#dinnertime chatter

[supperparty]

chef theres a polycule in my soup

the love is there for flavoring!

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Best Intentions - Chapter One

Pairing: Tom Bennett (World on Fire) x femme Warnings: Angst. Smut. Mentions of shell shock and trauma. Word count: ~4.3k

Summary: An overview of how Tom and her came to be friends, and the set up for the story now that he's returned to Longsight. Series masterlist.

Author's note: I don't have a tag list. Please follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications. Community labels are for cops.

The imposing red brick building of Plymouth Grove Primary School is gigantic and intimidating to her as she enters through the gates to the playground, the thought of being left here for the entire day makes her clutch at her mum’s hand with tight desperation.

Her first day of school is one she’ll never forget, forever imprinted in her mind, owing to a big pair of blue eyes filled with mischief, and a grin with a pair of front teeth that remind her of a rabbit’s.

It’s morning break as she surveys the playground nervously, trying to decide if she feels brave enough to join in on a nearby game of hopscotch. It’s then that she feels a warm puff of air ruffle the back of her hair, and she spins around to see a sandy haired boy running back towards a group of laughing lads.

“I did it! I gobbed in her hair!” He shouts.

Humiliation warms her skin as tears prickle her eyes, and she hurries inside to the girls’ toilets to unsuccessfully try to locate where the offending spittle has landed, all the while sniffling back sobs.

It’s when dinnertime comes and she sits unhappily sipping her milk that she sees him again. He sidles up to her, alone this time, a sheepish look on his face.

“I didn’t really,” he shifts awkwardly from foot to foot, “Gob in your hair, I mean. I was dared to, so I pretended,”

“Oh,” is all she’s able to manage, not sure of what else to say.

“I’m Tom. Mates, yeah?” He says with his bunny toothed grin, and she can’t help but smile back.

He sits himself next to her, opening his own milk and they spend the remainder of the hour getting to know each other.

She’s surprised to learn that it’s his first day too, she had assumed from his confidence that he would be a couple of years above her. He lives with his dad, Douglas, who works as a bus conductor, his mum - Josie, and his sister, Lois, who is a couple of years above them.

He learns all about how she lives with her mum, and it’s just the two of them as her dad had passed away when she was a baby. Her mum runs the shop off of Stamford Road with her uncle, who lives in the flat above it.

Tom’s eyes light up at the mention of this. “The one with the jars of sherbet straws?”

“Yeah,” she smiles, “And treacle toffees!”

By half past three that afternoon, as the children file back out of the school gates, her and Tom are firm friends.

Her mum and Josie stand waiting to collect them, and they discover that they live only a few streets apart, so the four of them and Lois walk home together, chattering excitedly about her and Tom’s first day of school.

From that day forward, the thought of being at school for the entire day fills her with excitement. Tom makes it a less scary place to be, and is quick to defend her if ever anyone tries to give her trouble.

Their friendship remains solid as the years pass, as does Tom’s compulsion for finding trouble. He adores showing off and being the centre of attention, but it’s always her he runs to when it’s time to face the consequences. She is a privy to a side of him that nobody else is, she has seen his fear, his sadness and his doubt.

They sit on the wall adjacent to her mum’s shop, a paper bag rustling between them as they help themselves to sherbet straws. Tom and Lois had walked home with her and her mum. Josie hadn’t been there to pick them up, she hadn’t been for a few days now.

“Should probably go home soon,” she slurs around a mouthful of sweets, “Need to do my homework.”

Tom nods slowly, moving his own sweet around in his mouth. “D’you…d’you think you could help me with mine?”

“Why?” She chides, “‘Cause you spent all lesson mucking about?”

“Come on,” he pleads, “Me mam’s not well, last thing she needs is me getting into trouble because I can’t do sums.”

She clicks her tongue and sighs. “Fine,” she says, jumping down from the wall.

“Smashing,” he grins, following after her.

She smiles over her shoulder at him. “What are mates for?”

Josie’s illness worsens and she passes away around the time that they start secondary school.

Tom’s behaviour becomes more uncontrollabe, exacerbated by his mum’s death, but with her and Lois at the all girls school, and him at the all boys, there is little that can be done to stop him.

Things come to a head one day when Douglas opens the door to an angry neighbour, who berates him for Tom having stolen the milk from their doorstep, running away laughing, before dropping and smashing it when they’d chased after him.

He’d come to her after Douglas had given him a stern telling off, head bowed and looking sorry for himself.

“He hates me,” Tom had said sullenly.

“He doesn’t hate you, Tom, you just need to behave yourself. Why’d you do it?”

“Was dared to,” he says with a shrug.

“Like when you spat in my hair?”

He presses his lips together, lowering his eyes. “I dunno why I do it. It’s just hard since mam’s gone, dad doesn’t understand me like she did.”

It’s then that she notices the tears that rim his eyes, and she pulls him into a hug.

When had he gotten so tall? He feels massive compared to how he used to.

“Thanks,” he whispers, “I’m glad we’re mates.”

The next few years follow a similar pattern; Tom gets into trouble and immediately runs to her each time, basking in the safety of her presence and comforting words.

As they grow older, Tom’s misbevaiour evolves into petty crimes which soon attract the attention of the police.

She also begins to notice the smell of cigarette smoke clinging to him each time she pulls him into a hug, a troubling new habit he’s developed, no doubt to impress the older boys. 

He now seems impossibly tall, and with every inch he grows it feels like he pulls a little bit further away from her. It makes her heart ache.

She grows used to seeing him walking home in the mornings looking bedraggled, a cigarette perched between his lips, after having spent the night in the back of a pub to avoid the police, who would no doubt have been knocking at the door of the Bennett household the previous evening.

When news of war having broken out in Europe reaches them and lads Tom’s age begin signing up to the draft, Tom decides he’s having none of it.

“Signing up as a conchie!” He tells her, as they sit on the wall together, waving the green booklet for emphasis.

“Your dad was a conscientious objector,” she says, narrowing her eyes in disbelief, “Your beliefs are suddenly the same as his are they?”

Tom tuts, flicking his lighter absentmindedly. “Just don’t wanna sign my life away for a load of bollocks that’s got naff all to do with me,”

His mind soon changes once the police come knocking again. He enlists in the Navy, action he considers less direct than fighting on the front lines.

The night before he’s due to ship out, he has a rowdy celebration in the local pub, jeering and clinking glasses with those who’ve not yet joined the draft. She watches on with a heavy feeling in her chest, she knows behind all his claims of how many Germans he’s going to kill and how he’ll have a bird in every port that he’s terrified of what’s to come.

That much is proven as he walks her home later that night, unsteady on his feet and reeking of beer. He sways in front of her once they reach her front door, big blue eyes misty and filled with emotion.

“You okay, sailor?” She asks with a soft smile.

“Can I– can I stay the night?” He asks, suddenly seeming like the little boy he was back when they were in primary school and he’d apologised for pretending to spit in her hair. “I don’t wanna be alone.”

She’s never shared a bed with Tom before. They’ve always been just friends. Her throat runs dry at the thought, but in that moment he seems so vulnerable, she can’t deny him anything.

They creep up the rickety wooden stairs to her bedroom, careful not to wake her mum, and squeeze into the single bed that occupies the space. He clings tightly to her, long limbs wrapped around her, like a drowning man grasping onto a lifesaver.

“I’m so scared,” he whispers into the darkness.

“You’ll come back,” she reassures him, “You have to, who else would be my mate?”

She feels him smile against her shoulder. “Yeah, who else would put up with you?”

They giggle, before shushing each other as she elbows him in the ribs, and they fall asleep curled around each other.

Tom’s gone when wakes up.

They write letters back and forth to each other, but each one feels distant and lifeless. He’s writing with the mask he shows to the rest of the world, giving an emotionless recount of each of his days. She supposes he might be afraid or whose hands his words may end up in, and he doesn’t want to embarrass himself, so she clings to every letter, vapid as they are, grateful to still have a connection to him.

She visits the Bennett household once a week, to share the letters they’ve been exchanging - to her disappointment, the ones she receives are much the same as the ones he sends home to Douglas and Lois.

Over time, her mum and uncle join her on her visits. Her mum brings cakes and her uncle gets into the habit of playing cards with Douglas. She is glad for the closeness between their two families, it makes Tom’s absence seem less daunting.

It’s at the Bennetts’ house where she learns the news of the attack on the HMS Exeter, the Naval ship that Tom is stationed aboard. Her blood runs icy cold at the news, though the Exeter was victorious it is not without deaths and casualties.

The weeks spent waiting for news are agonising, and it’s Tom she’s thinking of as she leans against the shop counter, eyes fixed on the large front window, but too lost in her thoughts to see through it.

“Quarter of sherbet straws when you’re not away with the fairies,”

The familiar voice startles her out of her reverie and she looks up wide eyed at Tom’s smiling face.

God, he’s grown into those bunny teeth. Has his smile always been so handsome?

“Tom!” She squeals, rushing from behind the counter and throwing her arms around his neck. “Do your dad and Lois know you’re back?”

He hugs her warmly before pulling back. “Yeah, popped home first to say hello. Left me new bird there, actually, thought you’d wanna meet her?”

She hates the way her heart sinks at this, but nods regardless, flipping the closed sign on the shop door and locking it behind her.

Tom tells her all about the Battle of the River Plate as they walk back to his house. He grows solemn when he’s finished, glancing sideways at her.

“I saw people die,” he says quietly, “I thought I was gonna die. Can’t believe there’s so much of my life I’ve pissed up the wall.”

It’s then that she notices how much more mature he seems, wise beyond his years. He’s seen things that no man his young age should have seen. She reaches for his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze, a gesture which he returns.

“So, this is Vera,” he gestures towards the kitchen table as they head inside.

She laughs, relief washing over her, when she sees the little canary sitting in her cage.

For a few days it feels like everything is back to normal, until Tom gets a new posting and has to leave again.

“I’ll come back,” he tells her, taking her hands in his, “who else would be your mate?”

She can’t help but smile. “No one else would put up with me,”

He’s away longer this time, his letters are fewer and the worry gnaws at her with more intensity than ever before.

For the second time in her life she cries over Tom Bennett when she hears that he’s been declared as missing in action on the beaches of Dunkirk, a suspected capture by opposing forces.

Lois falls pregnant, and for a time the advancing stages of her pregnancy and eventual birth are a welcome distraction, a reminder that there is life amongst all the death that surrounds them.

Her grief is amplified when bombs fall over Manchester, a bottomless pit opening in her gut when she finds out that there was a direct hit on the Bennett house. Her uncle and Douglas had been inside playing cards at the time, neither had survived.

Her mum moves Lois and her baby into the flat above the shop, with her uncle gone the space is no longer occupied and it makes sense for them to have it, considering they no longer have a roof over their heads.

It’s comforting to have them so close, a little piece of Tom to hold onto until he comes back, if he comes back. She hates herself for thinking it.

When Tom next steps through the shop door, there’s no trace of his grin from last time. He looks skinny, haunted, he’s aged. There’s an anger within his blue eyes that replaces the mischief that used to sparkle there.

He doesn’t need to ask for her to know what he’s after. There will be no hugs of greeting this time.

“She’s upstairs,” she says softly, her stomach tied into knots.

He simply nods and walks towards the back to go up.

It doesn’t take long for her to be able to hear the muffled sounds of arguing and not five minutes later he storms back downstairs and out into the street. She follows after him, grabbing the quarter of sherbet straws she’d bagged up for him.

He’s sat smoking on their usual spot on the wall, and she hops up beside him, placing the paper bag between them. He doesn’t touch them. She wonders when the last time he ate anything at all was, he looks so thin.

The silence between them feels painful, she doesn’t know what to say, but she can tell from the way his hands shake and the urgency with which he drags on his cigarette that if she doesn’t say something then he certainly won’t.

“You can’t be angry with Lois, y’know,” she says gently, “it’s not her fault,”

“Then whose is it?!” He snaps angrily, eyes narrowing as he looks at her.

He’s never spoken to her like that before and she shrinks away from it. “It’s not my fault either,” she whispers sadly.

His face softens, a look of shame replacing his anger as he averts his gaze, his lips twitching. “Sorry about your uncle,”

“Sorry about your dad,”

His return is brief, only a couple of days this time. Enough time for him to visit Douglas’ grave, but not enough for them to talk, not properly anyway. He reveals that he was taken to an American hospital in Paris, after being shot in Dunkirk. A woman named Henriette had helped him to escape France and he’d made his way home via Spain. It’s all so matter of fact the way that he recounts it, but she only has to look into his eyes to see the turmoil he’s feeling. It crushes her.

He looks fearful and uncertain when they say goodbye, the urge to cling to him and beg him not to go is overwhelming.

“You’ll still be here when I get back, won’t you?” He asks.

“Course I will, I always am,” she replies with a sad smile.

He cups her cheek, his large palm engulfing her face and leans down to press his lips to hers. She startles at first, they have never kissed before, but she quickly reciprocates, moving her mouth against Tom’s. His lips are so soft and there is a tenderness behind the gesture that brings tears to her eyes.

She’s breathless when they part, his forehead resting against hers, his hand still cupping her cheek.

“Mates, yeah?” He whispers.

The word makes her heart twinge. “Yeah, mates.”

Her fingers trace lightly across her mouth as she watches him walk away, kit bag slung over his shoulder.

Tom sends no letters at all the third time he leaves, so eventually she stops writing to him. She figures it can’t be nice for him to hear about how life is carrying on without him, how his niece has started to walk and talk, a new house built in place of his old one with a new family living inside it.

She can’t bear how the world continues, while she feels stuck in place, waiting for his return. It isn’t fair that there are people getting to laugh and love and live their lives, while he’s sacrificing his so that they may have the privilege.

With the exception of the morning paper sort, her mum has taken a step back from the shop, needing more rest than usual, and without her uncle around to help out, she’s taking on more hours in order to keep things ticking over. The sweet jars sit empty, rationing is difficult to get used to. She’ll never be able to come to terms with sending people away without the food they want and need, simply because the shop either doesn’t have enough stock, or they have already used their allotted portion for the week.

Her mind drifts back to how skeletal Tom had looked when she’d seen him last. She hopes he’s managing to eat.

It’s the beginning of September, the dying embers of summer glow dark orange on the horizon, as the evening battles the day for dominance in the increasingly earlier darkening of the sky.

Lois is on an evening shift, so her mum is round at the flat looking after the little one. She has the house to herself, and has lost count of the amount of times she’s read and re-read the same passage in her book, unable to take the words in.

She frowns when she hears the door knock, unsure of whether she should answer it or not, she’s not expecting anyone. Her hesitation provides enough time for a second knock, more urgent this time, so she relents, going to the front door and opening it.

It feels as though time freezes when she sees Tom standing there, gaunt and tired looking.

He doesn’t give her time to react, dropping his kit bag to the floor as he closes the door behind him and presses a bruising kiss to her lips. His hands pull at her clothes as he backs her towards the living room sofa, and she lets him.

She just needs to feel that he’s real, that he’s really back, so she loses herself in the moment, allowing him to climb on top of her, her own hands moving to strip him as he does the same to her.

