spencer has a power to him where everything he does looks unplanned, like he's doing it against his own will.

he leaves. if you had change your mind and ask for him to come back, for him to stay, he would've. no hesitation. but you didn't, and he wiggles back in his broken in converses and return back to the bau with no elevator partner.

maybe another day.

a/n: sorry for the ending, this was getting too long so i had to cut it short 😓😓but i think it's kinda fitting! lmk if you guys want a part 2 <3

[qwimblenorrisstan]

Found Pt. 3 | Poly!141 & Reader

Summary: Simon chokes on bacon, talks of old friends and shopping emerge.

Word Count: ~2.6k

Warnings: choking on bacon, mentions of (abusive?) past foster parents

A/N: something about simon choking on bacon and being saved by a small child is funny to me, idk why, hope you enjoy<3

Requests are open!

Previous | Masterlist | Next

The morning wasn’t the same as yesterday. Instead of waking up at your own desired time, you were woken by the beeping of a small, black alarm that was shaped like a jelly bean, something that hadn’t been there the night before.

One of the men must’ve put it there overnight after you’d fallen asleep at some point. Judging by the bit of brown hair clinging to the plastic because of static, you knew it was either Johnny or John.

You sat up, blearily rubbing your eyes, rubbing away the crust that had gathered in the corners, before stretching your limbs. All while ignoring the incessant beeping of the alarm, which began speeding up.

It finally stopped once you grabbed it, slamming a hand on the top, just hitting the large button labeled “SNOOZE”. After picking it up, swiping some of your messy, knotted hair out of the way, cringing and imagining the mess it would be tomorrow, you examined the alarm under the light, finding a little switch to turn it off. Before it was turned off, it read “6:04 A.M.”.

You’d had other foster parents wake you up earlier. The lawyer man had gotten you up at 5 sharp every day, acting as if you were the crazy one when you began falling asleep in class. These men didn’t strike you as the type to do that, or at least you hoped they weren’t the type to do it.

You slid your legs over the bed, feet meeting the carpet that was in the room. Your backpack lay to the left of your bed, and you had half a mind to go rummaging through it for whatever semi-clean clothes you could find for whatever the day held, but instead found a pile of fresh clothes waiting on the desk. It was a neatly folded pair of grey sweatpants, a t-shirt with a loose collar, and a small graphic band design on it, a pair of socks, new underwear, and a bra.

The idea of them digging up some clothes from their past fosters made you cringe, so you chose to hope that it was new and put the pair of underwear and the bra in one of the dresser’s drawers. You would stick with your undergarments, thank you very much.

The sweatpants and shirt looked comfy, though, and you figured that it was better than nothing. They looked like hand-me-downs, and you quickly discovered that it was a bit large on you, probably since they hadn’t fostered humans before. The same clothes that would fit you at this size would fit a toddler hybrid.

But it wasn’t too bad. You slipped the socks that looked recently bought enough on, supposing that it was better than the ones you had that were growing thin on the sole area, a few holes in the fabric forming in some.

The wood floorboards creaked as you got down on your knees, bending to look for your shoes that you could’ve sworn you’d left under, finding them shoved into the corner. You must’ve moved when you slept.

You pulled them out from under the bed, sitting on the edge of it, pulling the tongue of the shoes back before pulling them on, tugging the knotted laces undone, before retying them tightly enough that they wouldn’t require any other attention during the day.

Despite the previous attention Kyle had paid to your hair the other night, it had seemingly knotted itself up overnight, now mildly resembling a bird’s nest, with small matting spread throughout the middle.

You sighed, getting off the bed and moving to your backpack, shoving a hand in it, and rummaging around until you pulled out a mini hairbrush that you’d gotten from Dollar Tree a few years back, and you split your hair down the middle, pulling the two sections over your shoulder and running the brush through it until it finally started obeying.

Sighing, you shoved it back in the backpack, walking to your door and hesitating a moment as your hand closed around the doorknob, before turning it and opening the door. There was a bit of rummaging in the kitchen, a door opening and closing, and then a bit more rummaging. It sounded like plates.

You walked down the hallway, seeing the sight of the hulking wraith bent over the sink, scrubbing dishes with his hands that faded into a black starting at his wrists, soap bubbles covering the gradient as he moved the sponge around. Sure, you’d exchanged glances with Simon in agreement, and maybe even had a one-word conversation, but it didn’t mean he wasn’t intimidating.

He was a wraith, for god's sake.

You tried not to judge anyone’s character based on what they were, but at a cellular level, it did determine some of their personality. Wolf hybrids tended to be social, staying in packs with other hybrids and often being leaders. Dragon hybrids were possessive of their things, more than ready to fight over their belongings. Bird hybrids in most forms were twitchy and very reactive to their surroundings, as most prey animals were.

But you’d never met a wraith before, or not until a few days ago, you hadn’t.

“Breakfast’s on the table.”

He grumbled out, not even looking back at you as he continued with the dishes, placing them in the dishwasher next to the sink. You glanced at the table, and surely enough, he was right. There was a singular plate with a massive serving of bacon, eggs, and buttered toast. You didn’t think you could eat that much in a week, let alone one little morning.

You picked the same chair you’d been in last night, pulling the plate over, and nibbling on a piece of bacon, letting your mind wander off as your eyes glazed over.

Right now, your old friends would probably be getting ready for school, if they weren’t already waiting for the bus to arrive. You could imagine your closest friend, Jaina, sitting on the bus, popping her old headphones she’d had for almost six years now in, turning on the playlist that you and her shared. She only lived ten minutes here, but that was driving, walking distance was maybe thirty minutes. If you managed to nab a bike from somewhere, though…that would make it easier.

If your new ‘parents’ even let you go see her, that was. They seemed territorial, at the very least. Not the type to let you go walking over to someone’s house without at least meeting the parents and family.

“Not hungry, are you?”

His voice snapped you out of your thoughts, and you shook your head quickly, glancing up at him. His hands and arms were dry, meaning he must’ve finished with the dishes at least a minute ago. How long had you been daydreaming?

You gave a little shake of your head. You’d eaten at least a few pieces of bacon by now, seemingly having nibbled on some eggs, but not much. At least, not much compared to the servings on the plate.

