#but otherwise pretty uneventful

[mikeyisbrooklyn]

I remember running to my 6th grade Reading Class (it was mandatory and my reading level was several grades above my peers but I enjoyed reading so I wasn’t complaining) cause I was late and it was in the portable classes on the other side of campus and in my rush into the class the portable door caught onto my bag so as it closed it slammed my entire body against the side of the portable with a loud metal THWACK. All things considered it didn’t really hurt because my bag got brunt of it but it was impressive cause I’m a big guy and was big even at 11 years old (relatively, of course) and everyone stared at me and the teacher about had a heart attack cause when it first happened I was so shocked/mortified I had gone limp and she thought she just watched a student DIE.

It was fine. I was fine. Oh right this was a question about portable classrooms. Yeah I dealt with them most of my school career because I always went to the Biggest School in the County™️. Fun times.

I’m curious about something to see how universal one of my school experiences was

[vbecker10]

The Night Nurse (Part 1)

Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 (in progress)

Request:

Pairing: Loki x female reader (Y/N)

Summary: You are the newly appointed night nurse for SHIELD and you couldn't be less excited about it. You have been given the side task of finding out who is stealing supplies from the infirmary. Soon after you start, you learn Loki is the one who has been slipping in at night to patch up his wounds and you confront him about why he can't heal as quickly as Thor. He reveals a dangerous secret he is keeping from the team and you worry increasingly for his safety as the two of you become closer over the next few weeks.

Warning: You asked for angst so I shall give you angst lol but also... some mentions of blood, minor injuries needing stitches, Loki generally feeling alone and isolated, arguing between you and Loki, very brief mentions of Loki's torture, Loki being an ass in the beginning, swearing, a pretty major injury towards the end but no one dies... a romantic ending was requested so of course there will be fluff and cuteness and whatnot it just won't be in part 1 (sorry)

A/N: I really really hope you like this @glitterylokislut! It accidentally got super long and I just went with it so I hope that's okay. Thank you so so so much for sending this request! I love it 💚

You have been given your new assignment by Director Fury and Dr. Palmer and to say you are less than thrilled about it is as understatement. You are officially the first and only night nurse for SHIELD, stationed in the Avenger's Tower. Unfortunately for you, Fury and Dr. Palmer thought you were perfect for the job and it was made clear that there was no room for you to turn down the transfer.

You were doing inventory a few days ago and noticed several discrepancies which you immediately brought to your supervisors attention. The decision had been made to staff the infirmary at all hours and since you discovered the issue, you were tasked with finding out who was stealing the supplies.

So here you are for the sixth night in a row and nothing... not a single patient, thief or otherwise to keep you occupied. Not that you are honestly sure what Fury expected you to do if you caught someone stealing. You aren't an agent and whoever it is has to work for SHIELD since no one else could even access this floor. Very few agents lived full time at the Tower and the ones who are here at night are working. This really only left the members of the Avengers but you can't understand why any of them steal bandages and gauze, it just doesn't make sense.

What is more concerning for you than the specific items being stolen is that whoever it is has been able to avoid the security system. While the infirmary itself has no internal cameras, the cameras in the hall leading to the elevators are all in perfect working order. Fury had the tech support team check and recheck the security system but they couldn't find any glitches or issues. No one had been seen entering or exiting the infirmary on the nights when the inventory went missing.

Maybe the Tower has a ghost, you think to yourself as you finish the inventory checklist yet again. You double check your count and note that nothing is missing. Tossing the clipboard onto your desk, you pull your book out of the top drawer and settle in for what you assume will be another long, uneventful night.

About five minutes later, you hear something coming from the main section of the infirmary and get up from your seat. Holy crap! There's actually a thief, you think as you leave your office quickly.

You stop short when you see Loki rummaging through one of the metal cabinets, one that you know you had locked only minutes ago. "What are you doing?" you ask him. How the hell did he get in here? you wonder. You hadn't heard the door open.

The tall prince looks up a bit startled by your sudden appearance but he doesn't respond.

"I'm not allowed to let you take supplies," you tell him, trying to keep your voice from shaking. You hadn't been prepared to confront a god, you had hoped it was some young agent who didn't know the rules or an older one who was too cheap to buy band-aids.

He curses under his breath in what you assume is Asgardian and slams the cabinet closed. He glares at you and turns to leave.

"Wait, do you need help?" you ask noticing the items in his hand are for stitching a wound and there is a hastily wrapped bandage on his left forearm.

"No," he answers in a harsh tone.

You put your hand on your hips and say, "You can let me help you or you can leave. If you leave, you can't take the supplies. I'll have to report this as theft of SHIELD property to Director Fury."

"Fine," he grumbles and walks towards you slowly. You point him towards an exam table and roll over a stool then you take the items he gathered, setting them out on a tray next to you. He watches you intently while you work, you aren't sure if he is trying to make you uncomfortable but it is clear he doesn't trust you.

How the hell did he cut himself like this? you ask yourself as you open all the tools you will need. And what is he doing here anyways? He has accelerated healing, the same as his brother. He shouldn't be bleeding this-

"Thor is not my brother," he corrects you. "And the manner in which I was injured is none of your concern, mortal."

You sit back and look at him angrily, "Get out of my mind. You know you aren't allowed to use your telepathy on SHIELD employees." He shrugs at your outburst but sits quietly while you finish closing his wound.

"Done," you say when you add a bandage over the closure. You snap off your gloves and push your stool away from him. You can't imagine he will thank you for your assistance so you add, "You're welcome, now get out. I have to clean up."

You turn away to pick something up and suddenly feel as if you are alone. When you look back towards the exam table, he is gone. You shake your head in confusion and walk over to open the infirmary door, the hinges creak loudly as it swings open and closed.

A few days later you are completing the last of your paperwork just as someone knocks on your office door. You gasp in surprise and nearly drop your coffee, looking up to see Loki standing in your doorway. He is holding his right bicep and lowers his gaze to the ground in front of him to avoid eye contact with you. His demeanor is completely different then the last time he was here.

"Would you help me?" he asks almost as if he expects you to say no.

You sigh and nod, "Of course, it's literally my job... even if the person who needs my help is an ungrateful ass."

He flinches at your harsh tone and says, "I am sorry I was unkind to you last time I was here."

"You were a jerk," you tell him flatly, crossing your arms over your chest as you lean back in your chair.

"I was," he says to your surprise. "I apologize for my behavior, it was uncalled for."

"Accepted," you say, not wanting to waste anymore time since you could now see blood begin to seep through his fingers.

He sits on the exam table you motion towards and begins to unbutton his dress shirt. You turn towards the cabinet to grab the things you need and when you look back you are struck by how annoyingly hot he is. You quickly remember that he can and will read your mind so you try to push the thoughts away but you are not fast enough. Loki looks down as he folds his shirt and places it next to him, the corner of his lip curling into a smile.

"Okay," you clear your throat. "Let's see what you did this time." He moves his hand and you see the long gash on his bicep. "Wow, you did a pretty good job on this."

"Yes, I thought the bleeding had stopped but it began again so I thought I should come here" he says.

"Good thing you did. It's going to need a lot of stiches, more than last time," you inform him. "Do you want anything for the pain?" you ask when to get up to grab a few more things from the cabinet.

"It doesn't hurt," he shakes his head.

"Really?" you ask, not sure if you believe him but you don't press the issue.

You sit close to him on your stool and begin to work on his arm quietly. Loki doesn't make a single sound or move an inch while you clean and stitch his wound. You reach for the tray to grab something and realize he is watching you again but this time he's studying you and not your work.

"So what happened?" you ask him. You are fairly certain he wasn't sent on a mission this week.

"Training with Thor," he says simply.

You nod, sensing that he won't give any more details even if you continue to ask him questions. You glance over at his right forearm and pause mid-stitch when you don't see the injury you treated last time.

"It healed," he answers before you can ask what happened.

"Stop reading my mind," you tell him and go back to what you were doing. He doesn't respond and you assume that means he doesn't intend to listen to you. You decide to search your mind for a song that can easily get stuck in a person's head, hoping that if he does go sifting through your thoughts he will at least be annoyed. It might be childish, but it's the best solution you can think of at the moment.

You look up at him when you are finished, sitting back on your stool you say, "I know the other day wasn't the first time you snuck in here." He tightens his jaw and gets up from the table, buttoning his shirt without saying a word.

"Are you the one who's been stealing supplies?" you ask him even though you know he is. He ignores your question but you don't think it is because he is being rude like last time. He almost seems distressed that you know his secret so you add, "I didn't tell anyone it was you."

"I know you didn't," he finally responds. "I assumed Fury would have spoken to me if you had." He is silent for a moment than he says, "Thank you," before turning to leave the exam room.

"Wait," you follow after him. "I can't keep hiding this from Dr. Palmer and Director Fury. They are going to want to know who was taking the supplies."

He turns to face you, "Why didn't you tell them it was me?" His curiosity seems genuine, as if he fully expected you to turn him in the first time you saw him here.

"I'm not sure," you shrug. "I guess I wanted to talk to you about why first you were doing it but then you pissed me off and I just wanted you out of here as soon as possible."

He nods, "Again, I apologize for how I spoke to you. I was not expecting anyone to be here but that is not an excuse."

You are stunned by the second apology and the abrupt change in his attitude since last time. Maybe I'll have a better chance of finding out why he is clearly not healing well now.

"I would rather not discuss that tonight," he says as he walks away from you and you know he read your mind again.

"Loki, I can't pretend I don't know it's you for much longer. Fury is going to want to know why the supplies are missing. It's the whole reason I'm here this late," you tell him.

He puts his hand on the door to leave and looks back at you, "I know you do not owe me this but please, do not tell anyone... at least not yet."

You sigh, "Fine, but this is the last time."

He nods and you watch in awe as he simply vanishes from sight. So that's how he gets passed all the cameras, he can just disappear?

It's been a week since you've seen Loki and after the fourth day you had decided he wasn't going to come back. You hope you will be able to finish out the next few weeks without any additional discrepancies in the inventory and things would go back to normal. Just as you are about to open your book, you hear him call your name and you roll your eyes. Of course he's back, nothing ever works out simply for me.

You walk out of your office to meet him, expecting to find the God of Being Annoying and Evasive needing a handful stitches like he has the last two times he visited but he appears fine. "Hi again," you greet him with the least excited tone you can manage.

He grimaces and takes a few steps towards you but falls, grabbing his side tightly as he collapses onto one knee. You move quickly to grab him but don't see anything wrong until he moves his hand and his illusion flickers. There's blood on his hand but it vanishes then appears again when his magic gives out. His shirt is covered in blood and you hold onto him, helping ease him to the floor.

"What the hell happened?" you ask trying not to panic. You remember your training and move his shirt to the side so you can see the injury clearer. He flinches when you press his hand on the open wound and tell him to keep it there. "Shit," you mumble a curse then get up to grab everything you need.

You kneel next to him and take care of his wound as quickly and cleanly as possible, stitching the long, deep cut closed. Thankfully it wasn't any deeper or you might have needed to call for help, the wound was too close to his lung to not be taken seriously. When you finish you help him sit up slowly and he uses his magic to clean the blood off his clothing.

"You need to stay here and rest," you urge but he shakes his head no.

"It will heal," he says and he tries to get up. You help him so he doesn't hurt himself further but you keep your hands on his arm. "Thank you," he tells you then takes a step away from you but you don't let go.

"Stop," you get his attention. "You can't leave, this wasn't just some little cut. You were stabbed really close to your lung. This isn't okay Loki, you're not fine."

He takes a deep breath as if to prove his lungs are clear and says, "I appreciate your concern, Y/N, I truly do but I need to deal with this on my own."

"No you don't," you argue. "Just tell me what's wrong, maybe I can help."

He shakes his head, "You are an excellent healer but this is beyond you."

"I don't get it, why are you getting so badly hurt. I thought you had accelerated healing abilities like you bro- like Thor," you correct yourself before he has the chance.

He gently rests his hand over the wound on his side and tries to reassure you. "I will heal, it just takes a bit longer than it used to. Thank you once again for your help Y/N," he says before he vanishes.

Three nights later, you are sitting at your desk looking down at your tablet while you drink your second cup of coffee. You've clicked on Loki's file but haven't opened it yet, your fingers drumming on the desk rhythmically as you think. You have treated him several times now so it isn't a violation of his privacy to view his chart but for some reason it feels like it is. You sigh and open his file, maybe whatever he is hiding from me is in here.

You intend to skim his chart then log his recent visits like you should have been doing but you pause completely confused. His file is almost blank, his name and general information has been filled out but there is not a single visit to the infirmary listed. How is that possible? He must have been able to heal at one point but he doesn't seem to be able to anymore.

You exit his file without adding anything, determined to talk to him the next time you see him. You only need to wait fifteen minutes before he knocks softly on your office door.

"Loki, are you okay?" you ask, your voice has more concern than you meant.

He nods and holds out his hand when you walk towards him, "It is only a small wound tonight."

You look closely at the back of his hand and agree, he will only need a butterfly bandage or two and some gauze. You hold his wrist gently and lead him into one of the exam rooms. Loki sits on the table and you roll your stool close to him with your tray of supplies next to you.

"What happened?" you ask, reaching for the tape and he hands it to you, "Thanks."

"A training accident," he says and you nod, unsurprised.

"I need to log this into your file," you say as you throw out the garbage. "The other injuries too," you add.

"I would rather you didn't," he says.

"I know but I need to, it's proper procedure. I could get in trouble if I don't," you explain. "I could lose my job."

He sighs and remains seated on the table. You sit on the stool again and move closer to him. "I'm sorry, I never meant to cause you trouble," he says.

"Well... maybe if you tell me what's going on, I can keep it out of the record," you suggest. He looks up at you as you can tell he is thinking about your suggestion. "I can't tell anyone what we talk about, if that's what you're worried about, doctor - patient privilege and all," you explain with a smile.

"You're a nurse," he says, but his tone isn't condescending like it is when some people call you a nurse, it is as if he is simply clarifying a fact.

