#but it'll definitely get tossed when I move

[plushie-lovey]

Look who I was able to pull out of storage today!! I went to put a huge batch of plushies in (finally), so I figured why not take a few old friends out?

I hadn't been able to tell before, but unfortunately Cas, Lucy, and Minty are all nicotine stained. My lights were real dim and yellow in my old apartment so I wasn't able to see, and these guys had been packed at the bottom of a box for 3 years. So until now I didn't know they were damaged. But that's ok! I can wash it out. Though Minty will be a challenge since I've had her the longest of all the plush pictured. Time to give them a nice warm welcome home bubble bath!!

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

thinkin about polite gaz being... not so polite when he realizes you're attracted to him. 

not like you let it slip on purpose. he only catches on because he's teasing you and flirting with you and he gets playfully physical and pins you against a wall. he does not miss the way your breath catches in your throat or the way you flush. bit submissive, aren't you?

his attitude changes instantly. he bets you he could keep you pinned right there. hell, he bets he could pick you up, toss you over his shoulder if he wanted to. when you ask him (a bit too breathlessly) if he'd really do that, he smirks at you and says there are plenty of reasons he might have to pick you up. makes it easier to show you who's boss, yeah?

your face gets so hot you think you might actually pass out. you fucking bottom.

he leans in, getting closer this time so you can't shy away; you have no choice but to hear him clearly. "you think you could handle being thrown around?"

if it killed you, you would die happy.

"how about i just throw you into bed instead?"

please, you squeak out.

his eyes gleam and he chuckles. "say please again and it'll be the floor."

nsfw ↓

he's not kidding about being able to pick you up either. or throw you. the moment he has a chance, he's definitely getting you into bed. and he's definitely enjoying how you squirm.

can i ask a favor of you? he asks, so politely, like he's not literally on top of you, pinning you down.

literally anything. you would do literally anything he asks.

"say please again. for me."

you stutter.

"you asked quite nicely for me to throw you. so if i ask, would you beg nicely for me to do other things?"

oh god. oh god. you're glad you're laying down, because you're sure your knees would give out if you were standing up.

when your brain reboots, you stumble over yourself to say yes, absolutely, please kiss me, please tear my clothes off, please hold me down and have your way with me--

god, he really likes that look on your face. he is really going to enjoy you. 

"you really are an excitable little thing, aren't you?" he says, smirk widening as his hand traces along your hip.

is that bad? you ask him.

"it's really hot. almost makes me feel bad for everything i want to do to you."

no, please, don't feel bad, you tell him. you immediately shift, trying to press yourself up against his body. you want him to use you for everything he wants. everything.

"so eager. can't wait, can you?"

no, you can't. you'll die if you have to wait. you try and fail to reign yourself in and be so fucking needy. you fumble with the buttons on your shirt, undoing them one by one, impatient and frustrated. he just smirks at you, letting you get yourself all worked up. just leans back and watches you, enjoying the sight.

when your mind catches up with what your hands are doing, you stall out on the last button. then, finally, he gives in and reaches forward to unhook it himself. then he yanks the whole shirt out of the way.

"good girl. god, you're cute when you're so red like that. you're really into this, aren't you?" his voice is sultry as his caress moves down to the button on your jeans. really just takes his damn time, enjoying how the slower he goes, the more desperate for him you get. but the way your hips twitch when he lays his hands on them has him fighting demons.

"that's it. keep moving. keep squirming." his voice is low and slow--he's trying to keep himself under control as much as you are. he wants so badly to grab your hips and just fucking rail you into the mattress, but it's more rewarding to be patient. how's he going to hear more of those sounds, see more of your desperate ploys to get under him, if it's all over right away?

obviously you have no such reservation. the moment he has your jeans unbuttoned, you're wiggling out of them and flipping onto your stomach, pushing your ass up in the air and fucking presenting yourself to him. please, you beg him, losing your goddamn mind, you can't take it anymore. can't he just...?

gaz damn near short-circuits at the image of you with your ass in the air. he barely manages to stop himself and weigh whether he should deny you a little bit more to heighten the anticipation.

fuck it. he can torment you more after he's inside you. multitasking.

you squeak in delight when he plants his hands between your shoulder blades and pushes your top half into the mattress, dragging your hips up toward his. he pushes you down, fitting his body over yours and putting his mouth next to your ear. he whispers right in your ear. "say please again."

please, please, please, you'll do anything, you tell him, wiggling your hips at him.

and he plans to take you up on that offer.

he leans in close, his breath warm on your skin. "good girl, he tells you. obedient girl."

you've never wanted to be under someone so badly.

your easy submission has him grinning. "are you a good girl all the time or just for me?"

for you, you mumble, hot with shame.

he pulls himself back even more and puts a knee on each side of you, pushing your legs apart. it gives you a shot of dopamine so intense you almost can't keep your ass up. 

"are you being good right now?"

you could be better for him, you tell him, so much better.

he likes the sound of that. it's getting hard to think, having your legs open and right there and he's trying to hold himself back but who wouldn't fall for the temptation he's experiencing right now? "how much better?"

you tell him you could please him more if you knew what he liked, if you could focus on him, if you didn't need more right now, if you didn't need him inside you so bad. your hips twitch again as you ramble, almost mindless.

"i like it when you speak so earnestly," he tells you.

that approval sends another shot of dopamine through you, and your hips buck against nothing. he hasn't even touched you there and you feel like you could finish any moment just from his voice. you're gonna die if you can't have him right now.

he's breathing heavier now, eyes fixed on your opening. his voice almost wavers, heavy with implication. "how bad do you need me, darling?" 

you start to dissolve into begging again--god dammit, he said he wanted you to beg and he's not even doing what you want, what you're begging for--and he interrupts. "you're going to ask properly first."

of course he's gonna make you fucking say it.

you beg and plead in every way you know how, promising every debased act you can think of. when his fingers finally press up against your heat--a teasingly light brush at first, and then a firm press--you dissolve into a mess of broken cries and pleas for him to keep going.

obviously he keeps talking to you in that low, sultry voice, telling you what an impatient little thing you are. chastising you. just another way to flex a little more power over you, and you're so weak for it. and then for that, he praises you.

"such a good girl," he tells you. "you want more?"

you open your mouth to say yes, you want everything, but then he presses his fingers in just the slightest bit, fingertips splitting you the slightest bit, and all you can do is keen. you rock your hips back into him desperately, sliding his fingers into you, and something in you snaps. you tip over the edge. oxytocin floods through you, your legs lock up, and shameless sounds fall from your lips. gaz's breath catches as you finish. then he grins.

gaz pulls you up to him fully and lies down above you. kisses you on the mouth and then trails his mouth down your jaw to your ear. "that was perfect," he says, breathless, and unashamedly horny about the fact that you just came on the second knuckles of two fingers.

you stare at him in muted shock yourself. you can't believe you just... you really just came like that? what's wrong with you?

"how about this," he says in a low, smooth voice. "since you were good, why don't you lay back down and let me fuck you properly?" he lifts your legs off the bed and raises your hips toward him. "let me do everything i want to you."

you swallow and nod, not trusting yourself to speak without squeaking.

"good girl." this time there's no hint of teasing. his eyes are hungry. "let your man take care of you."

...

[part 1] / part 2

more Gaz / masterlist tag

[woso-dreamzzz]

Carnival

Mary Earps x Child!Reader

Summary: Mary takes you to the carnival

Lockdown was both the bane of Mary's existence and the best thing in the world.

The worst thing because it meant confusion and fear and no football for a while. The best thing because it brought her you.

She fostered at first before moving to adoption when she found that she couldn't be parted from you.

With the lockdowns tentatively over now, things had started opening up again.

Like the carnival.

"They're rigged," You tell her.

You're still little but you speak well for your age, well advanced when compared to any of your peers.

"Rigged?" Mary laughs," Where've you heard that word?"

"I read it," You say," In a book."

"Oh. I forgot I was taking a genius out."

You make a little noise of acknowledgement before turning back to the carnival game.

It's most definitely rigged.

All of them are.

This one is one of those basketball toss games where you know the ring is only just wide enough for the ball to get through. If the throw isn't perfect then it'll hit the rim and bounce away.

Mary is looking at it with concentration though and you snag her belt loops, tugging lightly.

You hadn't meant to stop in the first place but you'd caught sight of one of the prizes.

One shot in got you a keychain.

Two shots got you a little inflated ball.

Three in meant the prize was a small toy.

Four was a medium sized toy.

Five was a big toy.

The big toys are displayed at the very top of the game. A lot of them a bears or big puppies but a handful of them are birds. They're in lots of different colours.

Yellow seems to be the most prominent colour but then it's pink. The one that caught your eye is blue though.

You like the look of it a lot but you also know the odds of winning it are slim to none.

Five perfect shots in a row is very difficult especially when the backing board behind the hoop is angled at a way that means if the ball hits it, it won't go into the hoop in the slightest.

"Mary," You say, tugging," Let's go."

Mary doesn't move though. "You want the bird?"

"Yes."

"Then let's try."

"No."

"You don't even want to try?"

You shake your head, scuffing your foot into the dirt. "It's not worth it, Mary."

"Would it make you happy though?"

"Yes."

"Then let's try."

"But-"

"Come on, birdie," Mary says," We'll try a few rounds and if we get it, we get it but if not that's fine too."

It costs five pounds for five balls and Mary fails abysmally for her first round.

It stokes something in her though, especially when your eyes dart away from the toy with every missed shot.

You've had a rough go of it, Mary thinks as she pays for another few rounds. Before her, you'd had a failed adoption. The couple had wanted you but then the wife had gotten pregnant and they realised what they actually wanted was a biological child.

It had fallen through and you'd bounced for a few days before being fostered by Mary.

She'd worked hard with you on understanding that she wasn't going to abandon you. She'd worked hard to get you to accept her as a maternal role in your life.

But that illusive word still evaded her.

She didn't need it, not truly. She knew what you thought of her and you knew what she thought of you.

She'd do anything for your happiness, including draining her bank to win you this stupid blue bird.

Your eyes had lit up when you'd seen it but you seemed fairly realistic for such a little kid.

These games were rigged but Mary refuses to let that stop her.

You want this stupid bird.

She'll get you this stupid bird.