His eyes bore into you, brown, almost a hazel glimmer if you looked close enough. But you didn’t want to. He seemed to know that you were thinking about something, and you hadn’t even realized you were staring dead at him until a little huff escaped his mouth.

“What’s on your mind, kid?”

He eventually asked, snatching a piece of toast from your plate, and taking a crunchy bite. Despite his relaxed demeanor, you had a feeling your every move was being scrutinized under his gaze. You took a long pause, taking a bite into a chewy part of the bacon, giving you an excuse to figure out what you wanted to say before saying it. A glimmer of amusement danced in his eyes, almost going unnoticed by you.

When you swallowed, he raised both brows expectantly. You weren’t getting out of this.

“Do you think I could go visit friends?”

You kept it short and brief. You’d learned the hard way that adults tended not to like it when you nervously rambled on and on about something, and it usually did the opposite of convincing them. Tell them the least amount of information possible, and let them feel like you’re trustworthy by answering their questions.

He let out a hum, eyes narrowing as he glanced away a moment to gather his thoughts. He had an annoyingly good poker face.

“He or she?”

That was what you’d expected first.

“She.”

A pause. He might be considering it.

“Where you know ‘er from?”

“Last school.”

“Name?”

“Jaina Pendleton.”

You wouldn’t doubt that he would go looking her up later, stalking her parent’s Facebook or Twitter. You’d been guilty of the same thing with all of your friends, but mainly to collect embarrassing pictures for blackmail.

He stopped a moment, thinking, and replying to your earlier question.

“Give it a few more days to settle down. Price’ll be reluctant but I’m sure Kyle can convince the old man. Johnny will probably be fine with it.”

You tried to shove down the pang of disappointment in your gut, reminding yourself that it could’ve been ‘never’ instead of ‘wait a few more days’. It could’ve been a lot worse. Granted, you would’ve just snuck out anyway if they’d tried to ban you from seeing your friend, but still.

You wondered if sneaking out would even work here. They were hybrids, so they were bound to notice any lumps and bumps during the night, let alone you completely disappearing. You weren’t sure how it would work, but it would, so you crossed sneaking out off of the list of mental options for a mentally ill teenage girl to do when bored.

Then, it hit you. John, Kyle, Johnny. Where even were they?”

“Whe-“

“Price is out chopping wood, Kyle’s milking the goats and cows, Johnny’s herding them for Kyle.”

You hadn’t even asked the question yet. Either he was too good at reading body language for his own good, or wraiths could read minds, and you were willing to bet it was both.

Deciding to just take a moment and enjoy the relative silence, you grabbed a piece of toast, and took a bite out of it, savoring the way the butter melted on your tongue, the saltiness giving a welcome pang of flavor other than the wheat bread. Simon seemed inclined to do the same, this time grabbing a few pieces of bacon, and devouring nearly three pieces in one bite.

You nearly choked on your toast when you witnessed him perform it, before swallowing after hardly chewing at all. He got mid-swallow, before your horrified but also amazed gaze caught him, and he choked on the bacon, something bubbling out of his throat that might’ve sounded like a laugh if it hadn’t been for the meat lodged in his throat.

Though, judging the behavior of the family, or the pack dynamic between them, you wouldn’t be surprised if they all were used to having meat lodged in their throats.

He began hitting his chest, and that was when you remembered that he was choking. Well, maybe not, since you still heard noise coming from his mouth, and according to a random YouTube video you’d watched many years ago, someone was only choking if there was no sound coming out of them. Was it true? Probably not, but you chose to believe it anyway, still getting up out of your chair to help him.

You’d done a bit of babysitting a year or two back, mainly for your older foster parents who had only gotten a foster child to watch their younger kids. You’d felt obligated to learn how to stop someone from choking, at the very least, or how to help yourself if no one else was around.

Those kids had been demons, so you wouldn’t have been surprised if they’d seen you choking and ignored you for fun.

You grabbed the sleeve of his t-shirt, tugging him up, and he obeyed, probably too preoccupied with choking half to death, until you walked behind him after moving his chair out of the way, and shoved him forward with all the power you had.

He hardly moved due to the shove, but you wrapped one foot around his ankle, pulling back at the same time.

It was like watching a skyscraper fall, almost.

Slow, dramatic, and very entertaining.

His lower stomach slammed into the table as the edge of it rammed up into his stomach, and the mutilated pieces of bacon went flying from his throat.

“Fuuuck—“

He hissed, holding one hand to his stomach, pulling the chair back over, and collapsing into it as it groaned under his weight.

You stood there awkwardly, not knowing whether you’d hurt more than helped until he wheezed a,

“Thanks, kid.”

And you were about to take your seat again, before seeing the clump of bacon that had somehow landed exactly on your plate, and you couldn’t help the face of mild distaste you made. Your eyes both met again, and maybe it was the sheer ridiculousness of the situation, but you couldn’t help but smile a bit, and he huffed a little laugh, shaking his head as he let a little grin slip onto his face.

He grabbed the plate, scraping the food into a bin that wasn’t the trash can, but instead looked to be some sort of recycler. He saw the tiny hint of confusion on your face.

“For the goats.”

He explained simply, walking the plate over to the sink, giving it a quick run-over with water, and putting it in the dishwasher. He put a little cleaning pod in a specific slot, then started it up, and shut it, leaving it to run.

He pulled a little notebook out of his back pocket that you hadn’t noticed, opening it up, and squinting his eyes like an old man would until he put it away again.

“According to Price, we’ve got some shopping to get done.”

You raised a brow. He chuckled.

“Gonna need you some clothes for school, no? I think it might kill Johnny if the poor lad sees you shiverin’ again.”

Shopping didn’t sound bad. Not when you definitely needed new clothes anyway, and you couldn’t go to school in the ones you currently had.

He led the way out to the car, but before, made sure to stop at the fridge, where there was a little chart in place using Expo markers on the metal.

It had each of their names on it, and each one was filled out in their own handwriting. True to what Simon had told you earlier, John’s simply said “Wood. Barn.”, Johnny’s said “Herding” with a little smiley face next to it, the handwriting barely legible, and Kyle’s said “Milking Animals, Barn.” in the nearest little handwriting you’d ever seen.

Simon filled his out with handwriting worse than even Johnny’s, the barely legible scrawl saying “Shopping.”