Her fingertips stroke down his back and she’s shocked to find she can feel every vertebrae in his spine, and all the ribs that protrude through the skin. She’s never touched him in such an intimate manner before, but she knows he’s never been so emaciated. He feels hollow, yet there is strength to how he manhandles her.

Pulling her thighs apart, he settles between them, pushing her open with the thickness of his cock. She gasps, arching against him, clutching tightly to his shoulders as he pistons his hips in quick succession against hers. This is no gentle lovemaking, it is filled with raw animalistic need, a desire to feel something, anything.

His breaths are ragged against her neck and he finds release quickly, spilling inside of her with a grunt before collapsing and pulling her tight to his chest.

They lay quietly on the sofa together, nothing but the sounds of their heavy breathing filling the space. She has a thousand questions she longs to ask him, yet none of them seem appropriate. Despite the fact that Tom has just brutally had his way with her, she’s still in shock that he’s returned.

“I’m sorry I never wrote,” he says eventually, “was tired of never having any good news to tell you,”

“You’re back now,” she says quietly, fingers tracing over the bullet wound scar in his shoulder, “that’s all that matters,”

“Still mates then?” He asks.

Her heart lurches at the word. Is that all they are after what’s just happened?

“Yeah, still mates,”

He drifts to sleep in her arms and she holds him, until his thrashing pushes her from the sofa. She lands with a heavy thud on the living room carpet, watching in horror as Tom’s sweaty body writhes and cries out in terror in his sleep.

She kneels beside the sofa, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder to still him and coax him awake. He startles, wide eyed, before clutching at her, burying his face in her neck and sobbing until he drifts into unconsciousness again.

As Tom settles back into life in Longsight, he goes right back to wearing a mask for everyone.

“Are you a hero?” Children shout as he walks down the street.

“Always have been, always will be,” he says with a lopsided grin.

Yet each day ends with him muffling his cries into her neck after she’s soothed his night terrors, she knows better than the act he puts on for everyone else’s benefit. She suspects that Tom may be suffering from shell shock, but doesn’t dare to bring it up. Knowing his father had the same, it is likely a sore subject for him.

His return sees a new development in their friendship, them sleeping together the night he came back isn’t a one off occurrence, yet each time he still continues to refer to her as a mate. It’s confusing for her, but not an issue she wishes to push, knowing that Tom is struggling with enough already. He’ll figure it out when he’s ready, she just needs to be there for him.

Tom gets a flat nearby, and finds a job at the local garage. Having served in the Navy has imparted mechanical skills to him, and he can easily work his way around an engine.

She sits perched on the workbench of the garage, admiring the view. Tom’s sandy coloured hair is pushed back from his forehead, his navy overalls tied around his waist, leaving him in just the white vest he wears underneath. His first customer of the day has yet to arrive, so he’s clean for now. She bites her lip at the thought of how dirty he’ll be by the end of the day.

It has become routine for her to spend a few mornings a week watching him work - her mum has never gotten out of the habit of insisting she wants to open the shop and sort the morning papers before heading home, so she is left to her own devices most days until the early afternoon. Tom doesn’t seem to mind having her hang around the garage.

When a car pulls in, a portly gentleman stepping out, Tom walks to greet him.

“It keeps overheating, I can’t understand why,” he explains to Tom.

“I’ll take a look for ya, mate. Come back in an hour, yeah?”

The man looks over at her with slight concern. “Will she…uh…be assisting you?”

Tom grins. “Nah, she’s just a mate, won’t let her near your motor, don’t worry.”

Just a mate.

She thinks back to how he’d knelt behind her not long after they’d woken up, just a couple of hours ago, pulling her hips back to meet each of his thrusts.

Just a mate.

Mates don’t do that.

Tom’s voice breaks her out of her thoughts. “Stupid old sod, just needs to put coolant in the engine. Gonna tell him I replaced the fan belt and charge him extra.”

She giggles, shaking her head. “You’re unbelievable, you know that?”

He gives an easy shrug. “He’s loaded, he can afford it.”

She sighs, looking at her watch. “I’d better push off, mum’ll be expecting me at the shop. I’ll see you later, yeah?”

“Probably not,” Tom says. “Booked solid tomorrow, but come round to mine after?”

She nods, waving and walking away. She’s used to Tom letting her know when the garage will be busy, so makes a point to stay away so he’s not distracted.

It’s not until the end of the day, when she fishes around in her pocket for the keys to lock up the shop that she realises she has Tom’s lighter. She’s too tired to pop round and drop it off at his, so decides she’ll swing by the garage in the morning to give it back.

Her fingers wrap around it in her pocket, preparing to take it out to hand back as she approaches the garage the next morning.

She stops in her tracks when she sees a sleek black motor car parked in the vehicle bay, a tall, sophisticated, beautiful woman standing beside it. Her perfectly manicured nails stroke down Tom’s bare arm as her ruby red lips pull back into a smile.

Her heart lurches in her chest as she watches him reach out to tuck a strand of the woman’s long, dark hair behind her ear.

Her throat tightens, nausea bubbles in her stomach as she turns and walks away, the lighter long forgotten. It feels as though the bottom of her world has been ripped away. She angrily swipes at the wetness that rims her eyes.

Just mates.

Fine, if that’s what Tom wanted then that’s all they’d ever be.

[pinkanonwrites]

Sloppy-Style

MY WOLFWOOD/READER FIC IS HEEEERE!!! I may have had a bit too much fun writing this, but i think it’s a masterpiece so it’s more than worth it. I haven’t had anyone proofread this so if you see any typos no you didnt. <(￣︶￣)> 

Nicholas D. Wolfwood/Reader, NSFW, 4,200+ words, PLANT!Reader, alien biology, aphrodisiac, fingering, AFAB-ish Reader but no pronouns used, Vaginal sex, sweaty, sticky, messy, and affectionate, the four best things for a smut fic to be!~

NSFW BELOW THE CUT

In Wolfwood's eyes, you were a remarkably easy person to read.

Maybe it was a PLANT thing, you and Vash both seemed to wear your emotions right on your sleeve wherever you went, whoever you met. And though Nicholas wasn't a fan of that particular brand of vulnerability on himself, on you he found it to be at least somewhat refreshing. That must have been why it threw him so off-kilter when you seemed to be hiding something.

You'd been quieter than usual the past few days, and if Wolfwood were a less observant man there was a chance he wouldn't even have noticed. Sure you laughed along to Vash's antics and joined the dinnertime chatter like usual, but the spaces in between that would normally be filled with your thoughts and queries were starting to come up uncomfortably silent. You were jumpier too, that was impossible to ignore. Not just around strangers, but bumping into Meryl, Vash, Milly, even himself seemed to have you jolting away like you were going to bolt right out of your own skin.

And when your group finally arrived in the next town and you'd quietly tugged Meryl aside, asking to have your own room for the night since you weren't feeling well? He couldn't help but be a little bit curious.

So when Vash and the girls were discussing where they wanted to eat for dinner, Wolfwood waved them off, insisting that he'd meet up with them at the bar that evening. As soon as the trio were out of eye and earshot, he let himself quietly up to the door of your room.

"Ey, birdie." He gave your door a few rough taps with the backs of his knuckles. "Seriously, what's eatin' you? You've been weird all day."

"Whu-Wolfwood?"

You sounded… almost out of breath? Jiggling the brass handle a bit, he found the door to be locked too.

"Nonononono, don't come in! I'm fine, I'm fine!"

Your feet pattered unsteadily across the floor as you rushed to keep the door shut. Your shoulder thumped against the wood, and he could hear your shaky, uneven breathing beyond it. Wolfwood's frown deepened, brow furrowing at… at whatever you think you're up to right now.

"If you're sick or something I'm gonna be real pissed off!" He rattled the doorknob again and you squeaked, hands coming down to clasp it. "You may have everyone else fooled, but you're actin' weird lately. And don't think I won't blow this door down to get to the bottom of it."

Why did he care so much? This wasn't a part of his mission, his plan. All he was supposed to do was keep needle-noggin from getting his head blown off by wayward mercenaries, now here he was trying to play Mr. Fix-It for some other Independent he wasn't even aware existed until recently. He's about ready to give up and shoot the lock of your door in when he hears a strangled whimper from your side of the wood partition.

"...You alright?" He asks, the irritated edge dropping quickly off of his tone.

"...No."

"Wanna talk about it?"

You whine again, something about the tone zinging heat through Wolfwood's mind. Before he can try and question you a third time the door unlatches with a soft click, and you peer at him through the gap between it and the doorframe.

Your forehead is beaded with sweat, and you're all but panting as you clutch the front of your oversized white linen nightshirt. There's a scent in the air that hits him as soon as you open the door, nearly bowling him over. It's thick, heady- a deep earthy scent but there's almost a touch of something… sweet, to it. It's intoxicating.

"You really need to leave." You tried to insist, but your voice sounds like that's the last thing you want Wolfwood to be doing. 

"The hell's going on with you?" He pressed on, and when you try to push the door shut again his hand clutches the edge and forces it, gently but insistently, back open. You stumble back a few steps as he lets himself into the room and shuts the door. There's feathers strewn all about, like you'd exploded a down pillow, and that scent is damn near strong enough to bring him to his knees. 

"It's- It's complicated."

"Try me. I'm smarter than you think."

You wring the fabric of your nightshirt, twisting it in your hands as you shift idly back and forth. Though you struggle to make eye contact with him Wolfwood can feel your gaze raking up and down his body. For once in his life he feels distinctly not like the predator he's been made to be, but the prey beneath your steely eyes.

"I'm… blooming."

Wolfwood's lack of response is too awkward for you to just sit in, so your words stumble forward unabated.

"I thought it was just something they'd induce in the lab. Chemical injections to encourage reproduction. I didn't know it could happen outside of the tanks."

Induce in the lab.

Chemical injections.

Encourage reproduction.

Oh.

"So you're like, uh-" He was prepared for any possible outcome except, it seems, this one. "Horny?"

You groan, burying your face in both hands. When the group had discovered you, everyone had uncomfortably ignored the little green check mark in your digital files next to the line 'Approved for Breeding.' Frankly Wolfwood hadn't wanted to think about the implications, much less consider that they'd come up again in a different context. But now he's forced to accept the uncomfortable reality of the situation, though he doubted it could be more uncomfortable for himself than it must be for you.

But damn, you looked good though. Smelled good too. Was that a weird PLANT thing? Like hell if he knew, but he couldn't help from eating you up with his eyes the same way you were doing to him.

…Did you just say something to him?

"Sorry, uh, what was that?"

You huff, drawing your lower lip under your teeth and wringing the fabric ever tighter in your hands. Your incessant tugging was stretching the neckline out, exposing more and more of your sweaty, jutting collarbone and- focus, Wolfwood, focus. "So you should probably leave before things get any worse. I'll be fine in a couple days."

"A co- Sorry, a couple days? Damn, birdie." He wasn't above laying low for a couple days in a small town like this, and he was sure everyone else would enjoy the break from the chaos too. But a week straight for you? Locked in your room, whimpering, writhing, desperate…? Okay maybe it wasn't such a bad image after all. But Wolfwood hardly wanted you to torture yourself like that. "Anything you can do about it?"

"Not by myself, no." His eyebrows fly up, and only then do you realize how that sentence actually sounded. "That wasn't-! I didn't mean-!"

"Whoa whoa, hey, take it easy. Don't freak yourself out over nothin'." He means for it to be a soothing gesture when he cups your cheek, but your knees buckle like they're going to give out completely and you shudder into his touch. "...Y'know, I'm not opposed either. If you're lookin', I mean."

You don't flinch away at his words, nor do you stutter or stammer or gasp. But your cheek flushes hot under his touch and when you blink your bleary eyes open your pupils are blown so wide they eclipse the color of your iris almost completely. "Why's that?" You rumble, hands relaxing ever so slightly where they bunch the thin linen of your shirt.

"Maybe I don't like seeing a sweet little thing like you in pain, ever think of that?" His thumb traces the apple of your cheek and you breathe out a shuddering sigh. But there's still a hint of trepidation behind your gaze, something still a touch unsure.

"It's… it's a little different, down there. Not quite the same as a human."

He cracks a smarmy grin. "You got a hole?" You thump him on the chest with a flat palm and he chuckles, tapering off softly when you give him a tiny nod in response. "Then I'll figure it out. I'm pretty creative."

"You're a real perv for a holy man." You let out a small, breathless giggle, and holy man or not Wolfwood is ready to fall to his knees for you right then and there. "...Only if you can promise this won't make things weird."

"Pinkie promise."

Whatever bit of sanity you’ve been desperately clinging to in order to maintain this conversation seems to slip through your fingertips at his gentle insistence. You slump into his arms, clinging to the front of his suit jacket like a lifeline as you press your cheek into the bare valley of his chest. He leans back against the door to slot a knee between your thighs and you seat yourself like it’s second nature, hips rocking as you moan into his bare skin.

“That’s it, baby.” His hand cups the back of your head, fingers threading in your messy hair. “God, you’re aching for it, aren’t you?”

“W’lfwood,” You slur, mushed and messy, and he shudders as you lathe your tongue up the inner curve of his pectoral. “Kiss, kiss.”

“Alright, alright. I’m not goin’ anywhere.” Sliding down the back of your head, his hand cups the base of your neck as you strain to kiss him, meeting in a wet, desperate fervor. Your tongue traces the seam of his lips, coaxing him to open himself up to you as your mouths meet. You're so soft, so much softer than he deserves. His hip is bumping against the door handle every time you roll your crotch against the meat of his thigh, the sharp insistent rattling joining the wet and breathy sounds of your mouth meeting his. You whimper and groan into each kiss like it pains you to part, even for a moment, and Wolfwood can already feel the knee of his slacks soaking through with your insistent arousal.

You might just devour him whole if he lets you go on like this. He doesn't think he'd even mind it.

But he's starting to get a crick in his neck, and if he keeps rattling the doorknob like this eventually someone's gonna come a-knocking. So carefully, while disentangling himself from you as little as possible, he starts to lead you backwards towards your unmade bed. When your knees hit the edge of the mattress you take him with you, the unexpected show of force surprising but definitely not unappreciated as you drag him down onto the bed on top of you. Feathers fly as your bodies whump into the mattress, springs squeaking as he wrestles you into place beneath himself. Your mouths pull apart with a wet pop, and you whimper and lean towards him to reconnect them again even as he sits back on his knees.

"Shh, shh, don't worry, birdie." He purrs. One broad hand strokes down the curve of your belly, following the fabric of your nightshirt down to your mid thigh so he can hook two fingers underneath the hem. "I said I'd take care of you, didn't I? Well you gotta let me see what I'm working with first."

You chirp, honest to God chirp in response, chime-like and eager. Between the noises and the feathers, he's starting to think that 'birdie' nickname he chose for you was less of a fun coincidence and more some sort of divine intervention, a peek into his inevitable future. But frankly he's much more interested in the way you spread your legs for him ever further, tension pulling the hem of your nightshirt further up as you coo for his touch. He pushes it up the rest of the way for you and the fabric crumples and folds where it's bunched upon your stomach. You aren't wearing anything beneath it, and that's damn near enough to knock the wind out of him alone. But there's a thick, translucent glimmer all the way down your inner thighs, dripping from your core, and in a breathless headrush Wolfwood realizes in your arousal and desperation you'd slicked yourself all the way down to the inside of your knees. 

