#dunno if i have expressed myself properly here but i tried help

[helloimapinkfrog]

Hey guys just in case someone needs to hear this

Sometimes we know we're not alone but we forget, so we go back to thinking we're broken (and we don't even notice)

I'm here to remind you that maybe you can shrink these feelings at least a little bit by looking for other people going through similar things!!!!! Be it by watching a YouTube video about autism or TikTok videos about adhd symptoms or scrolling through a subreddit where queer people share their experiences! Even if you already know everything they're saying, sometimes we need to remember that it's ok, you know?

In my case, I was feeling like shit for months because of my adhd symptoms, and suddenly while on Pinterest I found a screenshot of a Tumblr post about adhd. And wow. I remembered that other people go through this and it has an explanation and that it is not my fault!!!!!!!!! And Oh God I really really needed that

[robininthelabyrinth]

🧿🤠🐇🍲🍯: Nie Huaisang hasn’t found anyone to do the body sacrifice ritual for him, and so in desperation he tries it himself. However, the ritual was not designed with a Nie cultivator in mind—something Nie Huaisang does not realize until he’s doubled over on the floor, far too close to a qi deviation, because his (admittedly tiny) saber spirit has been replaced with Wei Wuxian.

ao3

Well, that was the dumbest thing ever.

The thought so closely matched Wei Wuxian’s that he didn’t even notice that it wasn’t his own.

How could you be so stupid? Wei Wuxian tried to shout at Nie Huaisang, who was curled up gasping on the floor. The floor, which was stained with Nie Huaisang's own blood, with cuts he had made himself on himself, with the ancient body sacrifice summoning that – that –

Don’t you realize that you’d be gone? You absolute idiot! Wei Wuxian howled, even though he wasn’t actually a person right now. He didn’t know what he was, a ghost or spirit, maybe, but he was there and he was angry and Nie Huaisang’s arms were covered in blood from where he’d cut himself up in order to destroy his own soul – Nie Huaisang, the mincing sensitive little master who would complain for three weeks about having stubbed his toe! – and his robes that he had always taken such great care to keep clean and neat were a mess and he was bleeding from the nose and eyes and ears because something had gone wrong. Something had gone wrong, and Wei Wuxian hated to be grateful for it because he didn’t want to be brought back by Nie Huaisang’s death.

Not anyone’s death, really, but definitely not Nie Huaisang, who’d never hurt him or treated him badly. Even when the whole world had hated and reviled Wei Wuxian, isolating him in Yiling on the Burial Mounds, Nie Huaisang hadn’t – he’d waved jauntily to him during Phoenix Mountain, and Wei Wuxian had never doubted that if he’d somehow found his way to Qinghe, Nie Huaisang would have treated him just the same as always.

You – you –! You good-for-nothing!

“Don’t be rude,” Nie Huaisang mumbled, slowly uncurling. “Didn’t bring you back to be rude to me.”

You know what you’ve done, then? You could have died!

“Was I supposed to let someone else do it?” Nie Huaisang rubbed at his face with his sleeve, then frowned at the blood on it. “I thought about it, but I really just – couldn’t.”

So you decided to kill yourself?

“It’s like you said, Wei-xiong. I’m a good-for-nothing. I couldn’t – I can’t – I can’t fix this. So why not bring back someone who can?”

Wei Wuxian didn’t have words to express how much that was not all right with him.

Go fix yourself, he ordered. I don't care what 'this' is; I’m not talking to you until you get cleaned up.

“After all that work I did? Wei-xiong…”

Nope! You’re not dying, so you can get cleaned up before we talk, and that’s that. I still can’t believe you nearly – I don’t want it. I’ve never wanted anyone to get hurt for me.

“Wei-xiong, you’re being silly. Who said I did it for you?”

Wei Wuxian would have stared if he had eyes.

“I did it for me,” Nie Huaisang said, and finally he got up properly and staggered over to a basin to start washing himself clean. “Obviously! I'm incredibly self-absorbed. It’s about what I need from you…hey, how did you come back? I thought the ritual only worked if I died.”

It should have, Wei Wuxian agreed, unwillingly intrigued by it. I don’t know, actually. It’s strange: it should have either worked, in which case you’d be dead and I’d be possessing your body, or else not worked at all, in which case I shouldn’t be here.

“I always mess things up.”

No, really, I don’t think you messed this up? The array is perfect. There’s no reason for it not to have worked.

“These cuts won’t heal,” Nie Huaisang observed, looking at his arms. “Did I accidentally curse myself to fulfill my obligations? Ugh, why.”

As the person you were going to impose said obligations on, I’m now going to laugh at you. Hahahahaha –

“Shut up, Wei-xiong. Where are you, anyway? I don’t see any ghostly figures that might be you, and anyway, we’re in the Unclean Realm; there are ghost-repelling arrays in every stone.”

I don’t know, Wei Wuxian said, and then something else said, Ghost-repelling arrays only repel ghosts.

At first Wei Wuxian thought that it was Nie Huaisang who had said that, and he was about to ask what he meant by that, only Nie Huaisang got there first and said, “What do you mean, Wei-xiong? Are you not a ghost?”

I didn’t say that, Wei Wuxian said. That – wasn’t me.

“Who was it?”

Me.

“…Wei-xiong…?”

No, that wasn’t me. I mean, it wasn’t me that said ‘me’ just now!

Of course not, the voice said, and it was Wei Wuxian’s voice – or not-voice, anyway, whatever it was that he was using to communicate – but not Wei Wuxian speaking. It was me, of course. Master forgot to account for me in his array.

What? Wei Wuxian asked, utterly confused, but apparently that made more sense to Nie Huaisang because his knees went weak and he fell down on his ass.

“Aituan?” he gasped. “I – what – is that you?”

Yes.

Can I interrupt? Wei Wuxian asked. Who – or what – is Aituan?

“My saber!”

Your – what?!

Nie Huaisang attempted to explain. It ended up being a fairly long explanation, involving his sect’s cultivation style, saber spirits, and his own personal saber spirit, which was named Aituan, and which Nie Huaisang swore up and down did not speak prior to this.

Of course not, the voice now known as Aituan said irritably. Why would I speak? I’m a saber. We’re sensible, not like you humans – but now you’ve shoved a human spirit in with me, so what am I supposed to do? Not use his abilities as my own?

I feel like I should feel violated, Wei Wuxian said.

“When in fact you think it’s really neat?”

…yeah, basically.

Aituan huffed. Can we get back to the part where we plan a murder? he (it?) whined.

Sorry, Aituan, Wei Wuxian said. No murder.

“Uh,” Nie Huaisang said. “Actually, about that…”

-

I think we should kill him.

“I can’t do that!”