He made the name section a little bit longer, making a little box, and handing you the marker. You could see the past stains of some expo which had been left too long on the refrigerator, making out a few past names, and adding your own on top. You put the same as Simon, a simple “Shopping” in your section.

As he led you out to the crunchy gravel driveway, and you crawled into the leathery seats of the Jeep Simon drove, you couldn’t help but wonder if you could ever measure up to the other children.

Tags:

@roastyyytoastyyy

@theartgremlin

@thriving-n-jiving

@simonrileysown

@angeldemon28

@purple-moonbeam

@d-oo-t

@epochal-oracle

@picklehat3r

@starandcloud

[novankenn]

Imagine the Arc sisters(Harley arc family) Each pick a girl they think would be best ro date their brother while the girls look on in confusion and Jaune is just blushing in the corner. (Bonus points if none of the crazy sisters pick Pyrrha but Saffron quietly tells Pyrrha she is rooting for her. Also everyone dunking on Weiss.)

Jaune was hiding, behind the locked door of his dorm's bathroom, as the entirety of his immediate family... YES all of them... was currently having a "discussion " in the common room about his love life.

Mama (Harley Quinn) Arc: Girls... GIRLS!

The arguing voices quieted.

Mama Arc: Now we ALL know that our love-bunny-wunny has a hard time speaking to girls, and let's be honest that's because of us. I mean how can he EVER hope to find anyone as perfect for him as we are!

Arc Sisters: DAMN RIGHT!

Mama Arc: Now, be that as it may, our puddin' needs someone to watch over him, to cuddle, pamper and hold him when none of us are around... so... please present your personally chosen candidates. Jinx...

Jinx: That's me!

Mama Arc: You're first.

Jinx: the choice is simple. He needs someone chaotic and energetic. Someone that will always remind him of us so... I chose...

Nora: ME??? But I'm with Re...

Jinx: We offer explosives, pancakes and breaking stuff!

Nora: That include legs?

Jinx: Of Course!

Nora: I'm IN!

Mama Arc: Interesting choice. Tiny Tina you're next. Who do you...

Tiny Tina: SHE WAS MY CHOICE!!!! Mom Jinx took my idea!

Jinx: Snooze you loose!

Mama Arc: Girls behave! No fighting!

Jinx & Tiny Tina: Sorry.

Mama Arc: Do you have a second choice?

Tiny Tina: Well...

Ruby: ME!?!?!?

Tiny Tina: Yeppers.

Ruby: Why?

Tiny Tina: You're smart, cute, adorable, and like guns. You're almost as perfect... no on second thought you are PERECT!!

Ruby: Um... thank you?

Mama Arc: You are right she is adorably cute, and oh I can just see the GRANDBABIES!!!

Ruby: EEP!!!

Mama Arc: Saphron, you're next.

Saphron: I refuse. We have no right to be interfering in Jaune's love life, and besides we came here to SEE Jaune, not matchmake!

Mama Arc: We can do both dear, but I accept you decision.

Saphron: (Whispering) You better make your move soon red...

Pyrrha: (Whispering) What?

Saphron: (Whispering) You heard me. Make your move... I'm rooting for you.

Pyrrha: (Whispering) Ah... um... th...thank... you?

Mama Arc: Now while Saphron plots like a traitor, you're up Rebecca.

Rebecca: The girl I picked is the best! She's the strong silent type and kick ass enough to keep Jaune safe from everything, even man stealing homewrecking hussies!

Neo: 😵‍💫⁉️😵‍💫

Mama Arc: Is she okay?

Rebecca: She's... hey! Get back here!

Neo: 😝🤑😝

Mama Arc: No shooting in the hallways!!! Ah whatever. Joan...

Joan: Jeanne and I are making a joint choice for Jaune.

Jeanne: That is correct, and we expect everyone to respect and accept our... choice.

Mama Arc: You mean suggestion.

Joan & Jeanne: Choice.

Mama Arc: Okay. And who is this... choice?

Joan & Jeanne: Her!

Yang: ME?!?!?

Joan & Jeanne: Yes. You.

Yang: But I don't like VB like that!

Joan & Jeanne: VB?

Yang: It's Jaune's nickname...

Ruby & Weiss: Don't Yang!

Yang: ... Vomit Boy.

Joan: We may have made a mistake.

Jeanne: We must correct it.

Yang: Huh?

Joan: Burning at the stake?

Jeanne: It is fitting.

Jeanne and Joan each hook one of Yang's arms and start walking out of the room with her.

Yang: Hey! Unhand me! Let me go!

Mama Arc: Saphron, can you get Jaune and get a stay of execution, please dear?

Saphron: Yes, mom. Come on Red, let's get you... partner.

Mama Arc: Saphron.... any way. Utena you're next.

Utena: Jaune needs someone adventurous and exotic, and I choose her!

Blake: ME????

Utena: Yes.

Blake: But why?

Utena: Cause.

Blake: That's not a reason!

Mama Arc: Ah, Utena IF Blake is your suggestion, why are you holding Ms... Schnee's hand?

Utena: She's seen the error of her ways... but needs some more correction...

Weiss: Help me?

Mama Arc: Ah... Utena... fine. But don't break her too much. She has classes in the morning.

Weiss: Help me?

Mama Arc: Well as I have seen your choices, I shall reveal mine as well. I choose... HER!

Glynda: I... refuse! This is unacceptable!

Mama Arc: My puddin' needs a mature and motherly figure in his life. You're perfect and... this is non-negotiable...

[witch-craft-works]

So I'm in love with @yuri-is-online's Fyuuture Kid AU I've been keeping up with it for a while and since I've been watching Fairy tail recently I've come up with this:

Yes this is a AcexYuu post cause at this point the ship owns my soul. (I took some creative liberties when it came to Yuu's appearance. Yuu is referred to as a female a few times in the post hope that's ok)

(TW: Death, angst, Happy ending? sort of? You be the judge of that)

Ace laid on the ground. Everything felt numb he's wondering how he can still see as his senses dull. He looked up at the boy who stood above him.

It's a bit ironic to be defeated by someone who looks so similar to him but...those eyes...those eyes he couldn't bring himself to look at moments before...how he wanted to just rid himself of any guilt he felt...how he couldn't protect the one person in the world he cherished the most...But as soon as he peered into them a wave of Nostalgia flooded his body.

He's peered into those eyes so many times. That lovely hue of pink he's grown so fond of...