He finds his gaze and his hands raking up towards the apex of your thighs. You were telling the truth, it isn't exactly like a human's. But it's not too dissimilar either. Soft, pink petals fold outwards from your core like a blooming flower. They quiver as he drags his knuckles along the curve of your inner thigh, another glob of sweet-smelling fluid dripping from your hole as your breath hitches. At the top of the bloom he finds a swollen bud, standing to attention like it can't wait to receive his touch. Your clit, maybe? Or whatever the equivalent is. Either way, it's the perfect size for him to smooth under the calloused pad of his thumb, and when he does you let out a punched-out sob, stomach tensing as you curl towards his exploratory hand.

"Fuck… Aren't you a pretty sight? Trust me baby, you've got nothing to worry about." It's not nearly enough, but Wolfwood's never been good with words. He knows that you aren't human but right now? Right now you're ethereal. Hair encircling your head in a soft halo, surrounded by little drifting feathers, glistening with sweat and slick? And your eyes? God, your eyes…

"Wolfwood!" You're reaching for his lapels again, tugging weakly at the fabric to urge him to do something, anything. "Nicholas!"

"Deep breaths, I'm not goin' anywhere." He slid two fingers up through your folds, skirting around the edges of your hole. The mewl you let out crawls down the length of his spine and curls hot and needy in his gut; He's going to need to take his own deep breaths if he wants to not bust the second he gets inside you. "Here, just like this, birdie. That's it." He shuffles himself between your legs, pulling until you wrap them both around his hips and you're spread impossibly further open for him. "Fingers first, okay?"

"Nick.~" You're practically sobbing, but you nod in agreement despite yourself. A thick middle finger prods at your entrance, petals fluttering and shivering as your body opens up to him, sucking him in up to the second knuckle with hardly more than a slow, insistent press. The intrusion does little to quell the flame roaring in your lower stomach, only further stoking your desire as your pussy twitches and drools around the intruding digit. He gives it a slow, patient thrust, crooking it upwards towards your belly as he does and causing more warm slick to dribble out into his palm.

"Fuck, you're so wet. Leaking all over my hand and I haven't even gotten a second finger in yet." He can't help but tease you, even though he thinks you may already be too far gone to register it. Your body opens up to him so easily, hips rabbiting as he pinches your clit between the thumb and forefinger of his other hand, pulling back to press a second finger into you alongside the first. There's a little more resistance, but with how wet you are for him it isn't long before he's working them into you in a rhythmic pulse, slick squelching and spattering into his hand with each thrust. "You gotta cum for me first, alright? Then I'll fuck you just like you need it. You wanna cum for me, sweet thing?"

"Yes, yes!" Your hands scrabble wildly for the front of his shirt, nails raking down his bare chest as you tug him to meet you. You mash your mouth against his own, slick with spit and moaning into his as your teeth click harshly against each other's. "Mmfh, Wolfwood, Nick. Wanna cum, wanna cum please!"

"I'm not stopping you, birdie.~" He fights a smirk, crooking his fingers to grind the calloused tips against your soft, spongy walls. “Let go for me.”

But as much as he wants to watch your expressions as you tip over the edge for him, he's caught off-guard by a rough shredding noise as your back goes concave, wings bursting straight through the fabric of your nightshirt beneath you as you gasp and pulse around his fingers. Feathers explode into the still air as you writhe and gush and sob for him.

"Nick, Nick!" Scrabbling hands grip at his wrist but he keeps his fingers moving, massaging your shivering walls until the tension finally seems to melt from your body and you slump pathetically back onto the mattress with a final gush of slick warmth. "Nick, Nico…" You're so far gone for him, and it's too damn cute.

"So that's where all the feathers came from. Fancy that."

"Mmmrh… Ruined my shirt…" You grumble, whining again when he slowly pulls his fingers from your blooming core.

"Want me to buy you a new one? Just don't pick anything too pricey, we're still on a budget here." He pats the inside of your inner thigh in a manner that's supposed to be playfully patronizing, but the gentle jerk of your hips toward his touch just pulls another wry grin to his face. "Whoa there, darlin'."

You swat weakly at his hand, but there's no real malice behind it, not really. "Wha' am I, a Tomas?"

"Based on how hard you were riding my fingers, maybe I'm the Tomas- hey!" He's laughing as you swat at him again, leaning in to kiss the smile off your face. "Little brat.~ Maybe you don't need my help after all?"

"Nononono, don't go! Nico, please?" It's not like he's planning on going anywhere, not with your heels snug in the small of his back and your hands rumpling his unbuttoned shirt, but he lets you tug him back in as you nuzzle at his sweat-sticky collarbone with your nose. "Nick, you said you'd help…" Your wings strain to curl around him as well, cradling his body and yours with the massive feathery appendages as you pepper kisses down his neck. The shredded remains of your shirt slip from your chest as you arch towards him, and he quickly bundles it into a single fist and tosses it aside.

"Then maybe you better be good for me, hm? If you want me to take care of you."

"I do, 'm sorry. Please take care of me, Nick."

You sound so genuine, even more so than usual, and despite it just being some playful teasing he almost feels the slightest bit guilty. A warm kiss brushes your temple as he finishes unbuttoning his shirt, shucking it and the jacket off in one smooth motion to crumple somewhere onto the floor. 

"Don't worry birdie, you've got me. I told you, I'm not going anywhere."

You chirp for him again, arms encircling his neck as your fingers tangle in his shaggy black hair. Wolfwood’s hands fumble blindly with the button of his slacks, lips trailing the curve of your neck as he wrestles the waistband down, taking his boxers with it. Unrestrained, his cock springs free, dark and flushed and beading pre-cum at the tip. There’s a soft, wet slap as he taps it against your sticky cunt, grinding your clit down beneath his swollen head until you’re practically shivering with need, fingers twisting hard into his hair as you struggle to breathe steadily. He lets it slide once, twice over your dripping hole before you choke out another sob of his name and he finally relents, pressing until the head pops slickly into your waiting core.

“Nick…” Your content little coo and the full body shiver you give him in response is like an adrenaline shot directly to his ego. He feels like his head is full of cotton, thick and fuzzy and warm and it’s taking every little bit of clarity he’s able to grasp onto to not bust with just the tip of his cock inside your impossible heat. You’re certainly not helping, hips jumping to desperately take in more of him, fingernails just barely prickling at the base of his neck. He breathes out slowly through his nose, shaky, steadying, before pressing on. Inch by careful inch he slides into you, murmuring mindless soft nothings all the while (for both your sake and his sanity’s) until he can feel his hips bump gently against your own. Only then does he risk letting himself slip the slightest bit, grinding hard into you as his head massages a soft, spongy spot deep within your core. Fuck, he feels like he can feel your heartbeat in your pussy…

You murmur something again, it’s most likely his name, or another plea, but Nicholas is starting to lose his own carefully-cradled sanity himself. He draws back slowly, so slowly, your vice-like heat begging him not to leave, before snapping his hips forward in a sharp, punishing roll. The reaction is all he could have possibly wanted and more; You wail, your wings shiver, trails of fire rake down the expanse of his back where your fingernails dig in. 

He’s already dreading his own quick healing process, as any marks from you he’d gladly wear forever.

It doesn’t take him long to find a rhythm, one that trickles molten heat down the length of his spine and leaves you all but screaming his name. One of his hands cradles your hip as the other grasps blindly at the edge of the headboard, wood thunking heavily against plastered wood as it slams against the hotel room wall with each thrust. His lips, his teeth, his tongue, they find the curve of your jawbone in an equally messy display, scraping along soft skin and kissing away the sweat that beads there as the two of you sink together deeper into euphoria. The air smells of sweat and sex and cigarette smoke and fresh flora, and though Wolfwood knows at this point he’ll never get into heaven, never step one foot past those fabled pearly gates, this has to be the closest damn thing to it he’ll ever see in his lifetime.

“Touch yourself for me.” He growls, breath hot against your neck. “Wanna feel you cum on my cock, sweet thing.”

You sob again, sweaty hand wriggling between your pressed-together bodies to fondle your oversensitive clit. It’s hardly more than a barely-there brush before you’re cumming again, slick gushing around the point where your bodies meet as you somehow squeeze so impossibly tighter around him. He means to last longer, wants to last longer, but your body and your voice and the oh so gentle kiss you place upon his scruffy cheek as your wings come up to enfold him like he’s something to be revered, something to be cherished… 

“Fuck.”

He chokes out a curse as he spills into you, a slurry of hot cum and slick pooling low in your gut as his hips stutter, his breath goes ragged. Each unsteady jolt of his hips shoots off fireworks behind your eyelids, his thumb digging into the jut of your hip bone as he pants into the crook of your neck. You meet in another kiss, languid and open-mouthed and messy as his movements finally slow to a stop. When he pulls away again there’s a shimmering trail of saliva still connecting your mouth to his, and he tongues it off of his lower lip with an all-too-pleased smirk. 

“Feelin’ better yet, birdie?”

You nod and let out a soft, approving hum. Though something deep inside you still yearns as he carefully pulls out, soft cock slipping free to release a deluge of slick fluid between your legs. Luckily Nicholas doesn’t seem inclined to go much further than that, settling his chin into the valley of your chest with a content huff as your fingers find his hair once more. There’s less tugging this time though, and far more petting.

“Mmmh, you could put a guy to sleep like that if you aren’t careful. I still gotta clean you up, don’t I?”

“What a gentleman.~” You tease, drawing an amused snort from Nick’s lips.

“What can I say? I live to serve.” For once he truly lets himself relax, melting into your gentle touch and your warm, soft body beneath his own. “Fuck, I’m not even craving a smoke right now. You’re really something, you know that?”

“Want me to help you kick the habit?”

“You really want me to bend you over and fuck you sloppy-style every time I’m craving a hit?”

“Nick!” The snort you’d drawn from him earlier blossoms into full-chested laughter at your scandalized tone. You thump him on the shoulder with an open palm, a scolding little slap.

“Ahh, you’re no fun!” He chuckles, playful fingers pinching the fat of your outer thigh. “Alright then, let’s split a shower and hit the hay instead. I’m beat. How long’s this ‘blooming’ thing supposed to last when you’ve got someone to roll around with, anyway?”

“Not too long, another day at most. But don’t be mad if I wake you up in the middle of the night looking for some attention. You signed up for this, after all.”

“Darlin’, you can have my attention whenever you want.~”

[ptq3000]

bakugo x fem!reader

reader's period fucking sucks. im on my period so this is a lil comfort for me

—

it had been a shitty day. you woke up this morning laying in your bed when you felt super sweaty down there. you didn't think anything of it and went to use the bathroom. yet, you were met by your period.

you went on with your day, having to quickly run to the bathroom after classes due to the heavy blood flow. cramps were an asshole, like usual. the only thing you wished was different about your cramps was where it happened.

and maybe if cramps didn't exist.

you had them everywhere. in the front. on your back. even on your tits. it was terrible on you as you had no energy for anyone today.

after classes, you changed as quickly as possible and passed out on your bed. the soft mattress was always comfort for you.

...

it was dinnertime now. everyone that had retreated to their dorms were now in the common area as they awaited dinner. once it was ready, everyone sat down as usual.

"hey, mina, have you seen y/n yet? she didn't answer my texts." denki asked. "no, she's not answering mine either." this caught the attention of some as they now stopped their separate conversations to express their concern.

"someone call l/n once more and if she doesn't answer, i'll go to her dorm to see if she's ok." iida explains to the class.

mina nodded and went to your contact.

"im right here, don't call me." you spooked everyone as they all looked at you. your hair was put up into a bun which was messy after your nap. your t-shirt was riding up, showing the shorts you had on. you had marks all over your body from sleeping in one spot for a while. you looked tired as your face twisted into one of pain. cramps.

everyone went back to their business knowing that you were somewhat fine.

you slowly went to the kitchen and grab yourself a plate of what was for dinner. you found a seat at the end of the table and started eating slowly. halfway through, you dropped your chopsticks as the pain suddenly came over you. you wince and hold your stomach.

you mutter to yourself about how your fucking cramps need to stop and you start to breathe quicker than normal.

nobody notices over the chatter. except for one person.

bakugo stands up and walks over to the medicine cabinet. he pulls out pain meds and he fills a glass of water. he walks over to you and hands it to you with a scowl on his face. you know he means good so you take the pills and water from his hands.

you swallow the pills and gulp down the water without a problem. "thank y-" you didn't even finish your sentence before another wave of pain is sent through your body.

he walks off and goes back to his spot. he walks back and kicks out a classmate from their spot next to you. "what are you-" you start but stop as he glares at you. now that bakugo was sitting next to you, he reached his hand out to your stomach. testing the waters, almost. when you showed no signs of discomfort from his hand, he gently put it on your stomach and activated his quirk a little to heat up his hand.

the warmth drowned out the pain of your cramps. if this was going to happen everytime you had your period, you honestly wouldn't mind it.

"thank you, bakugo." you quietly thank him with a smile.

"tch, it's nothing you idiot." he mutters.

yeah, you wouldn't mind.

[theonemeathead]

Spy x Reader, "Je T'aime"

pls forgive me, i dont speak french. spy x reader fluff :3 no tws, tried to keep it gender neutral. enjoy!

Dinnertime on base was always unpredictable. Getting everyone to stay in one place was a challenge enough on its own, but getting everyone in one place to sit down and enjoy each others' presence for half an hour? Now that was nearly impossible; Keyword nearly.

It was Engineer's turn to cook tonight, which was always a pleasure. Even Sniper lurked around whenever the Texan was in the kitchen. He had a tendency to make hearty, filling foods and you can't go wrong with a good ol' fashioned steak dinner. This was the first time in months all of you were in one place, bodies starved after a relentless fight on the battlefield. All of you, but a certain Frenchman.

You see, Spy had an expensive palate...or that's what he called it. You would call it being picky. Spy tended to think highly of himself, albeit a bit conceded at times, especially when it came to cuisine. Why would he soil his 'temple of a body' with fatty, grease-filled American food? As if fancy imported wine and cigarettes were any better. But, sometimes he did make an appearance, sparing chatter here and there.

It was a known fact that whenever he 'graced the team with his presence', it was because you had asked for him, specifically. Even if he hated to admit it, he had a certain soft spot for you in that shriveled heart of his. And no matter how hard he tried to deny it, how hard he tried to twist that adoration into hate, it always crept back, even stronger than before. He was forever thankful that his balaclava hid enough of his face to seal away the light flush that seemed to permeate his cheeks whenever you were around.

Oh, but it pissed him off to no end, the affect you had on him. He was a heartbreaker! He was supposed to be the charmer, not the one being charmed! How dare you make someone as esteemed as him fantasize about you? How dare you make him oggle at you, desire you in such a way it would make the Devil blush?