Dunno, I think Aituan has a point, Wei Wuxian said. We should probably just kill him.

“You’re supposed to be helping me, Wei-xiong!”

I’m helping! I’m a saber now, I can totally help you stab him.

“Not helpful!”

I like this human, Aituan declared. Good human. Proper blade on his hilt.

You mean head on my shoulders?

Whatever.

Nie Huaisang threw his hands up in annoyance. “Would either of you like to remember the part where I can’t actually fight? San-ge would beat me black and blue if I so much as picked up a pocket-knife in his presence!”

Get someone else to help, Wei Wuxian suggested pitilessly.

“I tried! You!”

Someone else.

“Like who?”

Hmm. Lan Zhan? He’s great.

“I don’t know. He’s er-ge’s brother, isn’t he? He might not believe me…” Nie hUaisang grimaced. “He hasn’t been much inclined to believe me before.”

Why doesn’t the loudmouth do the talking? Aituan suggested.

Oh, that’s a good idea! Lan Zhan was always inclined to listen to me before.

“I thought you said he hated you?”

He still listened!

Nie Huaisang heaved a sigh.

Your other alternative is stabbing your enemy directly, Aituan said. If you’d like to give it a try…

“…I’ll talk to Lan Zhan.”

-

“I can’t believe you’re perving after my saber,” Nie Huaisang complained.

I can’t believe Lan Zhan likes me! I mean, likes me!

I can’t believe I’m still stuck here with you idiots. Can I go share bodies with Baxia instead?

Lan Wangji just looked awkward.

Some people might mistake it for looking noble and genteel, but by now they all knew: it was just him being horribly awkward.

“I have no such intentions,” he said stiffly. “Only – if it was possible for Wei Ying to exit the saber…”

Nie Huaisang grimaced, humor falling away. “I…don’t really know about that.”

Wait, wait, wait. If I can’t – if I’m stuck as a saber – I can’t – but I really want to kiss Lan Zhan! This isn’t fair! I don’t want to have to wait until I reincarnate.

You won’t reincarnate, Aituan said. You’re a saber. Unless we’re melted down or get ground down by time…

No!

“Surely there has to be some way. Aituan, stop being a part of the problem and start being a part of the solution.”

Fine. Let him possess you.

“…what.”

He just needs a human body, right? Let him possess you. Problem solved.

I can do that?

Technically, I can do that, and you can do it because I can do it. But we’d need Master’s permission.

“There are many, many, many books about why you don’t grant your saber permission to possess you. Anyway, that’s my body!”

Yeah, I guess it would be weird for you to kiss Lan Zhan, would it?

“I mean, not really? He’s very pretty. I could swing it.”

You could?

“…you could swing what,” Lan Wangji said.

“Having Wei-xiong possess me,” Nie Huaisang explained. “So that he and you can get the whole missed opportunity thing out of your system.”

Lan Wangji’s face did a few strange things.

"Assuming that it wouldn't be an issue for you, that is, it being me on the other side..."

"No," Lan Wangji said, and cleared his throat. "That would be - fine."

Ooooooh. Does Lan Zhan like you, too?

"What? No. Don't be ridiculous, Lan Zhan doesn't like me like that."

He'd be willing to kiss you.

"Physical attraction isn't the same thing," Nie Huaisang argued. "Lan Zhan, you're with me on this, right? You wouldn't be interested in -"

Lan Wangji cut him off.

A few moments later, he pulled back and said, thoughtfully, "As suspected. It is fine."

Nie Huaisang opened and closed his mouth a few times.

"...well then," he said blankly, then frowned. “Aituan, can I revoke permission for possession?”

No idea. You'd just have to trust that we'd give it back; it's a risk you'd have to take.

“…well, as illustrated, it’s not the worst idea I’ve ever had. Let’s try it, and then once everyone’s a little more focused we can go do what we need to do. Sound good?”

-

“I really didn’t expect you to start a relationship Nie Huaisang,” Lan Xichen said to Lan Wangji, not long before the end. He sounded deeply puzzled. “I didn’t think you liked him like that.”

“Not by himself,” Lan Wangji said with a shrug. “But he’s good in company.”

“…you’re with other people too? Both of you?”

“Mm.”

Lan Xichen, knowing his younger brother’s reticent temper, especially of late, declined to ask who the other parties were. “Doesn’t that make things crowded?” he asked instead.

“…surprisingly no,” Lan Wangji said. “Not as much as you’d think.”

[sugrbugz]

their reaction to you coming out as trans!! : BOKUTO, KENMA, AKAASHI, OIKAWA, TSUKKI, & ASAHI ♥︎

CW: this covers topics such as gender dysphoria, transphobia, and ignorant parents. please be safe my loves!!

transphobes get the fuck outta here right now

also i’m ftm myself so i’m writing from my own experience! if you want a non binary one or even mtf let me know! ♥︎

BOKUTO

would be so very excited to go clothing shopping with you but also giving you all of his hoodies in the mean time-

would love to show you off as his official boyfriend, would fight transphobic people for you

“hey bo, can we talk?” you asked softly, only causing him to open his arms wide from where he was sitting on your bed. you crawled into his lap like you always did, your hands shaking a bit when your wrapped your arms around his neck. “what’s up little owl!” he smiled wide, flashing you that beautiful smile of his. “it’s sorta serious love..” you mumbled making his smile fall only a bit, it falling completely when you started crying. “lovebug? what’s wrong..you can talk to me baby” he soothed making you nod. “i know we’ve talked about your preferences before and i don’t know where i fall but-“ you hiccuped, trying to figure out how to say it. “i’m transgender..i want to be a boy” you sobbed out, ultimately terrified he’d leave even though you knew he wouldn’t. “no..” he started making you cry only harder, not even three seconds later were calloused fingers there to wipe them, “you are a boy..not want, right baby?” he smiled softly, kissing your nose.

KENMA

his emotions would hurt him first only because he wouldn’t fully understand why you’re so upset

best hair stylist in the game!! he’d do your hair so you don’t have to deal with judgemental old ladies and weird barbers.

would 100000000/10 drop anything hes doing to snuggle you since he knows how much of a bitch dysphoria can be

it actually happened by accident. currently you were in the bathroom, shaky hands on a pair of scissors you’d found in the kitchen. it was one of those moments. you weren’t officially out to anybody, not even your boyfriend just simply out of fear of being disliked. however when kenma came to use the bathroom after doing a five hour livestream her heart almost shattered right then and there. you were too into your head to even notice his presence, snapping back to reality when he took the scissors from you. that’s when the tears started. he was quickly to pull you close, kissing your head. “i think i understand..but if i don’t, please explain..” he whispered softly into your ear. “i-i..” you stuttered, you didn’t even know how to say it. “i’ve been dealing with my gender for awhile and came to the conclusion that im a boy..” you sniff, snuggling into his chest since the comfort felt good. “okay baby, you’re still mine okay?” he spoke so soft it was reassuring. “but come to me instead of butchering your hair, you know damn well i could cut it better. dork.” he winked sitting you down to actually cut your hair properly.