"Ace! you got collared again? what did you do?" a familiar voice questioned "hah?! why do you always assume that I did something wrong? You're so mean" Ace said childishly Yuu shook their head rolling their eyes at Ace's dramatic actions "so are you gonna come in?" Yuu asked stepping aside. Ace gladly walked in "ooo! you have pie?" Ace asked looking at the pie that had been almost fully eaten the culprit sleeping on the couch murmuring about tuna

"Yeah I was in town earlier and saw some it was 25% off" Yuu gave him a thumbs up as Ace helped himself to a slice his eyes lighting up as he spotted the cherries baked into the pie. "Hey! that's a big piece! save some for me!" Yuu exclaimed dashing forward as Ace stuck his tongue out at the Ramshackle prefect "you snooze you loose" he teased "and you call me the mean one" Yuu pouted as they playfully punched Ace in the shoulder

.

.

.

He knew he was dying...He just regrets that he never got to see them...just one more time would have been enough.

"Hey...kid...whats your name?" Ace coughed out. The young boy's eyes widened at his father's...no at the overblot's question he refused to see him as the Ace Crewel described. The Ace that his mother fell in love with.

This thing was only wearing his father's face

"E-Elias" he spoke, his voice coming out more shakier then he wanted it to be.

Ace's lips parted before forming a smile "Elias huh?...I like it..." Ace let out a shaky breath

His eyes dulled as he spoke his last words...

"I...really like it"

Yutu stood there over the now dead overblot. This thing wasn't his father...so why...why did he just want to kneel over and cry. He was only a shell of his former self so why...why did it hurt so much?

Crewel approached the young boy. He looked down at his former student. His mind flashed back to years ago. The many make up tests Ace and Deuce had to come in for, the constantly bickering coming from Ace and Grim and the many times he, Yuu and the other came out victorious after defeating an overblot and saving the dorm leader from losing themself to despair...

Crewel knelt down beside Ace and closed his eyes. It was the least he could do...if only he could have done more for him...

.

.

.

.

.

A bright light caused him to squint his eyes. He slowly opened them as a nice breeze hit his body, sitting up he found himself in a large field. Blinking a few times he looked down at himself, "I'm...normal again" he uttered when suddenly everything came flooding back. As well as the realization of what happened

"Oh..." he uttered as he looked up. Standing up he decided to explore what else was there for him to do? Before he could step forward he heard a familiar voice

"Hey! Ace!" his eyes widened as he turned around. No way...it couldn't be...right?

There she was...those familiar pink eyes he had grown to love "What are you standing around for get over here!" Yuu called once more waving her hand. "Come on! Don't keep me waiting for you!" Yuu said once more before running ahead. "And you call me a slow poke" Yuu teased crossing their arms.

"Yuu...you're here that means..." he uttered "yeah I've been here for some time. Same with Jack" Yuu said when suddenly they were pulled in for a hug. "Ace?" Yuu questioned as he burried his face in their shoulder feeling the fabric of their shirt begin to get moist.

"I'm sorry...I wasn't there...I should have been there" he uttered. "Oh Ace..." Yuu's eyes softened before patting his head. He then moved away from them before wiping his face with his sleeve "it couldn't have been helped..." Yuu said

"They didn't...hurt you right? Deuce said that his office was responsible for what happened but he couldn't get any information out of them" he said "no I was fine...if anything I'm sorry...I forgot you, no matter how hard I tried to...I just couldn't" Yuu said.

Ace frowned "hey it doesn't matter anymore" Yuu said "still...wish I could teach those guys a lesson or two...assholes" Ace grumbled "but if anything...I wish I could have been in the kids life...I..." he trailed off

"I know I saw. You weren't in your right mind none of you were. Just because we're no longer around doesn't mean we can't keep watching over him. What do you think I've been doing this whole time?" Yuu asked.

"Yeah...he's perfect you know...no doubt it's my genes shining through" he said with a shit eating smirk "of course you'd be smug about it" Yuu deadpanned "what! he's basically a mini version of me!" he exclaimed

"Yeah, yeah I hear you" Yuu said with a smile shaking their head. They'd really miss this. Being able to talk with Ace like this.

"I'm glad he's got your eyes thought. Always loved them" he said. Yuu's eyes widened before smiling "aww you're making me blush" Yuu said before stand up.

"You ready to go? Deuce is waiting for us" Yuu said "right can't keep Loosey Deucey waiting" Ace said standing up intertwining his hands with Yuu's.

Squeezing his hand Yuu pulled Ace forward.

Ace smiled. Happy to finally have them with him again.

[vintagerpg]

Azag (2021) is a neat 2-volume rule set and game setting. This is the limited edition from LFOSR. It descends, primarily, from Dungeoneer/Advanced Fighting Fantasy, which makes it a cousin of sorts to Troika. I am tempted to call it the less weird cousin, but that isn’t entirely true — it is just a different sort of weird.

Three attributes. Basic rolling is 2d6, rolling high in opposed contests, rolling low when testing your attributes. Unlike Troika, other dice can be swapped in to simulate greater ease or difficulty — climbing during a blizzard, say, might warrant 2d8 or 2d10 for a Stamina test, depending on the severity of the storm. Combat is more formally structured than Troika, but still pretty fast and loose compared to other games. There are mechanics for social encounters, too, with an ante system that spends Luck, which I really like — it is nice to have a mechanical underpinning for social stuff if you need it. Spellcasting is point-based and the player rolls for success, putting it essentially in line with the skill system. Failure invites calamity. And spellcasters can duel; in this case, casting is an opposed test, and the loser suffers calamity (rather than the cast spell effect — you’re basically dealing with raw arcane energy in a duel). Its a fun, flexible little system!

The world is nice too, cobbled thematically out of early-20th century pulp traditions, particularly Clark Ashton Smith’s stories and Lovecraft’s Dreamlands, both of which feel less explored than say, Conan. It feels a little more restrained and fuzzier at the edges than something like Hyperboria or even DCC. I loooove Logan Stahl’s art, particularly the cover of Volume 2, featuring a snoozing Tsathoggua. In game terms, the world is defined by micro fiction and random tables for encounter seeds and such. These make for an interesting approach that is atmospheric without being overly locked into specific details.