Her hands are sweaty as she grabs her last ball. The others, surprisingly, have all gone in after nearly fifteen rounds of this stupid carnival game and it slowly dawns on her that this is the last shot.

She wipes her hands on her shirt.

"Mary?" You say and she looks down at you," Are you okay?"

"I'm just fine, birdie. One last shot and we can get your bird."

You glance down bashfully, fingers still threaded around her belt loop. "It's okay if you can't make it. We can go on the teacups instead."

Mary frowns, dropping to her knee so she can cradle your cheek in one of her big hands. "You don't want the bird?"

"I do," You say," But...I don't want you to feel bad if you can't get it in."

"Trust me," Mary says," I just want to make you happy."

You look into her eyes, searching for any hint of untruthfulness in them but you find none. You nod. "You should move slightly to the left," You say," And spread your fingers out a little more."

"Thanks, birdie."

She does as you've said and shoots.

The ball goes in and Mary breathes out a sigh of relief, already leaning over the counter to talk to the poor minimum wage worker that's had to sit through all her attempts.

"Yeah," She says," The bird. The blue one. Up top. Yeah, that one."

He has to get a big stick with a hook on the end to get it off and Mary takes it from him triumphantly.

She presents it to you and you gently stroke your hand over the fur.

She's still holding it but you bypass your new favourite toy completely, moving to hug her as tightly as you can.

"Thank you, Mummy."

Mary tries not to let you finally saying the 'm' word affect her, forcing back the tears that want to fall as she hugs you back, raining kisses onto the top of your hair.

"It was my pleasure, birdie."

[meowkunas]

walking in on you with your favourite toy !

w/ sukuna and choso (separate)

warnings/tags: implied fem! reader (bc that's how i'm thinking about it in my head rn), suggestive, 18+, no curses AU, in a relationship with choso, it's anyone's business who you are to sukuna (housemates maybe??), definitely not in a relationship with him though and you probably have to deal with him walking around shirtless all the fine and looking fine, the toy is a vibrator

a/n: thinking about them a lot recently

Sukuna is not amused. This is not his fault.

If you were going to be doing such private things, then you should lock your door.

"I can explain." You say.

Sukuna gives you a once-over. You're extremely calm for someone who's just had a ruined orgasm. The vibrator is still buzzing a little away from where you'd given up on trying to turn it off and just thrown it to the side for hopes of bringing some small sense of decency back onto your naked form. The blanket is haphazardly tossed over your legs.

It barely covers you.

You're wearing a big t-shirt and nothing else on the bottom half. He got a pretty good glimpse in your panic anyways — wet, wanting, twitching... He can't seem to get it out of his mind anymore.

An eerie acceptance settles over your face. It must be the adrenaline, Sukuna deducts.

"Okay." Sukuna says, crossing his arms and pushing the door closed behind him. "Explain."

"Well." And you have the audacity to hesitate on your words still, as though he isn't already wasting his time and attention on you. "You should knock." Pause. "Next time."

Sukuna lets out a barking laugh. "There won't be a next time, brat." He stalks over to you. It's a bit more imposing than you would imagine, especially when his eyes are scanning over your form as though he's already eating you up in his mind. He decides to toss a side-glance to your vibrator in an attempt to embarrass you further, before drawing his attention back to you.

It works, a brief flicker of panic exposing itself on your face as you seem to finally catch up to the situation.

"Just ask. But don't try to be cute about it." Sukuna continues.

"Sukuna?" You ask timidly, still trying to figure out what he's actually proposing.

"I told you not to be cute about it."

That seems to rile you up, and you feel a flash of annoyance run through you. "I'm cute about everything."

You just get to finish your sentence, before he cups your jaw dangerously tight, tilting your face to look up at him. Perhaps you weren't such a quiet and innocent housemate after all. The way your cheeks squish together is kind of cute actually.

He thinks you might look better crying.

A sound between a questioning mumble and a choke leaves your throat. You open your mouth to say something else, but his fingers are already tracing down to your collarbone. He tilts his head slightly as he feels your breath hitch.

"Lie back." Sukuna says, nudging your shoulder a little.

It's a final warning, you realise. A checkpoint in deciding whether you want to continue or not.

You do follow his instructions, jerking slightly as he manages to slide his hand onto you and press down onto your sensitive clit. His hands quickly move to keep your legs open.

He stops moving for a bit and you peek up at him to see what he's doing. The vibrator is in his hand, looking rather small and pathetic.

"We'll see how easily you cum from this, and depending on whether you impress me..." His eyes travel from your lower half up to your eyes. "I'll show you how good it'll feel to take me."

Choso is polite about it. Every kiss you've shared with him has been soft, sweet even. He's never shown any particular interest in furthering it. It's why you're so oddly embarrassed when he walks in on you with your vibrator pressed against your clit.

"Choso!" You manage to slip the vibrator out of your hands and turn it off, ignoring the urge to pull the blankets over your head.

His face reveals no surprise, nor a blush. A feeling of insecurity runs through you and a stinging starts behind your eyes. Huh.

In the silence, he's staring very intently at your closed legs. He takes a step into the room, still saying nothing.

You jump slightly when he sits beside you on the bed. He's uncertain, bordering on nervous as his fingers twitch slightly.

It's quiet enough that you think you should say something.

"Choso—" You say again, in a softer, more reassuring tone.

He cuts you off. "I'll help."

The matter-of-fact tone makes you blush. You forget how straightforward he usually is.

You shake your head. "It's fine. If you're uncomfortable with it or you're not really sure, you don't need to—"

Choso reaches under the covers from where you've thrown your vibrator. The top of it still glistens with your slick. He takes it out, twisting it in his hand as though to investigate it. He presses the button until it vibrates a bit too loudly.

It's not a setting you usually would have set it on to start with.

"Just tell me what to do." He says.

Good thing there's a lot of different settings for him to play with under your guidance.

[shotmrmiller]

PAUSE! OH MY GOD. writing a soap smut got me thinking. 

As a medic in base, you see the 141 guys all the time. Whether in passing or because they get injured, you’re always interacting with them. Your particular lack of response at Ghost’s irritated glare after reprimanding him for being unable to keep his stitches intact during training is what solidified your friendship with Johnny— what Soap tells you to call him.

Every time Johnny goes out, he likes to drag you along and this is where you notice peculiar interactions between him and Ghost.

The way Ghost gives Soap Johnny his full attention when he’s speaking, turning his entire body to face him, even if it’s something completely trivial. Or how Johnny stresses over Ghost who’s injured on your med table and Ghost will comfort him. When going on a mission, if one goes, so does the other.

You wonder if there's something else going on.

—

You get your answer.

One day you’re knocking on Johnny’s door because it wouldn’t be the first time he’s tried to weasel out of a physical. You’d think getting shot would hurt more than a vaccine but here you are— about to twist his scottish ear off. The door finally opens, and you barge in because you aren’t about to cause a scene in the middle of the hallway when you freeze. 

Ghost is in Johnny's room, lying on the bed. If looks could kill, Ghost’s would’ve leveled the base. And he’s naked under the sheets— if that tree trunk-sized bulge is what you think it is. It doesn't even look hard. Bloody hell. 

You shift your gaze towards Soap, and your eyes drop— he's clad in nothing but a towel that hangs dangerously low on his hips. 

Massive. These men just walkin’ round with weapons in their pants.

Shaking off those thoughts, you shift your attention to his face.

“Meet me at the clinic in 10 or so help me god, Johnny.” and walk out the door.

You hear a muffled "Yes ma'am" , and a hiss escapes your lips.

That cocky smile Johnny had means he definitely saw you ogling them. 

—

A week passes and it’s a friday. You can’t wait to lock yourself in your barracks room and watch movies the entire weekend— you plan to start as soon as you're off the clock.

And then other medics twist your arm into going out for drinks.

Now you find yourself seated at a table in a lively bar, indulging in shots of tequila. As you glance around, your eyes catch sight of Soap and Ghost standing near the bartender. It appeared that some woman is talking to Johnny and he has a polite, detached smile on his face. Always too kind to strangers.

Then she starts caressing his thigh.

Your eyebrows shoot up to your hairline. Right in front of Ghost’s salad? You lock eyes with Ghost and he looks murderous. Jesus.

You usually don't stick your nose in others' business, but if you don’t intervene, Ghost might actually kill her in her sleep. Besides, tequila has always made you bold.

With a confident stride, you make your way towards Johnny and remove that woman’s hand before settling yourself snugly on his lap— and you wrap his arms around your waist.

“And who is this?” you ask Soap, but the girl questions back.

“No. Who are you?” 

Bitch. 

Curling your upper lip, you answer, “I’m the one he comes in every night hoping it takes. Now leave before I make you,” completely ignoring the massive bulge pressing up into your arse.

She looks at you with a bewildered expression, but doesn't move so you finish off with, "Try it. Just a warning though, it'll be hard to fight when the fight ain't fair."

You cock your head to the side with a taunting expression and the woman scoffs before walking away. Noticing she left her almost full drink behind, you give it to the bartender to toss in the trash. She's just gonna have to get another one.

Your act comes to an end, so you shift to stand up— and realize that the arms encircling your waist tighten, keeping you on his lap. His clothed cock.

“Ye didnae think we’d let ye go after yer little show, did ye?” 

Unless Johnny’s speaking french, he just said we. You'd be nervous but you aren't about to decline what could be the best sex of your life. The want you feel in Soap's pants has you riding a certain high— it makes you feel confident.

Grabbing onto the edge of the bartop, you swivel the stool you're on to face Ghost. 

“And this okay with you? I wouldn’t be stepping on any toes, or nothin’?”

Ghost swiftly lifts you from Johnny's lap and places you onto his own.

“Does this answer your question?” and draws you closer before grinding his erection against you.

And it sure as hell does. Slapping the counter, you ask for some water. If this night is going to end with you sandwiched between these two, you want to remember all of it.

reader's a boss ass bitch. GET IT CHILE.

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @steddieholidaydrabbles.

You'll Poke Your Eye Out

Prompt Day 25: Christmas | Word Count: 541 | Rating: T | CW: Lingering Upside Down Trauma, Language | Tags: Future Fic, Post S4, Eddie Munson Lives, Established Relationship, Christmas at Wayne's, Eating Nuts (Not Like That), Hurt/Comfort

Steve sits on the couch at Wayne's, a large stainless steel bowl in his lap, the nut cracker tool in one hand and metal pick in the other.