"Yeah... it's the same concept," you sigh. "Loki, you can trust me. I don't want to see you keep getting hurt like this," you tell him honestly, touching his hand lightly and he looks into your eyes.

You aren't sure if he is reading your mind or not but finally he says, "You must promise me, no one will know what I am going to tell you."

"I swear," you agree.

Loki shifts uncomfortably on the lightly padded table and looks down at your hand over his. He sighs deeply then says, "I cannot heal the same way Thor does, I have never been able to."

"What!?" you ask unable to hide your shock. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to say it like that but... I don't understand."

He says, "Accelerated healing is an Asgardian trait and I am not a full Asgardian, I am half frost giant. When I was a child, I thought I healed slowly simply because I was smaller and weaker than Thor but now my lack of abilities makes sense."

"But how did you hide it all this time?" you ask. "Someone must have noticed you were always getting hurt."

"My mother helped me," he explains. "She taught me to use my magic to create illusions to hide my injuries and dull my pain. When I was alone, I would use my spells and potions to heal myself."

"And no one knows, not even your brother?" you ask in disbelief.

"Not even Thor," he shakes his head.

"But wait... so this was obviously working fine for the last thousand or so years, why isn't it working now?" you ask confused.

"There is something wrong with my magic," he tells you and your heart sinks. "It has been fading since I was taken by the Mind Stone."

I hope you liked this!! Please like, share and comment if you did 💚💚 Please let me know if you want to be added to my taglist!

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[devnmon]

Sheriff's Deputy Morgan

pics are mine, do not steal!

Summary: Arthur comes back to camp one day with a shiny new badge on his chest, and you can't take him seriously. Though you tease him constantly, he gets particularly fed up and finally puts you in your place.

Warnings: arthur's a lil mean but rightfully so, doggy style, unprotected piv (not recommended for irl experiences), teasing, creampie, orgasm denial if u squint

a/n: hi friends! i wrote this pretty quickly after starting yet another round of rdr2 and beginning ch3 again. idk what it wad this time that made the damn badge arthur wears so very attractive to me. i couldn’t help myself from making this a piece of absolute filth! if theres repeated dialogue or stuff, its from my very minimal editing. otherwise enjoy <3

wc: 3.2k

You were tired. Exhausted, worn down, and burnt out definitely were more accurate terms, but all your body could feel was drained. From Blackwater, to Horseshoe Overlook, to Clemen's Point. Would the running ever cease? 

As the next morning sun rose across the vast lake, the temperature was already heating up by mid-morning. It was an uneventful day of mundane tasks with the other girls, until Dutch and Arthur returned to camp with shiny sheriff badges on their chest. To see those of all things accompany their outfits and not blood and bullet holes for once was indeed a surprise. 

"Your cowboy a deputy now, huh?" Tilly began, glancing at you facing his direction. 

"Shut up, Tilly. I'm sure that ain’t really what's happenin'..." you responded playfully, huffing a breath and abandoning the laundry you were in the middle of washing. Ms. Grimshaw's voice echoed in your ear the minute she saw you walking off, but your strides took you away from her just in time for you to make it to Arthur's tent. 

Observing as he sat on his cot when you neared Arthur's tent, your eyes hadn't deceived you; Arthur was wearing a deputy badge, and that meant Dutch was wearing one too. 

"Who in their right mind deputized you fools?" you laughed, catching the blues of the man before you. Arthur met your eye and smiled sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck before standing up and wrapping his arms around your waist. 

"Well, it is lovely to see you too, darlin'." he drawled, pressing a quick kiss on your cheek. "And that would be the drunken sheriff in Rhodes. Seemed dumb enough, but it was Dutch's idea. So I couldn't exactly say no." 

You grasped Arthur's forearms as they wrapped around you, moving you closer to him with that strength of his. The oaky aroma he always possessed surrounded you completely. 

"Well, good thing you're not really employed by the government. Then we'd truly have an issue." you chuckled, spotting his chipped front tooth peeking out from between his lips while he smirked.  

"Oh, yeah... you wouldn't get away with things that easily now, would ya?" Arthur spoke into your ear as his palms tightened around your waist. 

"No, of course we wouldn't..." you replied, recalling the numerous times you'd teased your cowboy and left him high and dry. Your flirtatious quips always settled in a part of him he couldn't control. Arthur spent many evenings much too unsatisfied until he was able to get you alone. Left only with your words clouding his mind and half hard cock, he was more than sensitive once he was able to satisfy himself. 

Arthur would have to wait until night fell to take care of his bothersome desires with you. He reckoned it frustrating when all you did was get away with it only because he allowed you to. 

He had half the mind to take you where everyone could see and hear, but his pride was too much to bear losing, especially in front of the older members of camp.

“If we wasn’t in the middle of camp with pryin’ eyes and ears, I’d have you bent over an’ full of me already.” He growled, before you pulled him in for a passionate kiss and slipped through his grip to return to your chores.

Arthur has really got to stop letting this happen, scowling to himself as he watched you immerse sensibly back into your chores. He figured the rest of the day would pass by quicker if he did the same. 

You knew nothing good came from teasing a man like Arthur to his breaking point, especially when he’s known for being able to take someone down if prompted. There was no question or doubt he was able to do the same to you. 

Arthur’s strength is unmatched, he’s able to overpower you easily in most situations. Yet, he’s delicate– sensual and gentle with you. In a way, he let you get away with teasing him many times and was still fervent and carnal when giving  you pleasure. 

But recently… pushing his limits like this day after day was getting on his nerves. He tried his best to shove those feelings down but you didn’t ease up on him one bit. 

Upon chopping wood and tending to the horses for the last hours of daylight, Arthur found himself catching your eye multiple times across camp. Your stares bore into him each time he would spot them, while watching you look away trying to feign innocence. Once he spotted you sitting around the campfire eating dinner, he figured that his opportunity to find a seat next to you for company. 

“Well, hi there, darlin’.” Arthur spoke as he sat down, getting particularly close to your hips with his. The gruff sound of his voice was telling enough with the amount of looks he was giving you during the silence as the two of you ate. 

“Hello, deputy Morgan.” you teased once again, taking no shame in staring him down while licking your spoon clean. Arthur cleared his throat tellingly, moving himself flush against your side. 

“Now who told you to call me that?” he murmured lowly in your ear, a ghost of goosebumps covering the back of your neck. 

“I was just doin’ as I’m seein’... Y’got that shiny badge, and you ain’t makin’ much use of it.” you practically whispered back in response. 

“Oh.. should I? Be makin’ use of it?” The gruff of Arthur’s voice bewildered your mind, struggling to calm the hunger gnawing at your lower regions. 

“Maybe you should… deputy. Before things get out of hand..” you snarked, dragging your eyes up and down his body. By the tone of your voice, Arthur could tell you weren’t done with whatever shenanigans planned. To let you spin a little yarn before taking control back had sincerely been his favorite part of his life with you. For you to play a little game just to get him to give himself over to you, each time overflowing with passion and hunger– he must really be smitten. 

Dinnertime flew by, and once the first light of the moon covered the ground, mostly everyone in camp had settled down for the night. After practically gluing himself to the outside of camp to avoid everyone else, Arthur made his way back to his tent. Of course, once he approached, the first thing he saw was you rummaging through his satchel. 

“Excuse me, miss?” Arthur spoke, placing his hands on his gunbelt, a typical deputy stance. 

“Arthur– it’s not what it looks like…” you began, noting his stature and the way his eyes locked on your figure. His chest hair poked through the unbuttoned part of his shirt, reminding you what type of man you were dealing with– especially with that badge. 

“That’s Deputy Morgan to you. Now, why don’t you tell me what you were really doin’ ‘round here.” He took a few steps closer, maintaining such intimidating posture above you. 

“Um… I was just lookin’ for a few dollars. Treat myself to a drink or two. Nothin’ big.” 

“And you couldn’t have just… asked for the money, huh doll?” 

“Thought it would be embarrassing. ’M sorry, deputy..” you chuckled, spinning Arthur’s little spiel along. 

“I’m afraid..” he stepped closer, “that ain’t good enough for me, sweetheart.” His natural tobacco and honey scent overloaded your senses, and all you could see, hear, and smell was him. 

“Well… is there anythin’ I could do to make it alright? Wouldn’t want to leave one of the sheriff’s finest deputies unsatisfied..” His index finger hooked under your chin, lifting your eyes to catch his, blues darkened in the moonlight. 

“Y’can start by makin’ eye contact when you speak to me, darlin’.” Arthur’s husky voice commanded, staring up at him like a deer in headlights. 

“Yes, Deputy Morgan. What else can I… do for you?” His eye contact was intense and captivating, the beginning of a smirk making its way onto your lover’s face. Those perfectly imperfect teeth of his shone as they began to show themselves from between his lips.

“Finish what you started, pretty girl.” The other hand on his gunbelt unbuckled it in one motion, tossing it on the ground before undoing the button on his pants. 

“Yes, sir, deputy Morgan…” Your genuine attraction to the man above you made your sultry voice that much more intoxicating for Arthur’s ears. He had half the mind to take what he wanted, but he knew you better than that. Plus, he loved your hands on him. 

With a quick unzip and yank of his riding pants, Arthur’s length popped out of his undergarments and stood before you. There he stood, red and erect, swollen from being worked up all day long. 

“It must be so difficult, walking around with this irritating you actin’ like everything’s alright.” One of your hands wrapped around the base of him, warm and throbbing in your grasp. Arthur growled at your contact and immediately removed your hand from him, and held it above your head before turning you to lay on your stomach. 

“Arthur–” 

“Hush, girl. You’ve been a pain in my ass all day long. Don’t think I deserve that, now do ya?” You silently shook your head, beginning to breathe heavily at his contact with your skin. That strength of his held both your arms in place, his strength overpowering you without breaking a sweat. Arthur used his other hand to yank your undergarments down your legs, before running his fingers through your folds. He chuckled at how soaked you were without even being touched. 

“Feel that? ‘S just for you.”

“What’chu think suckin’ up to me’s gonna do, huh?” 

“Nothin’... I just want you… bad.”

“Well if that hasn’t been abundantly clear to me all damn day, miss.” His tip prodded at your entrance teasingly. Arthur could tell you were clearly worked up in advance with the way he slotted himself through your folds with no resistance. Just the temptation to slip inside you in that moment controlled him like the wind to the rain and it took everything in him to resist. The groan of approval he let rumble through his chest and onto your back was enough for you to clench around nothing. 

“Look at that. I ain’t even the one been doin’ the teasin’, and you’re a goddamn mess.” 

“Believe it or not that damn badge has turned me on more than I can admit, sir…” you choked out, breathing heavily below him. 

“I don’t recall giving you permission to speak, darling.”

“You ain’t even got any cuffs… some deputy you are…” you breathed, ending your words with a snark in your tone. Arthur scoffed, pushing into you completely to shut you up, hearing a whimper escape you. The cowboy was ruthless, slotting himself all the way until your pelvis was flush against his. Arthur’s body was hot and muscular against yours, his rugged figure locking you under him. 

“What you got to say, huh? With the way y’re layin’ under me, you ain’t gonna be goin’ anywhere anytime soon. Now hush.” 

You swallowed upon feeling every inch of him meld to your walls as you adjusted to his size. Out of reflex, you clenched around him, listening to him rummage around and grab something. The top of your head rested against Arthur’s pillow, his hand still restricting both of yours. 

You could feel his hand begin to go sweaty until he replaced it with his other, rope in hand. 

“Arthur– what’re you doin’?” you asked, squirming underneath him and breathing heavily against the tightness of the rope wrapping around your wrists. Once it was secured not too tightly, he’d tied you to the leg of his side table.

“Told you– ain’t goin’ nowhere. Now…” Arthur’s grip returned to your hips, pulling himself all the way out of you and thrusting back in completely. Every inch slid warm and welcomingly against your walls. “I’m gonna take my time with you, sweetheart. Show you how bad teasin’ someone like me can turn out for ya.” 

Arthur sighed with pleasure with his cock twitching inside you, slick leaking out of your entrance. His warm hands caressed your waist desperately, gripping and sinking his fingers into your flesh. 

“Mmh… please go faster, Arthur,” you know that pleading at this point would only piss him off more, but there wasn’t much else you could do whilst pinned underneath him. 

“Nah, nah. You don’t get t’tell me how to fuck you. You made it very clear you ain’t interested in listenin’ to me when ya kept teasin’ me actin’ like I wouldn’t notice.” He pulls his hips away from yours for a moment, only to push all the way back in a bit harder than last time. You stifle a moan as his tip kisses the exact spot he knows drives you crazy. 

One of his hands goes to grab your hair, twisting it around his palm a few times and pulling. Your head jerks upwards, his fullness pushing a bit more against that spongy spot. 

“Y’know, it pains me to be like this, cause I ain’t ever seen someone as fine as you. Why you act like a brat all the time, I don’ know.” Arthur punctuated his sentences with movements of his hips– hard and rough into you. There’s something so filthy about the way he’s grunting in your ear while his hips press against yours so passionately. 

“Jus’ want your attention, Mister Morgan. Can’t– mmmh… can’t take it when you walk around lookin’ the way you do. Fuck… and that badge– you don’ know what it does t’me.” Arthur’s chest grumbles with a deep chuckle, using his free hand to land a smack on your ass. 

“Hm, well look where that’s gotten ya. Dirty girl. Had me all worked up, thinkin’ I’d be showin’ you who’s boss, but ya still got what’cha want.” 

Every hard thrust had you clenching around him instinctively and sending you further into absolute bliss. 

“You have… oh, right there Arthur–” Your breathy gasps and moans pair quite nicely with the feeling of your tight walls that meld to him every time he’s inside you. He’s not one to be short lived in bed, but the way you’re squeezing so hot around him and relishing in how good he makes you feel– he’s shot closer to release, rhythmic thrusts of his hips stuttering a bit.

“Ya really outdid yourself this time, sweetheart. Makin’ it hard for me to walk around camp without wantin’ to let everyone see what you do to me. But… I prefer this instead, havin’ you all to myself.” Arthur’s heavy breathing revealed how hot he’d been for you as you were for him. 