[scorchieart]

Doodles and Dust

Genre: Slice of Life

Characters: Jin Grandet, Sariel Noir

Wordcount: 700

Prompts: In the shadows, Make it...

A/N: My gift for the 2024 Ikemen Exchange over on @flash-exchange for @pathogenic. Despite them having one of my favorite friendships in the game, I don't often write these two together. So I'm very happy I got to work on this for ya, Ollie!

“Cinnamon sticks, old man— You scared the sugarcubes outta me,” Jin heaved, clutching the door with one hand and his chest with the other. It always was a shock running into him unscheduled. Doubly so in a dark attic.

Sariel did not look up from the trunk he rifled through. “If you are looking for your magazines, Prince Yves disposed of them last week,” he said.

“Magazines?” scoffed Jin. “You misunderstand. I am here for the same noble reason as yourself.” 

“How fortuitous that we both elected to use our lunch breaks productively today.” Sariel lifted his head and cobwebs swayed off his hair giving his face a ghoulish glow. “I have this area covered. Please start by searching there.” He pointed to a corner where stacks of dusty bookshelves leaned against one another in ominous invitation.

Jin groaned, masking it with a blazing grin. “You’re looking for a magazine, right?” 

The entirety of Sariel’s annoyance flashed with a single eyebrow twitch. “A notebook. Red. With my handwriting.”

“Embarrassing diary entries from your youth, eh?”

“An accelerated course is necessary to bring Belle up to speed with Rhodolite’s governance,” Sariel explained soberly. “I thought it prudent to reference study plans I developed from Prince Leon’s early tutoring days. Why reinvent the wheel?”

It was just a joke. Jin raised his arms in surrender and waddled over to the shelves, each so full to bursting, grabbing one book might topple the entire configuration.

Where to begin? 

Behind looked most stable. Plus he could hide there and snooze. Hey, this was supposed to be break time.

Jin scooted into the shadows, but something already occupied his napping spot. Carefully, carefully, he pulled out a large, ornate frame.  From first glance it looked like a typical painting of the palace grounds—lush rosebushes clearly recognizable to any Rhodolitian visitor—with seven tiny figures scattered across. Boys. But closer inspection revealed more; the boys were not in fact original subjects of the painting but crudely pasted on, torn edges revealing glimpses of different origins. On top of it all, notable blots of ink were scribbled over the scene, as though someone had once left behind harsh criticisms of the work.

“No way!” Jin exclaimed, “I thought I lost this ages ago!”

“And I thought those pieces were pilfered ages ago,” Sariel called as he joined him.

“You never asked. I never told,” Jin said, studying the collage. Long ago, this attic was his preferred place to practice quill-usage in solitude. He reverently glided his fingers over the markings. A pair of dark gloves covered the twins’ interlocked hands. A wide smile cut across Chevalier’s stoic face. Tears welling in Clavis’s eyes replaced with glittering stars. Even Sariel’s fury melted at the doodles.

To a child, the attic is an escape to worlds beyond imagination. To an adult, it is a prison of memory.

“Someone’s missing,” Sariel commented.

“Well, Luke wasn’t around yet.”

“Yes. But I meant His Majesty.”

Jin inhaled. “He wouldn’t have fit. They don’t make portraits that small for kings,” he said.

“But you left a sizable gap in the middle there.”

“As if I’d remember my muse from that long ago?”

“As well as you remembered to discard your drafts, it seems.” Sariel approached the frame and plucked a loose paper sticking out from the corner. Jin reflexively snatched it from his hands.

“Oh my. Embarrassing doodles from your youth?” Sariel asked with glee.

“Yves just missed a page,” Jin said, stuffing it into his pocket. Sariel decided not to comment on how Jin accidentally revealed his lie. Nor how he spotted the unmistakable drawing of a dark-haired boy with glasses on that paper.

“Goodness, how time flies!” Sariel announced. “I can always create a new study plan—Prince Luke requires one regardless. And speaking of recreating things for Prince Luke…” he mused, one hand stroking his chin. “It would be short notice, but I don’t believe the royal painter would mind. And gathering the princes would be beneficial for Belle to interrogate you all at once.”

The attic was indeed a place to unearth memories. Sometimes it worked well to inspire new ones, too.

Jin beamed. “Fine, but you’re standing next to me. Got it?”

Ever helpful, Rio volunteered to organize the entire event. He swiftly located and invited the royal painter from the farthest edge of the kingdom, booked and gathered the princes in the ballroom (resolving any and all inter-factional scheduling and squabbling conflicts that arose), and gallantly escorted Belle to the venue all with such efficiency, the princes invited him to join in for the painting. Neither Jin nor Sariel protested when he perched himself between them bearing the biggest smile of the bunch.

And that’s my headcanon for the story behind the 1st anniversary group portrait :)

[meydang]

an early morning

(nsfw)

Aventurine x reader

Warnings: morning wood, blowjob, sexual content

.

.

.

As you wiggle in bed trying to find a better position to continue sleeping, you turn around to find none other than your boyfriend sleeping peacefully beside you in your shared bed together.

Cute

How the sun hit his face and hair softly, it really is a sight too behold, you think.

After laying in bed for awhile (and admiring Aventurine's sleeping form), you sat up with a yawn to check the time.

5:54

Quite early, you think. Normally you would get up around 6:15 to make breakfast and wake Aventurine up at around 6:45 so you can both enjoy breakfast together before he left for work.

After considering it for a moment, you decided that there is no reason to have an early start today so why not snooze for a bit longer? As you were about to lie back down something caught your attention.

Hm?

Oh

Seems like someone's a little excited this morning, You thought as you glance toward the bulge of the blanket on Aventurine's side of the bed. Now what kind of a girlfriend would you be if you dont help him? Plus wouldn't it be fun to see his reaction?

With that thought you quickly dive under the cover and move to the space between his legs. After moving your boyfriend's pjs and boxer down to reveal his growing erection, you gently kiss the tip of his shaft before licking it and put it in your mouth slowly until it reached the back of your throat, your hands wrap around the base.

!?

"H-hah...!?" You can hear the fluster and surprise in Aventurine's voice as you peaked through the blanket to watch him jolt up from the bed with his face tinted red staring down in confusion.

"Good heavens-" he gasps out as his gaze soften when he realized it was you, "you startled me baby..." Aventurine spoke after letting out a soft chuckle.