Eddie walks by behind the couch, brand new Polaroid camera hanging around his neck. It's been a full morning of Eddie taking pictures of anything and everything, laying the instant pictures out across every flat surface.

"You'll poke your eye out," Eddie says flippantly as he keeps moving. 

Well, that's not the plan, but if he does, maybe it'll have been worth it.

Because nothing, nothing, says it is Christmas like the big bowl of partially cracked open pecans on Wayne's coffee table. Steve had never had anything like it in his house while growing up. A big bowl of in-shell nuts, just sitting in the living room? His mother would have never allowed such a thing. The mess that could have even potentially been created would have given her hives.

Steve doesn't know where Wayne gets the nuts, or why they are such an integral part of the Munson family tradition, but he's grown to anticipate them every year.

The first time he'd seen the metal tools, they seemed kind of like medieval torture devices. Eddie had to show him how to use them: Putting the pecan between the metal claws, squeezing until the shell breaks. Then using the pick to dig out the meat. Eat. Rinse, repeat.

Sometimes it's walnuts, but it's usually pecans.

It gives him something to do with his hands, and he prefers that most of the time. He can't just sit still. Idle hands, and all that. Keeping his mind busy, even in this mundane way, is the best thing he's found to keep everything running smoothly. Steve knows Eddie bounced back from his tangle with the Upside Down almost totally unscathed. 

Steve didn't. 

That's not true. Not totally. 

He thought he was fine. The first year, even the second, he'd had no problems at all. But in time it snuck up on him, and knocked him to his knees. Eddie picked him back up, and he's been picking him up ever since. 

The physical scars he can deal with just fine, but the mental scars that were hidden away where he couldn't even tend to them fucking suck, and he prefers to keep busy.

So, today, he cracks nuts. 

When Eddie finally sits down next to him, Steve starts cracking them for him. One after another, handing over the small slivers of nuts, and occasionally entire halves in perfect condition. He'll be better at it by New Year's. The rust will be shaken off, and he'll be able to crack more without breaking them into small pieces. It just takes time to acclimate, he knows that and accepts it. 

It is what it is. Nothing is perfect, definitely not him, and he doesn't expect to be. Not anymore.

At the end of the night, he picks his empty shells out of the bowl, and tosses them in the trash. Eddie runs the Dustbuster around the couch, and it's like Steve never made a mess at all.

Tomorrow, Wayne will have refilled the bowl and Steve will start the process all over again, Eddie at his side.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddieholidaydrabbles and follow along with the fun!

Notes: I feel like I often explore Eddie struggling after the events of S4, but what if Steve felt it more? What if Eddie bounced back like a cat using one of his nine lives?

[short-honey-badger]

Doll 5

Pairings: Shanks x Female Reader

Summary: You find a new friend and take your relationship with Shanks to the next step

* Kissing happens finally!*

Doll Masterlist

A couple of days pass, and you and Shanks grow closer. One could hardly be seen without the other following behind like a lost puppy. He had taken you back to the bakery each morning and ordered something new for you to try, but the blueberry pancakes were still your favorite since they'd been the first thing that Shanks had ordered for you.

The waitress, whose name was Mel, had found you after her shift and demanded that you go clothes shopping with her. You'd been confused, and asked what was wrong with the plain shirt and black pants you were wearing, and she pointed out that, while you had cleaned them, there wasn't anything wrong with having more than two sets of clothing. You realized that Mel was right after that, and the two of you had gone to find Shanks.

He had smiled upon seeing you with the other woman, glad to see that you had made a friend, and had given you more than enough cash to get whatever you wanted. Mel grabbed you by the hand and away the two of you went. She led you to a boutique run by a wrinkled old lady who had an eye for fabrics, and stood you in the middle of the room while they went on a hunt for fabrics and colors that would suit you the best.

“If you want to move things along with your, - wait. What is Shanks to you? Boyfriend, husband?” Mel asked from behind a pile of clothes that she'd discarded after you tried them on. The no pile was far bigger than the yes pile, and you didn't know what to think about that.

You blushed at her wording. It's a couple of days knowing the redhead, and he'd take you out on breakfast dates and hold your hand whenever the two of you went anywhere. The pirate would toss his arm over the back of your seat, always sitting next to you and making his crew move if there wasn't a seat available. You didn't mind the attention, and you certainly didn't mind all the touching, but putting a label on what the two of you were made you nervous, so you settled for the easy way out.

“Uhm. Just friends, I think,” you told her and pouted at the really look that Mel gives you. Ethel doesn't help when she chines in.

“That pirate of yours acts like my dear Edward, rest his soul, did when we first got together. Don't pretend like there isn't anything there, dear. It'll only hurt you in the end if you do.”

You gnaw on your bottom lip, eyes lost in thought even as Mel hands you a new shirt to try on. You'd seen how couples acted before whenever you were allowed to go down to Sabaody, and it was definitely similar to the way you and Shanks acted. But you just met him, wasn't everything going too fast?

“I don't want to ruin anything,” you whispered after a moment, and in seconds, you had an old lady in your space, wrinkled hands taking her own.

“Can't ruin something if you don't let yourself have it to begin with, dear,” Ethel says kindly, and then squints at the shirt you have on, “Take that off. It doesn't flatter your chest at all.”

You blush and drop her hands to grab the hem to tug the blouse over your head and toss it in the no pile. You are lost in thought for the rest of the evening, wondering if it would be a good idea to talk to Shanks about all of this.

By the end of the trip, Mel and Ethel agreed upon ten different outfits that could be mixed and matched easily. You'd explained to them that you planned to leave with Shanks and would need some sturdier clothing to last out on the sea. Ethel had assured you that the fabrics she used would be perfectly fine and still make you look like a woman, and you couldn't thank the older lady enough. Mel dragged you out of the shop after saying goodbye, her chattering your ear off you, listening to her ramble on about everything and nothing.

Shanks stalked around the town, a frown on his face as he looked for you. He had wanted you to go out and have a good time with Mel, but he hadn’t thought that she would have you all day long. He had missed your presence and may have pouted so much that it had annoyed his ever patient first mate. Benn had sighed and told him to either stop sulking or go out and you, so Shanks had huffed and strutted out of the bar.

He hadn’t found you at the bakery, nor near the beach by the docks. He’d taken you there yesterday and had watched you find shells in the sand. He found it adorable that you seemed so fascinated by something so small and promised you that he’d get you a jar to put our collection in. Getting worried and just the smallest bit annoyed, Shanks made another loop around the town.

Shanks knew that he’d found you when he heard the sound of your laughter. He followed the sound down an alley to see you and Mel sat on the front steps of the bakery, steaming scones in hand. He slowed to a stop and just watched you for a moment, taking in the way you tossed your head back to laugh when your friend told a joke or made a smarmy quip. It was good seeing you like this, relaxed and open with someone that wasn’t him, though that didn’t stop the envy that curled up in his chest. He couldn’t help it, Shanks wanted you to look at him that way.

Which, well, you did, but after that first breakfast, there had been an underlining tenseness that you didn’t seem to notice whenever Shanks got close or whenever he said something flirty. It was almost like you were waiting for the other shoe to drop, as if Shanks acting like this was just a big joke and you were the punchline. But he wasn’t joking or stringing you along. What he felt for you was more than just friendship, and he wished that you could see that.

“I just… I don’t want him to feel forced into this, Mel. I’m not used to having that kind of attention, not where I’m from. It’s hard for me to trust people, and this is all going so fast. How can I ask him to take a chance on me when I’ve already asked so much of him?”

Is that what you thought? That just because he had allowed you on his crew that wanting anything else from him would turn him away from you? The pirate can’t help but snort at such a silly thought. Shanks liked it when you asked for things, liked it when you seeked him out on your own volition.

“Hon, you shouldn’t be so hard on yourself. You’re a wonderful person, and your Red would be dumb to not want you. Which he does, by the way, a blind man could see that. But still, everyone has some kind of past. You just have to be brave enough to face it.”

Shanks watches as you nod and recognizes that determined set of your shoulders and the fire that suddenly blazes to life in your eyes. You look like the night he first met you, eyes resolute and a please for help on your lips. There is a pale pink aura surrounding you, and the emperor has a moment of clarification. You have Haki.

A grin spreads his face. Of course someone as special as you would have haki. You were so brave and beautiful that it’s a slap in his face that he hadn’t noticed it before now. It was no wonder why he was so drawn to you and you to him. Shanks was meant to find you.

The redhead stalks forward without thinking. He needs you to know that he wants you, that with his newfound knowledge, you become all the more irresistible to him. You glance up in surprise, eyes wide and cheeks flushing as he comes to a stop in front of you. He reaches out and snags your hand, an almost desperate look in his dark gaze.

“You’re not forcing me into anything, Doll. I want you for you. For how you make me feel. I’ve not said anything because I don’t want you to feel obligated to me.”

You stare up at your captain, not having expected him to come out of the alleyway, and it makes you wonder how much he overheard. Clearly enough that he feels the need to out his feelings for you in the middle of town. You bite your lip, hand clutching his own as you meet his gaze, “Shanks..”

“I swear to you that I’m not doing anything that I don’t want to do, Doll. Trust me, please?” He says quietly and drops your hand to reach up and cup your face, thumb grazing your lips. Shanks needs you to believe him, “Can I kiss you?”

The question makes sparks rain from the top of your spine to the tip of your toes. You’ve never kissed anyone before, but the thought of feeling his lips on yours makes the decision for you.

The redhead makes a sound of surprise when you suddenly surge up, your mouth smashing into his in an unruly kiss. Shanks takes it in stride, though, kissing back just as roughly, uncaring about your lack of experience. His hand slides from your cheek and up into your hair to hold you still, and eventually, you slow down, allowing him to carefully lead you into a soft press of lips.

Reluctantly, Shanks pulls away but doesn’t go very far. He keeps you close with the hand wrapped in your hair, back bowed so that he can press his brow against yours. You stare at him, eyes watery as you swallow harshly. There is an apology on your lips, but Shanks steals it away with another kiss.

“Don’t you dare take that back, Doll,” He rumbles against your mouth and presses a lingering kiss to the corner of your lips. You nod shakily, and then Shanks is releasing you, hand sliding from your hair to take your hand in his. He smirks down at Mel, who looks smug as a cat who got the cream.