He knows you’ve got him wrapped around your finger, and does a damn good job of trying to contain himself. But the minute you start acting needy, he’s putty in your hands. Arthur’s self control goes out the window when your walls squeeze him, as if you could feel any damn better than you already do. Wet and pleading for only him, siphoning his willpower like a siren and never seeming like you’d ever stop having that effect on him. 

He pistons himself inside you, hitting your most tender parts and feeling that wave of release curling up over his shoulder. 

“Arthur, m’close…” your words come out so slurred that you’re not sure he even understood you. Though when his movements become much slower, when he’s pressing himself deeper into you each time, you know he’s prolonging it. Even if it’s just for a moment, Arthur wants to string you along like you’d done for days on end. 

“Breathe, baby, you can hold out for me a little while longer, can’t ya?” Through your continuously stifled sounds, your head nods and somehow his thrusts become even more drawn out. Arthur’s sure he’s never going to see heaven, especially not when he bathes in this type of affection you give him and is hard pressed to say he’d find it anywhere else. 

“Wanna come so bad, Arthur… promise I’ll never do it again,” your voice, high pitched and shaky, shot through him like a lightning bolt. Immediately pressing his back against yours, Arthur knows you can’t take any more.

“Prove it, honey. Come on, come for me. Be a good girl…” His fingers find your hardened nipple, pulling and twisting away while burying himself into you. 

“Arthur– fuck, I’m gonna–” With his words, you gushed around him, slick painting his thighs like an art piece. Goosebumps coated your skin, walls fluttering with passion. Your release was enough to send him over the edge, hips stuttering with every second that passed. 

His gruff voice spews a string of praises together, growling in your ear and losing himself in the pleasure. 

So pretty filled up with me…

Fuck, you’re perfect every time.

Such a good girl.

And when he comes inside, paints your walls with his spend, his lips press against your neck fervently, till his breathing steadies again. 

“Thank you, thankyouthankyou…” you mumbled, knees collapsing so you lay completely on his cot. Arthur’s weight lifts off your back, pulling himself out of you and pausing to take in the view of you. A bit of him slips out of you and down your leg, and it takes everything in him to not become hard and fuck you again. The sheen of sweat on your thighs glistens in the lantern light, and immediately reaches to untie your wrists, still attached to his bedside table before buttoning his pants back up.

“Here we go, sweetheart. Ya did so well f’me.” A sigh leaves your lungs before turning over to face him. His cheeks are flushed and his forehead is shiny with beads of sweat, but he couldn’t look more perfect in his afterglow. 

“‘M sorry I made ya mad… You know I love you,” you drawled, that sweet voice of yours clouding his mind. 

“Aw, I love ya too, baby. Sometimes, you just get on my damn nerves… teasin’ me like that ain’t good for a man’s head. ‘Specially not when I’m an honorary deputy of Lemoyne. But you jus’ like how the badge looks on me, don’t ya?” He sat down next to you, pushing a lock of hair out of your face. 

“Can’t blame me if I say yes, very much so, Arthur.” Your hand cups his cheek, pulling him in for a soft kiss. 

“Well, good thing pretty girls get off easy from the law. Least, that’s what I’ve heard.” Arthur licked his lips, smirking at your blushing reaction.  Referencing that damn badge again, the thing that started this whole mess, you giggled. 

“Well, I can’t promise to be on my best behavior, but I’d gladly be bossed around by Sheriff Arthur if it meant gettin’ you close to me.” You laid down, holding your hand out for him to join you. 

“I’m already as close as can be, darlin’. How could I ever be closer?” His fingers intertwined with you, scooching up next to you while using his arm to pull you against his chest. 

“Just like this.” your soft words lingered in the cool air as your eyes closed and the two of you drifted off to sleep. Arthur Morgan was one hell of an honorary deputy.

[halfmoonaria]

not allowed

pairing: prof!sam carpenter x student!female reader

summary: sam does something thats certainly not allowed.

words: 2k

warnings: age gap, sexual content, language.

Sam's love life was completely dull and uneventful, it was something she's very self aware of.

It was almost tragic how lonely she was.

Although she knew she should have had an active love life; being a professor brought opportunities for intellectual conversations, networking events, and collaborative projects, which should've brought at least some kind of connections to her.

But it didn't.

All of Sam's colleagues were polite and all, but they were all so much older than her, she couldn't find herself relating to relate to any of them.

And besides, dating wasn't her thing. Since the last time she had thought she found the right person, she almost ended up dead along with her sister.

Sam could never trust anyone enough to date them. All the blame for the lack of trust rested on her previous psycho ex.

Richie had left a scar on her body, and it wasn't in the form of a stab wound.

Despite the loneliness and the lack of company, Sam loved her job.

She loved the subject she was teaching, and her colleagues were actually pretty decent.

The biggest bonus was that she got a good paycheck. She didn't have to work two jobs that could barely pay the rent for her and Tara's apartment.

And to Sam's own surprise and satisfaction, the students didn't seem to whisper about her or spread the rumors that had been on the internet ever since the murders in Woodsboro.

Most of Sam's classes were filled with jocks, party-goers or just genuinely stupid people. After all, the school she taught at had a reputation for attracting a more socially-oriented crowd rather than focusing on academic excellence.

Sam wasn't really the kind of teacher that had a big connection with her classes, sure she would crack awkward jokes in class occasionally and greet them in the hall, but no more than that.

It never felt important to her, she was there to teach, to work and to get her salary.

But then there was you.

Sam never payed attention to the people that entered the classroom, or on what place they chose to sit in for the rest of the lesson. But with you, she did.

You had caught her attention the second her eyes got in contact with your figure. It had been when she was about to introduce herself in front of the class, her first day.

The way you had looked at her when she spoke didn't make you seem like the cocky or popular type, however the outfits you chose to wear to school told her otherwise.

Skirts that were either the size of a belt or skirts that would totally show your entire ass if you bent over the slightest. And if it wasn't minimal skirts it was low waisted jeans that showed the top of your underwear.

Tiny and tight crop tops that would show the exact outline and shape of your breasts.

Sam was shocked when she found out the college didn't have a dress code, since it allowed students like you to dress like models straight out from a 90s porno.

Based on the choice of clothing you thought was school appropriate, made Sam think that you were one of those popular mean girls that she used to absolute gush over in high school.

But you didn't seem to be like that. Sure, you were popular, but that was because of your prettiness, not because you were rude or that people were scared of you. Because in fact, nobody was scared of you.

You were loyal. You were friends with technically everyone, including the teachers.

From what Sam had seen in the halls and in the classroom, you always had a smile on your face, greeting everyone you saw with a wave and the smile that looked as if the person you were talking to had hung the stars.

Sam thought it was impressive how much beauty can do for a person. The way everybody loved you because you were pretty, everybody.

Although Sam didn't think much about your scandalous outfits or the way you admired Sam every time she made eye contact with you during briefings.

Not until you had began to walk towards her desk after class had been finished.

The way you would call her 'Mrs Carpenter'. Just like you should've, just like everyone else did, yet it sounded so different.

At first it had only been a simple question about an assignment, but then you started to stop by after every single lesson.

Sam tried to act like normal, responsible. But it was almost impossible when you would slightly lean forward, basically forcing Sam's gaze to your chest. Your hushed and low voice did it for her as well. You talked as if it was secret, as if nobody else was allowed to hear.

She was starting to think that it was all on purpose, that it was all because you wanted a better grade that you couldn't accomplish by yourself.

Sam knew for a certain that she wouldn't give in, she wouldn't give in because you tried to 'flirt' with her, it might've worked with your other professors but it definitely wouldn't work with her.

Sam was stubborn and incredibly obstinate, but she was also very insecure, alongside having no self respect. Most times when she would tell herself to avoid doing something, her lack of confidence would make her do it regardless.

Weeks passed and you didn't stop. You asked Sam for help after every single class.

You spoke to her in a flirty and hushed voice,  Sam had tried to talk back normally, but she would be lying if she couldn't hear her own voice sounding flirty as well.

Sam didn't know what she was doing, you were her student. But you made it so incredibly difficult for her to act like it.

You were gorgeous, model material. But that wasn't the problem. The problem was that you were aware of it, you knew how pretty you were, you knew exactly how to act around people to get your way.

She couldn't understand what was happening, but when you were with her, Sam felt this subtle flutter whenever you approached or just looked at her.

Sam had never felt that feeling before, not even when she was with Richie.

So instead of telling herself you did that with all your teachers, she began thinking that maybe, just maybe you did it because you actually liked her. Even though it wasn't allowed.

Sam was starved. Not from food starvation or hunger, but from love and touch. And she knew it was wrong to think that way when it was about you, it was so wrong.

But it was just thoughts right? Nobody could hear them.

That's what she had thought, but it was like you could read her mind.

Your attempts of trying to make Sam give in got more and more intense. You would touch her hands, standing close up to her and compliment her.

Eventually, Sam's mouth had moved faster than her mind could process. She had accepted your request for her to tutor you.

Sam knew that you didn't actually want tutoring, you were passing the subjects enough to graduate, unlike everybody else in your class. She knew that this was your attempt to flirt even more.

She knew she should've cancelled. The thought still haunted her, what would've happened if she did? Everything would've been so different.

However, Sam didn't cancel. And it turned out exactly like she thought it would.

You had insisted to sit beside her, and not in front of her. You would make sure your arms touched, that you spoke closely to her ear, you would bite your lips and toe flirt with her.

You were bold, so bold that it made you look hotter than Sam thought was possible.

Sam was desperate for something to change so she wouldn't feel the desire to be touched. Her body was craving a touch that wasn't from herself, not from anybody but you.

She felt disgusted by her own thoughts, every single thought her mind managed to convey was about you.

Next thing she knew, your lips had landed on hers. And Sam just couldn't pull away, her mind wasn't working properly. She had kissed you back.

But when her mind started to fall back in place, she pulled away, panic rushing through her as she had scanned the place, making sure nobody had seen it.

She had kissed her student, in a library. A public library.

Her mind had done this before. When she had been on top of Richie, knife going in and out of his chest, blood being the only thing that could be seen. It was like a blackout, Sam didn't know what she was doing, but at the same time, she knew exactly. But it had felt too good to stop. Just like it had been with you.

When you got the confirmation of Sam wanting the same thing, you had pulled her into the bathroom stall, where Sam couldn't help but kiss you just as hungrily as she had done in her disgusting thoughts.

Nothing mattered when your hands were roaming her body. The fact that you were her student and she was your teacher didn't seem to matter at all in that moment.

Sam couldn't understand what her mind was doing to her. This was like another one of those blackouts, where she couldn't think about the consequences of the things she was doing.

Like now, when she found herself in her own bed tangled up in the sheets, with you next to her.

Bare.

Her mind was all over the place. Thoughts racing through her mind like the traffic in New York, making her head feel like it was about to explode.

She couldn't show you the panic she was feeling about the whole situation. Because that would make you think she regretted it. And she didn't, god no she didn't.

You were so gentle yet bold at the same time. You made sure to ask for permission before doing everything, but you did everything so well.

Your touch was everything Sam's body had craved for months, it was nothing like she had done before. Your touch basically boiled on her skin.

You worshipped Sam in ways she didn't even know existed. The ways you touched her felt so good that she couldn't begin to understand what you were doing.

It had all felt so good that Sam could barely remember it. She remembered moaning, she remembered the satisfaction in it all; the warmth, the passion and the wetness.

Looking down at your figure laying against her, legs tangled up in each other, to see that your eyes were already on her. Your beautiful eyes filled with curiosity and admiration was inspecting her face, fingers smoothly running through her hair.

"What're you thinking about?" Your voice came out as a whisper, voice cracking from the lack of talking; words had not been the priority just minutes before.

When Sam made eye contact with you, all the worries faded away. She could be fired because of this, because of you, yet you were the person who could make the worries bluntly disappear.

Sam's lips curled into a gentle smile when she looked at you, bringing up her finger to subtly caress your cheek. "That this won't help you get a better grade.." She lied, a faint laugh escaping from her lips.

You smirked up at her before planting a kiss on her lips. "Please Mrs Carpenter. I promise I'll do better next time." Sarcasm laced your voice, and if Sam hadn't heard that, she would be panicking.

The fact that you had called her 'Mrs Carpenter' made her stomach twirl, sparkles flying around in it. Just like it had done when you moaned it a few minutes ago.

Although the twirls quickly turned into guilt. She shouldn't be doing this, she shouldn't be in bed with you, let alone be in her own apartment with you.

It truly didn't matter how many excuses she tried to make for herself, it wasn't right, and she should've been disgusted with herself.

She was a professor at a college who had fucked her student. And for obvious reasons, that just wasn't allowed.

[21wanderer]

Night at the Museum

Perhaps there had been signs he had overlooked, maybe there had been plenty of clues that something was going to happen at the museum, that someone had made plans and preparations, and it was culminating tonight.

The museum had amongst its collections, a collection of movie memorabilia, one of the memorabilia being a set of costumes of Batman and Robin from the movie of the same name from 1997 with George Clooney and Chris O'Donnell in the respective roles. A movie of questionable quality certainly, but iconic in its own way.

The suits were by no means unique, as there were made multiple of them during the taping of the movie, but now a set was on display here along side other superhero and movie pieces. As the night watch, he was responsible for keeping an eye on all these artefacts, which usually wasn’t particularly eventful, he might do some cleaning and some fixes around the museum, but otherwise, there wasn’t much to do. Not that he complained, he loved history and could enjoy the exhibits by himself. He did have a particular good eye for the Batman and Robin costumes, but apparently he wasn’t the only one.

An uneventful night became very eventful, when he entered the movie memorabilia collection, he had heard voices and went to investigate. Half of the security cameras weren’t working, which probably was a sign, that something bad was going to happen, but he still went to check. As soon as he entered the room, he was assaulted and overpowered by two masked men. They pressed him firmly against the wall, whilst stuffing a gag into his mouth, they then forced him down on a chair, and tied him to it with rope from their duffle bag. They didn’t seemed fazed by the night watch, quite the contrary, they seemed even more excited, as if they had wanted someone to witness this… And the night watch, whilst fearful and shocked, felt something stir inside him.