AKAASHI

wasn’t totally surprised even though he is oblivious to most things

he would be so sweet about it??????? he wouldn’t even question you???? just accepting right away

after you were ready to come out? god he would be so overbearing with how supportive he was. “hey have you seen my BOYFRIEND?” or “are you doing okay, pretty boy?” he would do it all the time

he already knew. you’d asked him to pack your laptop in your book bag since you guys were going to study at the library. he usually didn’t snoop and honestly minded his business, but when he saw what he thought was a dildo his curiosity was peaked. you had millions of tabs open, all pertaining to the concept of gender identity. his heart softened sadly, upset by the fact you did this all alone. you came up to check what was taking him so long, face dropping when you saw what was open, “i-i promise i can explain-!” you rush forward but he quickly wraps two arms around you, kissing you softly. “shush. you don’t need to explain.” he smiled, “your preferred name and pronouns my darling?” he hummed in addition, grinning from the blush on your cheeks. “uhm..y/n..and he/him..please..” you whisper making him nod, “i’ve got the cutest boyfriend every yanno that?”

OIKAWA

would make fun of you for a bit until he realized this was actually serious

he would also apologize profusely for doing so.

would go out and buy you 67963334 slacks just to see you in them i know it

“tooru i’m serious!” you’d whimper, genuine tears pricking at the corner of your eyes. that’s when he knew he took it too far. “hey..i was just joking around…does me calling you girlie actually make you uncomfortable? why?” he was confused but then again you couldn’t blame them. you’d told iwa you were trans, hoping to get someway to tell oikawa but there wasn’t much acknowledgment of him at all. “yes..it does” you nodded wiping your eyes. “is it because you’re trans?” all the air in your lungs was knocked out of you at this. “how did you..” you’d ask softly, “i dunno! i’m just really good at this!” he giggled before kissing your head and getting off the couch you two were on. “one minute!” he ran upstairs and about five minutes later came back with all his old clothes he outgrew. “here! ‘ma saved them for donating to relatives but your more important” he hummed making you blush, “tooru you don’t-“ “and what’s your pants size?” “uh-i-“ “it’s okay doesn’t matter we’ll get all of them.” “ALL OF WHAT.” and that’s honestly how the rest of your night went.

TSUKKI

he wasn’t totally surprised but then again he knew how your parents were and would understand your hesitation for coming out

it didn’t really phase him at all. have you seen his gender nonconforming best friend? tsukki wouldn’t care unless you were authentically yourself.

would always give you reassurance, no matter how much you needed.

you’d come to your boyfriends house for the third night this week, his mom more than happy to let you stay. “he’s upstairs!” she’d smile from where she was making dinner. you already knew where to find his room, so coming inside and throwing your bags down casually wasn’t an issue at all. “y/n how many times do i have to tell your messy ass that you don’t put bags in the middle of the-“ he spun in his desk chair to look at you, his face falling the second he saw your face go red and tears streaming down your face. tsukki fucking SUCKED with emotions but he wouldn’t be pathetic and not try. “cmere moonie, what’s wrong” he frowned getting up and sitting on the bed, pulling you down with him. “i told them” you stated simply, his own anxiety kicked in. “and?” he asked, already knowing the answer. “they kicked me out.” you nodded towards the fourish bags you had dropped. “well..fuck them. here you’ll be loved and respected. they don’t deserve you. no one does. now, ill ask mom if we can move in the old dresser from akiterus room..you make yourself comfy. change, take of makeup, whatever it is. here? you’re allowed to be who you are.” and with that he was gone. tsukki may look like an asshole but he tries his best not to be for you.

ASAHI

wouldn’t initially get it, but it would take some explaining and he’d be absolutely on board

would probably smoother you in love and affection for being brave enough to tell him how you’ve been feeling

similar to akaashi he’d be quick to correct those who use incorrect pronouns (unless you tell him not too) while expressing love for his boyfriend

dating asahi had plenty of benefits, most importantly his ability to scare those off who were rude to you. you had come out to him a week ago, he needed some help understanding the process but soon he was very on board and understanding. now you two were eating lunch with noya and tanaka, watching a group of girls who ever now and then looked back at you to laugh and point. you’d just gotten your gender affirming hair cut the night before. you began to feel very self conscious about everything, just slowly tucking yourself into asahi who immediately realized something was wrong. “what’s up babe?” he asked watching you nod towards the group. with that he gently passed you over to noya who was very excited for the hugs he was allowed to give his close friend. needless to say asahi scared the living hell out of those girls. when all was said and done, he took you to the boys bathroom and locked the door. he simply hugged you, rubbing your back while you almost immediately cried. “it’s okay bunny..i’m sorry people can’t mind their own business-not that it’s my fault-i dunno why i apologized-sorry-i-“ he took a deep breath but his nervous rambling had made you giggle. “thank you, you giant teddy bear” you smiled leaning up to give him a nice soft kiss.

[nat-20s]

Part 5 of Wonderful! Au. *boyband voice* banter’s back alright!

Also on AO3

~*~

Jon: Hello everyone, and welcome back to our regular format. If my husband being horribly soppy-

Martin:-hey!-

Jon: -turned you off the how, this should be a refreshing return to formula, though I can’t guarantee there won’t be further horrible soppiness-

Martin, performatively under his breath: -most people thought it was charming-

Jon: -as that tends to happen when one is recording with the love of their life. If last week’s episode is the only one that you like, too bad, I’m back in full form, and should be at least through the rest of the season.

Martin: This show doesn’t have seasons? Due to the whole lack of a narrative thing?

Jon: I was referring to spring.

Martin: Oh, right.

[A beat passes.]

Martin, flatly: Oh. Great goof hon.

Jon, smug: Thank you.

Jon, sincere: Also, before we get properly started, I did want to actually thank everyone who sent well wishes.

M artin: Yes! We got positively inundated with lovely messages, it definitely brightened both of our days. I would even say it was wonderful.

[Jon groans.]

Jon: I am..not proud of the energy we’ve created for this episode so far, and we haven’t even hit the small wonders. Speaking of, do you have a small wonder this week?

Martin: Mine’s bad action movies.

Jon: Really? I had no idea you even liked them, let alone consider them wonderful.

Martin: Okay, so, saying I like them is a bit of a misnomer? It’s more that I like what they can do more than the movies themselves?

Jon: Elaborate?