“Care if I steal her away now?” He quips, and Mel shoos him with a laugh.

“Go on, lovebirds,” She says and then aims a smile at you, “Told you so.”

You roll your eyes and reach out to squeeze her hand, “Thank you, Mel. I’ll find you tomorrow, okay?”

This would be your last night on this island, and the thought of leaving your new friend behind makes you sad, but you know that it’s for the best. The longer you stayed in one spot, the more you had a chance of being found and taken back to Marie Geois. The other woman waved you both off with a happy smile, and Shanks eagerly pulled you back to the docks and to the beach.

He shrugged off his black cloak and splayed it on the ground, gesturing for you to sit with a sweeping bow. You couldn't help but giggle at the redhead and sat, making sure not to touch the sand too much. You expected Shanks to settle beside you, but instead the pirate sat behind you, long legs splayed on either side of your hips as he wrapped his arm around your waist and tugged you back to rest against his chest. He sat his chin on top of your head, and you felt yourself completely relaxed, shoulders dropping as you slumped back against your captain.

“You okay with this, doll?” He murmured, and you shivered at the feeling of his breath tickling your ear. His hand was rubbing very distracting circles against your hip, fingers smoothing under your shirt to drag against your flesh. Shanks smiles against your hair when you nod. You didn't trust your voice not to squeak in embarrassment right now.

“Good. I've been wanting to hold you like this for a while, since that night you came and thanked me for letting you join the crew,” He blew a slow breath out, eyes shuttering as he tugged you closer, “You have no idea how special you are to me, sweetheart.”

Shanks considers telling you about the faint aura he'd seen earlier but decided against it. He doesn't want to ruin the peaceful moment the two of you are having, but he will tell you soon. Each of his crew could use haki, and would be essential in teaching you how to harness it yourself. He had promised to teach you everything that he knew, and that would be one of the firsts.

Speaking of teaching you things, Shanks shifted so that he could face you better, a playful grin on his lips as he leaned down into your space, “Was that your first kiss?”

You nodded slowly, lip trapped between your teeth, and Shanks moved his hand up to your face, thumb gently tugging The abused flesh free and stroking your bottom lip. He shivers when you slide your tongue out to wet your lips, the muscle accidentally flicking against his thumb.

“Yeah. Intimacy was forbidden in the household that owned me,” you whisper, and Shanks hums, a frown tugging at his mouth.

“Well you aren't theirs anymore, Darling. So how about we start your first lesson?” He rumbles and smirks when he watches your eyes hood and darken with interest. When you move forward, Shanks meets you halfway, lips pressing into yours as he holds you close in the setting sun.

[sanguineterrain]

Hi I’m back because couples who aren’t together just yet are EVERYTHING

And the new theme?? The icon?? Sanne 😍

May I request “you matter so much to me” with Dick? A little angsty if you’re feeling it?

hey there!!! thank you hehe i felt it was time for a theme change bc fall ❤️ hope you like it! thanks for sending a request 🥰

dick grayson x gn!reader. tw: reader is injured but not much description of the injury, mention of bombing, dick being a protective sweetheart, love confession.

****

You're probably being paranoid.

You probably don't need to call Dick. He'll definitely be busy right now. And you call him way too much as it is.

Wally had asked last month if you two were dating, which had been a humiliating conversation, so you've been vigilant about not clinging to Dick so much. You're just friends. That's all you'll ever be.

These two guys at the train station are really freaking you out, though. What do all the posters say? See something, say something?

You take a deep breath and dial.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Dick," you say tentatively.

"Hey!" Dick says, sounding slightly breathless. "Hey, how are you? I've missed you, what have you been up to?"

The smile in his voice makes you ache. Fuck. You should've just called an Uber.

"Hey. I'm okay. Sorry for not calling, I've been, uh, swamped at work."

"That's okay. It's nice to hear from you."

You melt. "It's nice to hear from you, too."

One of the guys across the station tosses a duffel bag inside of a storage closet and closes the door, then locks it. Right. Back to why you called.

"Dick, I think these two guys at the train station might be up to something. I could be wrong! I-I'm probably wrong, but—"

"What are they doing?" he asks, and you can hear him shifting to Nightwing Mode.

"They threw a duffel bag into a closet, but they don't look like workers. And—"

One of them lifts his coat, and you see a holstered gun. Shit.

"Oh my God," you whisper. "One of them has a gun."

"Get out of there," Dick orders. "I'm on my way. I'll pick you up. Meet me on the corner of Mason and Jewel."

"Okay," you say, heartbeat rabbiting. "Okay, um, Mason and Jewel. Got it."

"It'll be okay," he says, a little gentler this time. "I won't let anything happen to you, alright? Go somewhere where there's a lot of people, and stay on the line."

You take a deep breath. "O-okay. I trust you."

You head for the stairs when the ground rumbles under your feet. People begin to shout and you run faster, trying to make it out of the station.

"What's happening, honey? Talk to me," Dick urges.

You hardly register the honey in your panic.

"The ground's shaking. Dick—"

Something knocks into your back and you crumple to the floor, phone falling from your hand. Everything goes black.

****

You open your eyes to blackness, and for a moment, you're afraid you've lost your sight. But then the shadows become clearer, and you can make out distinct, albeit dimly lit, shapes.

You try to form a word but the air has been sucked out of your lungs and it sounds more like a wheeze.

The surface beneath you is soft and firm. There's a blanket over your shoulders.

You rasp out a sound that's an attempt at 'hello.' Your lips are cracked, and your throat feels like you chugged cement.

A hand rests on your forehead. You try to sit up.

"Easy, easy. Don't try moving just yet."

Dick is in his Nightwing suit, but the mask is off. You blink at him slowly. You'd almost forgotten how blue his eyes are.

"Can you tell me your birthday?" he asks, continuing to stroke your face.

You tell him your birthday. Your throat feels like sandpaper, and a straw is pushed to your lips. You drink the water greedily.

"Wha' happ'd?" you ask.

"There was a small bomb. Half the station collapsed." Dick sucks in a deep breath and seems to steel himself. "You, um, you hit your head pretty hard. I found you and brought you back to the Batcave. I want to monitor you overnight just in case."

Your eyes widen. "Batcave?"

Dick smiles. "The one and only. I'll give you a tour later."

You frown. "Shouldn't you be out there?"

"Oh." Dick rubs his neck. "Well, uh, the others have got it pretty much covered. But I can give you space, if-if you're tired or something. Uh, Alfred's upstairs if you need anyth—"

You shake your head. "Not kicking you out, Dickie. Just don't wanna keep you from important stuff."

Dick leans in, looking at you intently.

"You're important."

You smile and look away, belly swooping at his seriousness.

"Oh. Thank you, Dick."

"I mean it," he says fiercely, then swallows. "You are... you're one of the most important people in my life. You matter so much to me. I should've said so earlier, and I guess today was the kick in the pants I needed."

You turn to him, eyes wide. "What are you saying?"

Dick slips his hand into yours, rubbing your knuckles with his thumb.

"Every day, I see how fragile life is," Dick says. "Witnessed it for myself, too. I can't—I don't want to pretend that I don't care about you as much as I do. That I don't wish we were more. And if you don't feel the same way, then that's okay, but I needed to say something before—"

"Dick," you murmur.

He stops. "Yeah?"

"Kiss me."

He blinks once, twice, then wastes no more time. Dick cups your jaw with both hands. It's almost overwhelming, the way Dick Grayson kisses you like you're the only person in the universe.

His hair is just as soft as you imagined, and you tangle your other hand in it, massaging the base of his neck. Dick makes a quiet whine in the back of his throat, and you hungrily swallow the sound.

"Ahem."

You flinch apart, and Dick covers his mouth. He glances at you through his lashes, and the look promises that he's not finished with you.

All excitement about said promise self-destructs when you see Batman standing ten feet away. Even under the cowl, he looks unimpressed.

"Nightwing," he says. "Taking care of our patient?"

Oh God. You're never setting foot in Gotham again.

"Excellent care," Dick says, apparently used to Batman's cheek.

"Hn. I expect a report of the station incident tomorrow."

"Of course. Do you need me out there?"

"No. It's handled." Batman looks at you. "You are welcome to join us for dinner."

He swooshes away with a truly unnecessary jump into the Batmobile. You wait until he's gone before groaning and putting your face in your hands.

"Oh my God, I just made out with you in front of Batman. I can never face him."

Dick pulls you into his arms, kissing your temple.

"Are you kidding? He basically just welcomed you into the family. I knew he'd like you."

[zarvasace]

If you're still taking writing prompts- could we see some Shatterproof Legend? Maybe with him struggling with weather or not he wants to use an aid?

Sometimes aids can have drawbacks for the first minute or so (such as being weird until your body is used to it again, or puts a little extra pressure or weight on the person using it)

afaik canes are particularly bad about this. I still need to get one so this isn't personal experience but.

~500 words :)

---

It's a good day for Legend—almost. It started without much pain at all, but now he's sitting in the cart after a shift pushing it, using a knife to cut up a block of cheese and handing it out to everyone for lunch on the road. 

Legend aches a little, but he doesn't strictly need to be here in the cart. In fact, his chest feels heavy with guilt about being here, and he's already made up his mind to get out as soon as possible. Hyrule is dealing with an injured shoulder, so his cane is less useful right now, and he's sitting on top of a pack of two. Four’s napping off some exhaustion, and definitely deserves it. There's room for about one more person, and while Legend is taking up that space right now, he sees Wind trailing behind, exhausted due to the same trip down a waterfall yesterday as Four. 

The problem that keeps Legend’s mind occupied is that all of his joints ache. The question isn't about whether he'll get out of the cart, but if he wants to use his cane. It'll help relieve pain on his worse leg, but it'll make his shoulder hurt more, and put a lot of strain on his better leg. He's miserable just thinking about it. 

But damn if that'll stop him. When everybody has eaten their fill of cheese and bread, Legend tucks the food away and hops out of the moving cart. He leaves behind his pack with everyone else’s, but brings along his cane, still undecided. 

Legend wanders to the back of the group and hits Wind’s shoulder for attention. 