These two burglars were a mystery, they didn’t seem like your typical burglar, there were something strange about their approach and their goal, that the night watch would soon come to realize. He saw them approach the Batman display, whispering excitedly to one another, not even caring that he was sitting here watching everything. Had his mouth not been gagged, his jaw would have dropped, as he saw the two men do, what he had always dreamt of doing; touching the suits.

The burglars began to undress the two mannequins, the night watch trying to figure out exactly what they were doing and why. He could feel his stomach twisting and turning as he looked in fear, but also longing as the superhero costumes were disassembled and discarded on the floor.

They had undressed the two mannequins of Batman and Robin and thrown all the neoprene and leather on the floor. The night watch was baffled, if they wanted to steal the suits, why haven’t they just stuffed them in their duffle bag and ran? Was there more they wanted?

From their duffle bag one of the masked figure pulled out a utility knife. A chill ran down the night watch’s spine. What were they planning? He stared entranced and fearful, his conflicting emotions made it difficult for him to think straight. He was starting to remember the potential danger he was in, he stared at it with his heart in his throat, fearing that this could turn ugly pretty quickly.

But to his surprise and bewilderment, they did something else. With the blade of the knife one of the masked men began cutting off the head of the naked Robin mannequin, he then handed it to his accomplice, who took the head and turned his back on the night watch.

With his free hand the burglar pulled off his balaclava and dropped it on the floor. The night watch could only see the back of his head, but he appeared to be young and skinny with a buzz cut haircut.

To the night watch’s big surprise the young man plunged his head into the hollowed out Robin-head, pushing and pulling the silicone into place. The night watch wouldn’t have believed it was possible, but he could not take his eyes of it. After what seemed like an eternity the new ’Robin’ turned around a flashed a smile. It was unbelievable, it was so realistic. It was like the young Chris O’Donnell stood in the room, the night watch was in awe, he now knew exactly what the burglars wanted, and he felt aroused, he felt insatiable, as terrified as he was, he wanted to see it all.

The still masked burglar nodded in approval, having dropped the headless Robin silicone mannequin on the floor, he then went over to the naked ’Batman’.

And just like before, he cut off the head, turned his back on the night watch, pulled off his mask and plunged his head into the hollowed Batman’s.

Once the other burglar was satisfied with his new face, he turned towards his accomplice, who placed his hand on the George Clooney-impersonator’s face, before leaning in and kissing him.

Despite the potential danger he was in, the night watch eagerly awaited, what he assumed the burglars would do next. He wasn’t sure they would actually do it, but they didn’t disappoint him. They stripped themselves of their black onesies, and ran the utility knife down the spines of both of the mannequins, creating large enough gaps for them to enter.

Slowly, but steadily they both began to force their way inside the hollow mannequins. The night watch felt like his nether regions were about to explode at the sight. The two men were transforming into movie stars as their scrawny bodies disappeared into the silicone, replacing them with the perfectly sculpted physiques of Batman and Robin.

There was something completely breathtaking about their actions. The night watch could only dream of what it would be like to slip into a silicone body like that, instantly gaining flawless skin, a handsome face and some quick and easy muscle mass. He wanted nothing more, than to be like those two right now.

Once they were both inside they began a process of self-gratification, rubbing their hands all over their new smooth and toned bodies. The night watch was in awe at the sight. It was flawless. The two impersonators were clearly as aroused as him as they embraced each other, kissing each other deeply and passionately with their erections pressing against each other.

Having lost any sense of time, their make-out could have lasted hours as they caressed their new ’naked’ bodies, clearly beyond satisfied with their result. But they weren’t quite done yet, there was still a final trick in their bag.

They began rubbing some sort of paste on each other’s backs and around their necks. It dawned on the night watch what they were doing… They were sealing themselves inside. He would have thought that it would have been unbearably warm inside those silicone bodies, but apparently it wasn’t the case. They were going all in, no turning back, they wanted to stay as Clooney and O'Donnell forever.

The night watch couldn’t bear it anymore, he was so full of longing and desire and without knowing it and despite the gag, he let out a deep and audible moan.

For the first time for what seemed like hours, the impersonators turned towards their spectator, they both chuckled, seemingly enjoying they were being watched. The naked George-impersonator took a few steps toward their hostage: ”I hope you are enjoying the show, it’s only halfway done.” Did he have any idea, how much their witness was into this?

’George’ flexed his right arm, it responded flawlessly, you wouldn’t believe it wasn’t real unless you had seen, what had transpired before. ‘George’ turned away, looking at ’Chris’ who had begun pulling on the Robin-costume.

The night watch stared still entranced, no longer feeling any fear, just unyielding desire. ‘Chris’ had slipped into the pants of the Robin-suit, they were a perfect fit of course, maybe even a little tighter, but the mannequin was made to fit the proportions of the suit, and now, in some bizarre way, they still were.

‘George’ had also put on the pants of the Batman-suit and then helped ‘Chris’ zipping the back of Robin’s top. ‘Chris’ returned the favour as ‘George’ slipped into Batman’s top. The mannequins were almost completely dressed, they put on the costumes’ gloves, boots, belts and capes, then ‘Batman’ pulled on his leather cowl and ‘Robin’ his mask.

The transformation was complete, it was like the mannequins had simply come to life, except it really wasn’t that. It was almost more unbelievable. The two burglars strutted around for a bit, getting comfortable in their new skins and costumes. The night watch was so deeply infatuated, he could only imagine, how they must feel, how he wanted to be them.

“Are you satisfied?” said ‘Batman’ to ‘Robin’. “Very satisfied,” ‘Robin’ replied, whilst tweaking the nipples of his suit, “this feels so good.”

“Couldn’t agree more,” ‘Batman’ responded with a chuckle, running his gloved hand down to his suit’s crotch. ‘Robin’ wrapped his arms around ‘Batman’ and pulled him towards himself and they locked lips once again. The night watch moaned again, as he felt like climaxing any moment, he couldn’t contain himself anymore. The two ‘superheroes’ turned to look at him.

”I think he’s into it!” ’Batman’ laughed to ’Robin’ like they had been completely aware of it from the start. The ‘dark knight’ walked towards the night watch, whose heartbeat began to increase with every step of the approaching ‘hero’.

‘Batman’ placed his hand firmly on the night watch’s erection, giving it a few tugs. “Yeah, you are really into it, aren’t you? We had a feeling…”

The night watch let out another moan, the culmination of a most eventful night.

‘Batman’ walked away and began picking up the clothes of their former identities, the burglars’ balaclavas, onesies and so forth, all the traces of what they had been.

’Robin’ chuckled and walked up to their hostage. He placed his boot firmly on the night watch’s aroused member and smiled the boyish smile of the young Chris O'Donnell. ’Robin’ leaned in on the night watch, their faces so close, that he could smell the silicone and the warmth radiating from it, ’Robin’ placed his mouth inches from the night watch’s ear and whispered sensually: “If you let us get away… We’ll make it worth your while. You can join us if you want. If this turns you on as much as it does us, then I think we’ll get along nicely, and we can even get you a skin like ours.”

’Robin’ stepped back, ’Batman’ was done tidying up after them.

”Give it some thought,” said ’Robin’, “we’ll make sure, you won’t regret it.” The night watch felt the ropes loosen and the gag too. ‘Robin’ then gave him a kiss on the cheek, the night watch felt the warm silicone against his skin, it felt so realistically, he then felt ‘Robin’s’ tongue in his ear, and he almost felt like fainting from the hotness.

The sound of two heavy sets of leather boots walking echoed through the empty halls as the ‘dark knight’ and the ‘boy wonder’ left the crime scene, leaving the night watch behind, pondering what his next move should be.

[tragicvampireromanceisland]

we've met our super heroes, but what about our super villains? time to meet two leaders from the evil syndicate, our heroes' greatest foe...

adélie valois, current heiress to the multimillion dollar tech and research corporation firehawk industries, appears in the public eye quite often. she's got big shoes to fill for a company so renowned...but she really doesn't seem fazed by it. either that, or she doesn't care. but what most don't know is that she's also got big shoes to fill as a supervillain. adélie is a sixth-generation psychic of a long line of supervillains, as well as the fifth to hold the family villain mantle, espritvoyant. it's...pretty clear she's only got a leadership position on the syndicate due to nepotism, given her rather nonexistent work ethic, but her powers are still a huge asset on stealth missions. although she usually just uses them to terrorize the heroes for the most part. her inherited powers have also just left her kind of numb to the thoughts and feelings of others. she readily expects how most people think and how they're going to act and gets bored easily because of it. her coworkers get pretty frustrated with her attitude, but it's not like it's her fault she's surrounded by such predictable individuals. revenge this, injustice that. she swears she's had her family motto engraved in the back of her eyelids at this point. (deep down, though, she resents her powers. she wishes for a little spontaneity in her life. she wishes she could get excited over stuff the way other people can. she wishes she wasn't like this). however, the sudden appearance of solarflare and kuiper have caught her eye as of late...especially the latter, who's surprisingly immune to her mind reading. maybe something worthwhile can come out of all of this...

and whenever she isn't just going at it solo, her partner is usually fellow syndicate leader blindside. he's often teamed with her on missions involving stealth, given his power of invisibility as well as his martial arts prowess provide the perfect balance of defense and offense. while esprit's purpose (or apathy) mostly revolves around just following her family's footsteps, blindside's motives are...a bit more murky. both the heroes and the syndicate are a bit confused about it. how did someone with such an otherwise gentle demeanor end up turning to evil? despite appearances, he doesn't seem to pull punches when it comes to heroes. why does he hate them so much? no one can seem to figure it out, given he just...doesn't talk. and while esprit is the only one he ever seems to hold conversation with given the inevitable nature of her mind reading, she hasn't pushed him on it (for which he is grateful). in the public eye, he goes by ichigo kato, an unassuming librarian with a pretty uneventful day job. well, except for that one nosy journalist who keeps coming in and giving him a near heart attack each time with the titles she keeps checking out...oh, and the fact that that one new hero, solarflare, kind of sort of knows his civilian identity now. there's that, too. he's not sure why she hasn't exposed him yet...but not like he's gonna say anything about it.

up next...we're not done with the syndicate just yet! what else does this organization have in store for our heroes...? stay tuned!

(need more context for this au? check out the other character sheets!

joy, sadness & anxiety // disgust & fear )

[helaintoloki]

Ok, but young Ben being a lookout on a mission, and he comes across a girl his age and she starts to flirt with him and they have this banter. He later finds out that she was a villain all along and she was sent as a distraction by her team. She has the ability to control people's bodies, which is why Ben was so much calmer when he was with her; She was lowering his blood pressure. After that, she kind of acts like his version of Lila where she comes and goes just to flirt with him and mess with his head.

a/n: so i couldn’t tackle everything in this request bc otherwise it would have just turned into a full fledged multi-chapter fic but the main idea is there and i hope you enjoy

warnings: reader is very flirty and manipulative

While the rest of the Umbrella Academy loathed being given the role of the lookout on a mission, Ben found that he enjoyed nothing more than sitting out of the action in exchange for being the vigilant watchman. It kept him from having to use his powers and saved him from the usual hourlong shower he’d take scrubbing away the blood and grime from his skin. Today’s mission involved stopping a museum heist, and his abilities were deemed unnecessary for the task. The last thing Reginald wanted was to be responsible for replacing priceless art, and the Horror was only good at tearing limbs and furniture apart, so the boy was left to patrol the perimeter while his siblings investigated the scene.

The night air is cool and quiet as Ben makes his third lap around the building searching for possible burglars or thieves trying to make away with an original Monet. Instead he is met with the fluorescent lights of the street lamps and the neon flashes of the liquor store sign across the street. Everything is completely still and uneventful, and he begins to wonder whether the anonymous tip Hargreeves had been given was just a prank to distract the team from a much bigger problem.

“Hey,” a voice calls, nearly startling the boy out of his skin. So much for being vigilant.

He’s met with the sight of a girl who looks to be about his age dressed in all black with a playful smile curled upon her lips.

“Hey…” he replies hesitantly, unsure of how to deal with her. He wasn’t exactly sure why a girl would be out this late at night by herself, and while the gentleman in him wanted to escort her to safety, he couldn’t risk leaving his post and jeopardizing his siblings. “You shouldn’t be out here. It’s dangerous, and if something happens I won’t be able to protect you.”

“Protect me?” She retorts in amusement while sauntering closer towards him. Though her demeanor is completely innocent, Ben still finds himself taking a nervous step back to avoid being in her space. “Who says I need protecting?”

“There are weirdos out at this time of night.”

“Are you a weirdo?” She counters with a raised brow and a finger pointed against his chest. The feeling of her touch weirdly has his tense shoulders relaxing, his defenses lowering as he really starts to take her in. She’s actually quite pretty, and pretty girls usually took interest in Luther and Diego, yet here she was making conversation with him. He feels surprisingly less nervous than he expects himself to be in the presence of someone like her, and as he lets out a slow exhale from deep within his chest he finds that it’s a nice feeling.

“No, I’m not, I’m… I’m Ben,” he breathes out with a faint smile.

“Nice name. I’m y/n,” she states, her nature morphing into something more flirtatious than before. Exchanging her finger for her palm, she splays the entirety of her hand against his chest and rests it upon his heart. “Do you work out?”

“I do, actually,” he states proudly, chest puffing up more confidently than before. Ben has no idea where this sudden surge of confidence has come from, but he knows better than to waste this rare opportunity to show off his title as an Umbrella. “My father makes my siblings and I train every day.”

“Must be hard,” she notes thoughtfully, making sure to hide the way her pupils begin to dilate at the use of her power. He has no idea that the reason he feels so differently around this girl is because she’s doing it on purpose. Her ability to lower his blood pressure and lull him into a fake sense of calm has made him more confident and relaxed, and this ability makes for a great distraction while her team works to get away with stealing precious museum works of art. He’s too busy focusing on her to notice one of her partners sneaking out of the building with a rare statue while the Umbrella Academy is distracted by an ambush.