So, when you had asked—No, begged—Spy to join the table tonight, how could he possibly resist? Now, here he was, wishing to be anywhere but eating dinner with his half-wit colleagues. He prodded his fork at the roasted potatoes, sliding the root vegetable around the plate in a pool of oil and butter. His stomach churned at the idea of digesting something so processed. You, however, were the opposite. You were cheery, thankful to be consuming something so warm and flavorful. You had began conversing with the Engineer, praising his skills in the kitchen. A seed of jealousy had began rooting itself in Spy's stomach. You never praised him when it was his turn to cook. He envied the Texan and the attention he seemed to be getting from you.

And then it happened.

"Aw, shucks, darlin'. Maybe you could come on back to the workshop with me and I could teach you a thing or two about cookin'."

The fork that was once in Spy's hand had clattered to the ground. The chilling sound of the metal hitting the linoleum floor rang loud enough to silence whatever conversations were occurring between anyone else at the table. Spy's fists tightened into a ball, trembling slightly as he tried to compose himself. There was an obvious tension in the air, something you were sure you all could feel. Spy stood up, adjusting the collar of his suit slightly before clearing his throat. That seed of jealousy had blossomed into something vile, something ugly. Why didn't you praise him like that? Why didn't you blush and giggle when he spoke to you? What was so much better about that damn toymaker?

"If you'll excuse me," he broke the silence, almost softly, his accent thicker than usual. His footsteps receeded, heels clicking as he grew distant. Glances quietly exchanged amongst yourselves. You all knew Spy to be moody, almost angsty, at times, but not once had he ever acted out like this before. You took the napkin, wiping your mouth and standing up to follow him.

"I'll go check on him," your words came out muffled, still chewing on a piece of chewy meat. You scrambled to your feet, taking off after the grumpy espineer. You assumed he had returned to his smoking room, an offshoot area where he went to clear his thoughts. The red, mahogany doors were a stark contrast to the rest of the metallic facility. Base sure didn't look as homey as it felt, sometimes. Timidly, you raised your fist... yet, you still hesitated. Maybe it was best to leave him be? Nah, that wasn't like you.

Taking a deep breath, you rapped your knuckles against the door. A pause. Persistent, you decided to continue, pushing the door open. The creaking of the worn-down screws rang out as the only noise, followed by the sound of your feet padding against the floorboards. You had never actually been inside of Spy's smoking room, but you'd caught glimpses before. Now, here you were. You were met with a rather cinematic scene; two royal red plush armchairs sat facing a crackling fireplace, a glass of rum on the rocks sweating onto a cork coaster atop a tiny side table, an expensive looking ceramic ashtray, and a French magazine, neighboring it. You knew Spy prided himself on this room, the entirety of it. He had forced Miss Pauling's hand into making sure it was implemented, after all.

You couldn't see the Frenchman himself, but you could see a cloud of smoke beginning to perfume the air around one of the expensive seats. You approached, eyes trailing as the grey smoke contortioned itself amidst the atmosphere. As you neared, you noticed a piece of fabric neatly draped across one of the armrests. It didn't occur to you it was his silk balaclava until you got close enough that the smell of his expensive cherry cigarettes began to fuzz your brain. Everything about Spy screamed luxurious, even the scent of his imported tobacco.

"I did not say you could come in." You froze. It was ignorant to assume he wasn't aware of your presence, he was trained to do this sort of thing. This was a bad idea, you thought. Every instinct you had was telling you to run. You were intruding. Spy was in his safe space, unmasked, with his back turned to you. Even for as long as you'd known Spy, you'd never seen his face. You never even dared to ask, in fear it would scare him off. You knew how he was quick to flee if he felt threatened.

"Spy, I—"

"If you were anyone else, I'd have already sent you back to Respawn."

You trembled slightly. You knew he wasn't joking, Spy didn't joke. Although given the gift of being able to come back from the dead, it didn't change the fact that it hurt, or the panic that arises when you're in that in between zone of not-quite-dead, not-quite-alive. No matter how many times you'd respawned, it was still a less than ideal fate. The shuffling of fabric made your eyes widen. Suddenly, you were no longer talking to the back of a fancy lounge, but you were face-to-face with a stranger now.

But, he wasn't a stranger. He talked like Spy, he sounded like Spy, he was Spy. Your mouth hung agape, slightly. He was still wearing that damn suit and tie, there was never a day that passed that he wasn't dressed to the nines. His hair was a dark shade of brown, almost black, and lazily slicked back. Grey began to sprout from his roots, trailing back and sprinkling into his wavy hair. He looked much older without the mask, faint smile lines and forehead wrinkles present. His eyes drooped ever so slightly, soft purple bags hung under them. His cheekbones were high and defined, his scowl taking a seemingly permanent residence on his face. And although he was clean shaven, he still had the faintest hint of a 5 o'clock shadow.

"Sacre bleu, I wish I knew how to hate you. You make my job substantially harder, and you don't even do anything!" He huffed, taking another drag from his cigarette. He looked down his nose at you, running a gloved hand through his hair. "You don't even do anything, and it drives me crazy, chérie."

You stood, silent. He shook his head, clearly annoyed by how he felt about you. You were a distraction, a constant fog in his mind. Hadn't he already learned his lesson 23 years ago to never fall in love? It always ends up bad for him, he always ended up getting cold feet, he always ended up leaving. He couldn't do that to you, he couldn't hurt you.

"I'm afraid I don't quite understand, Spy. I thought we were friends?" His expression dropped. 'Friends'? Why would you ever befriend someone like him, a two-timing, backstabbing snake? He sighed, his shoulders dropping as his cold blue eyes met yours. Here he was, his heart on his sleeve, for you; Only for you.

"That is the problem! We are friends! Just friends! Nothing more." He paused, huffing as he scanned your features. "I have spent many lonely nights, dreaming of you, mon cœur. Wishing you were next to me, wishing for nothing more than to feel your beating heart next to mine. I may regret saying this, but je t'aime."

Your jaw went slack, falling open at his words. He walked away, now standing, disheveled, over his mini bar, pouring himself yet another glass of liquor. You saddled up behind him, hearing him mutter various swears in that romantic language you never seemed to understand. Unsure what to do, you placed a small hand on his bicep, squeezing reassuringly. Spy stopped in his tracks. Although you'd been on base for a few years now, not once had you reached out and touched him. He felt something he hadn't felt in decades, something boyish and unfamiliar. A small red dusted across his pale cheeks, running across the bridge of his nose. He hesitated to look down at you, afraid he wouldn't be able to keep himself steady if he met your gaze.

"I love you too, Spy."

You were immediately enveloped in a tight embrace. For so long, he had wanted to hold you, to feel your warm, soft skin against his. He had to crouch slightly, his knees popping as he buried his scraggy face into the crook of your neck. The scent of cologne and aftershave was strong, coupled with that slight cherry scent yet again. Hesitantly, you hooked your arms around him. You were nervous, afraid to ruin or tarnish his expensive pin-striped suit. The last thing you wanted was to sent him into a tizzy about his attire. When Spy had pulled away, he stood up straight and fixed his tie. He cleared his throat, clearly embarrassed by his lack of composure.

"Pardon me for how I stormed off earlier. I suppose I couldn't bear to see how that illiterate laborer flirted with you."

"You were jealous of Engineer?"

"...Moving along. Shall we return to the table, mon amour?" He held his arm out for you to latch yourself around. Always such a gentleman.

"We shall."

[raewritez]

for the want of the sun | chapter 18: The Heist

When night comes, I’m ready. I’m ready to sneak around, I’m even hoping I’ll get to chi-block one of these guards. I’m practically tugging on Zuko’s arm to get him to our designated meeting place.

“Come on, they’re probably ready!” I whisper. He’s dragging his feet to annoy me, I’m sure. When we round the corner, Jet is there, leaning against the wooden post of the deck. His eyes lift lazily to greet us, and his mouth curls up in a smirk.

“There you are. We ready?”

Zuko and I nod. I feel the excitement thrumming through me, pushing me up onto my toes and keeping me bouncing. It’s been too long since I’ve done a good heist.

We discuss quietly under the heavy cover of the night, murmuring between ourselves as the adrenaline grows. Jet finally nods and gestures for the group to start forward. 

“Smellerbee, you take the lead. Scout out the area.”

I watch as she scales the wooden post, hopping above deck and disappearing. It’s a minute, two, before she pops back over the edge. “All clear,” she whispers.

Jet looks at Longshot, who raises his bow and situates an arrow with a rope attached to it. He fires at the tallest beam, just above Smellerbee’s head, who hisses in annoyance. The arrow burrows into the wood, and Longshot tugs on the rope, the material holding strong. 

“Okay,” Jet breathes. He looks at me. He lifts his arm toward the rope. “Ladies first.”

Feeling a bit nervous with everyone’s eyes on me, I walk forward. I try to meet Zuko’s eyes as I pass, but he’s looking upwards. I wrap my hands around the rope and pull, lifting my feet, the strain on my arms becoming evident as I wobble. Hey, it’s been a while.

I feel a warm hand placed on my shoulder, and Jet’s looking at me with a grin. I flush, a bit embarrassed, and a bit annoyed by his look that suggests he didn’t expect anything from me. He tilts his head to the side. “Need a boost?”

“Yeah, please,” I say begrudgingly. He kneels down beside me, cupping his hands and reaching for my foot. 

“There you go,” he whispers, his voice gravelly. “One, two, three.” I’m pushed upward, and I scramble to grab the rope as I pull myself the rest of the way. I reach for the floor of the upper-deck, grabbing onto the planks and shimmying onto my stomach. Smellerbee offers her hand and I grab it, using her to lift myself up.

“Thanks,” I say, watching as Jet pulls himself up effortlessly behind me. Then Longshot, then Zuko, who of course makes it look easy. 

When we’re all standing, Jet points forward in a “let’s go” gesture. The captain’s quarters are lit with lanterns, and there is the soft muttering of dinnertime chatter. We hurry single file, Jet in front, followed by Zuko and Longshot, and me in front of Smellerbee. We sneak around the corner, waiting for Jet to give the “OK” signal. When he looks back at us, we reach inside the windows, sweeping the food that rests on the windowsills, just taunting us. I pull out a box, smelling the familiar aroma of spicy chicken that has my mouth watering. I hand it to Longshot, who hands it to Zuko, who hands it to Jet. When we have all the dishes out of the room, we sneak below the windows, back to Longshot’s rope. 

“Hey!” A voice booms, and a heavy man rounds the corner where Jet is crouching. Quickly, I head the other way, going as fast as I can around the square structure. “What are you-” the man says, but he’s on the ground before he can finish his sentence. I jam my fingers into his pressure points, sending him crashing to the ground, silent. 

I look up, standing over him. “They probably heard that.”

Everyone’s looking at me with surprise, except for Zuko, who looks unphased. When no one moves, I hurry forward, picking up a box and running for the rope. “Let’s go!”

I bring the box close to my body and grip the rope with one hand, pushing myself off the ledge and hissing at the burn on my skin. When my feet touch the ground I set the food down, and gesture for Longshot, who’s at the top, to hand me his box. I reach and grab it, and he slides down the rope, offering a hand to help Smellerbee with her’s. Soon, we’re all down, and we conceal the boxes of food with our bodies, walking quickly to where Iroh waits for us.

“Not bad, sweetheart,” Jet whispers in my ear. I jump from the proximity, and he grins. For some reason, I find myself grinning back.

—

“Oh my spirits,” I groan, shoveling another dumpling into my mouth. My words are hardly audible, but I can’t bring myself to care. “This is so good. I could cry.”

“I think I am,” Iroh says, gazing fondly at his serving of green curry. He’s right, I think I see the sheen of tears in his eyes.

“From what I’ve heard, people eat like this every night in Ba Sing Se,” Jet says. “I can’t wait to set my eyes on that giant wall.”

“It’s a magnificent sight,” Iroh sighs.

Jet looks at him. “So you’ve been there before?”

“Once,” Iroh glances down. “When I was a different man.”

Eager to stop this conversation from progressing, I lean forward. “So, what brings you all to Ba Sing Se?”

Jet meets my eyes, surprisingly serious. “I’ve done some things in my past that I’m not proud of. That’s why I’m going to the city: for a new beginning. A second chance.”

“That’s very noble,” Iroh speaks sagely. “I believe people can change their lives if they want to. I believe in second chances.”

My eyes find Zuko, not even purposefully. He’s staring out at the ocean, looking tense. “Yeah,” I say softly. He glances over, finds me staring, and looks away.

“What about you?” Jet asks. “You’re all traveling together?”

I nod, giving him a smile. “Yeah. I guess you could say we’re going for the same reasons. Just a chance at a safer life.”

“Hmm,” he muses. “Come to think of it, I didn’t catch your name.”

He’s speaking to me, not Iroh or Zuko, and luckily I’m not important enough to have my name reveal anything incriminating about myself. “I’m Y/n.”

“Y/n,” he repeats. He smiles, not the cocky, teasing one I’ve grown used to in the past few hours, but a real one. “It’s nice to meet you. You’re not a bad fighter.”

“Well, yeah, she could’ve told you that,” Zuko scoffs, his voice startling both Jet and I out of our focus. Jet sends him a look, and his mouth curls up knowingly. I glare at Zuko in annoyance. If he has a chance to be hostile, he’ll take it, even to the person that just gave us the best meal we’d had in months. 

Jet stands. “Come with me,” he gestures to Zuko. He walks along the ship’s railing, and Zuko stares after him for a moment before following.

We all watch as they leave, curious. 

I turn to Smellerbee and Longshot. “So, where are you guys from?”

They share a look, and Smellerbee turns back to me. “The forest.”

I nod. “Oh. That’s cool. You guys have known each other a long time?”

“Yeah. Basically forever.”

I smile. “That’s nice. Same with me and…him.” I stop myself before I say the name of the Firelord’s son, instead pointing in the direction where he and Jet went. Nice save. “What do you want to do once you’re there?”

She rolls her eyes, but I can tell it’s not directed at me. “I just want to, you know, live my life. Without the fighting. Without the Fire Nation.”

I look down at my lap. I play with the string of fabric from my shirt. “Yeah. That would be nice.”

—-

taglist: @aquaamethyst96 @kaygilles

[charmercharm3r]

Masterlist

warnings: smutty thoughts, exhibitionism

thinking about hyunjin just wanting a little dinnertime thrill...

it wasn’t a big dinner, just a nice-ish night out with a few friends at a nice-ish restaurant. beside you was your boyfriend, dressed in a nice black button up and slacks that made him look even more elegant than usual. before even leaving the house, you were all over him, almost begging him to stay home and just fuck you stupid.

no, his friends would never let him live it down if they were late and visibly messy.

which is the exact reason why you found it all the more amusing when your hand accidentally brushed his erection under the dinner table. hyunjin tried to cover it up with his table napkin, but failed to realize that you don’t need to see him to touch him.

he was just thankful that your table was in the corner of the restaurant and his back and side were shielded by the wall. he knows you would never have done anything if you didn’t have some sort of cover, even if the table cloth was long enough to hide your hand already in his pants.

sat across from you, minho was telling a story about his performance butt hunting antics, chan beside him nodding and laughing along, and hyunjin doing anything he can not to break.

hyunjin silently fought you, of course, swatting your hand away when you were first reaching over. he shot you a look that said, “don’t,” but you were relentless and he eventually caved because he knew he wanted it as much as you did. this was his thing, his favorite dirty little secret because it teetered on the edge of perversion and euphoria. hyunjin had begged you on more than one occasion for something like this, to be so close to humiliation and feel the thrill of getting caught. now, less than three feet away were two of his best friends talking about the most mundane things while he was being edged beneath the table over and over and over again.

you were sly with your movements to unzip his pants, waiting for the music and idle chatter to grow a bit louder before undoing it in one go. hyunjin’s breath caught in his throat hearing the zipper, but didn’t react beside that. when you reached into his pants and pulled his cock through the hole in his boxers, that was when the real challenge began.

he leaned forward to rest his head in his palm, back leaning slightly against the side wall to face the rest of the room, as well as giving you a not-so-private show. hyunjin kept his free hand clutching the edge of the table cloth in case the waiter decided to come by, it was all the more entertaining watching him squirm.

running your thumb over the head, you didn’t stray your attention from minho’s story as you spread the bead of precum, slowly gathering more to use as lubrication the longer you touched him. when you were satisfied with the amount, you took him fully in your hand and dug the pad of your thumb into the slit. hyunjin’s entire body tensed and his hand clapped over his mouth, drawing the attention of his friends. you didn’t stop, massaging the head deeply as he attempted to fake a yawn to cover his tracks. 