Martin: It probably comes as a surprise to no one that I’ve tried my hand at a fair amount of mindfulness and mediation techniques. I’ve found poetry and journaling have been helpful for actually processing life events and whatnot, but when it comes to giving your brain a hard wipe and reset, nothing is half as quick and effective as a shitty shoot-em-up. Somethings about 2 hours of cartoonish, pg-13 violence held together with the absolute loosest of plots brings me to a state of mental blankness that would make a monk jealous.

Jon: How have I never witnessed you doing this? When are you sneaking off to go see Micheal Tarantino or who ever films?

M artin: That’s definitely not the right name.

Jon: Martin, dear, I don’t care. And you’re dodging the question.

Martin, fond: I’m not dodging anything. Since apparently we’re getting into it, you haven’t caught me cavorting with a movie involving more explosions than character development lately because I haven’t been. Haven’t needed it, in recent years. Turns out when you’re not crushingly lonely and working a literal nightmare of job, there’s less of a drive to try and escape your own thoughts. Shocker, I know. Still, to anyone out there that feels like their brain is on fire, go try watching a fast and furious. Any of ‘em, it doesn’t matter. Or even better, Chronicles of Riddick. I can’t remember a single goddamn detail of that movie, which makes it perfect for what I’m talking about.

Jon: I have the strong feeling that th is is a “mileage may vary” scenario.

Martin: Well, yeah, that’s this whole podcast. Plus, I imagine that movies like this would cause more stress to someone who cares about, say, world-building or rules consistency.

Jon: I wonder who you could possibly be referring to.

Martin: It’s a purely hypothetical person, love, don’t worry about it. Any small wonders?

Jon: Yes! Particularly relevant to the last week, my small wonder is stripping the sheets from your bed when it’s been too long between washes.

Martin: How very specific. M ost people would just say ‘clean sheets’.

Jon: Well, for one, I’m fairly certain that we’ve already covered clean sheets-

Martin: Shit, have we? Thank god other people keep track of this, otherwise this show would be unbearably repetitive.

Jon: Christ, yes. I typically check the website a good three times while prepping, and every about one out of those three times I find I’m trying to do an topic we did 30 episodes again. Anyway, um, it’s just nice, I think. When you’ve been too busy or sick or away for awhile, tossing the sheets in the wash makes a room instantly seem nicer. Of all the chores out there, this one, at least for me, has the highest reward to effort ratio.

Martin: Hard agree. Especially when the y have that slight funk of having been around to long, getting rid of that is such a relief. Speaking of, we need to change our sheets soon.

Jon: We can do it after the episode. Who goes first this week?

Martin: Considering last week was only me talking, I’m gonna say it’s you.

Jon: Alright, then. My first thing this week is Martin K. Blackwood.

Martin: Absolutely not!

Jon: Oh, you can do a whole episode on me, but I can’t do one little segment on my husband, whom I love very dearly?

Martin: Not while I’m sat here, no!

Jon: So you’re saying you don’t want me to tell the internet that your resolve to be kind even in the face of indescribable cruelty is one of the mot breathtaking things I’ve ever witnessed, or how I find it incredibly endearing when you get so emotional that your voice comes out as a squeak, or even that, on a more base level, you’re very physically attractive, and I could lose entire days thinking about your arms alone?

Martin, audibly blushing, voice the aforementioned squeak: Oh my god, Jon!

Jon, laughing: Then it’s probably for the best that my actual first thing is best friends.

Martin, peaking the audio levels: Oh you absolute bastard! Do you enjoy this? Do you get some sort of perverse sense of entertainment from riling me up?

Jon: Oh, don’t you start. As if you’re not as bad as I am. Maybe even worse.

Martin: That’s not…

Jon: Yes?

Martin: Okay. Maybe it’s slightly true. Really, what is romance for if not flustering your partner with compliments?

Jon, teasing: I certainly can’t think of anything.

Martin: Hush, you.

Jon: No, I don’t think I will.

Martin: Fine. I suppose you can tell our delightful audience about the power of friendship or whatever.

Jon: I would’ve assumed more enthusiasm, considering this segment is still, indirectly, about you.

Martin: In what way?

Jon: In the way that, to the shock of all, you’re my best friend.

Martin, pleased: Oh, is that what I am?

Jon, exasperated: Yes, dearest husband, I wouldn’t have married you otherwise. Though, upon reflection, I knew you were my best friend before I knew I held romantic feelings for you.

Martin: When was that?

Jon, letting out a breath that vibrates his lips: God it was...2016? I think it might’ve literally been the day after you told me about your CV.

Martin: That early? Huh. I wonder if that’s what people were picking up when they said they we were close.

Jon: What people?

Martin: I don’t know specifically, that’s just what Daisy told me.

Jon: Daisy? When the hell-?

Martin: It...was when she was interrogating me? And, because sometimes I have to be a parody of myself, pretty much my only take away from that interrogation was “people think me and Jon are close”.

Jon: Well then. It’s not like they were wrong.

Martin, smug: No, no they weren’t.

Martin, sincere: And you’re my best friend, too.

Jon: I was certainly hoping that you’re in this relationship for more than my good looks and incredible fortune, both in the monetary and luck sense.

Martin: You say that as if you aren’t good looking, which we all know is patently untrue.

Jon: You’re biased. You’d say I was good looking if I were nothing more than some primordial ooze with thoughts about its station.

Martin: I’m being completely objective. If you were primordial ooze with thoughts above its station, you’d be the cutest ooze of them all. That’s just scientific fact.

Jon: I’m starting to think we might be insufferable.

Martin: Starting to? Might be?

Jon:…

[Jon clears his throat]

Jon: What I find wonderful about the concept of best friends is, to me, they’re the closest thing real life has to soulmates. I don’t personally believe that there’s some..grand mystic force that drives people to be tied together in the manner that narrative typical soulmates are, and if there was I don’t think it would necessarily be the kind of emotional, heartfelt bond one would hope for, but I do believe that there’s individuals that get to know one another, and because of that knowledge, they chose to stick with one another. It doesn’t have to be a romantic, which is why I say best friend rather than specifically ‘spouse’, but I would argue that the basis of a strong romance like you and I have, is very much rooted in that connection. A true best friendship is an equal partnership, and there’s a sense of..matched sensibilities and understanding that can be utterly incandescent when it happens.

I also think that having one or more best friends makes living life on a day to day basis both better and just flat easier. The dark times aren’t as dark, and the bright times shine even more. I know from my own personal experience there are events that I..that I don’t know how I would’ve made it through without you. Hell, last week my..recovery period would’ve taken much longer if you hadn’t been there.