He’s so cute she almost feels bad for taking advantage of him, but someone has to do the job.

“It isn’t too bad. Dad says it’s important to keep up our strength at all times.”

“At all times?” You repeat pensively, your palm pressing just a little more firmly into his chest. You tilt your head suddenly, lip jutting into a sympathetic pout as you remark, “You look tired.”

“I do?” Ben repeats only for his body to immediately relax. “I am…”

“Maybe you should sit down,” you offer kindly before helping him lower to the ground so he can rest his back against the cool brick of the building. Pressing an ingenious kiss to his cheek, you gift him a gentle pat on the head before moving away from his figure and making your exit. “It was really nice to meet you, Ben. I’ll see you again soon.”

His eyes feel like they had only been closed for a few seconds, but in actuality he had been passed out for a good five minutes, and it isn’t until Luther is shaking him by the shoulders that Ben finally wakes with a gasp. The sense of calm from earlier is gone, and the Horror is immediately on high defense as he peers up at his brother with wide and uneasy eyes.

“What the hell were you doing?!” Luther exclaims in exasperation while Klaus helps the boy off of his feet. “You were supposed to keep watch!”

“There was a… a girl,” Ben swallows harshly. “And she was talking to me…”

“Ooo, a girl?” Klaus goads with a teasing grin and elbow to Ben’s side. “Was she cute?”

“That doesn’t matter,” Luther chides harshly only to receive a pout from Klaus in response. “They got away with a statue and now Dad’s gonna kill us. Let’s go.”

Klaus gives Ben a sympathetic pat to the back before following after their leader, and the Horror can only trudge guiltily behind after them. He has no idea how he managed to mess up so badly when normally he has the clearest head out of all of his siblings. It was like y/n was able to put him under some sort of spell to lower his defenses and get him to lose focus on the task at hand.

Ben has no idea what just happened, but he hopes she meant it when she said they’d see each other again.

[alvojake]

Too Far | C.JH

「prompt」 : get out 「pairing」 : bf!jongho x fem!reader 「word count」 : 0.8k

「synopsis」 : when you and jongho had any kind of argument it always ended in a screaming match, however, this time it may have gone too far.

「genre」 : angst

「warnings」 : cussing, arguments, jongho calls reader clingy, lmk if I missed anything!!!

masterlist ─ navi. ─ angstober list

It was supposed to be an uneventful night, one where you and Jongho stayed in, ordered takeout and watched whatever movie you both found. That’s how it started, uneventful. Until Jongho suddenly got a call from one of his friends asking if he could come over and help with the new game he got.

You sat on the couch with the remote in your hand, waiting for him to tell San that he would have to come over another night, but instead, you felt your smile drop with your heart when he told him that he would be over in just a few.

Normally, this wouldn’t have bothered you so much besides the fact that both of you have had midterms all week long on top of your part-time jobs. So the amount of time you have seen each other is close to none. You had been looking forward to this all week long, wanting nothing more than to spend time with your boyfriend.

“Can’t you go tomorrow? We were just about to start the movie," you asked, looking up at him with hopeful eyes. Yet it all crumbled when Jongho shook his head while moving towards the door.

“No, he sounded pretty frantic.” His response was short and it only annoyed you more. Why was he so quick to leave when you haven’t seen each other all week besides a few passing glances in the university halls?

Standing from the couch, you made your way over, “Jongho, we haven’t seen each other all week. Why can’t San wait until tomorrow?”

“Dammit, y/n, not everything has to be about you.” He blew up, standing straight and looking at you. The rise in his volume made you jump before anger started to bubble in your gut.

“I’m not trying to make this about me; why is it so wrong for me to want to spend time with my boyfriend, whom I haven’t seen all damn week?” You seethed, tears involuntarily brimming in your eyes as you stared up at him, “or do you just not want to spend any time with me? Is that it?”

Jongho scoffed, “No, I would rather be here than go out in the middle of the night.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, confused by his words and actions. His words say that he would rather spend time with you, while his actions say otherwise. Although you wanted to believe his words, this wasn’t the first time something like this had happened.

“Really? Because you seemed so quick to tell San that you were on your way, and for what? A stupid ass game that can easily wait until tomorrow.” You shouted, your anger starting to bubble over the longer you watched him get around to leave. It all just seemed to go in one ear and right out the other, “god, it feels like I’m talking to a fucking brick wall!”

“What do you want me to fucking do, y/n? Turn him down when he’s asking for help?”

“Yes!” You cried, fed up because it felt like you weren’t even looking at the same person anymore. Sure, you both had your fair share of arguments, but you weren’t too sure this was one you’d be coming back from. “He asked for help for a fucking game Jongho; it’s not like his life is on the damn line! He can wait!”

“Oh my god! Pull your head out of your ass, y/n; the world doesn’t revolve around you! If I want to go help my friend in the middle of the night and get out of dealing with your clingy ass, then I will.” He shouted right back at you, and his words hit you like a truck.

Did he really see you as clingy? Is that why he was always so adamant to get away from you? Tears started to roll down your eyes the longer you just stared at him in disbelief. Jongho cursed under his breath as the reality of what he said sunk in and he tried to reach for you, but you were quick to move out of his way.

“Y/n–”

“Get out.” Your voice was steady, but your eyes stayed glued to the ground as tears dripped from your lashes.

“Hold on y/n–”

“I said get out.” You raised your head to meet his eyes, and his heart dropped at the look of anger and hurt on your face. Had he really taken it too far? You raised your hand and pointed at the door with a shaky finger, “If I’m so clingy, then go. Get. OUT!” 

It didn’t matter what Jongho tried to do or say; you intervened every time, telling him to leave until he finally did. This left you to stand in the entryway of your apartment, staring at the now-closed door as tears spilled endlessly from your eyes.

Was this really going to be the beginning of the end of your relationship? Because you weren’t too sure if you would be able to come back from it…

@alvojake | Do not steal, plagiarise, translate, or repost any of my work

𝖉𝖎𝖘𝖈𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖒𝖊𝖗 : ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ɴᴏ ᴡᴀʏ ᴀ ᴛʀᴜᴇ ʀᴇᴘʀᴇꜱᴇɴᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀꜱ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴘᴜʀᴇʟʏ ꜰɪ��ᴛɪᴏɴ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴛᴀᴋᴇɴ ꜱᴇʀɪᴏᴜꜱʟʏ.

[whimsyfinny]

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Charlie discovers the Winchester boys to be struggling with keeping the bunker tidy, looking after themselves and being able to do their job simultaneously. Luckily she has a friend who’s from a Hunter family that is in need of work and can help them with research. Or so she thought that’s what her job would be. When Dean sees your more domesticated side, his head won’t stop swimming with all the wrong ideas.

Slow burn, enemies to lovers, smut

Warnings: None (Yet) in chapters to come there will be smut (and lots of it) and possible violence/blood/gore

Chapter Word Count: 2803

—-MDNI—-

A/N: My first Supernatural fic so I hope it doesn’t suck ass. Only proof read by myself, so pls let me know of any errors so I can correct! Also I know at this point in the series Dean is more serious, however I love pre-Hell Dean so imma bring some of those vibes in here. This is also posted on my AO3.

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Please read the below first:

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

I’m Not Your F*cking Maid

Chapter 3

The rest of that day was pretty uneventful. Charlie practically threw my sad lone duffle bag through the front door and left before I could give her a piece of my mind for just leaving me here. I helped Sam put away the groceries he’d bought, emphasising that ‘we don’t put things down, we put them away’, otherwise we end up living in filth again. I also cleared some space around the study area that seems to be the centre of the bunker, and much to my dismay, threw out even more take-out boxes and beer bottles. I arranged all of the research that had been left on the desk in a mess, organising it into piles of read and unread; or at least what looked read and unread to me. The whole time Dean sat at this very desk and was watching cartoons on Sam’s laptop whilst his brother was in the shower, letting me do all the dirty work as he just sat there and relaxed. When I was finally done, I slumped down in the chair opposite him and slid all of the neat stacks of research towards myself. Dean looked up at me, his relaxed ‘cartoon-watching’ expression fading slightly.

“What are you doing?” He asked. I looked up at him like he was stupid.

“What do you think? I’m catching up on what you guys have been researching.”

He closed the laptop and folded his arms across his chest, the cotton of his flannel pulling tight over his large biceps.

“That’s such a waste of time.”

“And why, pray tell, is it such a waste of time Dean?”

“It’ll take you days, maybe weeks to catch up on what we know - either me or Sam can give you a rundown on what’s most important in an hour,” his tone was very matter-of-fact, like he didn’t want to be argued with. I sighed, crossing my arms on the table in front of me, leaning forwards.

“That’s great, you can still do that, but the more clued up I am as to what is going on then the more chance we have of finding what you need,” I paused for a second, a thought flashing across my mind. “Come to think of it, you haven’t even told me why I’m here, other than to ‘do research’. What are you looking for that has you so stumped?” Dean sucked a breath in through teeth, shifting slightly in his chair.

“The Fist Blade,” his tone had a thickness to it that I couldn’t place.

“The First Blade? As in Cain and Abel? THAT First Blade? ”

“Bingo.”

“But surely that’s long gone by now, it’s been two millennia at least. Nothing can last that long…can it?” I asked almost rhetorically. Dean shrugged.

“That’s what we want to know too,” his eyes flicked up and caught mine, his gaze burning into mine for only a moment with such intensity I felt my breath catch in my chest. The dark purple bruising on his face around his eyes made that forest green even more vibrant and alluring. There was a pause - for some reason I couldn’t look away and I had to catch myself before glancing at his bruised lips, which I knew already were devilishly charming. Right as I gave in to temptation and saw the corner of Deans poor split lip twitch into a smirk, Sam saved the day by striding in, towel-drying his hair. He paused, looked at us and frowned quizzically, almost like he was more surprised that we weren’t throwing furniture at each other. He didn’t say anything on that topic though, because as he looked around he noticed I’d cleaned. Again.

“(Y/n) you really have to stop cleaning up our mess,” he smiled, hanging his towel on the back of his chair as he took a seat next to me, his long legs grazing mine slightly.

“Sam just say ‘thank you’,” I tilted my head up to him - he was still enormous even when he was sitting down. He laughed slightly, almost bashfully as he looked down for a second at his twiddling thumbs before locking his eyes with mine again.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” I returned his smile at last, holding it for a few seconds before continuing: “So Dean has just been explaining to me what you’re looking for. Surely the First Blade is long gone by now? How would it have survived this long, and still be functional - not just some pile of dust?” Sam huffed out an already exasperated breath, slouching back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest, much like how Dean was sitting.

“I have no idea, at this point I feel like we’re grasping at air,” we all mumbled in agreement, suddenly sitting in a solemn sort of silence. It was short lived though as Sam leant forwards, pushing his damp hair from his eyes and trying to lighten the mood.

“Guys why don’t we just leave it for a few hours and get something for dinner? It’s getting late and we should really eat.” Dean suddenly sprang forwards, sitting up straight and lacing his fingers together on the desk with a grin on his stupid face.

“Good idea Sammy - I can’t wait to try her cooking. If she can cook half as well as she cleans then we’re in for a treat.”

“You son of a bitch!” I jumped up, grasping the first thing I could find (a file on God knows what) and smacked him across the face with it. Deans head turned with the force - albeit not much - and another stupid grin crept onto his stupid lips. He chuckled his deep, chesty laugh and tenderly touched his already sore face, wincing slightly.

“Just for a second I forgot you hated my guts,” he drawled, rising to his feet.

“Well you don’t do yourself any favours by talking to me like that.”

“Yeah? Well maybe if you weren’t such a hot head you’d be able to take a joke.”

“A joke? You call that a joke? Jokes are supposed to be funny, Dean, there wasn’t even a punchline,” I had started to raise my voice slightly and he gave me an extremely puzzled look.

“Hold the fucking phone - are you mad at me because I ‘insulted’ you or are you mad that there was no punchline?”

“I’m mad at YOU, because you’re just trying to rub me up the wrong way on purpose!”

There was a pause, and a smirk and a twinkle in Deans eye.

“Well I’m sure if you ask Sam nicely he’ll rub you up the right way.”

“DEAN!” Sam and I both cut in at the same time and when I glanced at him I noticed a faint pink glow on his cheeks.

“What?” He threw his hands up, “Sam you’ve been acting like a schoolgirl around her since we met her at the diner, always jumping to her aid first. Just admit you have a crush ok?” Dean gave his younger brother an ‘all knowing look’ as Sam covered his face.

“Dean I’m going to pretend you never said any of that and just move on,” Sam turned to me and said in a hushed tone “I’m so sorry,” before looking back at his brother, who was now reaching for his jacket. “And where are you going?” Sam quizzed.

“To get dinner, that’s what this whole conversation escalated from right? About what we were going to eat? Well I’m going to get takeout, what do you both want?” Dean said, throwing his hands into his jacket pockets.

“Dean sit down,” I chimed in, my voice sterner than I intended.

“What?”

“Just sit the fuck down. Both of you. Carry on researching and making yourself useful,” I said, moving away from the table.

“Why?” Sam did as he was told but Dean looked at me like I’d asked him to eat tofu.

“Because I’m not letting you boys eat yourself to death with E numbers and MSG. I’ll cook something,” and as the words left my mouth I saw Deans eyebrows raise so much I thought they might push his hairline back. Before he could get a single word out Sam spoke on behalf of both of them:

“If you’re really ok doing that, (Y/n), you’ve already done so much today-”

“Sam it’s fine, I really don’t mind. I actually enjoy cooking, and since Bobby’s been gone I’ve had no one to cook for. So yeah it’s ok,” I smiled at him reassuringly, and he smiled back.

“Ok, if you’re sure,” he paused, looking to his older brother who had removed his jacket and was taking a seat again, “I just didn’t want you to feel like you had to just because Dean-”

“Really Sam, I’m fine with it. I was planning to cook even before the jackass opened his trap.” The younger Winchester gave me a final ‘ok’ before I spun on my heel and walked towards the kitchen, not even bothering to give the older Winchester a second glance.