You felt butterflies in your stomach.

As you move your head up and down his length, you can feel his orgasm getting closer and how his breath and moans would become messier as you continue your ministration on him.

"Hah... I-I'm close baby." Aventurine could barely say as sweat starts to form on his forehead, his bangs swayed to the side to cover one of his beautiful eyes that are looking right into yours, his hand goes over to tuck the loose hair out of your face. You swear you could get hypnotized by those eyes forever with no complaint.

With one last bob of your head, you gently squeeze the base of his shaft as he came undone all over your mouth and throat.

You try your best to swallow every drop of his cum and make sure he sees you doing it, Aventurine chuckles tiredly upon seeing what you're trying to do and kiss the crown of your head.

"Normally I would get up early and take care of these things myself when they happen, but it seems like you beat me up to it today darling... thank you~" he said with his smug grin plastered on his face and you smile at that. Only then do you remember to check the time again.

6:20

Whoops

"Come on lets get ready now Mr. Handsome, I still have to make breakfast for both of us and you don't wanna be late for work." you stood up from where you were and head to the bathroom which Aventurine followed with a pout on his face.

"But babe, I thought you had your breakfast already," he teases only to be answered by you smacking his arm despite the blush on your face being evident.

"Churin stop teasing!" You said annoyed to which your boyfriend only reaction was to laugh at your cuteness.

"fineee fine I'll stop," he gave you kisses all over your face and the redness on your face only become clearer.

"Love it when you blush~" your face basically become a tomato at this point.

[spacecadet-ticklesinspace]

From this post.

“I’m sad now…”

“Why?”

"Sad because you wouldn’t let me bully you—”

“...What?!” 

(Chaos, pure chaos 😅❤️ Merry Christmas Eve if you celebrate ❤️ :))

Eddie chucked the fake snowball as hard as he could in the blonde's direction, but he ducked just in time. "Dang it!"

Buck jumped back up. "Ha-ha!"

Eddie bolted the other side and the snowball that was just thrown at him skimmed the top of Chimney's head instead.

"Hey!" The shorter firefighter exclaimed from his spot behind the table.

"Sorry," Buck apologized before chucking another one at him.

Chimney threw the two in his hand at the blonde's retreating form. "Sorry my foot!"

Once his hands were empty, Hen yanked him back down. "Great, now we're out of ammo."

From his spot behind the counter, Eddie pointed at the two. "Nuh-uh, that's cheating. There's no teams in a snowball fight."

"Since when is that a rule?" Hen asked before lobbing a surprise snowball at him.

Eddie ducked as it soared right past where his shoulder had been.

Chimney's eyebrows furrowed together. "I thought you said we were out of ammo?"

"Well, now we are."

After a pause, Chimney nailed her in the head with another one before taking off. "Now we are."

"You!" The female firefighter grabbed the ball before taking off after him.

By now, the entirety of the Nashes's house was littered with all the fake snowballs. It looked like a snowy battlefield had found its way indoors.

A second later, Bobby walked in with Athena and the two immediately froze.

"Were we really gone that long?" Athena asked her husband.

"Didn't think we were," Bobby replied.

A moment later, Eddie came running and then screeched to a halt with wide eyes when he saw them.

A fake snowball bounced off of the dark haired firefighter's head before the rest of the room fell quiet.

"Mind explaining what happened?" The older police sergeant asked.

Eddie glanced over his shoulder at the mess. "Uhh . . . Well . . ."

Bobby held out his hand. "You know we got those for the kids, right?"

Eddie reluctantly dropped the fake snowball into his outstretched hand. "I know."

Suddenly, Buck jumped around the corner. "Gotcha!"

In response, Eddie ducked to avoid the fake snowball coming toward him.

And it hit Athena right in the forehead.

The blonde's eyes went wide.

Eddie stepped back.

"Gutsy move Buckaroo," Chimney muttered.

"I--I didn't---," the blonde began.

The older police sergeant glared at the younger man as she snatched up the fake snowball. "If that's how you want to play."

"No, wait! It was an accident!" Buck took off with Athena hot on his heels. "He moved out of the way!"

Bobby sighed.

A second later, Eddie slipped another fake snowball out of his pocket. "You snooze you loose Cap."

The older fire captain barely flinched as the snowball bounced off of his chest. He then took the one in his hand and watched it sail right past the dark haired firefighter before jumping into the fray.

[teenandbeyond]

Hiiii, Can I request for the Frieza family when the human reader get a little bit tipsy/drunk?

Frieza Fam x DrUnK. Human Reader

About time I get a drunk request.

Want more from me? MASTERlist.

🧊🧊🧊🧊🧊🧊🧊🧊🧊🧊🧊🧊🧊🧊🧊🧊

🧊Let Loose🧊 (DBZ or Dragon Ball Z)

Warning(s): Drunken-ness, short

And this is why you asked your ice jin to not let you get drunk...

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Frieza

"[Name]? Are you alright?"

"Wuuuh? Yeeah, a-OKAY!"

You were not.

First you were quiet

Then you were quietly crying

"What saddens you, my dear?"

"I-We-You're so preeety. Why are you so pretty... it's not-it's not faaaair," you whined with a sob, forehead smacking against the table.

Frieza didn't know whether to be concerned or flustered. Both?

The next stage was depression

"I must escape my despair. Can you drown from whiskey?" you asked yourself blankly.

Then you were happy as could be.

"Frieza, look! A butterflyyyyy!"

"That's a chandelier, darling," he chuckled.

"But-but it looks like a butterfly...Frieza can we get a butterfly? I really, really want one."

Consider it done, you spoiled brat.

And from happiness, you become flirtatious.

Your hand brushes up his arm, "I'd love to see these arms caged around me. Are you single?"

He couldn't help but smirk past his blush, "No, I'm quite taken I'm afraid."

"Are they-hic-Are they cute?"

"Very, the cutest."

"I guess I have no chance then, woe is me!" you sigh dramatically.

And the last stage, you fall asleep, cuddled into your ice jin.

A shame you were too intoxicated to feel the kiss brush your temple.

King Cold

You were much more flirtatious than usual

Bold enough to say the things you wouldn't usually

You tried to cooly lean against the table but fell, you quickly got back up and played it off. Smooth for a drunk.