It’s an amazing thing to have someone to share things with, both triumphs and burdens. Um, also, according to Dictionary.com, the term best friends in English has been around since the 1200s. Something about that delights me, like, yes, we’ve had this casual way of referring to a Favorite Person for roughly 800 years. That makes it a hold-out from early Middle English. I dunno, it’s one of those things that make me feel overall very charmed by humanity.

Martin, audibly smiling: No, yeah, hard agree.

Jon: What’s that look for?

Martin: Nothing. Just. I love you a whole lot, you know that?

Jon, voice soft: I may have heard you say that once or twice. Per hour.

Martin: Only that often? I really need to be more diligent about that.

[There’s a bet of silence, presumably where they’re making doe eyes at each other.]

Jon: What’s your first thing?

Martin: Oh, um, right. Rats!

Jon: The expression or the animal?

Martin: Jon, have you ever once heard me say “rats” as an expression? Obviously I’m referring to the animal.

Jon: Ah. Should’ve known, considering that what, a third?, of all your segments have been on animals.

Martin: Yeah? And? You got a problem with critters? With creatures? With lil guys?

Jon, laughing: No, no, it’s very sweet. I’m just surprised you never became a vet.

Martin: Oh believe me, I wanted to. But then I learned that it was not, in fact, a job composed entirely of getting paid to play with other people’s pets.

Jon: You had that job, though, didn’t you? I thought I remembered you mentioning a month long stint at a doggie day care.

Martin, sighing dreamily: Best job I ever had. Too bad that place was shut down after it was revealed to be a money laundering front.

Jon: Good lord.

Jon: Martin did you...did you know it was a money laundering front at the time?

Martin:

Martin: Would it make you feel better if I said no?

Jon: Martin!

Martin: I figured it out like a week in, but, like, who cares? The pay was decent and the floor was super easy to clean, which is very much a plus for even a front of a doggie day care.

Jon: That’s...rather a lot. How about instead of getting into that any further, you tell me about rodents.

Martin: I would love to. But first, we have a shoutout!

Jon: Ooo, a shoutout. Does it specify who should read?

Martin: Let me check. It...does...not…..

...

Jon: Martin?

[A beat.]

Martin: Right! Sorry, um. This week’s shoutout is from Tim, to Danny. It says, “Danny! My favorite person who shares genetic material with me! I wanted to say thank you for your podcast obsession from 4 months ago, and specifically for telling me about these marrieds. They’ve gotten me through many a dull hour at the publishing house. Also, with this shoutout, I’ve officially gotten ahead on the Superior [Last Name Redacted] Brother scoreboard, so suck it. Love you lots, and looking forward to your visit next month, Tim.”

Jon: Oh.

Jon: Um. That’s very..sweet? I think? Mostly?

Martin: Yeah, I’d say so. Uh. We have to take a quick break because, uh, someone is..at our front door! Be back with you all in, from your side of things, just a moment.

[coulson-is-an-avenger]

kisses 21 jm!

For the prompt “we’ll face this together” kiss. TY SAHAR!!! OKAY I accidentally had one (1) jonbinary idea and then it ended up being SO FUCKING LONG (like 2.5k long) so uh. yeah. Warnings for descriptions of dysphoria, mentions of kidnapping and self loathing, and Jon getting pretty close to a panic attack. Also disclaimer, although I am nonbinary, I’m not transfem, so if there’s any critiques surrounding that, don’t hesitate to let me know. Stay safe y’all!

Jon’s face itches as he faces the mirror like an old foe. It’s long held an image that hurts him to see; aged by unfathomable horrors and dotted with marks like a canvas before a child’s paint tipped fingers, and these days he can’t even be sure that his reflection looks away from him when he turns his head. But, the devil it holds at the moment is the simple reflection of his short beard, and his face itches at the reminder of it.

It isn’t a physical itch. It lurks under the skin, poking and prodding at his senses, rubbing him the wrong way as he lays his cheek on his pillow, leaving a distracting echo when his chin brushes against Martin’s during a kiss, scraping at the inside of his skin as he stares at himself and takes in the sight of it covering his chin.

He scrubs his fingers over his eyelids. He isn’t ignorant, he realizes the discomfort he feels is most likely somewhat gender-related, but it’s… his relationship with his gender is complicated. In a lot of ways, it’s been such a mundane concern recently that he’s somewhat lost track of where he stands with it, but he remembers how it felt to first wear a skirt into the archives, all those long years ago. How gentle Sasha had been with him back then, even if the memory pinches the back of his head and grins with too many teeth and a short haircut that he knows now was wrong. But the Stranger cannot take that act of kindness away from her, even if it took away the face he remembers sharing it with.

He had felt like he was becoming something new, then, staring at a new path, freshly paved in his life, open to the possibilities of self discovery and certainty. Then his life had been riddled with worms and his friends had been carved out, one by screaming one, and he was on the run and set alight and kidnapped and disabled and nearly killed and kidnapped again and nearly killed and—

Jon remembers, vaguely, a flash of what had happened in the month he was… gone. He doesn’t remember most of what happened in that place. Probably for the better, he tells himself, but he does recall one thing. One very simple thing, really; that he hadn’t been able to shave, and he remembers the itch being all he could focus on for days at a time.

One of the first things he had done after stumbling through Michael-now-Helen’s door-not-deathtrap was drag himself to a sink and shave his face raw, burned hand be damned. His skin had suffered afterwards, nicked and irritated beneath its smoothness, and he had taken some strange, morbid comfort in the blemish he was able to inflict, after so many days of hearing hollow voices sing of its beauty.

This is a dangerous line of thought, he realizes, hands pressed against the bathroom sink, his heartbeat starting to pound in his ears. He desperately does not want to think about that, not here, and preferably not ever again, if he can help it.

He tries to bring himself back to the here and now, grounding himself in the feeling of porcelain under his palms, but the victory over his mind is a hollow one, unfortunately, as it brings him right back to the itching under his skin.

He’s not sure if this itch is exasperated by his own self consciousness, or by the lingering sting of the Lonely that threatened to separate him from himself, but it builds until its all he can feel in his skin, on his face, and he finds himself lunging across the counter, knocking things over in an attempt to hunt down Martin’s razor.

Jon had lost his own somewhere in the chaos of living in the archives, but he’s sure he saw Martin trim his own short beard when they first arrived at the safehouse, so it must be here, he thinks, ripping open drawers, it must— aha!

His fist closes around the razor, hidden under the sink next to a small bottle of shaving cream and Martin’s testosterone shots, and he barely gives a thought to what he’s doing before raising it to his dry cheek, just needing this thing off, and—

“Jon? You know that’s not how to do that, right?”

Jon whips around like lightning, his back to the sink and the razor clenched in his fist against his chest like a talisman, breathing heavily.