Wind looks up, scowling, but Legend nods to the cart, and Wind’s expression relaxes. “Oh. You, uh, noticed?” 

“I'm paying attention,” Legend says quietly. “Go on, you need it.”

“Well, if you're insisting.” Wind shrugs and runs to catch up to the cart. He launches himself inside and takes the little space left with a relieved sigh. Hyrule greets him with a grin and an enthusiastic hello. 

Legend tosses his cane back and forth between his hands, walking a bit more slowly than he should be to keep up appearances. He sighs and decides to do what he can—he puts his cane in the right place in his hand and falls into the familiar gait, already feeling the strain on his shoulder and opposite knee. 

Suddenly, Warriors is there next to him, signing. “And what about you?” 

“What about me?” Legend scowls. 

Warriors just raises an eyebrow. 

“I'll be fine.” Legend flaps his hand as if he could wave away Warriors’s fretting. “Stop giving me that look. This is about cost reduction, not elimination. I know how to keep my mouth shut, Wind would be complaining all day.” That's a bit uncharitable of him, and they both know it isn't quite true, but it's better to blame Legend's selflessness on that than to call it what it is. 

“It’s a late start tomorrow, then,” Warriors says. It means he won't argue with Legend’s decision. 

Legend shrugs. “Yeah maybe. Sorry.”

“Cost reduction,” Warriors repeats, nudging Legend with his elbow.

[escapenightmare]

tired and affectionate bf reo <3

"baby?"

reo closes the front door behind him, trudging himself inside your shared apartment with an exhausted sigh. he sat down on the floor with a small groan and untied the laces of his muddy football boots before haphazardly tugging them off and tossing them to the side where they lay next to your own shoes.

"reo?" you smile when you come out of the bedroom and see him getting off of the floor, tugging his duffel bag further up his shoulder. your smile grows wider when seeing that he'd changed out of his sweaty team uniform top and into a black t-shirt. but you should've expected it. he always does that.

always takes off his shoes before entering the living room no matter how much he just wanted to head straight into your arms.

always changes out of his sweaty clothes before coming home so that he could greet you with a big, warm hug without you being uncomfortable.

his usually bright eyes are almost closed and dazed looking as he basically hobbles his way over to you, immediately resting his forehead on your shoulder and wrapping his arms around your waist to hold you to his chest the moment he was within enough proximity to do so.

"hey baby," he mumbles in a nearly husky voice, and you can feel his warm breath through the fabric of your— actually his, t-shirt as his arms tighten around you, seeking the feeling of your body close to his. "how was your day?"

"it was alright," your hand comes up to his messy hair that his— actually your hair tie was barely holding in place. you try to run your fingers through the locks, knowing reo liked it when you did that. you frown when you realize just how much it had gotten knotted. "what about you? how was practice?"

"tiring," he answers, snuggling closer and placing a few kisses along your shoulder. "'had to run a few extra laps 'cause nagi got late 'nd coach was angry."

you could tell by the way he was talking that he was extremely drowsy. kissing his head, you soothingly move your hands up and down his back.

after a few minutes, your hand moves to his shoulder, tugging on the strap of his duffel bag to take it off of him. "go shower, i'll put on a movie for us to watch?"

reo pulls back, shakes his head and frowns, "do i smell bad?"

"no," you smile at the way his hands were still on your waist, keeping you as close as he could while being able to see you properly. "you smell like expensive cologne."

"'cause i put some on before coming home," he replies.

it was something he'd started doing when he realized just how much he stank after practice. he didn't want to upset you with the smell, so every day after practice finishes, he'd dry himself off with a mini towel and then spray some cologne on himself, making sure it was your favorite scent.

you hum, placing your hands over his own. "go take a shower, baby. it'll help you feel better."

"but you make me feel better." reo shakes his head again, "can i hug you? just for a few minutes, baby. please." he's almost if not already, pleading, completely different to how he usually was.

nodding, you let him fall back into your arms and snuggle his face into your neck, strands of his purple hair grazing your neck and making you squirm just a bit due to the sudden weird feeling.

you were still standing in the middle of the living room, but you couldn't care less, not with how reo's hands squeezed your waist once in a while and not with how he let out a content sigh when you hugged him back just as tightly. and definitely not with the feel of his lips as they almost teasingly brushed against your skin when he pressed soft and longing kisses on your neck.

"i missed you," he smiles, pulling back and placing a pretty hand on your cheek.

"i missed you too," you smile back at him. "do you feel better now?"

"yeah," reo nodded, his hand sliding down from your cheek to your own hand so that he could interlock your fingers with his. he slowly brings your hand up to his lips, placing a smooth and tender kiss on your knuckles. "baby, everything gets better when i'm with you."

[windvexer]

if i want to give an offering thats a physical item, like lets say a necklace, how exactly would that work? would i declare its an offering and just leave it there for them forever? would there be a time when i should/could reclaim it? do i have to charge it from that point forward? would i have to toss it eventually? organic offerings like food can be buried, or like smoke will dissipate. im not sure how to handle more solid things, and it feels especially difficult as a closeted witch. what if my roommate picks it up and moves or uses it? sorry i have a lot of questions lol, thanks for reading all this! i love ur blog, youre very smart!

Good morning! Lots of variables to this one.

Giving of, storing, and reclaiming nondegradable offerings is a thing that has Rules in many traditions and cultures, and it's wise to examine any within which you're operating. I'm recalling that there are serious taboos against taking back gifts from the Dead, or wearing jewelry owned by the Dead, in Hellenism (?).

I'm hesitant to say that this one should be totally based on the vibes so definitely try to do some research.

If you haven't got any rules, as it were, here are some options:

You don't have to charge nondegradable offerings forever, or even once, unless the charge is a part of the offering/offering ritual.

You can dedicate an object to an entity while keeping it in your possession and continuing to use it. This can be a great way to form a bond with that entity. Knowing that the necklace belongs to, say, Aphrodite, and that it's her possession, but that you still wear it, can be a powerful way to connect to her. This arrangement should be established at the time of dedication (it doesn't do well to give a gift and then appear to take-backsies).

Intuition or lore may advise that certain entities aren't going to agree to this arrangement, but as long as you don't feel a very strong "no! wrong" feeling, you should be good to go.

Another complication is dedicating objects to entities that have an aura you really don't want to carry around with you. Radium is a powerful entity with a powerful aura but you shouldn't carry him around with you, you know?

You can also leave objects on an altar or shrine and periodically clean them all out, perhaps when the altar gets full or at an established time (like, on holidays). Intuition may advise if the entity would like to hold on to some special gifts, but that others can be safely removed.

I might donate things to charities, or frankly if something has little value and the entity doesn't want it any more, throw it away.

If an object is gifted to an entity with no established arrangement that you or anyone else can use it, it's your responsibility to put the item in a protected space where it won't be used. Some entities might not care, but the risk of offense is always possible, and it'll be on you to soothe those waters.

Offered objects don't have to be on display or in full view. You can store them in closed boxes or bags. You can also put those containers under the bed or in a closet.

Overall though it pays to be selective in what objects you gift to an entity precisely because figuring out what to do with it can be a bit of a hassle. I tend to gift nondegradable objects very selectively and use them as an object of connection and honor. So it wouldn't be typical for me to gift an object with an assumption that I'll want to reclaim it in a few months or needing a backup plan for how to get rid of it.

[imaginecolby]

baby blues || c.b.

summary: when you tell colby you're pregnant, he gives you a reaction you definitely weren't expecting.

shoutout to my sweets @brocksblueroses for the prompt idea. <3

you and colby had been together for a number of years, and at this point had already started talking about marriage and children. it was something that you both wanted. however, you and him were currently in very busy stages of your life, and really didn't have time at the moment.

despite that, you and him were definitely not taking the necessary precautions to prevent pregnancy. 

"holy shit." you said with a sigh, staring down at the positive pregnancy test in your hands. this was the third pregnancy test you'd taken in two days, all of them coming back positive.

you quietly stepped out of the bathroom and maneuvered around the house. you found katrina in the living room, sitting on the couch. you caught her attention and waved her up to you. you led her into the bathoom and she stopped in her tracks when she saw the pregnancy tests on the counter. 

"shut up." she said, gasping as she saw that they were all positive. "y/n!" she squealed, turning to you with a wide smile on her face.

"i can't believe this." you said quietly as she held you in a hug. "what am i gonna tell colby?" you asked, the reality starting to set in.

"the truth? y/n, he loves you. he's gonna be excited about this. i know youve been talking about having kids at some point." she said, squeezing your shoulders. you pulled away and looked up at her, tears starting to well.

"yeah, but not this soon. we don't have the time for this right now." you sighed.

"you'll make the time. it'll work out." she said, hugging you again.

a few days passed since you took your last pregnancy test. you'd gone to the doctor just to confirm, and make sure everything was on the up and up. fortunately, it was.

when you came home that afternoon, katrina had a celebratory spread laid out on the counter. cake, treats, snacks, and sparkling water, a bouquet of congratulatory balloons sat in the middle of everything.

"what's all this?" you asked, walking over to her in the kitchen.

"we're celebrating! i know it's just the four of us here, but you deserve to be celebrated. you and colby both." she said. you flinched at the mention of his name.

"right." you sighed.

"you still haven't told him?" she asked, and you just shook your head.

"im scared!" you whisper yelled.

"well, you have about thirty seconds to get over that." she said, and you raised a brow at her. "boys! come downstairs!" she called.

"katrina! what the fuck!" you said, your heart racing in your chest.

"fifteen." she said, handing you a flute of sparkling water.

"what's all this?" sam asked as he and colby moved into the kitchen.

"what are we celebrating?" colby asked, moving to stand next to you. his arm wrapped around your shoulders as he took a flute of sparkling water into his hand. 

"well," you said, taking a deep breath. you pulled out of colby's arms and reached into your purse, pulling out the positive pregnancy tests, placing them into his hand. "i'm pregnant." you said softly.

you heard sam gasp, but your gaze was locked on colby. you watched as his eyes widened. his mouth had fallen open, and his brows were furrowed. 

"c'mon, lets give them a minute." katrina said, taking sam upstairs. 

"tell me what you're thinking. what you're feeling." you said, moving closer to him.

"you're messing with me. these aren't real." he said, tossing them on the counter with a huff.

"yes, they're real. this isn't something i would joke with you about." he said.