“you okay, baby?” you ask, feigning concern.

he let out an exaggerated breath as though he was truly tired. “mhm, a little sleepy.”

“the food hasn’t even gotten here yet,” chan laughed, unsuspecting.

the conversation drifted away from hyunjin again just as you gripped his cock tighter and drew your thumb from his leaking slit. you only looked down for a split second and could see his cock was an angry red, pulsating in your hand from how badly he desired to be touched.

hyunjin let out a choked groan as you slowly stroked him, wrapping your hand in a tighter ring closer to the top of his dick. you weren’t going at it for very long when hyunjin reached for your hand and held your wrist in place, he was close. the action made you loosen your grip entirely and let his cock fall against his stomach with a muffled thump. hyunjin shot you a side eyed glare, casually tugging your hand into his lap with a silent plea for more. 

he bit back a moan, literally. his teeth dug into his bottom lip so hard it almost drew blood. just as you were about to comment on it, the waiter approached with your food. hyunjin rushed to scoot his chair forward and hide his exposed cock beneath the table cloth, something you internally laughed at.

no one suspected a thing as you moved your food around your plate, slowly reaching for his dick again as the four of you began to eat. you put your hand on his thigh first and made your way closer to where he needed you. mouth full, hyunjin almost choked on his food as you roughly took him in your hand once more, rolling your thumb in circular motions around the tip. within a few moments the digit was covered in precum, easily letting you maneuver the way you knew would make him crumble.

like squeezing frosting from a tube, you emphasized pressure between the crook of your thumb and pointer finger to push him to another upcoming high. hyunjin didn’t bother chewing his food and immediately brought his glass of water to lips mouth to suppress a moan. unable to speak back, you leaned over to nonchalantly whisper in his ear, “play along with them, baby. can’t let your friends know how filthy you are.”

“the food is great. we should come back here,” hyunjin blurted out, startling the other two with his sudden interest in the menu.

“yeah, it’s pretty great. why do you look like you just ran a marathon?” minho sat back in his chair and examined hyunjin’s expression. you didn’t stop your ministrations, unmoving your arm while solely focusing on his tip.

“just dehydrated,” he murmured and downed the rest of his glass. with his mouth full, you pressed harder into his slit, squeezing and loosening your fingers around him with more pressure than you had all night. he didn’t swallow the water in his mouth, instead dropping his head towards his lap to hide his face. you weren’t sure if his eyes were open or not, but you didn’t stop.

he was fighting the high and losing. you knew he was by how he didn’t bother trying to push you away. he wanted it, needed it more than he cared for his friends knowing what was happening. when hyunjin sat back and finally swallowed, you discreetly cup your hand around the tip and look straight ahead at minho speaking as he finished into your palm.

the hairs on his skin stood on end, hyunjin tensed his entire body to stop from shuddering. tipping his head back, he took a second to calm himself of the intense, exhilarating high. you were just proud he managed to do so without verbally outing the two of you. now, whether or not chan or minho noticed his weird body language, they didn’t voice it.

you held his warm cum in your hand, barely taking a glance down to see how much there was. a lot. much more than he did on average, proof of how enthralling he found the stunt you both just pulled off. waiting for the two across the table to turn their attention away, you took the split second opportunity to dip your finger into it and bring it to your lips to lick, all while hyunjin ogled every move you made. 

he handed you his cloth napkin and let you wipe your hand clean, laughing with each other as he tucked himself back into his pants. “good food,” he joked.

“great food,” you amuse him.

“are you two done jerking each other off? can we eat in peace now?” minho deadpanned, taking another bite of his food.

in unison, you and hyunjin said, “what?”

“…i was kidding…”

“…so were we…”

-

tags: @sensitiveandhungry @babebatter @changbinluvr @epiphanynaffit @fawnpeaks @linovely @dumplinbokkieracha @finnydraws @naturules @djeniryuu @hamburgers101 @skzhomiehopper @yesv01 @hyunjinsamdl @dazzlingligth @lvrhyuka @alexis-reads-fics @linaliskz @0002linoskitten @chillichillicrabcrab23 @mercurezed @zerefdragn33l @straycrescent @binnies-donuts @soldierstangirl-blog @bakedlilgoonie @levanterlily @shelbyyy44 @yeetmehome @in2heartz @astroodledream @the-sweetest-rose @leebitsimpracha @lilbugs-things @viviennenstan @staurdvst @deeznutz-782141 @alex--awesome--22

[astariondisapproves]

A sigh leaves my lips as I lean against the large rock behind me, away from the campfire and view of everyone, looking out over the river we settled next to. I flinch, feeling my mark flare, my patron trying to find me but failing due to the tadpole.

I smirk, whispering, "Can't find me, can you, you greedy dick head. Good, let's keep it that way."

I flinch again as the mark flares once again.

-♦️

During the midst of dinnertime chatter, Astarion notices you immediately slip away, and not having anything better to do, he decides to quietly follow behind, hiding behind the large boulder you took solace in. He fights with himself for a moment on if he should make his presence known until your voice calls out quietly. Where they talking about him?

So finally waltzing around the boulder laced with his usual suave he speaks out, "I'll have you know I found you rather easily, so if it's not me, who's looking for you?"

[rising-volteccers]

*agressivley slurps up the frozen wip through a silly straw* GOOD SHIT

You know what anon? Seeing this honestly sparked motivation that I ended up finishing the idea I have for [Frozen] so...

Series: Pokemon Horizons

Characters: Friede, Murdock, Liko, Roy

Part of my Status Effect series. I'll see if I have the motivation to do the caretaking part of this piece. Here's [Poison] if anyone wants to read that haha.

--

No one ever asked why Friede hated winter.

To be fair, even if someone did ask, he wasn't entirely sure what he’d say. Friede didn't exactly hate the season after all. How could he when it brought out a festive mood to the Brave Olivine? Where his crew brought out their scarves and jackets, sipping on Murdock’s special hot chocolate? Even the Pokemon that traveled with them for years understood the changing seasons meant special treats made to warm them up were given after dinnertime. 

Friede didn't really hate winter. Not at all. It was the cold. 

He hated the cold. Friede couldn't stand the way the cold air seeps down into his lungs, freezing him from the inside out. The chill always curled into the space around his heart, causing it to tighten with every breath he took. 

He hated how keeping warm was an ongoing battle. It felt like he just couldn't stay warm during the winter months no matter what he tried. Layering jackets and scarves, cocooning himself into multiple blankets in bed–regardless of his efforts, the cold would still somehow find its way through into his bones.

By this point in their travels, his crew rarely bat an eyelash when he started complaining about the cold. They knew he disliked it, not that he hated it. Sometimes they do get annoyed when he whines a little too much, and when that happens he'd sequester himself within his room, wrapped in multiple blankets until he felt a little more like himself again.

Friede complained a lot because the alternative was to let the chill settle in, leaving him miserable with chattering teeth and hands shoved deep into his pockets. He didn't want to bring a dampened mood to the table, and he somewhat preferred annoyance to concern. 

He knew it was by his own fault for not having the cleanest track record when it came to things that inconvenienced him. Friede kicked up a fuss for something minor like a cold but kept to himself when he sustained more serious injuries. It was just second nature for him to hide when vulnerable, as well as not worrying the people around him.

So Friede complained and whined so they don't see just how much he hated the cold. That it reminded him of long days within a dark, cold lab feeling numb. They just chalked it up to him being over dramatic, which suited him just fine.

When Liko and eventually Roy joined the crew, Friede slowly came to realize that these two looked up to him. It wasn't difficult to notice the way Roy hung on to his every word, or how Liko often turned to him for advice. With that realization came this want to be a good role model. 

So Friede helped with their training, imparting knowledge and doing all that he could to help these two grow. This also meant conducting himself in a certain way, seeing that he didn't want them to pick up on any of his ‘bad’ habits. 

When they eventually landed in a region deep into its winter months, he didn't complain about the cold. Friede simply found himself unable to in the first place, not when Roy expressed such wonder upon seeing light snow falling from the heavens. He didn't want to ruin it with his usual spiel, nor did he wish to break this strong, dependable image the kids had of him.

When it came time to explore the nearby town for supplies, Friede found himself trudging through ankle high snow alongside Liko, Roy and Murdock. He'd rather be back on the ship than out here but Murdock requested as many hands as possible to help carry the groceries he planned on buying. Orla had repairs she needed to do while Mollie went to check up on the Pokemon, leaving him and the kids as the only ones capable of assisting.

Sporting multiple layers to combat the cold, Friede stamped down on his mild jealousy of seeing Murdock and the kids dressing warmly with only an additional layer to their long sleeved clothes. He felt a bit stifled when moving about but the extra clothes kept him somewhat warm. 

Friede remained at the back of their little group throughout their walk. Quietly, he observed Roy’s open awe, Liko's quiet wonder and Murdock's musings. He listened to idle conversations shared between the trio, about how Roy’s island didn't even really get snow while Liko only experienced light dusting of it when winter arrived. Their excitement was palpable enough to make him smile.

At some point, the group walked along an elevated path next to a frozen pond. From their position, they spotted various Ice-types by the pond’s edge, looking like they were moving towards the nearby forest. 

Friede squinted his eyes to make out the exact Pokemon in the distance, leaving him half distracted. He didn't notice Fuecoco walking closer to the edge, prompting Roy to drift away from the group while Liko and Murdock were caught in a conversation. 

The sudden yelp immediately drew his attention. Friede whirled around just in time to experience a mild heart attack when he saw Roy disappear over the edge. Everyone scrambled to where Roy fell, peering down to find that he and Fuecoco had slid down the (thankfully) short slope onto the frozen pond.

“Roy! Are you and Fuecoco alright?” Friede called out, eyes already seeking for a path that would bring them closer.

“Ow… yeah, we're fine!” Roy responded. He held tightly on Fuecoco when his gaze swept his surroundings.

“Alright we're heading down! Make your way over there!” Friede pointed to the closest edge where Roy could get back on solid land. 

After Roy shakily got to his feet, all three of them quickly headed to the edge. Roy slowly shuffled his way over through slow, hesitant steps. He was about halfway across when he suddenly stopped, eyes widening.

“U-Uh. I think–I think I see cracks?”

“Keep moving Roy! Slow but steady!” Murdock’s voice encouraged the boy to continue but it was obvious how scared he was.

Without much thought, Friede stepped onto the frozen surface. Ignoring Murdock and Liko's surprised cries, his focus lay on getting to where Roy was. Seeing his approach granted the boy some much needed courage to keep moving.

When he got closer, that was when Friede spotted the cracks Roy mentioned. He didn't say anything, simply encouraging Roy until Friede managed to grab hold of his hand. 

“C’mon, just a little bit more. Slow and steady.”

Roy gave a tiny nod. Together, the duo shuffled their way closer to the edge. By then Murdock had stepped onto the pond while Liko remained on solid ground. He had his arm outstretched, ready to grab hold and pull them towards safety. 

Just when it seemed that they were in the homestretch, Friede's ears picked up on a terrifying noise. He couldn't help but look over his shoulder. 

A large crack had formed, rapidly moving to their position. 

His body simply moved on its own. Friede pulled Roy and Fuecoco close before shoving them towards Murdock’s outstretched arms. Another sharp crack sounded, followed by a litany of others. Friede looked up just in time to see the horror on everyone’s faces before the ice gave way, plunging him into dark waters.

The shock he experienced differed from Cap’s electrical ones; painful as can be but cold cold cold. Friede instinctively gasped, causing freezing water to fill his throat. Before panic truly seized him, he desperately kicked his legs, slowly propelling himself towards the hole he fell through.

Friede didn’t know who’s cry was louder; his or the kids when his head breached the water’s surface. He barely got a lungful of air before his head went back under again. With his eyes squeezed shut, it was pure instinct that pushed him to swim for the surface. 

He managed to get his head out of the water again, fighting to keep the panic at bay. Each breath was wet and painful, like millions of needles prickling his lungs. The extra layers he wore to keep warm now acted as anchors that weighed his body down. The frantic yell of his name prompted Friede to seek for its source.

That was when he spotted Murdock, stripped of his outer jacket whilst on his hands and knees. It looked like he was slowly crawling to where he was at. His friend looked fearful but determined.

“Grab it!” Murdock shouted, holding onto one of his coat’s sleeves before flinging the rest towards his general direction. Understanding his intent, Friede shakily grabbed onto the other sleeve, holding on for dear life.

Murdock started to worm backwards, flat on his belly with one hand tightly gripping the sleeve. He was doing a valiant attempt of dragging him out of the water but every time Friede got his elbow up on the edge of the ice to pull himself out, the ice couldn’t support him and broke.

Each time he fell back into the water, it squeezed out the air in his lungs. His heart pounded faster than he thought possible but adrenaline was one hell of a drug. Still, the icy waters rapidly drained his energy. Friede knew that the moment he let up in his desperate attempts of getting out, that was it.

Murdock ended up crawling closer again. Friede wished he had the breath to tell him not to reach out himself; falling in along with him would defeat the purpose of trying to rescue him.

“Roll,” Murdock gasped instead. “I know you can do it Friede. Roll.”

Even as his senses were getting dull, Friede had enough mental clarity to understand what Murdock meant by that. He got a shaking arm out of the water, still holding tightly onto the coat with his other hand. Through harsh, irregular breaths, he gingerly placed his elbow on the jagged edge of the hole. He twisted his body inwards, getting his knee onto the edge as well. With one last burst of energy, he pulled himself out before rolling away from the hole. He rolled and rolled until he couldn’t move anymore. 

As he laid there simply breathing, drenched and freezing cold, Murdock had wormed after him on his belly. Friede didn’t have anything left in him by the time Murdock hooked his hands underneath his armpits, pulling him away until they were presumably out of danger. 

Murdock eventually fell back, gasping for breath himself from the exertion of saving his life. Liko and Roy frantically approached them moments later.

“Friede, are you alright?” Liko asked first. He didn't have to look at her to know that she was scared.

“F-Friede I'm so sorry because of m-me…” Roy sounded like he was moments away from bursting into tears.