Martin had been smiling slightly as he entered the bathroom, but the expression quickly falls from his face as he takes in the panicked look on Jon’s face, and the erratic motion of his free hand, clenched into a fist at his side and twitching in an attempt to calm himself. Martin steps forward quickly, outstretching a hand.

“Jon, love? Are you alright?”

Jon fixes his eyes on Martin; kind, beautiful Martin who still goes a bit grey at the fingertips and the eyes when anxiety seizes him, Martin who has always been there, always been there, ever since the beginning. Jon anchors himself as he looks at that familiar, beloved face, and tries to take a breath.

“I-I don’t know,” He manages, because this all feels very silly now. He’s a grown person standing in the center of a bathroom, clutching his boyfriend’s shaving razor like it’s a weapon, for God’s sake, all because of what? Some facial hair? Good Lord, he’s being ridiculous. “Probably, I just… um.” He trails off, gut sinking as emotions spiral through him, too fast to pin down and name.

“Okay,” Martin says gently, shuffling a step closer. “Why do you have that?” He gestures to the razor in Jon’s hand, and Jon twitches, holding it closer.

“I need to borrow it,” He explains, stumbling. “I can’t- I need-“ He makes a frustrated noise and tries to get his thoughts to align. He inhales deeply and tries again. “I need to …shave. This-“ he gestures jerkily towards his face. “This is too much.”

Martin nods carefully, eyes glued to Jon’s face. “Too much?” His question is as gentle as his eyes, and Jon has to glance away for a moment, overwhelmed by being seen.

“It’s… complicated,” He begins, the fist pressed to his chest beginning to lighten up. “It… it just itches, all the time. Like- like a thousand ants under my skin, w-which is ridiculous because it doesn’t actually hurt or itch or- or anything, it just…” he glances back to Martin’s eyes, furtive and desperate for him to understand. “I need it to stop.”

“Oh,” Martin softens even more before Jon’s eyes, his face melting with understanding and sadness. “Oh, Jon. I didn’t realize you were having dysphoria.”

At the word dysphoria Jon glances sharply up, uncertainty fraught on his face, and Martin backtracks quickly.

“Or- s-sorry, I didn’t mean to assume. Is it-”

“N-no, Martin, it-it’s fine.” Jon waves Martin’s nerves aside and finds that he finally has a decent enough hold on his own to lower the hand that had been pressed against his chest. He turns around in the bathroom and sits down on the edge of the bathtub, sighing heavily. “It might be dysphoria, I don’t…” He hesitates, chuckling slightly. “I’m not quite sure I know it well enough to place it. Gender hasn’t exactly been… a priority these days.”

Martin nods and follows him deeper into the bathroom, setting down the lid of the toilet so he can sit on it and listen to Jon blunder through his feelings.

“It might be? I mean… I know I’m not a man, per say, but it… I mean, it could also be so many other things at this point. It’s just- I know it’s stupid to overthink, but—“

“Hey, hey,” Martin cuts him off, extending a hand to brush against the side of his knee. “It isn’t stupid, Jon. You don’t have to have a label or a reason in order to be uncomfortable. It’s- you’re allowed to call it just that; uncomfortable.”

Jon nods, looking down at the hands clasped in his lap.

“I know. It just hit me so suddenly, I-” He sighs, rubbing a hand over his forehead, careful to avoid brushing any of the hairs on his face. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize,” Martin murmurs, and his hand rests more solidly on Jon’s knee. “Is this alright?”

Jon nods mutely, and lets himself expel some more of the tension in his shoulders as he focuses on the motion of Martin’s thumb sweeping softly over his knee.

“It reminds me of the circus,” Jon breathes after a moment of silence, and Martin’s hand stills against him, attentive and horrified. “When- when they…” He inhales sharply, willing his voice not to break. “Well, I couldn’t very well shave it,” He clenches his hands into fists again, still holding the razor tightly in his right. “Got it off as quickly as possible once I could.”

Martin exhales. “I remember that. I thought you just… I dunno, just really nicked yourself. I didn’t think about… yeah.”

“Yes,” Jon agrees, keeping his gaze on the hand on his knee. “I-I mean, I definitely did, nick myself that is. I wasn’t really thinking about doing it properly, I suppose.”

“Like just now?” Martin asks, kindly, gently, not judging. Jon feels his chest pinch anyways.

“Yes.” He admits quietly. Martin leans down to press a careful kiss to Jon’s knee.

“Okay, well, this time we’ll do it properly,” Martin raises himself from the toilet seat, reaching down into the cupboards to pull forth the shaving cream and a towel, and holds them out towards Jon.

Jon blinks, looks at the objects and then up at Martin, unsure of what’s being offered. “Sorry?”

“You still want the beard off, right? Let’s just make sure you don’t upset your skin,” He cracks a humorous smile. “Then it’ll actually start itching.”

Jon takes the can from his hand, but still frowns. “Us?”

“I- yeah,” Martin shifts his weight, fidgeting with the towel. “I can help, if that’s alright with you. You don’t… always seem to handle mirrors the best? And I’ve helped shave another person before so… yeah. If you want.”

Jon’s world stutters to a blushing halt. Martin’s right, he doesn’t like to linger on his face in mirrors even on the best days (of which today is certainly not one) and as much as he’s accustomed to doing this himself, what Martin is promising is intimate; an extension of vulnerability and the promise of a care that he hardly takes with himself. The more he considers it, the more finds himself tentatively wanting it, and he nods carefully. He trusts Martin, he’s decided a thousand times by now.

“Alright,” He agrees, and smiles.

Martin smiles in response. “Alright. Do you want me to um-” He gestures with the towel in his hand, and Jon nods.

Martin makes quick work of running the towel under the tap until it’s warm, and then wringing it out so it’s ready to actually use. He takes his seat again and tips Jon’s head back with a hand to lay the towel gently overtop, letting the warmth seep into his skin. It’s more effort than Jon usually puts in, or used to, when he did this more regularly, but he finds it’s a nice feeling, and he almost misses it when Martin takes the towel away again.

“Right,” Martin continues, looks pointedly to the can of shaving cream in Jon’s hand and Jon hesitates.

“Ah. Maybe not that part? Th-the actual shaving is fine, but-”

“Oh! Yeah, of course,” Martin nods, not questioning, and reaches forward instead to gently take the razor itself from Jon’s fist so he can use both hands to get the shaving cream on his face. Jon surrenders the razor, forcing himself to trust it in Martin’s hands, to trust that Martin won’t just leave him hanging.

He tries not to think too hard about the feeling of the cream on his skin. It’s a far cry from lotion, so it doesn’t bring up any sense memories, thankfully, but it’s still an uncomfortable texture, and he focuses on the sound of Martin’s breathing to keep himself from slipping.