"Hey handsome, aside from being this good-looking, what else do you do in your free time?"

And he'll happily flirt back in amusement.

"I’d like to take you to the movies, but they don’t let you bring in your own snacks," you grip his thighs as you lean in.

He quite liked you like this, he had to admit.

"Neither of us would be able to attend if that were the case."

Somehow you ended up in his lap, brushing your fingers up and down his horns.

"If you let me borrow a kiss, I promise I’ll give it right back."

"That sounds like a deal."

You traded sloppy kisses until you grew tired and decided to take a snooze.

He couldn't promise to not let you get drunk again. You were quite amusing.

Cooler

Usually, you were more on the serious side, so it was nice to see you let loose.

"Hey, Cooler, let's dance!" you giggled.

No one was looking, so maybe a little dancing would be okay.

"But I don't know how."

"I'll teach you!"

Your teaching skills were a little sloppy drunk, but he got the point.

Swaying with you made him feel like he was in a different world

Your laughter filled the room.

That was all the music he needed.

You catch him staring at some point through your drunken haze

"Whaaa?"

"I want to kiss you."

"Do it then, coward," you tease.

Cooler isn't one to challenge.

Though the unexpected softness of his kiss almost stunned you out of your intoxication.

"I adore you..."

"And I want you to do that again."

[mshroom1e]

Could you write some soft fluff where Jamil and the readerfall asleep studying together in his dorm and the reader wakes up and attempts to leave but Jamil convinces her to stay?

This sounded so cute! To be honest, it was a little challenging to picture a scene like this with Jamil, but I think I got it. I just hope it isn't too ooc.

type: fanfic

Summary: A short and hopefully sweet fic about snoozing during study time with Jamil Viper.

1.3k words

tags: hand holding, headpats

Warning(s): none

Orange hues painted the sky outside Jamil's windows as the sun vacated for the day. Somehow, you'd ended up together in his dorm room studying for a test that was scheduled for the next week or so. Originally, your feline partner in crime, Grim tagged along to your little meetup, however one look at the content you needed to learn for the test was enough to bore him out of his mind and he was soon passed out on Jamil's bed.

He didn't seem to mind Grim's snoring that played like background music as he calmly continued to explain what you were going to cover. You were a good student, managing to absorb information efficiently and remember the most crucial parts you needed, much to Jamil's relief. Hence, your study session was smooth sailing so far.

Your temporary tutor had his own homework to do, so he left you with some questions that recapped the subject you were revising for the day and told you that you'd go over them together. As well as helping you, it was good practice for him as teaching topics to another person helped solidify the concepts in his mind as well.

"Take another look at question 7," he pointed with a pen, circling your mistake.

"Right," you nodded, immediately looking over the papers.

For a few minutes, the only sound in the room was shuffling of papers and a little sniffle here and there from one of you as the temperatures were dropping with the approach of night. You'd been so focused on completing the makeshift assessment that you'd compiled with Jamil that you didn't notice the lack of movement from the guy.

"Jamil, so for this one, do you-" you stopped yourself before you could finish. The sight of Jamil with his arms folded over his chest, his head carefully tilted to the side, eyes shut, and strands of hair straying from his now loose braids caused you to freeze.

Honestly, you couldn't blame him. Being a full-time student at a school like NRC and simultaneously looking after Kalim and his rambunctious energy 25 hours a day must've been demanding. He was bound to run out of energy at some point. Compared to his usual stoic face and his trying-his-best-not-to-lose-it energy, his sleeping form was serene and picturesque. You didn't want to come across as a creep, but in all honesty, it was difficult not to stare at someone so pretty.

Slow, shallow breaths allowed his chest to rise up and down at a steady pace. With each small movement he made, another strand of hair fell out of place, and he seemed to relax even more. You were tempted by the idea of running your fingers through his dark brown locks to detangle any bits of hair that were hooked around each other. A soft smile graced your features as you stared at him, enamoured. His face adorned with a comfortable expression that contrasted nicely against the usual sharpness in his eyes.

You'd be lying if you said your heart wasn't melting at how peaceful Jamil looked.

There was a sudden gust of wind outside, which diffused its cold air into the room, causing Jamil to shiver in his sleep. Desert nights were freezing, and the only thing keeping Jamil warm was the thin, burgingy hoodie that he always wore under his school blazer. Without thinking, you reached for the nearest blanket and quickly covered Jamil with it.

Just as yawning was contagious, sleep was too. Watching the boy in front of you was such a calming scene. Your eyelids grew heavy, and you were slowly losing the willpower to force them open for any longer. You allowed the sandman to get you as you eventually fell asleep.

-

Soft caresses and strokes on your head woke you from your nap. As you stirred and your eyes slowly opened, the mystery hand that pet you flinched. Your vision finally adjusted to the dim lights of the room. Jamil seemed to still be half asleep, judging by the slow pace of his movements and how his eyes were half-lidded with sleepiness. When you became fully awake and able to notice the hand that was still tangled in your hair, Jamil's face heated up, and he reluctantly pulled away.

"Sorry," you could hear the pout in his voice.

You laughed, your voice a little raspy. "I don't mind." It was true, though. It was nice to feel the warmth from his fingers lingering in your currently messy strands. "And... you're cute when you're sleepy..." You murmured. It seemed to spur him to wakefulness more than anything else ever had. His cheeks warmed further, and he quickly averted his gaze.

"Oh, um... thanks," He stuttered nervously. His hands clenched and unclenched as if he were struggling internally over something.

"Do you want to...um..." His cheeks were even warmer than before. It wasn't like Jamil to get so nervous, and you realised he wouldn't be able to continue speaking without choking on the words. In the end, he settled with clearing his throat to gain the confidence back. He tried to speak again, but nothing came out. Instead, he shook his head, making his dishevelled hair sway.

Silver ribbons of moonlight framed Jamil's head as he sat between you and the window. The light that surrounded his profile gave him an ethereal appearance that enhanced the beauty of his features. You wished you had the camera to capture this moment forever. To preserve it for eternity. However, you knew that it would be strange to do so suddenly and let the thought free from your mind.

Moonlight, huh. The next thing that came to mind was how terribly late it was. You groaned, rubbing at your tired eyes. "I should probably get going."