“H-Hey it's fi–” Whatever assurance he wanted to give evaporated the moment he tried to turn onto his side, coughing out the water he inhaled during his struggle. Odd how he’d be freezing but feel like his lungs were burning.

Hands quickly settled on his back for support, and it was those same hands that helped him sit up. Friede ended up slumping against Murdock's side, too drained to be of much help.

“S-S-Sorry ‘bout g-getting you w-wet,” he spoke through chattering teeth. Feeling the way his hair plastered over his face, it wouldn't surprise him if a layer of frost had formed already. Friede certainly felt more ice than human by this point.

“That's the least of your worries. C’mon, we gotta get you back to the ship.” Thankfully, Murdock took charge of the situation. Friede didn't have the capacity to assure Liko and Roy right now.

Before Murdock lifted him to his feet, Friede shakily put on the damp jacket Murdock used to pull him out. He couldn't protest when Liko wrapped her and Roy’s scarves around his neck. They couldn't remove his soaked clothes right now so the best they could do was put more layers on him. 

“You have Charizard's Pokeball on you?” Murdock asked.

Right, he did have it. Charizard would be able to provide some much needed warmth. Friede tried to reach for the Pokeball clipped to his belt but his fingers refused to cooperate. 

Liko noticed his struggles so she leaned in to carefully grab the Pokeball, uttering a soft apology for encroaching on his personal space like this. She swiftly released Charizard from its Pokeball.

His partner immediately zeroed in on him. It growled softly, quickly going to his side, eyes shifting between Friede and Murdock.

“We need to get him back to the ship. Can you stick close to his side for some warmth?”

Charizard grunted once. It opened up one wing to partially cover Murdock and Friede, somewhat shielding them from the light breeze blowing past. Flying directly on Charizard would be the faster option but Friede barely had any strength for even walking, let alone holding onto Charizard through the flight. This was the best option they had at the moment.

“Liko, Roy can you head back to the ship first and let Mollie know what happened? Contact her on the way back and help her with anything she needs.”

“Okay!” The kids quickly set off to do just that.

“I think it's better if I carry you on my back. Do you think you can hold on?”

Friede's teeth chattered too much for a verbal reply so instead, he gave the tiniest of nods. With Charizard's help, he got on Murdock's back, arms loosely wrapped around his friend's neck. Murdock kept him secured by holding onto his legs. 

By the time Murdock began the journey back to the ship, Friede's eyes slid shut. Vaguely, he recalled Mollie’s words on how dangerous it was to fall asleep when freezing cold. He did his best to stay awake but he had no energy left in the tank.

Friede drifted off in the cold he hated, unaware of Murdock's increasingly frantic calls and Charizard's growls.

[dreamsofminnie]

“Ethereal Paintings”

21~ Stage one denial☔️

Scaramouche x Reader Smau | Word Count: 1.2k

Pounding thumps on the front door were surprisingly nonstop for the past half an hour. Each 15 knocks were different paced every 5 minutes, as if there has been switching the knocker five times. You were glad the door didn’t allow voices to be heard from the other side, only vibrations directly placed on the door itself.

Many “No ones hommee..e…” and “No knocking plea..see.” were mumbled softly from your mouth.

Dinnertime might’ve been over by now. You couldn't tell with how you’ve been practically living on the floor in the main studio area right between the stairs towards your bedroom, and the front door, none which you had energy to get up and go to.

Luckily the kitchen counter was just several scoots away, set with a mini fridge, water boiler and a microwave.

“Refuse contact…don’t want it.”

You didn’t know when the knocks soon dispersed. But you knew they would be back the next day at the same hour.

illumi already gave up on boosting your mood and rather play with the paint brushes that dried up in your spiritless state.

Your large window wall was half covered by the thin blinds, forbidding the blinding and healthy rays of sunshine from entering anywhere near your already damaged and baggy eyes.

To be completely honest; you have only ever showered every two days or even further till you really needed it. Only because it was way too much work to take care of your needs…And all the way upstairs.

Denial was your resistance, the only way you wanted to live at the moment. And the powerlessness in your body is what the effect was.

Even forgetting those online classes you promised to attend, your mind, body and soul were in disarray.

The only routine you held was the mindless paintings you mass-produced over these weeks, as a non-functioning coping mechanism.

And the routine you did when the sky outside the glass walls were dimming, reach for your blanket and pillow, lay on the sofa bed and stare at the paintings for hours till your eyes shut on its own.

That was only day 2 of being exposed to Scaramouche’s crime against you.

The other days weren’t as end-of-the-world-health-threatening.

☔️☔️☔️☔️

Sharp taps on the black table were the only thing heard in the lonely room. The shaking of a leg bouncing up and down began soon after.

Impatient as he is, the impulsive actions he exhibits weren’t half his show of anxiety.

Four grown men sat on the bed behind him in a row on the edge of his bed. Two sat on the floor, well.., one sat and the other was sprawled across the ground.

For the man Scaramouche, aka. Kabukimono, aka. the man who is curling himself into a ball of nerves, was sitting at his computer screen discarding every single A.I.-produced image he ever held—correcting a mistake he should’ve repressed a whole long ago.

A string of curses leaves his soured lips, his eyebrows furrowing even more than possible. “When did I fucking download these onto google drive?!? You bitch!! Prime fucking ass.”

“PFTT!!”

“When was the last time we ever saw i-give-no-fucks-Scara?”

“Just last year. What are you on Venti..” Albedo kicks the one spread across the floor with his criss-cross legs.

“Green tea crepe—cakes!~” Tighnari wanted to step on Venti’s head rolling across the floor, if only he was closer…

“I made that cake for Ayato but you just HAD to get your grubby hands on it.” Tighnari motioned Albedo to kick him again, or to use Venti as a seat instead of the hard floor.

“Mercy–!!!”

Sounds of constant clicking and idle chatter was keeping the room occupied as the only one working hard was deadly silent. Minus the vulgar curses at the poor computer.

Ayato flipped through pages of the stack of documents he fingered through. He was indeed busy but wouldn’t miss this rare one-in-a-lifetime redemption arc in his favorite drama show.

“Kazuha. What do you think about the health department?” He didn’t look up from the papers as Kazuha answered.

“Hm? I think they can do much better.” Kazuha has been assisting Ayato with some of his work since Ayato thought his ideals and views were quite insightful.

“Very good. But I meant health inspectors. There are ones who come to the boba shop and stay long for the knowledge of our traditional japanese cleaning facilities. And now I have 27 health check placks…”

Kazuha laughed at the ridiculousness at the entirety of it. “Maybe just hang them all up to drive away any other incoming health inspector.”

Ayato hummed at that suggestion in agreeance and scribbled onto the documents to save for later. Kazuha points out more points to add.

Kaveh, the one closest to Scara and helping him, leans back on one hand behind him as he scrolls though his phone mindlessly. “Remember to delete those off your twitter. Hmn now the account has no such purpose…best to get rid of it!”

“I know that!!! Shut up!”

“Hey, I'm trying to help!!”

“What help do you provide if you tell me things I am actively conscious of.” He swivels in his chair and violet eyes burn in unbridled anger and pain at Kaveh directly sitting behind him.

A beat of awkward and tense silence fills the dimly lit room.

“Scaramouche. We know you are panicking in trying to scrape up the pieces of your torn relationship—”

Ayato looks up from his papers and tries to catch his glare that only burned straight through Kaveh who avoided his gaze sweating profusely.

“—but that's why we have all managed time here to help you recuperate. And not once have you asked for help. What else would you rather us do here than try and reach to help you.”

Scaramouche darts his eyes to Ayato at the head of his bed. His teeth clenched together. They all knew Scaramouche had too much pride and ego for him to ask for help. Others have to actively put help in front of him for Scara to take it.

The chair swivels back to the desk, stiff and unmoving like the walls Scaramouche has once again built over and over.

His friends behind him internally sigh, they lost Scara to his obstinate personality once again.

“Then help me in another area.”

As unyielding defines his personality Scara doesn’t like his personal affairs meddled in the hands of others– “WHAT!?”

Those words shook everyone who stared at his back with mouths agape and eyes widened.

“Were the crepe cake poisonous??!? Did Scara-dookie ask for help?!?!” Venti jumped up from the floor in a scramble.

“Say that again. I dare you.”

Despite the usual venom, Scaramouche’s hands rested on either side of his drooped head, hiding any peeping views of his expressions.

“I dare you second.” Tighnari knocked Venti’s head at the thought of him thinking his cake could ever be poison, then turned to Scaramouche.

“You mean what to do with Y/n right? Since you got figured out.” They could see the tiniest of nods from his posture.

“Weelll, since she basically exposed your ass with a 5-foot diagram of every opposing thing you’ve ever done to offend her…..you have the slimmest chance of recovery.”

Scaramouche slammed his chair into the desk with how fast he turned around. The desperation and anguish in his face conquered any trace of fear or hesitance in confronting you.

Albedo smirked in attracting his full attention and determination. “But of course, you have much more chances when you have this much support from your friends.”

With everyone’s smiles on him, Scaramouche has never felt this much supportive feelings of warmth.

Previous | Masterlist | Next

Synopsis{3}-> Scara decided to stop his a.i art creations when he realized that you are really his fav artist—as long as you were the one to teach him how to paint and draw. Facing multitudes of slip of the tongue from your friends; you figured out that he was your mortal nemesis; hatred brewed and twisted your view on him.

• give it up for Season 3 woooo

• sobssogb the smau is halfway done omngh😱

• proud but sad

//Taglist//

@akagism2 @pokidot @feiherp @kyouzki @rmiyuki @infe-risk0 @sakurapeach @bluebelony @kichiyoshi @mikctp @kur44pika @cupids-chamber @crucnhice @neigesprincess @scaramoo @gojoandelsalovechilde @childeslegstrap @sakiimeo @d4y-dr3am3r @m3gitsune @scarletttcroww @sashiette @beriiov @rizakari @xiaossocksniffer @lxry-chxn @bryai003 @eunchaeluvr @goj0h @the-ghost-0f-t0m0 @sketcheeee @ozzierenato @ohmyfinggod @kiyomi-hoku @hutaosbootao @ynverse @featuredtofu @reinoodle @angeilix @yxcade

[supperparty]

say peacock and nobody bats an eye. say poopcock and society goes wild

i am banned for poaching endangered animals in 32 states

[kmgkmg]

DAY 1 - KWON SOONYOUNG

word count: 3.0k...

pairing: soonyoung x gn!reader

synopsis: your neighbor soonyoung invites you to a friendly picnic, harmless right?

genre/s: fluff, non-idol!au, neighbors-to-lovers, choreographer!soonyoung

warnings: none!

rating: pg

a/n: a submission for k-vanity’s idols over flowers event. main flowers: roses x romance and sunflower x comedy, ribbons: black x picnic date. inspired by day 1 by red velvet! first soonyoung fic hehe (everyone cheered) and def one of my favorites i've written thus far!

Soonyoung’s hands were trembling as he prepared to knock on your door. The worst you could do is say no, right? Wrong. The worst you could do is say yes to his invitation and have him be a nervous mess in front of his friends. It was all Jeonghan’s fault, really.

You moved in next door to Soonyoung around seven months ago, but he was still shy around you. He’s unable to live down the embarrassment he experienced because of his first words to you. Simple introductions should be shared between neighbors rather than long-winded ones. So all those months ago he practiced in front of his bathroom mirror around 60 times in order to perfectly say 15 words to you.

Good morning. I’m your next door neighbor, Kwon Soonyoung. It’s a pleasure to meet you.

Nice and simple. Yet, when he went outside of his apartment that day, he saw you moving your things in with your friends and decided to greet you later. Later ended up being dinnertime after he heard the chatter and noise die down. He walked over with some paper towel as a harmless housewarming-welcome-to-the-building gift. But what he wasn’t expecting was for you to walk out in your pajamas with a mug full of tea. You gasped out of horror at the fact that you not only spilled on yourself, but also at the fact that you spilled on an unsuspecting stranger’s very nice, very expensive looking white T-shirt. The tea had turned colder than you thought so luckily neither of you were burned, but you both couldn’t stop apologizing to one another.

Soonyoung handed you the paper towel he bought, “I really just meant to come over to greet you, I feel so bad for causing this mess. Please, let me have your clothes dry cleaned.”

You looked down at your clothes, an oversized black hoodie with bleach stains on it from past box dyeing endeavors and baggy gray sweatpants from your high school.

“But aren’t you mad that I spilled on you? I mean that shirt looks like it’s,” You pause to look at the writing on his chest, “oh God, it’s Balenciaga? I mean, I can’t pay it all at once but installments?”

He hurriedly shook his hands, “No, please don’t worry about my clothes! This was a present from my workplace.”

“If you insist. But at least let me pay for your coffee someday, please. I know this is an awful time to say this, but hi. My name’s Y/N L/N and I just moved in next to you,” You bend down to place your mug on the floor and wipe the excess tea off and onto your pants before extending a hand for him to shake.

Now is the time, Soonyoung, you've prepared for this all day.

“Good morning, Kwon Soonyoung I am.”

It’s 8pm, that is anything but morning. Did he just say I am at the end of his sentence?

You tried your best to hide your laugh behind your hand, but it was too late since Soonyoung was already mortified at himself.

“I’m going to go back into my apartment now…” He trailed off, scurrying away before you could say anything else.

You were left standing in front of your door, with spilled tea seeping further and further into your clothes by the minute and holding a roll of paper towel in your hand. That was indeed a memorable first impression of him.

Your apartment complex had occasional community activities as an attempt to create a bond between tenants, but Soonyoung always stuck by the people he knew. Joshua and Jeonghan, who were roommates on the seventh floor and longtime friends of his, always teased Soonyoung for self-proclaiming himself as an introvert when they saw him as anything but one. Yet, his true introverted personality shined whenever he was around you. He hid behind others or found excuses to avoid you. He couldn’t risk making you think he was even more of a fool than your first encounter with him.

You yourself were convinced that he hated you. You spilled tea on his shirt worth hundreds of dollars, anyone would reasonably be pissed. Your fears were only confirmed as he was seemingly doing everything in his power to keep away from you. You tried to approach him several times, but he always kept his distance. One time he even tripped into an ice sculpture, causing it to fall and break during a winter party. It was even more tragic since one of the maintenance people was retiring and the sculpture was of the employee’s face. Soonyoung broke the poor man’s face. Not literally, but it certainly killed the mood of the farewell party. He looked around the room in horror, but when his eyes landed on you he averted his gaze so quickly that you thought he would strain a muscle in his neck.

Still, every time you met on the elevator or in the hallway he would nod and share quick salutations with you. You felt indebted to him over the Balenciaga shirt and would bring him coffee weekly on Mondays to start his week.

Back to the present, Soonyoung bit his lip softly, still contemplating on inviting you. As he reached out his fist to knock on the door, it opened with your surprised expression staring back at him. How did he always manage to time things so impeccably with you?

“Hi Soonyoung!” You beamed after regaining your composure after the initial surprise.

He was speechless, well aware that you probably thought he was a weirdo for staring at you without saying anything. How could you be so radiant? Your smile was brighter than the sun, at least to him.