"we don't have the time for this right now! i have way too much on my plate and there's no way i can add this to the mix."

"you think i haven't been busy too? you think that i don't know that we don't really have the time for this?" you shot back. "why are you acting like this? we've talked about this being something that we wanted, but you're acting like you wanna take it all back."

"that's not what i said." 

"actions speak louder than words, babe. and your actions are yelling at me right now. you and i both know that we weren't doing everything we could to prevent this, so it was bound to happen eventually."

"i'm not dealing with this right now. or with you." he spat before storming off upstairs. you watched as he walked into his room, slamming the door behind him. you flinched as it sounded, the tears finally spilling over. 

you grabbed your keys and your purse, running out of the front door. you heard katrina calling out for you but you didn't stop. you pulled out of the driveway and sped down the street. you didn't know where you were going, but you knew you couldn't stay in that house.

your phone was buzzing in the cupholder next to you, phone calls and text messages coming through from katrina and sam. you ignored them and continued driving. you finally pulled over, the tears becoming too much to see through. 

you grabbed your phone, bypassing the messages, and scrolled to the message thread with your sister. you tapped on her icon to call her, her immediatley answering.

"hey, are you home? can i come over?" you asked, trying to hide the lump in your throat.

"yes, im here. come over." she said, without hesitation. you knew she could hear the sadness in your voice.

once you arrived at your sister’s, she answered the door with your nephew on her hip. the sight of them made you start sobbing on her porch. she immediately pulled you into her arms and hugged you tight before leading you inside. you sat on her couch sobbing into your hands before she spoke. 

“y/n, talk to me. whats going on?” she asked. 

“im pregnant.” you said, sitting up and wiping your face. 

“honey, thats great! but why does it seem like youre less than excited about that.”

“colby had not such a great reaction to it when i told him.” you said, sniffling and holding back the tears that were threatening to fall again.

“oh no. i thought you guys wanted this? what did he say?” she asked. 

you told her about the events that took place prior before you arrived. 

“i know he’s stressed and work has been busy for him. for both of us.  but he made seem like he didn't want this anymore. it made me feel like he didn’t want me anymore.” you sighed. 

“y/n, no. that's not true. that boy is head over heels in love with you. if he told you that he wanted to have a kid with you, then he means it. i do agree that he couldn't have taken his stress out on you, but that doesn't mean he doesn't want you. or want this with you. give him, and yourself, time to cool off before talking about it.” she said. 

you ended up spending the rest of the evening with your sister, hanging out with her and playing with your nephew. 

a few days passed before you and colby saw each other again. he had been texting you incessantly, but you weren’t ready to talk to him just yet. 

“colby, what hell is wrong with you?” katrina asked him as she and sam sat with him on the couch. “that girl loves you and wants nothing more than to spend the rest of her life with you. and i know you want that too. now that its finally happening for you, you wanna throw it all away?” 

“no, i dont wanna throw it all away. i want to be a father. i want to marry y/n. i love her more than anyone or anything in this world. i was having a bad day and took that out on her, and i know i shouldn’t have. but now she’s ignoring my calls and my texts, im afraid i fucked this up beyond repair.” 

“well, it looks like you're gonna have to do more than that. prove to her that you’re ready for this.” katrina said to him. 

and with that, he sprung into action. he got dressed and drove to the store. flowers, candy, and the biggest teddy bear he could find. 

“hopefully these will help.” he said to himself after leaving the store. he drove to your apartment, taking a deep breath before knocking on the door. 

you answered the door and inhaled sharply when you saw him standing outside. 

“what are you doing here?” you asked quietly. 

“can i come in?” he asked, chin resting on the top of the teddy bear’s head. you nodded and ushered him in, watching as he walked over to the living room. you stood there quietly before he spoke again.

“baby’s first teddy.” he said softly, waving the paw at you. you stared at him, suddenly overcome with emotion. you ran over to him, the teddy bear fell to the floor as his arms opened to accept your hug. 

“i love you so much.” you said, your voice muffled by his chest. 

“i love you so much.” colby repeated, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. he pushed you away and held your face in his hands, thumbs running across your cheeks. “we need to talk.”

you nodded and followed him over to the couch. he took your hands in his, pressing a kiss to each of them. 

“y/n, i am so incredibly sorry. i know that i hurt you, and im so incredibly sorry for that. i was having a bad day, and i’ve been so overwhelmed with everything. but i know that doesn’t excuse how i spoke to you.”

“i appreciate your apology. emotions were high and we both kinda let them blow up.” you sighed, and colby nodded in agreement. “i hate that we let things happen like that, but your reaction made me feel like shit.”

“i know, and i’m sorry. i felt like shit after you left. i didn’t leave my room for two days.”

“i’ve been cooped up here for two days.” you laughed. you turn to face him completely, taking his hands in yours. “but we’re together now. how are we feeling?” you asked.

“nervous. excited. every emotion all at once.” he said, and you nodded in agreement. you reached towards your purse and rifled through it, pulling out your printed ultrasound from your doctor’s visit.

“there’s our baby.” you said, pointing out the tiny little dot that your doctor identified as your baby.

colby was speechless. you watched as his eyes started watering, a look of joy spreading across his face. this was the reaction you wanted to get from him.

“oh my god. i can’t believe we’re going to be parents.” he said softly, his gaze locked on the paper in his hands. you lifted his chin to meet your gaze again.

“and you’re really ready for this? this is something we both want, right?” you asked him.

“more than anything. y/n, i love you, and having a baby is something we already talked about wanting. i know it’s not an ideal time right now, for either of us. but we’ll make it work. i love you and i could never live with myself knowing that i let you go through this alone.” he said. you could fell the sincerity behind his words, and you were beyond happy to know that you were about to embark on the biggest adventure of your relationship.

later that night, you and colby were still in your apartment, getting ready for bed. you were laying down in bed, already starting to fall asleep, when you felt the mattress shift. you opened your eyes, and saw colby’s head next to your belly, the palm of his hand pressing against it.

“hi baby. this is your daddy. i don’t know if you can hear me yet, but i hope you know that your mommy and i are already so excited to see you. it’s been a crazy few days, adjusting to the news of your arrival, but we can’t wait until you’re here with us, and we can hold you and see you.” he spoke softly, his lips pressing just above your belly button. 

he moved to the head of the bed, situating on his pillows. you rolled over to face him, moving to press a kiss to his lips.

“you’re gonna be a great dad.” you said softly.

“you’re gonna be a great mom.” he said with a smile, kissing you again.

you both made yourself comfortable in bed, colby’s arms tight around your waist, your back flush to his chest. you felt yourself get misty as a small tear ran down your cheek.

this was going to be huge adjustment, but you knew that you and colby were up to the task. you knew that, as long as you were together, you and colby were going to be great parents, and you were gonna raise a great kid.

[spacecadet-ticklesinspace]

I was wondering if you've ever written for buddie before? They are trying to sleep but Buck keeps tossing and turning so Eddie uses tickles to tire him out. If you don't feel comfortable with buddie, it could also be set in the bunk room at the station with someone else like hen or chim

Go To Sleep

Summary: See prompt above :)

(Thank you for your prompt Anon ❤️ :) I'm sorry, I don't feel the most comfortable writing for Buddie ❤️ I hope you enjoy this one though ❤️ :))

"Can you lay still?"

Buck froze. "Sorry."

Chimney shifted to look at him. "Are you sleeping on a rock or something?"

"Not a rock," Buck replied.

"Sounds like it," Hen commented from her bunk.

"What then?" Chimney asked him.

Buck huffed. "Just go back to sleep."

There was a pause before Chimney shifted then went silent.

For whatever reason, Buck could not do the same. His mind was racing, making him feel restless when he should have felt exhausted.

Image after image rocking around in his head mixed with the late hour made sleep almost impossible.

A huff escaped the bunk next to him. "Seriously? Again?"

The blonde froze. "Sorry."

Hen pushed herself up a bit. "You know, if you really can't sleep, I'm sure the others wouldn't mind an extra hand with things."

Buck shook his head.

Chim shifted. "You hear what she said?"

The blonde squeezed his eyes shut. "Yes, but Bobby banned me."

"Technically, he's not here."

"Yeah, well technically, there's some people who will rat me out anyway."

"Eddie?"

"Maybe."

"No he wouldn't," Eddie responded.

Hen looked over at the lump. "Thought you were asleep."

The dark haired firefighter didn't even move. "Was. But none of you can shut up."

"Okay, not him." Chimney tried again. "Hen?"

Buck semi-smiled. "Definitely."

Hen settled back down into her bunk. "Only if you do something stupid."

"Again," Eddie added.

Chimney chuckled. "What about me?"

The younger turned to look at him. "You tell me."

The smaller firefighter's head was just peeking out over his shoulder so Buck could see the grin on his face. Chimney then laid back down. "I won't say anything, but I really think you should get some sleep."

Buck huffed in frustration. "I'm trying."

"Don't try as hard," Hen replied in a half asleep voice. "It makes it worse."

"I'll try . . . less hard then?"

As the room went quiet once more, Buck settled back into his bunk. His body was exhausted, but his brain, not so much.

He closed his eyes and did try to get his mind to relax, but the images soon came flooding back.

And a few minutes later, a trio of frustrated sighs filled the room.

Hen shifted in her bunk. "Seriously?"

Buck froze. "Sorry."

A pillow hit his leg.

"Hey!" The blonde lifted his head to glare at the head of dark hair across the room from him.

"That's it." Chimney spoke up before the room was flooded with light.

Buck blinked at the harsh change before a pillow was shoved over his face. "Hey!"

Someone straddled his hips to keep him down. "Go to sleep."

The younger firefighter grappled with Chimney's arms. "Get off!"

"Think asphyxiation is a bit of an over kill to use as a sleeping aid," Hen called out.

"If anything, it'll get him to lay still," Chimney shot back.

By now Buck had managed to push the pillow and arms partially off of his face.

"Sure it will," Hen sassed.

"Get his ribs instead," Eddie spoke up randomly.

Buck whipped his head over in the direction of the dark haired firefighter.

Meanwhile, Chimney grinned. "Great idea."

The pillow got shoved to the side. A second later, two hands dug into his ribs and Buck squealed. He latched on to Chimney's arms and tried squirming himself out from under the smaller firefighter, but all he succeeded in doing was kicking his legs out from under the blanket.