I guess it’s time to find out what these boys have lurking in their pantry.

*

I’d been cooking for maybe half an hour when I was finally done and called the boys to the kitchen. I set three places at the table, and placed down three beers and enough cutlery for all of us, alongside various condiments they might want. I was just serving up as they walked in, muttering to themselves about something they’d researched. As they both sat down, I placed two plates in front of them and watched their faces light up.

“STEAK!” They both had wide grins as they picked up their cutlery and immediately dug in.

“Don’t get too excited, it’s nothing special. Plus the fries were frozen and the mac ‘n’ cheese was instant,” I said, placing down my own plate and taking a seat between them.

“Don’t care, ‘s home cooked,” Dean said with a mouthful of food, reaching for his beer. Sam just nodded vigorously in agreement.

“Well ok then,” I smiled to myself, I guess a little happy that they were happy. And for once that Dean had nothing smart to say. Yet.

*

Dinner was pretty uneventful - and short - as the boys practically inhaled their food. When their plates were empty they just sat at the table in a happy silence, rubbing their full bellies.

“Considering you just used what we already had and didn’t go shopping for anything, that was fucking beautiful,” Dean said, stifling a burp. I looked at him in surprise.

“Oh… Thanks Dean,” I half smiled down at him as I stood to collect their plates. He put his hand out to stop me, taking them from my grasp and pushed gently on my shoulder, urging me to sit. He returned the half smile, standing up.

“No problem. Now let me do this, you’ve done enough for us today already. Take a break,” his voice was low and strangely kind towards me, and I was almost lost for words as I felt his firm chest brush against my arm as he took the plates from me, his body heat reaching my skin through the fabric. Was he being serious, or just leading up to be a dick in a rather roundabout way? Who knows. But I should try to appreciate the moment at least.

Dean washed up whilst Sam dried everything and put it all away, and I sat sipping my beer as they bustled about for a few minutes. Once they were done, Sam took his seat back at the table and Dean grabbed the tea towel, roughly wiping the surfaces and flinging it over his shoulder when he was done.

“And now it’s pie time,” he said suddenly, sparks of joy in his voice. I grinned.

“Oooh, can I have some?” I asked. Dean turned to look at me like I’d asked him to shoot a puppy, and Sam muttered an ‘oh boy’ under his breath.

“Can you have some?” Dean repeated my request back to me, those sparks of joy in his voice no longer there.

“Yeah…please? I saw it in the fridge earlier, there’s definitely enough to share,” I stated, starting to feel like I was missing something here. Sam cleared his throat and I turned to look at him, an unusual expression on his face.

“Uhhh…(Y/n), Dean doesn’t share his pie. Not even with me.” Dean slammed the fridge door closed, said pie now in hand.

“You’re Goddamn right. The pies mine, now back off,” he gave me a warning look as he grabbed a fork and sat back down next to me again.

“Fuck me; really? What are you, a child? Who the fuck won’t share a pie made for four people?” I asked, getting exasperated with Deans bullshit. I knew the kindness wouldn’t last.

“Me.”

“Fuck you.”

“Guys, I’m gonna go and get some sleep - I’ll be back in a few hours. Thanks for dinner (Y/n), it was great,” Sam stood and pinched the bridge of his nose, not being inconspicuous at all about being done with bickering between Dean and I. He smiled softly at me before he left, patting my shoulder as I said a quiet ‘sleep well’ to him before he exited the room. Then it just left me and Dean. Again.

“Just one slice,” I asked abruptly, watching him shovel pastry into his face.

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

“Dean I made you dinner and tidied your shit, the least you can do is give me a slice,” I slid forward in my chair, inching closer to him in a new attempt to get him to share.

“No.”

“Pretty please?”

“No.”

“Fuck,” I threw my hands up before leaning forwards a little more so I was now close enough to smell him. And annoyingly he smelt divine - his cologne mixed with the scent of old leather and woodsmoke, perhaps a little gunpowder too. I breathed in, trying to get to the sweet smell of the desert he had, but all I could smell was him. I tried to ignore it. He was still a douchebag.

“One bite?” He sighed and turned to look at me, noses almost touching as I flinched back, not realising how much I’d shuffled towards him. He sighed, dropping his head slightly.

“Ok, just one bite,” he said as I did a very quiet squeal of delight. I reached for the fork in his hand but he held it up out of my reach, shaking his head.

“No. Not you.”

“Dean, come on.”

“Open.”

“What are you-”

“Open your mouth,” he said sternly, those evergreen eyes finding mine.

“Wait wha-”

“Open your Goddamn mouth (Y/n)” he said, his voice turning gravelly as I felt his breath on my face. I felt heat start to flood my cheeks and I couldn’t tell what emotion it was coming from, as I had started to feel a lot of things all at once. What made my head spin a little though was hearing my name fall from his lips - he hadn’t said it before, at least not to my face. And I hated myself for liking how it sounded. I didn’t say anything to him as I eventually did as I was told; opening my mouth and instinctively sticking out my tongue a little. I wasn’t sure where to look, so I looked at him - the concentration on his face as he scooped up an acceptable amount of pie to part with was amusing to say the least. Happy with my tiny portion, he turned to me and put the fork on my tongue, to which I closed my lips around as he slowly pulled it from my mouth, leaving the amazingly sweet desert behind. With my eyes now closed, I couldn’t help but hum in delight, savouring every flavour before I swallowed it down. Slowly opening my eyes again, I wasn’t expecting to see Dean still watching me, lips slightly parted as his gaze flickered between my eyes and my sticky lips, which I was now licking clean. He seemed to catch himself quickly though, immediately scooping up more pie for himself and cramming it into his own mouth. I sat back in my chair, picking up my beer and draining the bottle.

“Next time you buy a pie, Winchester,” I started, standing and tossing the bottle in the bin, “buy one for me so we don’t have this problem again.” He looked up at me just as I turned to leave.

“No promises,” his lip quirked slightly - so slightly that I wondered if he’d even smirked at all. I scoffed, giving him one last look as I rolled my eyes before I left the room to continue researching.

“Fuck you.”

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Up Next:

Chapter 4

[bloodstainedsaint]

Hey, I'm not sure if you take requests, but if you do, I have an idea:) Could you write something about a young woman who was in the Air Force disguised as a man and her plane was hit by the Germans while under attack, forcing her to jump out, leaving her stranded with her plane down and easy company witnessed the whole thing and tries to look for the pilot?

maybe with some romance or whatever with my mans lieb or doc roe if that’s possible hihi

when worlds collide (joseph liebgott x air force! reader)

word count: 1000+

warnings: blood & injury, but nothing really graphic

notes: sorry for the wait on this one 😭 i've been busy BUT i promise to be posting more during my break

You didn't remember much after your plane was hit by German flak while passing over some Dutch forest you couldn't recall the name of. What you could remember was everything rapidly blinking and on fire around you, dials going this way and that, your hands flying around the control board and trying desperately to pull up with the yoke as you cursed violently beneath your breath.

Following your fruitless struggle against gravity, you remembered preparing to parachute out of your plane and into the woods beneath you.

You were pretty sure you blacked out for a while after that.

-

The sight of a fighter plane nosediving into the ground and its booming resulting crash interrupted an otherwise uneventful five-man patrol through the woods.

“Jesus Christ! Did you see that?” Babe exclaimed, gawking up at where the plane had been in the sky mere seconds ago.

“Looks like it landed near us,” Pat observed.

Don looked wide-eyed. “It was one of ours. The pilot might need our help if he ejected in time!”

Lip shushed them. “There's AA guns nearby. Someone ought to go back and tell Battalion they’re positioned somewhere to our left near that dike we passed. Christenson, you go.”

As Pat nodded and left the way they came, Lip said, “We can't take too long looking for a pilot we don't know is alive or not." He checked his watch and sighed. "Alright, meet back here at 1700. Stay alert. Don't go too far on your own.”

The squad spread out in search of the hopefully-alive pilot. Joe walked with his rifle at the ready for about 20 minutes before stumbling upon large chunks of debris from the plane. Not far from that was a severed parachute, and then a blood trail.

He followed it until he noticed a pilot sitting on the ground next to some brush with his back turned to him, his clothes torn up enough to where large parts of skin littered with cuts were visible. Joe slowly approached, mindful not to scare him and wind up with a bullet in his head.

“Hey,” he called out. “Hey, buddy.”

The pilot turned around, and Joe noticed that “he” was not a he at all.

Your hand shot to the pistol on your belt, leveling it at him while vainly covering up your top half. You’d been trying to treat your wounds with the first-aid kit strapped to your waist; you'd gotten several steadily bleeding scratches from falling through trees and one or two broken ribs from your hasty landing. You ended up taking off your corset to relieve pressure on your ribcage, leaving you with your ripped up uniform and coveralls.

Regardless of your relief that an American soldier had found you rather than a German one, you kept your hand fixed on your sidearm.

“Woah, lady, put down the gun. I'm not a Kraut.” Lowering his own gun, his narrowed eyes flashed to your chest and widened at the sight of the reddish purple bruises that blemished it. "Goddamn..."

“It’s not what it looks like,” you managed out, though talking (or breathing, for that matter) was difficult.

“I don’t care what it looks like,” he said, the edge to his tone softening as he carefully walked toward you. “You need help.”

You painfully exhaled and set the gun down next to you. You turned around again to focus on treating your injuries, wincing with the movement. “I'm fine.”

“You don't look it.” He crouched down next to you. You flinched away slightly — you'd been disguised as a man for a while now, and this was the first time anyone was seeing you so vulnerable since your enlistment — before letting him inspect your wounds, albeit with you concealing your chest with your arms and what remained of your jacket.

“What’s your name?” he asked, gingerly applying sulfa powder to the gashes on your body.

You slightly hissed at the stinging sensation. “(Y/N), Senior Airman, 4th Fighter Group.”

“Joseph D. Liebgott, Technician 5th Grade, 101st Airborne.”

There was a temporary silence, punctuated only by you sucking in air through your teeth. As he bandaged one of the cuts, he said, “We need to get you some help. I was out here on patrol with my squad; we have a medic back at—”

“What?” You looked at him with a bewildered expression. “No, I don't need any medic. I just need help informing my superiors I got lost going through dense fog and got shot down here.”

“Why not? ‘Cause he'll see you're a girl?”

You gave him a pointed look. “Why else? If you haven't noticed, there aren't very many women serving on the front lines.” You paused and took a deep breath in through your nose. “If you bring your squad over here, someone's gonna report me and get me kicked out of the Air Force…Hell, I don't even know if I trust you to not report me. I just met you, for Chrissakes.”

In truth, you didn’t even know why you were letting him tend to you anyways — you were capable of doing it yourself, your biggest secret was currently exposed, and he was a stranger. But there was something about his change in demeanor and a sudden tenderness in his voice once he saw your injuries that made you want to trust him.

“Your secret’s safe, (Y/N),” he said firmly, a set expression on his face. “I got no reason to rat you out; I just met you too.”

You scanned his face for any signs of deceit, sighed when you found none, and nodded. “I’m still not letting your medic take a look at me.”

“Fine, but that’s not gonna stop me from helping you. I’ll be quick; the guys are gonna be expecting me back soon. We’ll go talk to them together.”

He resumed his aid, and after a few minutes, you could tell that he had started getting curious; he didn't seem like a man who knew how to shut up.

“How’d you disguise yourself as a man this long?”

With a shaky inhale, you closed your eyes as his hands brushed over your rib cage. Involuntarily, a small smile made its way onto your face as the countless predicaments you’d found yourself in flooded your memory. “It’s a long story.”

Liebgott cracked a crooked smile. “I can make some time.”

Laughing despite the pain that flared in your rib cage from the action, you couldn't help but feel that this chanced occasion wouldn't be the last time you would speak to Liebgott. And for some reason foreign to you at that moment, you hoped that your intuition was correct.

-

taglist: @mads-weasley, @ronsparky, @dcyllom, @malarkgirlypop, @joetoyesbrassknuckles101

[kryscent]

you’ll watch the tv, while im watching you

pairing: fushiguro megumi x gn!reader, established relationship

wc: 1.1k

genre: fluff, comfort fic, slightly suggestive content (making out lol), they love each other but no matter how long they've been together they're obsessed. with each other.

a/n: enjoy. he's the loml.

You’re home early. 

You glance up from where you’re toeing off your shoes and socks, one hand against the wall to keep your balance. You get to see how his face melts once he catches your eye. 

MEGUMI is watching you intently, your boyfriend’s attention easily captured away from the sci-fi film playing on the flatscreen in front of him, casting a gentle, pretty glow on his face in the otherwise dark room, enraptured completely by you.

A smile tugs at the corners of your lips and he naturally mirrors the action, barely a second thought behind it. He quickly pauses the movie before getting up to come over to you, your black long-haired cat following behind, their joint footfalls padding against the floor in tandem. Your smile widens just a tad. 

‘Today’s mission was fairly uneventful-,’ you begin, as he takes your bag and coat from you, hanging it onto the small rack in your foyer, you bow your head slightly in thanks, ‘-and dare I say easy. Didn’t even get a scratch on me; half because Maki-san insisted on letting me “sit back, relax and watch her work her magic”,’ the both of you sharing a laugh at your silly little impression of your senior. 

‘It meant less work for me, anyways, so I wasn’t opposed to it, either,’ you finish, exhaling slowly  and pressing your mouth into a close-lipped smile. He’s not a big talker - a man of few words, but you can see the encompassing relief drowning his irises, that you’re safe, you’re not hurt, you came back to me as you promised.  

Because as much as he appreciates you patching him up, and how he would treat your wounds time and time again without question, he’d rather not. He’d rather not, because it means your pain, it means your suffering, it means your not being able to sleep comfortably beside him as you usually do, for the next few nights after. He doesn’t like the way your ache lingers in his memory over the duration of the days that come after, watching you make coffee for the both of you in the morning with a bandage here and a small stitch there, like a presence that wasn’t well cared for, and that was his biggest fear. It's something that always itches at the back of his mind, echoing through the expanse of his skull - a memory, a warning. He was meant to, born to, protect you. The greatest torment of seeing your wounds was acknowledging his failure and your pain.