Fortunately it doesn’t take long; soon enough Jon’s finished, wiping his hands on his trousers, and then Martin’s shifting closer, taking Jon’s face in his hands like it’s something precious, something to be loved and cared for. He is very close, his dark brown eyes nearly black with focus as he gently reaffirms that Jon’s sure about this, and then the cool razor swipes across Jon’s cheek.

Jon’s heart lurches in his chest, a messy combination of nerves and gratefulness, but he doesn’t flinch, doesn’t move at all, and just watches Martin focus with gentle certaintly as the blade passes over his cheeks again and again in careful, confident strokes. His fingers whisper at Jon’s chin when he tilts up his head and swipes the blade carefully up the top of his throat, brow furrowed and tongue poking out of his lips in concentration.

Jon holds his breath, wills his heart to still, but it’s alright, with Martin it’s always alright. His hands are warm as they cup his cheeks, tilt him this way and that, thorough in their task, and his fingertips are gentle as they lift his chin and brush away foam and ghost over his throat. He never even comes close to nicking him, and Jon feels a great warmth unspooling in his chest, stinging his eyes.

“All done,” Martin finishes triumphantly, his face breaking into a grin as he hands Jon the towel again, lets him wipe off his own face.

There’s no coarse texture as the fabric touches his face, no itching or discomfort as it drags over his chin, and the steady drumbeat of wrongness that had pervaded him for weeks finally, finally dissipates, unblocking his lungs and releasing the tightness from his shoulders. He runs a hand over his chin, and finds a shy smile quickly taking over his face, affection and relief filling him up from the inside out and spilling onto his features.

“Thank you,” He breathes, and Martin matches his smile with one of his own, and nods, nothing but respect and affection in his eyes.

“Any time,” Martin says seriously, before reaching out to take Jon’s hand and slowly bringing it to his lips, giving Jon ample time to pull away. “You don’t have to struggle with this stuff alone,” He murmurs against Jon’s knuckles. “It’s easier together.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Jon’s response is quiet, and Martin kisses his hand then; gentle, and full of reverence. Jon finds that he could melt right into the floor and be happy for the rest of his life.

He reaches up to pull Martin down into a kiss, gentle and insistent and grateful, lacing his hands in his hair and sighing against his lips at the sensation, noting how nice it feels to kiss his boyfriend without his itching skin pressing at his thoughts.

The kiss stays chaste, and eventually Jon pulls back just enough to press their foreheads together, keeping his eyes closed, reveling in it. “Together, then.” He affirms, and Martin smiles.

“One way or another.”

[shushiyuii]

Could I please request comfort noms? Literally do whatever you want with it I just really want comfort noms.

Here's you request Anon Dearest! /p

I hope it's up to your standards and you enjoy it!

Warnings: Being overworked? And soft vore! Besides that its just pure fluff UwU

Words: 1.4k

( Also, If you don’t know what a skylight is, it’s a window but it’s on the roof)

Tommy laid in his bed, staring up at the ceiling in pure darkness, the only light being the glowing stars and moon from his skylight. He couldn’t sleep, he hasn’t slept properly for roughly 3 days. It’s been tough on him with all the things he’s had to do lately. Tommy finally could get some good sleep, but he wasn’t quite sure if he could honestly since he still had so much to do the next day.

10 pm turned to 1 am then to 3 am, he was no longer in bed, instead, he was working on whatever videos or business he had, because every time he tried to sleep it just wouldn’t work. His body refused, it screamed at him for more caffeine to continue functioning and he wanted so badly to sleep.

Today, was the day that he and Wilbur were supposed to meet up, since they hadn’t in so long, they were going to work on vlogs, while also having sibling bonding time. His bus for leaving would be 7 am so he continued to work for the next two hours, then moving onto packing for a while then making his way for the bus.

As he got ready and waited for the bus, every moment of his was full of pain in sleep, all but clear bags under his eyes, unkempt hair and overall expression looking so stressed. Even from a giant’s perspective, it’d be obvious that he was in an unwell state, so much as for looking good.

People noticed his change in behaviour as he hadn’t been very active on social media nor contacting his friends much, as to why he and Wilbur were meeting up in the first place.

His mind snapped out at whatever state he was in as his bus was called and made his way over, very quick motion made him dizzy, people asked if he was okay, but he’d reassure them he was okay. The actual bus ride wasn’t any easier, his head pounded at the sounds of the engines, every moment of the bus made it hurt so much worse, Paracetamol didn’t quite help either, maybe more coffee would help? If anything, he just wanted off this bus, this was going to be a long 3 hours of pain.

As much as Wilbur was excited to see his younger brother figure, he couldn’t help but feel a lot of concern, Tommy hadn’t been the same lately, something was most definitely different in behaviour. His panicked mind wouldn’t set on one reasonable explanation, it would panic between different scenarios that would have the worse outcomes, some didn’t even make sense to himself, but his brain thought of it.

Besides the panic, there was also the fact that he had to spot a tiny Tommy in the midst of the bays within the borrower’s section. It wasn’t the first time they’d meet up, but it was always a bother to find him during these things. To say Wilbur was happy was kind of an understatement.

As of now, it was 9:45, Tommy should be arriving soon.

Time went slow for the two of them when Tommy finally heard the bus stop. His body was refusing to move, he barely made it off the bus. But he somehow did it and now was the struggle of finding Wilbur, he made his way down to the bay and sat down, his lungs finally getting fresh air from the opening of doors, way better compared to the horrible humidity and atmosphere of the bus.

He could barely hear Wilbur calling his name as he was in such a daze, but as soon as that yell of his name in panic, “TOMMY!”. He looked over in shock as he saw a panicking Wilbur, he was crouching over to the platform, scaring multiple other borrowers but his focus was obviously on him.

“Wil?-“. He was cut off by him, “Toms?! Are you okay?!”. Tommy held his head and stood up, forgetting his bags and making his way to Wilbur, “I-I’m fine Wilbur, don’t worry”. Usually, if Tommy was okay, he’d say something along the lines of, “OI DICKHEAD, I’M COMPLETELY FINE! I’M A BIG MAN I CAN TAKE CARE OF MYSELF”. To Wilbur, he clearly wasn’t okay.

Wilbur sighed as he finally got a good look at Tommy, all his panic confirmed as the borrower looked exhausted as heck, he wasn’t even sure how he’d gotten this far. He held out his hand and Tommy immediately collapsed onto it, he wasn’t even adjusting himself onto the hand, just leaning. It looked as if his body gave up on him.

Tommy was just in complete agony, his body just leaning onto the warmth of Wilbur, he didn’t care how people looked at him. He just wanted his brother.