Eddie lifted his head enough to see what was going on. "Least that sounds better than the tossing."

"And the turning," Hen teased with a smile.

"SHUT UHUP!" Buck managed to get out as he continued trying to push Chimney's arms away.

However, the shorter firefighter managed to slip right past the defenses and dug his hands into the middle of the blonde's ribs.

Buck curled himself into a ball with a shriek, almost sending Chimney tumbling to the floor. He arched his neck to the side to hide his face into the pillow as his cackles got extremely loud.

Chimney chuckled. "Surprised no one's come in here to see if you were dying."

One of the blonde's hands managed to grab onto his wrist. "AH! PLEASE!"

"Alright, alright." The shorter firefighter backed off of his ribs and dropped down to his sides instead. "No dying on our watch."

"Balme B shift in the morning," Hen quipped and Eddie snorted in response.

The change in spots was enough to keep the younger firefighter laughing, but not enough to make it sound like he was dying.

"Your brain shut off yet?" Chimney asked.

"Yehes!" Buck shoved his arm. "Nohow stohop!"

The smaller firefighter chuckled as he stopped. "Gohood, now-ah!"

With the attack gone, Buck had grabbed Chimney's arms and rolled over the side, dumping his brother-in-law down into the space between the two bunks.

Hen pushed herself up a little more. "You gohood Chihim?"

Buck laid back on his back and muttered, "Hehe tohortures me and you ask ihif he's fine."

"Not torture," Eddie called out over his shoulder.

"Plus, you literally threw him down on the ground," Hen added.

Buck pulled his blanket over his head. "Whatever."

Chimney pulled himself up a second later. "Yeah, thanks for that."

The blonde didn't respond.

Chimney sat down on his bunk, rubbing his hip.

"You sure you're good?" Hen asked.

"Yeah, I'm good." The shorter firefighter smiled. "Totally worth it."

The female firefighter chuckled before turning back to the blonde. "Buck?"

Buck didn't respond.

Eddie even lifted his head now. "Buck."

Out of curiosity, Chimney pulled the blanket up.

A few snores escaped the sleeping blonde.

The smaller firefighter let the blanket drop back down. "Finally."

Thank goodness," Hen commented as she settled back into her bunk.

Eddie laid back down. "Good work."

Chimney grabbed Eddie's pillow from where it had fallen on the floor after being on Buck's legs and chucked it at the dark haired firefighter. "You're welcome."

The dark haired firefighter glared at him, but still pulled the pillow back up so he could go to sleep.

Chimney shut off the light before settling into his own bunk. "Night Buckaroo."

The younger firefighter snored in response.

[shou-jpeg]

-Back on the Beat-

Part 3. 06

November 3rd, 6:42pm

Kim is sitting in his car, parked in front of the compound. He’s been here for fifteen minutes now, and two of the guards by the entrance are trying to be subtle as they whisper to each other and try to see through Kim’s tinted windows. 

He should probably get out and go inside before Khun hears that he’s here and ambushes him. 

His father definitely knows that he’s here by now. He would have been notified the moment Kim’s car rolled through the number plate scanner. Whatever. He doesn't care.  

His hands are shaking a little. 

Kim doesn’t usually get nervous, but Porchay seems to bring it out in him.

Chay…

Kim’s schedule had been so packed today, that he hardly had a moment to spare to think about how to respond to Porchay’s message. He got out of his 6pm meeting, left in a rush, and spent the whole drive here trying to figure out if he was even doing the right thing, coming to see Porchay in person. All he knows is that Porchay wants him to apologise. So… he needs to do that.

Fuck. 

He gets out of the car. 

The guards startle, one nearly dropping Kim’s keys when he tosses them to him. Kim glares at them so they don’t think anything’s off.

He stretches his hands out at his sides to try and stop them shaking as he stalks inside, asking a guard for Porchay’s location.

He rehearses what he plans to say as he waits for the elevator.

He'll tell Porchay that he’s sorry for hurting him all those months ago. He'll say that he misses having him around, and that he’s sorry for not being brave enough to tell him that he loved him too. For not even recognising that he loved him. 

He will apologise to Porchay and tell him that he’s been enjoying their conversations these last few months, and that he hopes Porchay has been too. He will ask him about that love song he sent, and if maybe they can try again. 

He reaches Chay’s room and the guard standing at attention calls through the door. 

He will ask Porchay out, and Porchay will say yes, and then Kim can finally set things right.

The guard calls for Porchay a second time. 

The door opens and Kim is ushered in and… he forgets everything he had been thinking about.

Porchay’s room is a mess. 

Well, it's not that bad, but it’s a mess by Kim’s standards. Porchay is standing awkwardly in soft looking pyjamas in front of his coffee table. He shuffles to the side in an attempt to hide the stack of plates he's standing in front of.

Kim’s heart warms. 

He’s ridiculous, the way he’s messy yet self conscious about it is ridiculous. Kim loves it. 

“Um… hi, p’Kim,” Porchay begins stiltedly. “What are you doing here?”

Does he not know why Kim is here? Porchay is the one who told him to apologise. Surely Kim’s presence here could not be more obvious. 

Kim flounders for a moment; he doesn’t know how to say what he wants to say. He feels his cheeks warming under Porchay’s intense gaze. 

Porchay sighs. “Want to sit down? It'll be more comforta- ah." As he moves to turn around, he fully exposes his dirty dinner plates. Porchay looks embarrassed, muttering something Kim can’t make out as he slides them to the corner of the coffee table. Kim huffs out a laugh, some of the tension lifting from his shoulders at Porchay’s familiar bashfulness. Chay looks up at him with a small, embarrassed smile and they move to sit down on the couch.

Okay. Take two. 

Kim takes a moment to breathe. He needs to be completely honest with Porchay. No more hiding, no more pretending. 

“I… I wanted to explain to you…” Kim begins, glancing over at Porchay, who motions for him to continue. “I wanted you away from all this,” Kim gestures vaguely around them, “but I didn’t know how to keep you away. When you confronted me… it felt like - it was my last opportunity to push you away before you became too involved. I’m not sorry for trying to protect you… but… I am sorry that I hurt you."

Porchay has been looking increasingly more annoyed throughout his explanation. Shit, is Kim fucking this up already?

“That’s not up to you to decide for me, p’Kim.”

Kim looks away. “I know.”

“And it was too late for me to not be involved anyway, so pushing me away didn’t even change that!”

“I know.”

Maybe Kim should apologise again, for Porchay’s sake. He isn’t actually sorry for trying to push Porchay away though. If he could go back in time, he would do it again. Just… maybe more tactfully and earlier on in their friendship so it would hurt less - for both of them. Kim really fucked that one up. 

Porchay deflates, looking away. “I don’t get you, p’Kim. Why even go as far as to be in a relationship with me just to get information, only to push me away immediately after ‘to protect me’? Was our time together even real? Were you even being yourself with me, or was that all part of the lie?”

“It wasn’t a lie…" Kim takes a breath to calm his nerves "I stopped being suspicious of you after that first time at your place.” Porchay looks up at him at that, a confused frown on his face. Kim pushes on. “I thought you knew me. At the open house. Kim me, not WiK me. You knew so much about me…” Porchay looks away from him again, a light dusting of pink over his cheeks. “When you’re from a family like mine, that sort of thing raises some alarm bells. And then when I found out you were Porsche’s brother… I realised that you were just a fan with impressive recall.”

"Yeah, well…" Porchay snaps his head back to Kim suddenly., “Wait!” he yelps. “How did you figure out I was just a fan?” Ah. Fuck. 

“...I… broke into your room when I was looking for evidence that you were spying on me…” Kim trails off as Porchay interrupts with a long, anguished noise, burying his face in his knees. He’s cute. 

Kim startles as Porchay suddenly sits back upright. “So! P’Kim. What is it that you want from me then? You said you were sorry for hurting me, but why did you start sending me all those memes? If you just wanted to apologise, you could have come see me any time. I’d have heard you out.”

“I… I noticed you unblocked me, and I wanted to send you a message. I didn’t know what to send you though, and I kind of panicked a little…” How uncool. Kim has never felt so exposed and stupid as he does now, trying to explain how he almost sent Porchay a dozen regular messages before panic-sending him something weirder than any of those messages combined. Porchay looks like he’s biting back a smile though. If he’s making Porchay happy with this, then he feels like it's all worthwhile. “And then I didn’t know how to start talking with you properly, and thought you should probably be the one to set the pace.”

Porchay looks contemplative. “And the music thing?” he asks., “Were you trying to send me messages through the lyrics, or was I imagining things?”

“Oh, uh… yes. Isn't that what you were doing?”

“No! I didn’t realise that that’s what was happening until the last song you sent…”

Wait… so that song Porchay sent him didn’t mean anything then? Fuck. Kim feels like a fool, forget earlier. He’s been spending hours reading into the songs Porchay has been sending him and he only meant to send him genuine music recommendations. It was all a coincidence after all, and Porchay doesn't… he… Chay didn't mean anything with that song…

“...p’Kim?” Porchay’s voice grabs his attention. He’s looking at him oddly, “so… what do you want from this, p’Kim?”

Kim looks back at him. He wants to say something, but he doesn’t know how to voice what he wants. He wants to tell Porchay that he wants him; a relationship with him. He’s never been in a relationship, unless you count what he and Porchay had before. He never wanted to before they met. He wants to go on dates with Porchay, write music together, flirt together, talk into the early hours of the morning over cooling cups of tea together. 

Hold his hand. Kiss him… 

As Kim remains silent, Porchay is looking increasingly more impatient.

“I- I just… would you still be interested? In me? Dating, I mean.” Kim manages to get out. He’s a mess. He’s never felt so unmoored before. He should have just gone home and planned what he was going to say properly before coming to see Porchay. Kim is beginning to feel even more uncomfortable under Porchay’s intent gaze. He regrets asking. If only he could just sink into the floor. 

Porchay looks back down at his lap, fiddling with his fingers. “Maybe…” he says lowly. “Look. I do still like you p’Kim. When I told you that I loved you, I meant it. It hurts now, but it hasn’t gone away.” Porchay looks away to the wall, blushing but looking determined. Kim feels like he can't breathe. “I’m glad you explained things to me. I think I understand you a little more now, but I don’t know if I’m ready to trust you again.”