You raised an eyebrow, “Soonyoung?”

“S-sorry! Um, some other tenants and I are having a picnic at Fallin’ Flower Botanical Garden and…well…would you like to come?” He handed you an invitation that his coworker Minghao designed for the occasion.

You looked down at the invitation, smiling softly at it. You weren’t necessarily smiling over being invited, plenty of other tenants invited you to events, but you were smiling because Soonyoung was inviting you. Maybe he didn’t resent you after all. You were engrossed in your own thoughts, oblivious to his growing restlessness since you technically hadn’t said a yes or no.

“There’s also going to be some of our coworkers and friends, about ten people so far. It’s really low-stakes, but we are handing out the invitations a month in advance so you have time to decide if you wanna go,” He explains in more detail.

“It sounds like fun! Thank you for inviting me,” You made sure your gratitude was known by giving him a brief hug. He froze, something that you assumed was because you made a move in your friendship too quickly. But in actuality, he was freaking out.

The weeks leading up to the picnic you made more of an effort to make conversation with him. Your job had flexible hours as long as you clocked over 30 hours weekly, your manager was satisfied. Therefore, it was easy to cater to Soonyoung’s time.

You went to Jeonghan to ask for more details about Soonyoung's schedule, something which he eagerly revealed to you. It made you wonder why, but you didn’t question it too much. You would bring up the most cliche questions, from ‘What should I bring?’ to ‘Have you noticed the snow melting lately?’. Soonyoung was a bit surprised that he would run into you way more by chance lately, but he didn’t mind it. He looked forward to your conversations, it was a way for him to energize himself before or after working on new choreographies with his dance crew at work.

You also enjoyed talking to him, he was still your clumsy neighbor, but he was also extremely funny and caring.

After Jeonghan shared Soonyoung’s schedule with you, he would notice you and Soonyoung were completely focused on each other. Whether he was checking his mail, walking to and from the parking lot, or on the elevator, he tried to make it his mission to periodically see how you guys were progressing. Your and Soonyoung’s ambiguous relationship became the central topic of Jeonghan and Joshua’s nightly gossip. Soon enough they got the rest of the people invited to the picnic to go along with the plan that Jeonghan had concocted.

Soonyoung and you planned to meet in the parking lot where he would drive the two of you to the garden. The rest of the group, Soonyoung informed you, would be meeting the two of you at the garden. You looked at yourself in the full length mirror of your bedroom one last time, paying attention to the dark wash jeans and light green shirt you chose to wear. The invitation didn’t specify a dress code and Soonyoung never gave you a theme, so you thought the outfit fit spring well. You slid on your white sneakers, locked your door, and headed down to meet him.

The parking lot was pretty vacant since it was the early afternoon on a Sunday and people usually were still lounging in their homes at this time. You spotted Soonyoung’s car and picked up your pace to head over to the passenger’s side. Knocking on the window, Soonyoung jumped from the sudden noise before turning and seeing you waving at him. He waved back with a smile adorn on his face before unlocking the door.

You got into the car, noticing his attire of a tan suit with a patterned tie to match, “I didn’t know the dress code was so formal, can you give me a second to change?”

Soonyoung’s smile dramatically becomes a frown, “No! I mean, you can change if you want but you look shining how you are right now. You always look good, Y/N.”

Feeling shy at his words, you get into the car holding the wicker basket full of food you prepared, “Thank you, Soonyoung. Where should I put this…?”

“Oh, here! Let me put it in the back seat,” He offered, grabbing the basket and putting it beside the tote bag that you could see had food containers packed in it as well.

In the car, you were conversing with Soonyoung as usual. The garden was about a 50 minute drive from the apartment complex and you occupied yourselves accordingly. Soonyoung had texted you a playlist link about two days in advance and you had added some songs, making it a shared playlist. Another reason you liked him was because of his music taste, he seemed to know a wide range of music, and was really open to listening to all genres.

About halfway into the drive, his phone pings loudly, indicating that he received a text message.

“Sorry, would you mind reading the text I just got for me?” He asks cautiously.

You stopped playing with the rings you decided to accessorize with earlier. He was holding out his phone for you to take.

“There’s one text from Jeonghan,” You notify him, waiting for his approval to continue.

“Okay, what does it say?” He inquires, looking through his side mirror before switching lanes.

You continue, “None of us are able to make it anymore because Minghao put the wrong date on the invitations we handed out. You have fun with Y/N though, and then…there’s a winky face emoji and the cat kissing emoji?”

His ears turn red as you describe the emojis. Yoon Jeonghan, you are the devil incarnate.

Your mind starts spiraling, “Oh no, do I make them uncomfortable?”

“No, no! It’s not that!” Soonyoung fervently denies.

“There isn’t any other explanation for why your friends wouldn’t tag along I mean-” You persist.

“Y/N-”

“They were all on board until you said I was coming in the groupchat, that definitely means they hate me-”

“Y/N,” Soonyoung attempts again. He turns down the radio playing a pop song, “They didn’t come as a way to support me.”

“Support you?”

He taps his fingers on the steering wheel, trying to think if he should tell you of the conversation he had with Jeonghan and Joshua days ago. He could tell you were looking at him expectantly through the corner of his eye, time to spill the beans.

“They said that we like each other, crazy right?”

Silence followed, with you turning your gaze back to the road in front of you. Soonyoung had to save this atmosphere, but before he knew it he was telling you everything.

“Honestly, I have thought you were cute since I first saw you moving in. With each of our conversations, I only came to like you more and more, but I don’t mean to make this awkward! I know we’re only neighbors-turned-friends and I don’t want to ruin our friendship, so don’t worry I’ll get over my crush eventually.”

More silence…

“You don’t have to get over your crush on me,” You stated, thinking back at the past month and how you have grown a deep fondness for your neighbor.

Soonyoung’s head whipped towards you, “Does that mean?”

You grinned at him, “Yeah, I like you too.”

He tried his best to drive safely and maintain the speed limit but it was a nearly impossible mission for him. How could he contain his excitement over the person he likes returning his feelings?!

You arrived at Fallin’ Flower Botanical Garden a little past noon and luckily there were plenty of spots to sit down at. The garden was even more beautiful than the pictures online. It was the start of spring, yet everything was either blooming or in full bloom. Roses, honeysuckles, cosmos, daisies, tulips, daffodils, mugunghwas, and so much more were growing throughout the place. The various vibrant hues mixed with the luscious green grass left you in awe.

Soonyoung had brought a pastel tiger-patterned blanket to sit on, something that made you only like him more because of his stubbornness in identifying with the animal.

You had sat down next to a pond where there were ducks and their ducklings swimming about and the weather was temperate. After about 20 minutes, you could tell Soonyoung was antsy.

“Sorry, I need to go find the bathroom real quick!” Soonyoung excused himself. He slid on his shoes, not even bothering to put the shoes fully on his heels before running off to find the nearest restroom.

Leaving you alone, you opened your phone and scrolled through the notifications you had missed. Opening TikTok, you looked at a video your best friend Seokmin had sent you. It was his attempt at a new dance challenge, with your mutual friend Seungkwan. You placed the phone down on the blanket, trying to follow the hand motions your friends were doing. You were never the most coordinated person and you only found yourself growing more and more frustrated at the lack of ability in doing the dance correctly.

Soonyoung headed back to your spot in the garden, it was easy to find since you decided to sit by the roses. He saw you from afar…dancing? He watched silently for a while more before approaching your blanket.

“Are you trying to dance to the new song Eric Nam released?”

It was your turn to be startled since you were completely unaware he had come back, “Y-yeah, my friends sent me a TikTok dancing to it and I have never been good at these challenges so I just tried it to kill the time. I can’t do it though.”

He admires your hard work, with your hair slightly messy from dancing.

“What if I taught you?” He proposes.

“You know the dance?”

“Well it’s a bit embarrassing to admit but I actually created the choreography with my dance crew for Eric Nam,” He confesses.

“How is that embarrassing? That’s so cool!” You respond, “Please teach me, it would be an honor.”

“Well first you place your feet like this…” He instructs, getting into the proper position to teach.

Out of breath you both sat back down on the blanket, “That was so much fun, but I definitely worked up an appetite!”

“Well there’s this bakery where they make the bread vegetable shaped but then they actually taste like the vegetables! My friend Mingyu works there so I got a discount and got to skip the lines,” Soonyoung shows off the first item in his tote bag.

“No way, I’ve been wanting to get some bread from there! And you got the sweet pumpkin bread? That’s the one I’ve been wanting to try the most. They all look delicious, Soonyoung,” You rambled.

Because of your reaction, Soonyoung was proud of his purchase.

You went on to explain the first thing you brought, “I made chocolate cupcakes with strawberries dipped in white chocolate. The chocolate was mixed with orange food coloring so hopefully you can see since the strawberries were placed on top of the cupcakes,”

“They resembled carrots sprouting out of dirt,” Soonyoung finishes.

“Exactly, that was the plan!”

You both continued to show off the variety of food you brought, eating only a fraction of it since you both planned on way more people coming. After a few more hours of relaxing, the sun was starting to set and you decided to head back.

“Time is too precious, I wanna see you again tomorrow,” Soonyoung pouts on the drive back.

“We’re going to see each other anyway! Mondays are the days I bring you coffee, remember?” You remind him, reaching out to hold his hand he had resting on his leg.

“Oh, you’re right! But let me buy us coffee tomorrow, I am your boyfriend after all,” He squeezed your hand softly, with a warm smile to accompany it.

“So, Soonyoung, today is the first day of us dating?”

He brought your hand up to his face, with his hand still entangled with yours. Placing a soft kiss on your hand, he nodded, “Day one of forever.”

[azullumi]

okay okay— hear me out, what about streamer kaveh dating popular streamer s/o in secret and the only reason they get found out is cause of kaveh forgetting to turn off his camera and they're acting all lovey dovey on stream LOL i can't help but think how he'd explain to a chat that's moving so fast

summary — kaveh is way too loving and... careless.

pairing — kaveh/gender-neutral reader

tags — fluff, modern, established relationship, steamer x streamer, not proofread ; headcanons

words — 1520

note — my alarm didn't wake me up;;; but anyways, i really loved the request anon :D i had so much fun writing it though i guess it was a little bit rush and i could have done better. but anyways, here! i hope you'll like it!

"Bye, everyone! I hope you all had a great time! Thanks for stopping by and I'll see you all next time."

You enthusiastically waved at the camera, smiling as your eyes scanned the chat that was going too fast, trying to read all of the messages that were being sent. Your eyes could only recognize the word "goodbye" in different variations being commonly sent and after a few moments, you stopped the stream—closing the camera and taking off your headphones before you stood up and stretched your back that was aching after only remaining seated for so long.

It was yet another normal day for you, streaming on a platform or website for hours as you were a well-known streamer and content creator, a lot of people's favorites and especially famous on the internet.

"I'm a little bit hungry," Perhaps it was because you only ate a few since you really couldn't leave your seat and that it was nearly dinnertime also; it was already 6:47 in the evening.

Although the work can be exhausting and repetitive at times, you were having fun and clearly enjoying what you were doing—aside from the fact that you get to earn a lot of money to sustain yourself, your needs and your wants, you were also greatly loved and cherished by your fans and most especially, by your boyfriend, Kaveh.

You decided to check up on him, walking out of your room to head to his that was only steps away from yours since you're under the same roof. As you approached and near his door, his voice and chatter was getting more and more clearer and louder, you could even make out some of what he was saying.

"...Are you…"

"I have… Lovely…"

"Show them? I don't want to. Why? They're way too beautiful for your eyes."

"Just say that you're lying and you don't actually have… Hey! I swear, I'm not lying—" He paused once his eyes glanced at the door, in the direction of where you were standing. You noticed how his eyes sparkled and his expression brightened once he saw you, making you smile and your heart flutter upon seeing the small yet noticeable change.

Are you okay?—you mouthed and gestured to him, avoiding to be heard by his audience as he was streaming live as of the moment. A nod before he spoke in a low voice, "I'll be finished in a moment, wait for me."

You could only give him a thumbs up and a smile before you leaned against the wall, watching him as he calls it a day, finishing his stream and saying goodbye to everyone. You approached him—once you concluded that he's already done with it as he took off his headphones—having no restrictions or worries that you might be seen by anyone.

"How are you, sweetheart? Did you miss me?" The blonde-haired man greets you, pulling you to his lap and pushing the strands of hair on your face behind your ear. He gave your forehead a kiss that made you melt in the hold of his hand on your waist and the caress of the other on your cheek and you let out a hum before responding: "I'm good but I missed you."

It was known that the two of you have a significant other but nobody knows who it is nor you were one another's lover, the only known fact is that both of you are in a loving and healthy relationship. There was no reason—aside from just privacy reasons to avoid nosy people sticking their ass up in your businesses—for you two to be hiding it but I guess you could say that it was the better?

"Archons, it's only been a few hours—" He laughs, looking at you with eyes beaming with adoration, love, and care as if his gaze was touching on your soul, and he places yet another kiss on your temple before continuing, "—You're so needy. What even will happen if we won't see each other for a day?"

You couldn't help but roll your eyes upon hearing what he said and another soft chuckle was pulled out of his throat. "I was kidding, okay? I'm sorry, don't be angry at me."

He sounds like a puppy who got scolded by his owner and if it's not for the teasing smile on his face, you would have thought of him as one already.

"Whatever. What's for dinner today?"

"Hm, are you craving for something?"

You went into a quick thought, "I have nothing in mind. Should we just order takeout?"

"If that's what you want, sure. Let's just rest up a bit before we order, I know that you're still tired."

You only nodded as an answer, resting your head on his shoulder as you closed your eyes which had been strained and hurt after only being exposed to the computer for hours. The moment between you two was silent with only the sound of your light breathing against one another and a sigh that slips from his lips—a smile tugged on the corners of your mouth as the feeling of warmth, comfort, and happiness wells up in your chest.

You flutter your eyelids open, your eyesight adjusting to the brightness of the computer screen, seeing yourself on it and some rapid stream of texts—Wait.

"Kaveh…"

"Kaveh."

"Kaveh!"

It is only when you whisper shouted his name that he responded to you, confusion trailing his tone as he knits his eyebrows.

"What? What is—"

His voice came at a complete halt when he also turned his head to the sight of his monitor, seeing what made you urgently call out to him in such a panicked voice.

The camera was turned on and you could see the projection of you two on the screen being lovey-dovey and sweet to another, and a spam of messages on the side—blood rushed up to your face, embarrassed and feeling shy, and you hide yourself with the man's chest as you listened to him frantically trying to explain, if you even call what he's doing as that.

"At least now we have proof that you really have someone—You're quite a positive person, aren't you?"

"I can't read any of the chats! Slow down, will you?"

"It's (Name)? Yes, it's them, do you have a problem with it?"

"Congratulations on your relationship, I hope that the two of you will have more happiness to come—Awww, thank you so much user LetMeCryInTheCorner!"

"Wait—fuck—How do I even explain it to you guys?"

"You don't have to explain everything when we've already seen how sweet you two are—Ah, whatever then! I'll see you guys next time. Go to sleep, pay attention to your homework, or anything!"