So, he brushes his lips against your cheek, and all he says is, ‘Welcome home.’ 

He leads you by your hand all the way to your room, detouring down the hallway to press you into the wall, holding your face with both hands, whispers of having missed you all day breathed deep into your lips, a secret for only him to know and only you to hear. He reluctantly parts from kissing down your forehead, your cheek, your jaw, all the way up to the shell of your ear, when you laugh, leaning away so you could finally be free from his relentless onslaught, promising to be quick with your shower. 

His brows are slightly furrowed, impatient at having to wait for you again, and when you eventually do come out, you jolt a little when you see him leaning against the wall a little ways away from the door, grinning to yourself at how clingy he's being, showing his care in his own, very Megumi, way. 

He pulls you to the couch, settling you down next to him and loading up the movie he was watching. 

‘Wait, I could start it over for you if you’d like-,’ he turns to you, fidgeting with the remote in his hand.

‘No it’s okay, just wanna lay here, ‘gumi,’ you say tiredly with a little smile, already leaning towards the seats. He starts, ears immediately burning red when your head drops onto his lap, looking away when your eyes meet his, amused. 

He adjusts himself, trying not to move you around too much and sits comfortably, resting an arm over your torso. 

If he thought he could watch the movie in peace, he was easily wrong. He couldn’t focus, not when your gaze was burning a path down the bridge of his nose, the bow of his lips, the sharp curve of his jaw. 

He squirms in his seat, arm moving from idling on the back of the couch to flopping down beside him, distracting himself from feeling your attention, eyes shifting everywhere that wasn’t you. You stare, more interested in watching him than the TV, as the flashing lights from the movie glimmer on his own skin, reflecting off smoothness, blemish and scars, bringing love to each. His own vision has tunnelled to the screen, trying to pay attention, but his eyes fail him, quickly shifting downwards to see you. 

And you look breathtaking. You’re awestruck, eyes softened and content like you’ve seen nebulas instead of just him, lips parted, and Megumi is scared to dip into the pure emotion flooding him, because he’s overwhelmed with the words repeating themselves in his head, and he wants to kiss you again. 

I love you, I love you, I fucking love you. 

And it’s all you can hear too. Under both your hearts thudding against the confines of your chests, under your raging pulse, under the violent urge to lean up just a little and press your lips to his, you can hear a quiet echo, growing into an insistent howl. 

He subconsciously lets himself fall forward, just a little, a breath closer to you. His hand moves up your waist, the material of your shirt catching onto his hand and riding up as he brings it to your face. 

Reaching your own palm to his face, you cup his cheek, pull yourself up and kiss him hard enough to bruise, because you’re laid on his lap and you still miss him. 

Living as a sorcerer came without a promise of tonight, tomorrow, let alone a lifetime. And yet, you think you don’t mind living as much, be it tonight, be it tomorrow, be it your forever, if you get to see the sight of him eagerly waiting for your arrival every night, as will you, breath taken from him by your presence alone.

It’s all he can hear in the curve of your lips to his, his mind repeating it back to you, he can feel it and it's thrumming through his veins and it’s pounding in his heart and it's in his ears and in his lips and in his head. 

He loves you. And you love him too. 

kryscent '24

[bunnypeew]

Hi Hi! I saw you were doing requests!!

Could you do a a husk x reader where they work at the bar together?

If not that's ok!

Baristas - Husk x Gn!reader

of course, I can do that!! But a disclaimer I put in my other Husk one shot,, I'm really BAD at writing him so that's why I'm giving a heads-up! but otherwise, enjoy! also, I'm making the reader gender-neutral I hope that's okay

it was an uneventful night, Husk and Y/n didn't really have anything to do but contemplate life until someone came to the bar. Angel was out doing things with Cherri bomb probably, Sir Pentious and Nifty were nowhere to be seen and Charlie and Vaggie were out on a date night. Alastor was there tho, though not necessarily there there but they both knew he was in his radio tower, also because not too much earlier he and Husk had a misunderstanding let's say and therefore Y/n and Husk were very quiet right now.

They decided to break the silence by putting themself in front of Husk who was drying some glasses, full attention now on his partner his eyes softened a tad bit at this. Their hands went to his face cupping his fluffy cheeks and caressing them gently

''can I ask what happened before with Alastor?,,

they mutter almost in a whisper to not let anyone hear but him, they were pretty scared by Alastor because of all the things Husk told them about him since they met.

It was when Y/n first started working at the bar with Husk, he wasn't very fond of the idea since he liked his own personal space and the bar wasn't necessarily that big. Charlie was of course the one who offered Y/n the job since they didn't really know how to do anything other than make some cocktails and drinks, so they settled. They tried making conversations with him, they really did but it was to no use, until one day he genuinely spoke to them about one of his passions when he was an overlord, this was a slip-up and he knew but them, it was something so incredibly important, so they kept bugging him since then about all the things that he liked, because they cared oh so very much about him. Husk started growing fond of them as well bit by bit and started also teaching them how to make cocktails and some drinks he really enjoyed.

Back to the present he was thinking, looked away from their eyes to avoid them seeing how scared he truly was of this deal he had made. They could tell he was avoiding their eyes and tried to redirect him but he softly grasped their hands and moved them away from his face, looking away now.

''I don't want him to hurt you, hell I don't even want him to come near you,,

he manages to mutter out in one breath, now looking back at them fully, his hands on both sides on their face stroking them

''I need you to promise me you'll stay away from that dickhead, okay?,,

he says putting his forehead against theirs, looking in their eyes softly

''I promise,,

A/n: this was a little short but again I'm not very good at writing him BUT KEEP ASKING HIM SO MAYBE ILL GET BETTER!! thank you anon for the request!!

[katsu28]

🍭 lollipop -26. “Just breathe. Like that. That’s it” from List 4 with steve pls?? ty<3

i combined this one with another request—"relax, i've got you." because i thought they went pretty hand in hand with each other, i hope that's okay! ty for requesting! <3

dad!steve harrington x pregnant!reader, mentions of pain and pregnancy symptoms, 1.3k

Being pregnant was proving to be one of the hardest things in your life. You’d had enough dizziness and nausea in your first trimester to last you a lifetime, enough achiness and swollen feet in your second than anyone should ever have, and now in your third, you’d discovered something brand new to put on your list of pregnancy woes.

False labor pains, otherwise known as Braxton-Hicks contractions (as Steve had very quickly informed you after a trip to the library that resulted in a pile of what to expect when you’re expecting-esque books residing next to his side of the bed). Paired with an extremely active baby girl with a horse strength kick who loved to make it known 24/7, this home stretch was your toughest one yet.

The telltale open and shut of the front door signaled Steve’s arrival, even before his voice. “Honey, I’m home!!!” He sang.

You made a vague noise of acknowledgement from your sprawled out position on the couch, waving your hand over your head haphazardly. You’d been stuck in the same spot for almost the whole day, seeing as every time you tried to get up, either another well placed kick or a false contraction dragged you right back down.

“How’re my girls doing?”

“Your daughter’s doing her daily karate routine against my organs, but other than that we’re great.”

“Oh so she’s gonna do karate now? I thought she was gonna be a tap dancer? Or a soccer player?” Steve teased gently, tossing his keys into the bowl on the table near the front door. He kicked his shoes off too, hanging his jacket on the hook next to yours before crossing the room to rub your shoulders with a kiss pressed to the top of your head.

“She can be all of them when she grows up, but I wish she’d stop it right now.”

He let out a snort of laughter, rounding the couch and kneeling in front of you. One hand came to rub your belly gently, the other coming to land on your knee. “Anything I can do for you?”

“Tell her to cut it out.” Another laugh from him. “How was work?”

“Pretty uneventful. Robin says hi though, wanted me to ask if you two were still on for lunch on Tuesday?”

“Oh my god, I totally forgot to call her back!” You gasped, hands scrabbling for purchase on the couch cushions as if you wanted to push yourself up.

“Hey, hey, slow your roll, sweetheart. Take it easy, I’ll give her a call later.” Steve eased you back down, shooting you a pointed look when you pouted up at him. “I promise, ‘mkay?”

“‘Mkay.” You sighed, slumping back into your previous position. Then, barely even taking a beat, you shot up straight again, this time moving to grab Steve’s shoulders as leverage.

His brows furrowed in instant concern. “What? What’s happening now? Are you okay?”

“Gotta pee.”

“Jesus, you really scared me for a second there,” He breathed, pressing a hand against his chest but going to help you up anyways.

The second you made it to your feet, you were hit with another Braxton-Hicks, this one so big that you would’ve keeled over at the strength of it if not for Steve still holding on to you. You squeezed your eyes shut, sinking back down on the couch yet again with a choked whimper. For something called false labor, the pain sure was really goddamn real. “Whoa, okay. Relax, I’ve got you. You’re alright, sweetheart, you’re doing great. Just relax.”

“Tell me to relax one more time and I’m gonna wring your neck, Harrington.” You said through gritted teeth, fisting his shirt in your hand as if it would help you ride out the pain.

Steve ignored your threat, because he knew you didn’t actually mean it. You’d been growing a whole tiny human inside you for the past eight months, the least he could do was stomach a few gripes here and there. “Squeeze my hands. Just squeeze my hands, it’ll help.”

You gladly took him up on the offer, borderline crushing his hands with a strength neither you nor him knew you had, but he’d never complain about it. A popped knuckle and temporary loss of blood flow was nothing compared to what you’d been having to endure nonstop.

Tears welled up in your eyes at the worsening spasm in your back and abdomen, like someone had taken your insides and was twisting them around in their grip.

“Just breathe. In through the nose, out through the mouth.” Steve soothed, mimicking the deep breaths he wanted you to take. “Like that, that’s it. There you go. Just like that, baby.”

“This is the cramp from hell, Steve, deep breathing isn’t helping anything.”

“Okay, alright, let’s try something else then. Didn’t the doctor say moving around would help lessen the pain?” He suggested, trying his best to rack his brain despite the numbness creeping through his hands. “Or maybe drink some water? I can get you a glass of—”

“Can you just shut up for a minute?” The sharpness in your words shocked you, and should’ve shocked Steve too, but he didn’t seem phased at all, instead just nodding, gazing up at you with wide honey eyes currently filled with concern.

Guilt pooled in you as soon as the contraction finally subsided, and somehow, the guilt felt worse. Steve had been nothing less than the perfect partner this entire pregnancy, and here you were snapping at him for being supportive. Again.

You inhaled a shaky breath, bringing his hands up and pressing a kiss to each of his palms. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Stevie, I don’t mean to be mean to you, I just—”

“I’m gonna stop you right there, okay? You can do and say anything you want to me, sweetheart, and you never have to apologize. You’re carrying our kid, you’ve got every right to be as mean as you want.” He assured you, cupping your face. His thumbs stroked across your cheeks featherlight despite the firmness in his grip. “I’m a big boy, I can take it. Never be sorry. You don’t have to be.”

“I love you,” You sighed miserably, melting against him like a popsicle on a hot summer day.

“I love you most, sweetheart.” He replied softly, leaning down to press his lips against your belly before adding something. “And I love you most too, baby girl, even though you’re giving your mom a tough time right now.”

“I swear, she’s bullying me more and more everyday.”

He chuckled softly, smoothing a hand down your back in light circles. “I’m sure that’s just her way of saying she’s excited to meet us.”

“I know. I’m so excited to meet her and I know she’s already everything we’ve ever dreamed of, but I’d kill to be able to sleep on my stomach again.”

“One more month, baby. Just one more month and then you can sleep on your stomach all you want.” He murmured, breath ghosting across your skin with each word.

“One more month.” You echoed, curling your hand around the back of his neck. One more month of discomfort for a lifetime of anything and everything with your baby girl. That, you were excited for. Slightly terrified, but definitely more excited. “I’m nervous. Are you?”

“Oh yeah. Nearly-shitting-my-pants nervous. All the time. I don’t think that feeling is ever gonna go away, honestly.” He snorted, nodding sharply. He pressed one more kiss to your belly. “But it’s worth it. As long as I have my two girls, anything is worth it.”

“I hate how perfect you’re being right now.”

“Just right now? I think you mean always.”

You pressed your lips together suddenly, scrunching your nose at him. “Stevie, you’re about to hate me.”

“I could never, but good try.”

“I still need to pee.”

Steve barked out a laugh, heaving himself to his feet and gearing up to help you in your endless attempts at standing up. “C’mon, preggers, let’s get you to the bathroom before karate kid in there decides to try out for a new belt.”

[xheykyjx]

irl story

so. this is heavily inspired by something that happened to me recently. even just thinking about it lowkey makes me feel some type of way, i'm not gonna lie😭

tw for depictions of nausea ahead, under the cut!! 🫶

"i don't fucking care," you're saying, laughing in spite of your words. beside you, your crush is sheepishly holding a dinner menu. the two of you had run a few errands together the other day, and on the way back to your dorm you'd stopped at a drive-thru, where your crush had paid for your food. now, you're out for dinner with them and a handful of other friends, and it's the perfect opportunity for you to pay them back.

"i feel bad," your crush whines, hitting you with some pretty strong puppy-dog eyes. "i was kidding when i asked you to pay for me."