Kim takes a slow breathe, heart sinking slightly.

“Can you, maybe… give me some time? We can keep messaging, and I’d like to see you again and hang out… as friends! Maybe we can make more shitposts together or something, if you’d like to.” He glances over at Kim, waiting for him to nod in agreement. “And I'll think about it, and I’ll let you know what I decide, if that’s okay?”

Kim… isn’t thrilled. He was sort of hoping Porchay would leap into his arms and they’d begin dating again right away. But it isn’t a rejection. He smiles gently. “Yeah. Okay. Did you want to come by the studio tomorrow then? We could jam a little?” Kim still isn’t sure if Porchay has stopped playing or not. His compound spy never did manage to suss that information out and Kim hasn’t been brave enough to ask Porchay directly.

Porchay smiles softly back. “That sounds like fun, I don’t have any plans tomorrow.”

“Okay," Kim sniffles a yawn, "uh… I’m not sure when I’ll be up tomorrow, I’ve had a pretty exhausting day. I’ll text you?” Chay nods affirmative.

They go quiet, sitting there and looking at each other. Kim is finding it hard to maintain eye contact, but he’s reluctant to look away from Porchay’s soft gaze and gentle smile. His heart rate picks up. 

Porchay opens his mouth to say something when the door bursts open and a harried looking Pol stumbles in, looking slightly rumpled and out of breath. 

“Khun Porchay! Khun Noo sent me to collect you. He says you’re terribly late for movie night and he hopes you have a good excu-” Pol’s eyes widen as he notices Kim. “K-Khun Kim!” Pol dips into a hurried wai. “I didn’t know you were here. I’m sorry for interrupting…” Pol trails off, glancing between them. Kim decides to put a stop to whatever train of thought he’s on and stands up. He doesn’t really want to leave, but Porchay clearly has other plans that he’s already derailed enough. 

He turns to him, unsure what to say now. 

Luckily, Porchay does. “I’ll text you.” Kim smiles and nods. Porchay is so much better than him at this. 

He nods to Pol as he walks out the room, the not unfamiliar feeling of hope beginning to stir within him.

END OF PART 3

< Prev - Next >

First

Playlist

[spectralarchers]

509 words // soapghost // soap helping ghost with his tinnitus

Ghost is tossing and turning. He's been doing it for a couple of minutes now, and usually, Soap wouldn't mind. Except, this time, Soap is exhausted. It's been a long day spent writing up reports and figuring out paperwork, and even though Soap is a sharp as he can be, after a while, paperwork gets boring. And that tires him out. But, Ghost is tossing and turning. He's not having a nightmare, he's more restless during those, but there's something definitely wrong. 

So he asks. "What's wrong, Simon?" 

Groggy eyes open next to him and Ghost's dark brown eyes peer down back at him. He frowns, leaning his head back onto the pillow. 

"Goddamn tinnitus is flaring up," he mutters under his breath, seemingly as exhausted as Soap was.

Lifting his head, Soap frowns, pulling himself free from the covers and from Ghost's limbs, otherwise holding onto him. 

"Where are you-"

"Shh, here, let me," Soap adds, interrupting Ghost in the process. He moves a bit further up on the bed, adjusting himself so that Ghost's face is more or less level with his torso. Ghost looks at him from where he's lying, uncertainty in his eyes, a slight frown between his brows. 

"Here, put your head on here."

"How is that going to help?" Ghost says, defeated.

"It's no use, it'll just- it's going to be a minute before it goes away again." In that moment, Soap wants to tell Ghost it's okay. He knows years in the field have damaged Ghost's hearing, and it's truly a miracle that he hasn't gone deaf in one or both ears by now. 

But no. He has other ideas.

"Put your head on my chest, my love," he insists, opening his arms so Ghost can lean onto him. He does so, even though his body language - and his grumbling - are an indication he thinks it's stupid. 

However, when Ghost's head leans onto Soap's chest, the weight relaxing against him, and Soap's fingers tracing circles on Ghost's bicep to calm him down, he can't help but smile. Exactly the reaction he'd hoped for.

"Heartbeat, huh?"

Ghost doesn't move, his ear lying perfectly atop Soap's beating heart. 

"Not as good as whale sounds, but I refuse to listen to those again tonight," he chuckles out and Ghost turns his head to bury his face in between Soap's pectoral muscles.

"I'm sorry," Ghost starts, and Soap pinches him where he had been tracing circles instead.

"Hey, none of that. You listen to my snoring every single night. You're entitled to being a little whiny because of an actual disability. Now go to sleep," he insists, going back to tracing circles on Ghost's arm. 

Less than two minutes later - he knows, he counted - Ghost is passed out, head resting on Soap's chest, the sound of a beating heart eventually beating out a high pitched whine in his ear.

It's not the most comfortable he's ever been in a bed, but he could definitely think of worse scenarios to fall asleep to.

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @corrodedcoffinfest.

Rough and Rowdy Ways

Day #22 - AU | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: Language | POV: Eddie | Pairing: Steddie | Tags: Van Tour, Known Destroyers of Hotels, Motel Desk Clerk Steve Harrington, Meet Cute

One more dingy room, one more motel that's just a little more rundown than the last. It's been a long few years on the road, each one getting harder and harder. They have upswings, and downswings, and right now, they're definitely down. Playing smaller venues in the middle of fucking nowhere, more often than not. 

They aren't famous, more infamous than anything, because there's been a few incidents over the years that have put them in the papers for less than flattering reasons.

Damages, lawsuits. 

Rough and rowdy.

Assholes.

That's the name they've made for themselves. Gareth is still on probation from the last hotel trashing, and that was the straw that broke the camel's back, making all the major chains put the kibosh on them staying anywhere decent for the near future.

Most of them have their pictures hanging up, like they're outlaws. 

Eddie sees an old, falling apart neon sign with an arrow promising a motel. He's not sure it'll still be there. It's a toss-up, for sure, as shitty as that sign looks. 

But when they see the gravel turn-off, there is a solitary car sitting in the parking lot. Something that looks too nice, too expensive, for a place like this. 

But, they'll have to try their luck and see if they can slide under the radar, pay cash, give fake names, and go unnoticed. Move on down the road tomorrow. 

There's a guy sitting behind the desk, and he looks out of place in this shitty, unkempt place. He's very kempt. The most kempt person Eddie's seen in days.

Gareth immediately rings the bell, and Eddie wants to throttle him. That's never a good way to make a first impression. And they are the ones needing something here. 

"One room, please," Gareth says. 

The guy looks them up and down, and then shrugs. Pulling two sets of keys off a peg behind the desk. 

He has pretty eyes. Very pretty eyes, pretty everything, really.

"Twenty dollars. Room four," he offers, like he doesn't give a shit if they burn the place down. Maybe he doesn't care. "Name?"

"Edward Jones," Gareth says, mashing their names together.

"Sure you are," the guy says, and they both look at each other, "just sign here."

"What's that mean?" Gareth asks.

"Edward D. Jones? The financial advisors?"

It's not ringing a bell. They carry their money in a duffle bag. They definitely don't have any advisors.

"Coincidence," Gareth says, and Eddie thinks it might actually be, because he's not sure Gareth would know that either. 

"Checkout is at noon," he says, and then picks back up the book he was reading.

Transaction over.

Eddie paces the room, and the rest of them are getting annoyed. Goodie has already kicked him twice as he's walked by, and Gareth is sassing him.

Just. That guy. Steve, his name tag said, but that might have been as fake as Edward Jones.

"I'm gonna go get ice," Eddie declares, and the rest of them all seem to sigh in relief that he and his nervous energy are leaving the room.

Eddie carries the cheap plastic ice bucket up to the counter, "Steve?"

Steve looks up, so maybe that is his real name.

"Where's the ice machine?"

"It's broken," Steve answers.

"Oh. Damn," Eddie says, leaning up on the counter, trying to encroach on his personal space, just a little. Steve doesn't back up, not an inch, which is impressive. This usually works to make people uncomfortable. "I really need some ice. It's so hot."

Steve is looking at him, straight in the eyes, "Is that so?"

Eddie smiles, and isn't sure what he expects might happen, but he'll shoot his shot. There's no harm in it, he'll never see this guy again, come tomorrow.

"I have an ice machine in the back, if you want me to get you some. It's not really for the guests."

"Well, I appreciate that. I won't tell any of the other guests," Eddie says, a little sarcastic, because he's pretty sure nobody else is here.

Steve rolls his eyes, and grabs the brown bucket, pulling it across the counter and disappears through the open door behind him. 

Eddie follows.

He's pretty sure he's not supposed to, but Steve didn't tell him to wait at the counter.

Steve lifts the lid and grabs the metal scoop, filling the bucket. When he turns, he catches sight of Eddie and the bucket goes flying, ice spilling all over the floor.

"Oh shit, I'm sorry!" Eddie says, holding his hands up, just realizing that he may look threatening. He forgets that sometimes. "I'm not, I won't. Fuck. I'm sorry."

And then Steve laughs, a nervous giggle that makes Eddie smile, "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. I wasn't thinking. I'm a musician. Eddie."

"Jones?" 

Eddie laughs, "Munson. That's my best friend, Gareth Jones. A coincidence, I think."

And Steve smiles, just a little, "Okay, just. This place brings in the freaks and weirdos," Steve says.

And Eddie points at himself, eyebrows raised.

"Little bit," Steve teases, and Eddie grins.

"Let me help you pick up the ice," Eddie offers, getting down on his hands and knees, swiping it all towards himself. Then Steve is standing over him with a broom.

"This might be more efficient," Steve says, sarcastically and Eddie laughs as Steve sweeps up the mess.

Eddie's palms are black from the floor. And somehow it's not the dirtiest place they've ever stayed.

"Is there a sink?" Eddie asks, showing Steve his palms, and Steve nods towards the little bathroom off the breakroom.

There are personal items all over the sink, and a small, corner shower. Does Steve live here? Eddie suspects someone does, if it isn't him.

Steve is leaning in the open doorway, watching him, but in a curious way, not in a suspicious way, Eddie thinks. Which is good. Great.

"Do you live here?" Eddie asks.

"Unfortunately," Steve says, smirking.

"Wanna run away and be a roadie?"

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