It seems like he has totally given up on it as he just stopped the stream and turned off the camera completely—this time he was sure that he really did—before bringing his attention back to you who has calmed down for a bit from what you feel, bringing yourself back to the grounds of reality.

"Now what?"

"What do you mean now what? We're going to order some food." He says as if everything was normal and nothing happened which induced a reaction to smack him from you.

"Ouch! What was that for?!"

"You're too careless and calm!"

He received a glare from you and he laughed—softly and gently like he was soothing your worries and scrambled thoughts, reassuring you that everything is fine and there is nothing to worry about—it''s honestly strange how he's so collected right now knowing how he often panics and thinks over the small things but I guess it didn't really matter, the publicity of your relationship with him, I mean. It's not like the two of you made a pact to keep it a secret.

You just heaved a sigh, releasing the unnecessary things that plagues your mind, "Well, now they know."

"And? Just let them know."

He leans his face close to you, lips only inches away from each other that you could feel his warm breath fanning your skin, and spoke before capturing you in a loving kiss:

"Let them know that I belong to you."

—

Bonus:

"Wow, they're rejoicing for me because it turns out that I wasn't lying after all."

Kaveh rolled his eyes when he saw the reaction of everyone on social media upon knowing you and his relationship with each other. The internet was bombarded with news about you two dating, a lot of questions being raised, and everything—It was all and only about him and you.

He places his phone down the bedside table before returning his gaze back to your sleeping figure turned to him, watching your relaxed and soft expression, and he sighs to himself, scooting closer to you and wrapping his arm around your waist.

It didn't matter anyways. He just loves you so much and as long as nothing will interfere and get in the way of your happiness, as long as you're okay and happy, as long as he gets to hold you close, then everything is fine.

© azullumi — do not plagiarize, copy, repost, nor translate any of my works.

[fayes-fics]

Moments: Family Dinner

Moments masterpost

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: Baby Thomas says his first word.

Moments Moodboard by: @margowritesthings

Warnings: none… domestic fluff.

Word Count: 0.8k

Author’s Note: Unbetaed. Just a little domestic scene for Moments that wouldn’t leave my brain until I wrote it down. More Benedict being a total girl dad for @iboopedyournose. I hope you all enjoy this lil NYD fluffy drabble, to counterbalance the filth I posted yesterday lol <3

“Bleurghhh, what is that?” Amelia shudders, looking over at Thomas’ food as he sits perched in his little wooden high chair, feeding more of his face than his mouth but proudly brandishing his spoon unaided just before his first birthday.

“It’s stewed apples,” you respond, “perfectly tasty; you love apples, Amelia.”

“Not apple soup,” she responds, pulling a nauseated face.

“Eat your chicken, please,” Benedict soothes.

“I don’t like it anymore,” she opines dramatically, crossing her little arms and frowning so hard her whole face scrunches up.

“Yes, you do,” he laughs, “you were just eating it.”

“Well, I changed my mind,” she sniffs and pushes away her plate. “May I get down and play?”

“No love, you have to wait until we are all finished,” you reply calmly.

“Whyyyy,” she whines petulantly, pouting in rather an epic way. If James is your artist and Isobel is your lawyer, Amelia is most certainly your actress, prone to dramatic outbursts.

“Appdebaba!!!!” Thomas chatters happily, waving his spoon at Amelia, flicking tiny flecks of apple in the general vicinity.

Amelia’s little pout cracks, and she can’t help the giggle that erupts at Thomas’ antics.

“See, my heart, even your baby brother knows polite table manners,” Benedict points out.

“Daddy, I don’t want more dinner. Can I sit on your lap, please?” She wheedles, already sidling over and clambering into his lap. He will never say no to his babies, and she knows it.

“Just this once,” he sighs, knowing he is lying to himself.

“Why can’t I sit in your lap, daddy?” Isobel pipes up. “I’ve been a good girl and finished all of my dinner,” she adds, pointedly holding up her plate to prove her case.

“Fine,” he capitulates, knowing he will have no peace this dinnertime. Amelia perches on his left leg as Isobel climbs up onto his right. You huff, bemused, as you watch your husband holding both his daughters, unable to finish his meal but looking happier than ever.

“James, what are you reading?” you address your eleven-year-old son, who is now engrossed in a book; he is ignoring everyone.

“The Swiss Family Robinson,” he responds. “It’s an amazing adventure story.”

“That’s wonderful, but it is rather impolite to read at the dinner table, my dear,” you denote diplomatically.

“I have finished my dinner, but, as you said, we have to wait for everyone else to be done; I thought it more polite to read quietly than complain like Amelia,” he replies airily, frowning at his younger sister.

She sticks her tongue out at him, and you watch James pull the exact meh-meh-meh mocking face you have seen Benedict aim at Anthony on many occasions. The resemblance is sometimes frightening.

“Estiplifffff,” Thomas adds, spit-bubbling apple all over his face but grinning triumphantly.

You sigh. “I recall a time when I could have dinner peacefully without sudden chicken hating, apple splattered everywhere, and book reading,” you say pointedly, but to no one in particular.

“Yes, but mummy, wasn’t that time so very boring?” Your tiny lawyer argues from her father’s lap.

Benedict chuckles.

“Isobel has a point, my love,” he replies mildly.

You look around the dinner table at the five beautiful faces that are your whole world. She’s right. As she usually is.

“Mama-mama,” Thomas babbles, looking directly at you.

“Did he just…?” you gasp, clutching your hand over your heart.

“I think he did,” Benedict agrees, a huge smile breaking out on his face.

“Oh, my darling Thomas!” You exclaim and grab him from his high chair, cuddling him tight, uncaring of all the apple mess being mashed into your dress. “Yes! I am your mama!”

“Mama mama mmm,” he chatters again, with a four-toothed grin, wiping his apple-y hands on your cheeks for good measure.

In an ebullient mood, you twirl around with Thomas in your arms until you are behind your husband, both daughters still in his lap.

“You are right, Isobel,” you smile at your eldest daughter over Benedict’s shoulder. “I wouldn’t change this for the world.”

Apropos of nothing, except perhaps feeling left out, James leaves his seat and comes to hug you as you stand behind Benedict. He’s so tall now that he is up to your shoulder, but you happily wrap your spare arm around him as he curls into you, and you kiss his hair.

And there you stand for a few moments of bliss amongst the chaos, James and Thomas in your arms, Isobel and Amelia in Benedict’s.

Benedict tilts back over his chair with a grin, and you can’t help but lean over and land a kiss upside down on his lips.

The beautiful moment is broken by the chorus of disapproving noises from your three oldest children at their parents' display of affection, and you giggle against each other’s lips.

“Umm a nooooo,” Thomas even opines, which has you and Benedict breaking out into belly laughs, foreheads touching.

Some family dinner moments are so very precious.

Benedict taglist: @makaylan @iboopedyournose @wysteria-clad @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @bridgertontess @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld

Moments only taglist: @queenofshinigamis @khaleesjj @starslibrary @magical-spit @honeylovemoon @justwant2read8421

[aftmostreaper]

Hiii!! Hru? I was wondering if you could do a top!male reader with Vale with pure fluff?

Like vale getting jealous about the reader not giving them any attention at all for a whole day?

Tysm <3

I tried hehe

Three Strikes

Where vale waited a whole day for his beloved Fiance

Strike 1

It was yet another bright and breezy morning in the wind throat, the few early citizens walking by and going along their ways as the sun slowly rose to the orange sky, rays hitting through the curtains and into the city’s leader’s room. Vale

His fluffy white hair sprawled across the pillow under his head, body wrapped in his fiance’s arms, and face planted between the other’s chest… well that’s what he thought before the lack of warmth finally hit him.

With eyes still shut, he groggily reached out to the opposite side of the enormous bed, calling out his fiance's name, y/n, as he did so. But when he was met with nothing but the whispers of the wind, his eyes darted open, and his body quickly sat up, slouching down just as fast as he felt the pain in his lower back.

Recovering, he started to scan around the room, and when his eyes met his own reflection, his face quickly turned red as he looked at the scars and hickeys his fiance left, making a bashful smile bloom on his face.

Noting the absence of his fiance once again, he turned to the nightstand where he found a note. It read. “Sorry, I had to leave early today, There are urgent matters I have to attend to. I’ll meet you later at breakfast. With love, Y/N” A soft chuckle left his chest as he slowly rose up to start his day as well.

Breakfast soon rolled around and y/n was still not there. vale waited and waited, expectantly looking at the doorway, the hope in his eyes slowly disappearing as he ate his now cold breakfast. “Maybe he’ll meet me at lunch”

Strike 2

The morning sun soon rose to its peak, and lunchtime rolled around, again, he expectantly kept glancing to the doorway, slowing his pace when eating as he did so. Yes, he had matters to attend to as well for today, but they can wait, they were nothing but light matters that could be dealt with in his own time. But the time that will and has been spent with his fiance will always be more special.

Soon enough, he finished his meal, though the ate less than expected, he stood up and left the dining table, the food reserved for y/n being left to the wind.

Strike three

Vale went along his day, while gloomy, he still did his duties as the head of the wind throat, signing papers, passing laws, and solving disputes between his own civilians and connections between other nations.

He usually doesn't mind the chatters carried by the wind, but upon hearing his fiance’s name being spoken, he was on full attention.

“Ah, yes, I think I heard that he was going on the fire throat to meet up with Valir” the civilian said.

Now, he was not one to jump to conclusions… but… What could his fiance be doing with Valir? Was he cheating? Was this the urgent matter he missed breakfast for? Thoughts ran through his mind as he angrily floated to their bedroom. The setting sun shining down on him.

Dinnertime was… uneventful to say the least, Vale eating angrily as the winds flew across the room, the workers keeping note to leave their leader be for the meantime.

Soon enough he was finished with dinner and started washing up. And that is when he heard the bedroom door open from the shower.

“Vale?” Y/n Called out, but when he saw the light peeking from the bathroom door, he decided to get some dinner before coming back.

And when he came back, he was met with a very angry and angsty windy boi sitting on their bed. “Love? What has gotten you so worked up?” he was answered with a grumble “You know exactly why” Dumbfounded, he walked to the side of the bed and sat down, “Is it because I wasn't here all day?” crossing his arms, Vale avoided eye contact.”Valir”

That was when he realized. “Babe.. Are you jealous?” quickly facing him, “Am not! I don’t care what you do all day” Heartily laughing, Y/N wrapped his fiance in his arms, “You totally are”

Soon, a comfortable silence blanketed the two as they relished in each other’s warmth, but that was when Y/n spoke “What if I prove that I am only yours” a sly smile on his lips as he looked into his lover's golden eyes. “Then ravish me” y/n didn't need another second before kissing Vale on the lips.

This was going to be a long night for the two.

[celestial--sapphic]

Get to know Evelyn Caddel: Auror

Read below the cut for my VERY LONG brainrot about Evelyn and her career as an Auror 💥

You can read more about my MC in general HERE 🐍

I also wrote about her love of Quidditch 🧹

She signs up to Auror training with Natty as soon as they get their N.E.W.T results in the summer after they finish their seventh year.

It was a pretty nervous wait for her exam results, knowing she needed at least Exceeds Expectations (E) grades in all her subjects to meet the entry requirements needed to get onto the training programme. Thankfully she comes out with Outstanding (O) grades in Beasts, Charms and Defence Against the Dark Arts and Exceeds Expectations in Potions and Astronomy.

They officially started their training in October 1893 and Evelyn's dream of being Head Auror by the time she was 30 is underway. 

She and Natty shared an unassuming Georgian terrace house in Cannonbury Square in Islington, London alongside three other trainees during their training period. You can see an 1896 map of the area here and a picture of what Islington was like in 1899 here. 

The property faces out onto the green space in the centre of the square and Evelyn enjoyed sitting on one of the benches after a particularly difficult day, closing her eyes and listening to the noisy chatter of the magpies in the trees. 

Sebastian was a regular visitor to their house in Cannonbury Square. Sebastian, who was training to be a healer at St Mungo’s, often conveniently stopped by around dinnertime and always graciously accepted Natty’s offer to make him up a plate of whatever they were having and join them. After a few weeks of this Natty realises it is not the food he is coming for but their pretty blonde housemate who he always found a way to sit next to at the table. Evelyn can’t help but laugh at Natty’s wounded expression when she says “I thought he just really enjoyed my ifisashi and rice”. 

Poppy stays at the house for a few days at a time every other week before heading back to gran’s cottage in Sussex – where she is living whilst undertaking an apprenticeship in Beast Division in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Poppy spends more time out and about on assignments than in the office – which suits her just fine – so she didn’t see the point in moving to London full-time.  

It is a bit weird for Evelyn and Poppy not to have access to the complete privacy of the Room of Requirement anymore and be sharing such close space with four other people. It is particularly embarrassing when they thought they had the house to themselves one afternoon only for Natty to awkwardly ask Evelyn when they make dinner that evening if she and Poppy could use a silencing charm in future, as she had been trying to have a nap. 

As a pretty determined person, Evelyn throws everything she has into the training course but does not realise quite how much of a toll it is taking on her – and how little she looking after herself – until she passes out during a stealth exercise. Poppy is, of course, frantic when she gets an owl from Natty telling her that her girlfriend ended up in St Mungo's and asking her to return from her work trip in Cornwall to talk some sense into Evelyn about making time for rest and relaxation. 

After that, Natty makes sure she sees Evelyn eating both breakfast and dinner and drinking water every single day. 

The intensity training programme combined with Poppy's apprenticeship sending her all over the country put a serious strain on Evelyn and Poppy’s relationship and they briefly split up in the spring of 1894. They get back together after a few miserable weeks where Evelyn mopped around the house and only left to go to training at the Ministry. 

When they qualify, Evelyn and Natty are disappointed to find they are often given the department’s paperwork to fill in and file and when they are given assignments they are low level ones  – pub fights in Diagon Alley and the like.  

“You can’t expect them to put newly qualified Aurors on the hunt for the most dangerous witches and wizards in the world, Evelyn.” Poppy tells her, which Evelyn just grumbles at. 

Evelyn’s first big assignment comes 18 months after she qualifies as an Auror. She is part of the team covering the security of the French Minister for Magic during a diplomatic visit to the British Ministry. She knows something is wrong when she is one-on-one with a colleague who opens the door for her with his left hand, a hand he had injured a couple of weeks prior and lost much of his grip strength in. One skirmish and calls for backup later revealed her colleague was actually a known dark wizard using polyjuice potion to moonlight as her colleague – who it turns out had been captured and was being held hostage. The wizard planned to assassinate the French Minister for Magic and pin the blame on the British Ministry for Magic; no doubt which would have caused unparalleled diplomatic fall out.  

She praised by both Ministry’s for her initiative in halting the assassination and The Daily Prophet and French newspapers both front page interviews with her. 

Evelyn doesn’t meet her teenage goal of being Head Auror by the time she is 30 but is happy enough working as a Lead Auror and oversees a team of 10 junior Aurors. Uncovering secret poaching and beast trafficking rings and seeing those involved punished is a cause she is particularly passionate about; owing to her wife’s work with the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. 

In her late fifties, she steps away from her work as an Auror and takes up the position of professor of Defence Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts, often telling her students stories of her most dangerous and thrilling cases.