"well, i'm not," you tell them decisively, and you quickly tell the waiter both of your orders: food for you, and food for your crush. they thank you, smiling sweetly, and dinner carries on. the food is delivered eventually and everyone is happy with what they ordered. out of the corner of your eye, you notice that your crush is eating with gusto, spooning bite after bite into their mouth with barely a second between. but they're a pretty big eater, and—at the end of the day—they are an adult. so you say nothing.

fast forward to the end of the meal—the bill has been split evenly (except for you and your crush, of course, because you paid for theirs before they could argue any more about it) and you're all leaving the restaurant. as you step outside, your crush says, sort of casually, "i think i might've ate too much." immediately you're blushing, trying not to squirm or stare as you laugh teasingly. your crush giggles too, and one of your friends makes a quip about them having a rock in their stomach. as you walk through the parking lot, it's impossible not to notice their hand on their belly.

your group came in two cars, so you all bid each other farewell and pile into your respective vehicles. you're sitting in the passenger seat and your crush is sitting in the back, right behind you. it's a short drive back home, but you keep your eyes and ears peeled anyway, waiting for some kind of indicator that your crush is in more discomfort than they'd initially let on. but the ride is largely uneventful, and you're all dropped off outside your building.

as you make for the doors, your crush lags slightly behind you. you almost think it's your imagination when you hear the tiniest burp—this tight, uncomfortable sound that you would've otherwise missed had there been any other noise happening around you. steadfastly, you say nothing. what's there to say, anyway?

you pull open the door and your crush walks through. you're walking up the first flight of stairs when they say, "i'm kinda—i'm kinda nauseous, i think." and—there's no way this is real, but it is—as they're speaking, their throat tightens around a gag, voice going low and tense as they fight off the urge to retch. you're both alarmed and incredibly turned on, and by the time you've made it to the landing they're hiccuping out a genuine gag—it's small but wet, gurgling just slightly in the bottom of their throat. your heart starts pounding.

"dude," you say, laughing nervously, hoping your arousal isn't obvious. "don't tell me you're actually gonna puke." you could almost wish it in your head: please puke please puke please puke, but you quash that train of thought before it fully starts. now is not the time.

"um—" your crush swallows, and you finally let yourself take a good, long look at their face. they aren't especially pale or sweaty, and there's good humor written all over their expression, but there's a touch of nerves there, too. and the fist near their mouth isn't helping matters, either.

[mama-qwerty]

WIP Wednesday

Okay, I've been kinda spiraling into one of my patented Qwerty Funks, so haven't been doing a lot of writing lately. But I started this after reading one of @guardian-of-da-gay's whumptober fics and may finish it at some point when my brain stops being mean to me.

The first time Knuckles lets Callie treat an injury. As with all WIPs, this may get tweaked as I finalize it.

~~~~~

A knock on the kitchen door drew Callie’s attention, and she tossed the mail she’d been flipping through on her desk. Taking a few steps to the side, she saw the familiar shape of a red echidna on the deck, illuminated in the oncoming twilight by the soft light above the door.

“C’mon on in, Knux,” she said, waving him inside. “You know you don’t have to knock anymore.”

He nodded, pushing the door open to step in. “Good evening, Callie.”

“Hey, kiddo. How was your day?”

“Uneventful.”

“That’s good, I guess.”

It had been a month since the second Robotnik battle. The giant robot had been dismantled and carted away--GUN had done the impossible and proven that a government-led clean up effort could be completed quickly and effectively, but only if it was in that organization’s best interests--and things had pretty much returned to some semblance of normal.

Tails had settled in with the Wachowskis, and Knuckles had, more or less, been taken under her wing. (Despite GUN’s best attempts to say otherwise.) It was a delicate arrangement—he wasn’t interested in ‘settling in’ like Tails had been, and although he seemed to consider Callie’s house his ‘home camp’, she’d never actually gotten him to stay longer than an hour or two. He’d show up to touch base, fill his belly (sometimes), and then he’d be off, going who knows where and doing who knows what.

She’d tried to talk to him, find out what he was up to, but he usually shut her down with a few gruff responses, before tensely stalking back out the door.

He was an independent kid. On his own since he was a little boy. She got that. She understood that.

Didn’t mean it didn’t piss her off, though.

Honestly, she felt more like a diner than a home for him, and it was really starting to grate on her.

She didn’t want him to feel like she was smothering him, but she also didn’t want to be just a pit stop for him in between his patrols or whatever he did all day. She wanted him to feel like this was a safe place. Somewhere he could return to and let his guard down. Feel comfortable in.

But he still had his guard up. Even now. Carried himself with pride and . . .

. . . was he limping?

She watched carefully—but not too obviously—as he moved toward the fridge. He walked awkwardly, keeping his right leg stiff, his gait just slightly lopsided. His expression betrayed nothing. No pain, or discomfort. Not that she expected it to.

Knuckles pulled the door open and helped himself to a bottle of water, twisting the cap off and downing half of it in one go. Letting out a satisfied sigh, he wiped his mouth with the back of a mitt, before turning to her.

“May I stay for your evening meal?”

Callie had to restrain a sigh.

Every. Night.

He asked every.damn.night if he could stay for supper.

As if he were a visitor. A passing guest. An intruder in her life.

God, it frustrated her to no end.

“You know you don’t need to ask that, Knux. You are more than welcome to stay.”

He dropped his head in a short bow toward her, before finishing the rest of his water. The odd gait was back as he moved to throw the bottle in the trash.

Callie’s brow furrowed. “Everything okay, big guy?”

Knuckles froze. “Of course.”

She gave a little nod. “So . . . there’s nothing wrong with your leg, then?”

He pulled his lips tight, his quills bristling just slightly. “No.”

Another nod. She stepped closer, tilting her head to get a better look at him. Turning slightly, Knuckles shifted his weight to keep his right leg hidden. Even from this angle, and through his fur, she could tell it was swollen. “You sure?”

“It is none of your concern,” he said, little crinkles over his snout as he tried not to snarl at her.

“What isn’t?”

“My leg.”

“I thought you said there was nothing wrong with your leg.”

Now he snarled, and added a little hint of growl for good measure. “There isn’t.”

“Then why are you gettin’ all growly?”

She wasn’t trying to be a smartass, she really wasn’t. But he was being so damn stubborn, and she was nearing the end of her patience with his refusal to give even an inch when it came to letting himself be even the teeniest bit vulnerable with her.

“Enough,” he growled, and held himself even tighter as he very stiffly and awkwardly moved toward the door. “I am leaving.”

She couldn’t help it. Callie let out a little growl of her own, closing the distance quickly. “You are so stubborn. Why can’t you just admit you’re hurt and need help?”

“Because I don’t!” He turned a little too quickly, bumping his right leg off the trash can. Sucking in a quick breath, Knuckles’ face pinched in pain. “I’m . . . ngh, I’m fine.”

“Yeah, you look just dandy.” She moved closer. “C’mon, let me take you to Maddie. She’s a doctor, she can help.”

He recoiled at the word ‘doctor’, his face pulling into a snarl. “NO DOCTORS!”

[femmmie]

Review of Smosh's Funeral Roast

I am harsh at times, but know it all comes from a place of love!

Spoilers under the cut

I live in Europe. This is relevant because of timezones: the funeral roast of Anthony Padilla was live at 6pm for them, meaning 3am for me. I am not the youthful insomniac I once was so I had to train my sleep schedule the entire week - otherwise I would miss it because I fell asleep. But I wanted to witness this live. I love smosh.

The trailer for this roast deserves an award: Ian and the cast have a movie night as suddenly the light turns blue and everyone but Ian freezes. He seems to know what's going on and discovers a zombie or ghost like Anthony levitating. The cast of the roast are all introduced and all play a gothic, churchy kind of character. See the full trailer here (it's currently at 666k views, how fun):

Around 1am I got impatient and decided not to wait for my alarm clock but to install myself on the couch, with a blanket and a scarf, and a hot cup of tea, god knows I would need it. I watched episodes of the Scott Pilgrim Netflix series to kill the time. The character Todd Ingram reminded me a lot of Anthony and I wonder whether Anthony has 'vegan superpowers' as well. Probably so.

Finally, the pre-show begins. This is pretty uneventful as they play a game and succesfully convince thousands of viewers to buy their tickets to the main show. I look at them. Everyone is gorgeous. But I can't look away from Ian and Anthony. And here is where I stray from actually reviewing the show to let my inner fangirl out: holy fuck they are hot. Me and my friends on tumblr have been making 'forgive me Father, for I have SINNED' jokes because his character, 'the pastor', just brings that out in people. We're not used to Ian in black, or in a robe, and he looks phenomenal. And then there is Anthony, clothed in a ridiculous Harry Styles-esque lace top with lace gloves, resting his head on Ian's shoulder. It's such a cute moment, Ian pushes him upright. He can be alive for a second before his funeral. My heart melts. Honerable mention: Courtney's bikini girl cleavage right behind Ian. The girls were ready to rock. Okay, okay, back to the review.

The room feels kind of small and a bit claustrophobic. The Smosh art dept. always steps up, so the stained glass "friendship never dies" high-five looks incredible, and the megachad-Anthony portrait hilarious. The casket is huge. But the props make the set look even smaller. I think the problem is the cameras. I realize how difficult camerawork is when you have multiple focus points to switch between, but next time they should do a lot of practice with this to streamline, to get everyone in the shot and better capture people's reactions to the roasts.

Ian walks in. He starts off with a bit about who Anthony is: a hot, hardworking guy with a big dick. Those are the main takeaways of his roasts.

Amanda is next. She looks beautiful but very wacky. Her deliverance and accent are stellar, though. She truly is top talent at Smosh. Her roasts are also some of the most scorching of the night. She doesn't shy away from calling out Anthony's past problematic behavior and less than stellar performance in the bedroom ("look it up!") She gets a round of applause and deservedly so.

Tommy follows with a kind of angry roast, and proceeds to read the will, from which nobody comes away unscathed. I feels like his words about Anthony supposedly hating the cast are a necessary evil. Just the same day Anthony posted his interview with Shayne on his personal channel. There we learned that Shayne didn't know before if Ian and Anthony actually had wanted to hire them. Anthony said they were very much involved, something I don't know whether to believe. As apparently, Ian never talked about it with Shayne either, for all those years. Shayne had also been very apprehensive when Anthony came back, not knowing what would happen and the first change was to boot the entire cast off the main channel. I feel like Tommy's roast puts the topic on the table and hopefully they will talk about it more until nobody has any doubt left.

Now I have to insert that one of my main critiques of the night is that lots of people both did a lot of obvious jokes (tattoos, leaving smosh, general appearance) and did not go hard enough. Anthony kind of has an awkward CEO vibe (he's not the ceo but still) about him that seems to make even the cast a bit wary of him. I had hoped for jokes about that.

Brandon Rogers is next and rightfully points out the lack of celebrities in the line-up. Doesn't Anthony have more friends who want to roast him? Either he doesn't or the rest of Smosh don't have access to them. Which is both fine, because it is a Smosh party after all.

Arasha comes in swinging with all kinds of Zoomer slang that I frankly don't understand but her deadpan delivery is like a breath of fresh air. She ends with a very nice message. That kind of undercuts her roasts though, I wish she would have been meaner.

Now it is time for the musical half-time show, which actually deserves its own review. Performed by Angela and Chanse, this is incredible. By far, the most professional part of the evening. These are no theater kids, as they still call themselves. These are Broadway acTORS! I was really taken away by their talent. Not only do they act, but they also sing amazingly? Did you hear Angela do screamo?! And Chanse's riffs? They pointedly mention the sexual tension between Ian and Anthony, both on- and off screen. This has been occupying my mind ever since. Wow, sorry I went fangirl-mode again. But the halftime show simply is that good. Keith makes an appearance at the end and brings the show back down to earth with his humor.

The biggest surprise guests are next in what I can only describe as Dan telling the horny tale of his years long obsession with Anthony, and the many, many times he unloaded on the 'sexy Anthony' calender (which is a real calender, I was there when it came out but was broke at the time, darnit). Dan and Phil have been shedding their PG personas on their own channels for a while now, but for those who don't watch them daily this December - they're doing gamingmas and it's chaos - it is shocking what X-rated stuff comes out of their mouths. Anthony is visibly taken aback. Good!

As the show progresses, Ian keeps moderating as the pastor. It is great to see him so in control and enjoying the roast of his best friend. The joke of Ian not being able to show his emotions comes up a lot, but today I see him mainly just having fun.

Of course, then there is Bikini Girl, whom I had high hopes for, maybe too high. She is hilarious, but nothing really stings. Courtney does also direct the whole show, so super kudos to her. I just don't think she has the best roasts. She is followed by Rhett and Link, who just do their regular thing. It is funny but not very original. You can only hear so many tattoo jokes before it gets old. We do see Link's bare torso, so a win for fangirls (gender neutral).

Then Shayne, or should I say the Chosen has his turn. He is absolutely in character and does great. I just don't know if the Chosen is the best person to deliver roasts. It feels more like a Shayne party than a roast of Anthony. Which enough people love all the same, I'm sure.

Angela is 'the vessel', a possessed girl, reading the roasts from the audience. These roasts are very mid (they should have included mine! /j), but her delivery is again stellar. Smosh is really lucky to have her.

And last but not least, Ian goes on a second roasting spree. Only, it isn't a roast? He just makes fun of Anthony’s baby picture and then proceeds to tell Anthony how grateful he is for him, how he's so glad they are friends again and that he loves him? Anthony is crying by this time, which makes the moment even more tender.

Of course, Anthony has to do a counter-roast. It is apparent that he is still affected by all the roasting or 'love-bombing' as Amanda calls it. And he's not as good at live comedy yet. Still, his jokes are funny and really in Anthony's own style. He concludes with Ian's quote of being happy to burn Smosh to the ground with him. I knew that quote would be ingrained in Anthony's mind. It was one of the sweetest things Ian had ever said to him, after all. Until Ian has now told him he loves him, of course.

And then it was 5 am. I got a healthy two hours of sleep in! I came away from this roast with a content smile and a full heart. This was well worth the ticket, the staying up late. I am happy to be a member and support them monthly, I've loved their humor even before they started their youtube channel. I love Smosh. I'm so happy that Anthony is back. Smosh is whole again. And it brings out that light in Ian's eyes. He is funny in an unhinged way again. I truly love Anthony and Ian and their dumb videos. I want them to continue to make them forever. These kinds of live shows are fun. But Ian and Anthony truly shine in their off the walls absurdist sketches.

Special shout-out to my bestie @only-frann who I could scream at this whole day.