As you made the motion of standing up to pick up your cat-like companion and retun to your dorm, Jamil's hand latched onto your wrist, causing you to stop in your tracks. The surprise of seeing those strong yet gentle digits wrapped around your wrist made your heart beat faster, but the feeling faded within seconds.

His face was inches away from yours now, and it seemed as if your whole body was on high alert. With his hand firmly holding onto yours and keeping you in place, he didn’t seem to budge, yet his face remained with a slightly conflicted expression.

"Can you.. stay?" Jamil asked quietly like it was a question to himself, rather than to you. There was something about the way he spoke, almost as if he was afraid that he might say something wrong and cause the atmosphere between you two to change. Was that it? Did he really want to spend more time with you? If you didn't know any better, you would've gaped at him like a fish.

However, before you could reply to his question, Jamil began to elaborate, lowering his gaze. "It's late, and walking all the way to your dorm from the school building is dangerous in the dark."

"Yeah, you're right," you nodded. The path between your beaten up dorm and NRC's main building was poorly maintained and you'd tripped over a loose stone tile or a piece of vine that grew out from the ground below it more often than you'd like to admit.

Jamil visibly relaxed at your agreement. "Are you hungry?" He suggested.

"Starving actually," you admitted, and Jamil offered a small smile.

"I can make you something to eat," He stood to his feet, his hold on your wrist sheepishly transfered to your hand before letting go. "Most of the dorm must've eaten dinner already, but I'm sure we can find something."

"That sounds great," you grinned. You sent a look at Grim, who was still passed out asleep after all this time and shook your head with a fond smile.

"I guess I'll have to save him some late night dinner, too."

[harlowsbby]

Snooze

“I can’t lose when I’m with you.” - Sza

“Here you go cheating again this is why I can’t play simple games like Uno with you.” You pouted and tossed down the card games while Jack laughed.

The two of you were in New York City for the weekend, Jack had a few things to take care of but by the amount of rain all of his meetings were called off for the day which you were secretly happy about because all you wanted to do was stay inside and watch endless movies with him.

“You wanna play another board game Jack? Or do you wanna do something else.” You stated as you went ahead and put back the Uno cards.

“Whatever you wanna do baby it doesn’t matter to me.” He smiled as he leaned back into the bed his chain hanged loosely on his bare chest and his gray sweats hung loosely on his waist.

“Anything?” You smirked and his eyebrow raised in confusion. “What are you planning in that head of yours?”

“What about I give you a little makeover?” You asked him and before he could say anything you were digging through your luggage for your makeup bag.

Once you found it you sat on top of him, his hands kept your steady as you placed the makeup bag beside him before getting out your tweezers and a few pimple patches and placing them on his chest.

“What’s all this?” He asked as you held up the tweezers. “These are tweezers and I’m gonna help you shape up your eyebrows a bit they look a bit wild right now.”

His eyebrows immediately furrowed together. “Uh I don’t think so baby, I’m a man I don’t need my eyebrows all shaped up and shit what do I look like?” You pouted and crossed your arms over your chest.

“You act like I’m going to fill them in I’m just plucking a few hairs at the top that have been bugging me that’s all, I’m not shaping them or anything you’ll still be looking like a damn squirrel.” You joked and he pinched your hips making you hiss.

“What was that for?” You groaned and leaned forward so you’d be able to see the hairs you needed to pluck. “For being a smart ass.” Surprisingly he was very quiet and wasn’t moaning and groaning while you were doing his eyebrows.

“Now that we’re done with that I’m gonna apply these pimple patches to a few of your friends I’ve seen growing on your face.” He gasped.

“That wasn’t very nice babe.” You shrugged your shoulders. “Oh well you’ll be fine.”

Jack watched as you stuck your tongue out due to you concentrating. He found so much joy and comfort in doing little silly things like this with you. He never thought in a million years he’d be laid up with someone as special as you.

You’re the only person he’d allow to pluck his eyebrows even though he didn’t really enjoy it or that it made him feel manly, as long as it brought you enjoyment and entertainment he’d do it a million times more.

“There you go.” You smiled and nodded in approval at the pimple patches.

“How long do these stay on my face?” He asked you. “You keep them on overnight.” You stated and the two of you sat there in a comfortable silence for a few minutes till your stomach rumbled.

“You hungry?” Jack laughed and reached out for the menu that had everything room service had to offer. “Just a little.” You mumbled shyly.

“What do you want to eat.” You took the menu out his hands. “You wanna get chicken strips and fries?” He nodded his head. “Sounds good to me baby. What are we gonna do till it gets here?”

“I can give you a little facial? With a few of my skincare products.” He nodded his head and leaned back into the pillow as you started getting your products ready.

“I’m gonna apply this green tea mask to your skin it’s supposed to clear up pores and give you glass type skin.”

“Sounds good babe.” You gently applied the mask along his cheeks, forehead and chin. “Now I’m gonna place these little under eye ask under your eyes they help with the puffiness.”

“You’re saying I got baggy eyes now? Last time I checked people giving facials didn’t point out their clients insecurities.” He joked and you slapped his chest slightly.

“Oh just hush I’m helping you get a little 24 hour glow up you should be happy I’m not charging you any interest.” He couldn’t help but to burst into a fit of laughter.

“You’re silly baby you know that.”

“Hmm whatever.” The two of you were interrupted by a knock at the door. “Room service.”

“Jack can you get the door.” His eyes widened. “Baby I’m not going up there with all of this on my face ain’t no way.” You pouted. “All I have on is these little shorts and a tank top do you really want him to see me like this.” You stated and Jack sighed.

“Fine, you’re lucky I love you.” You giggled as he stood up and made his way towards the door.

“Room service for Jack Har-.” The guy stopped talking as he did a double take on Jack. “You’re girl?” He questioned with a slight laugh.

“What gave it away.” Jack mumbled. “The heart shaped pimple patches.” He pointed out and Jack groaned but took the food and made his way back to you.

“Heart shape pimple patches really babe?” You shrugged your shoulders and snatched a fry.

“What? It’s all I had but come on let’s eat I’m starving.” You grabbed your food and started digging in.

Jack would never admit it but he liked being pampered from time to time. Even though you tended to be a pain at times he wouldn’t want his life to be any other way. He knew with you by his side he could never lose.

(Hope you guys enjoy 💘 this will be my last little fluff for a bit I need to get back to the angst sorry y’all 💀)