He carefully ruffled Tommy’s hair, only to get a groan of pain in response. That’s when he decided to take Tommy home as soon as possible. He gently adjusted Tommy onto his hand properly so he could get a proper hold of him and picked up Tommy’s bags and pocketed them. Luckily his house was within walking distance from the station, so it wasn’t too long until he had gotten the two of them home.

He soon as he got home, he slowly sat on the couch, careful not to disturb Tommy and held him close to his chest. “Toms?”, he got another groan in response. “Not feeling too good huh? When was the last time you slept, Gremlin?”. “Dunno, 3 days ago?”. Wilbur held back a scold, he didn’t want Tommy to feel worse than he already did. Instead, he began to rock the two of them whilst humming a small lullaby of one of his songs since Tommy loved them so much.

After a little while, Tommy moved a small bit to sit upwards, “Sorry Wil- I didn’t…”. He hushed the younger, “Don’t worry about it Toms, do you wanna go to sleep?”, Tommy nodded.

There was a common fact in this world that giants had storage pouches, that giants’ could store borrowers in their pouches. An evolution between two species to work together, while it might be a bit odd since giants- the past but it was still useful nonetheless, especially for what they were about to do.

“You okay if I store you?”, he nodded again. It wasn’t as if they hadn’t done it before, but they were still quite nervous about it. But for the most part, the most part, the two of them really liked it. Wilbur carefully lifted Tommy towards his mouth, opening his mouth slightly, big enough for Tommy to crawl through.

To say Tommy dashed in an understatement, he full-on bolted into Wilbur’s mouth well kind of- halfway in, but Tommy didn’t care, he just leaned into the warmth. Wilbur could do the work. Wilbur sighed as he realised after a couple of minutes Tommy wasn’t moving so he just simply slurped him up. Surprisingly no complaint from the gremlin so he took it as the initiative that he was too tired.

He carefully licked at Tommy, enjoying the vanilla taste. He may, may not have accidentally nibbled at Tommy a few times but it was a habit of his, couldn’t be blamed! He swallowed carefully with a small swallow, then gradually made bigger ones, so Tommy didn’t have to be suffering in there for so long.

Tommy could hear Wilbur’s thundering heartbeat, to say it was too loud wasn’t quite the case, unlike the bus, it was rhythmic, soothing even. Not to mention the purring of Wilbur’s chest, as much as Wilbur tries to deny his affections, this seems a bit too obvious. He must’ve really worried Wilbur which almost made him laugh.

He quickly slipped into the storage, surprisingly he slid in rather than fell, which was all the more better. The softness of the walls made him instantly want to fall asleep, and he almost did. But he didn’t give out without a rub to give Wilbur, to say he was okay. Otherwise, there’d be a whole other situation, his words slurred as he went to say “Nigh-…”. He was caught off by his own exhaustion the next thing he knew he was out like a light.

Wilbur simply hummed in response, hearing Tommy’s snores. He held a hand over his stomach protectively, rubbing it soothingly. He hummed the lullaby again, he wasn’t sure why, but he just hoped it helped Tommy.

He sighed happily as his relief washed over him. He was glad Tommy was okay and he’d make sure that he kept an eye on Tommy for a while.

(Also just a reminder to drink water, relax, eat well and to get plenty of sleep UwU)

[emeraldiis]

Enough Trust for Us Both

I’ve written a new fic, this time it’s Bucky x Reader! Read it on AO3 here.

Word Count: 3.8k

Rating: Explicit (18+)

Contains: fluff and smut, phone sex

You’re going crazy. You are going absolutely insane, and it’s all Bucky’s fault. Stupid, sexy, oblivious Bucky. Sure, you two have the perfect relationship in all other regards. He’s open with you, trusting you to hold him through the night to calm any nightmares, and he keeps you safe. Four months of him hovering behind you like an overprotective parent may have been annoying to some, but you love it. It makes you feel cared for. And you know he loves you, because he says it about forty times a day. 

There’s just one tiny, itsy bitsy problem. Bucky won’t touch you. Well, that’s not true. He cuddles you, holds your hand, gives you chaste kisses whenever you do something to make him smile. But he won’t touch you. The kisses never go beyond pecks on the lips, and his hands never wander below your waist. And god dammit, you don't understand why. You’re horny, for fuck’s sake.

You know that you’ve been touchy with him lately, but you can’t help it. The sexual frustration increases tenfold when he grabs your hands with his strong ones, or wraps his fingers around your hips to pull you in for a kiss. You swear your panties are constantly damp around him, and more than a few times you’d had to excuse yourself to go change.

But you haven’t made any moves, scared of being too bold. He’s come so far with you, opened up so much, and you’re afraid that being too forward will scare him off. Still, a girl has needs, and you’re not above dropping a few...hints.

Bucky walks into your apartment with heavy footsteps, nearly slamming the door behind him. You jump, whipping around on the couch to face him, and watch as he winces. “I’m sorry, doll. Sometimes I forget how strong this stupid thing is.” He flexes his metal hand, frowning at the silver digits.

You tsk and shake your head, trying hard to ignore the arousal blooming in your stomach. Every part of him is attractive, you just can’t help but stare. From his shaggy hair, to those absolutely sinful thighs that you want to ride into the sunset. “It’s okay, babe,” you sigh wistfully, then look at him with pleading eyes. “I missed you today, can we go cuddle?” If you can’t get any action, then maybe just some good old fashioned affection would calm your nerves. Doubt it.

With a chuckle, Bucky strides over to the back of the couch with those long legs and leans over to kiss your cheek. “Of course, doll. Just let me go shower first, and I’ll meet you in the bedroom.”

Nearing falling over yourself in your enthusiasm, you give Bucky a winning smile and race to the bedroom, eager to get under the covers and get warm. As you slide into bed, you hear the shower turn on across the hall, and let your mind wander. Bucky’s muscled body fills your head. Tight abs flexing under streams of water, those metal fingers brushing across his skin, soap running down his chest all the way down to his cock. You’ve seen it before, but only once. Bucky had come home run ragged from an intense mission, and had been too tired to argue when you insisted on bathing him yourself. Even with just one glance while he was soft, you could tell Bucky was huge. He was thick, and imagining that inside of you nearly makes you moan out loud.

You’re so caught up in your fantasies that you fail to hear the water stop running, and end up startling again when Bucky enters the room. “Doll, you’re jumpy today,” Bucky says, blue eyes filled with concern. “Is everything okay?”

“I’m great!” You answer a little too quickly, trying to ignore the uncomfortable wetness seeping into your panties. You’re not wearing any pants--you usually don’t, when Bucky’s gone--and you know that Bucky would be able to feel how turned on you are if his hands go anywhere near there. ‘Which they won’t,’ you think to yourself in disappointment.

Bucky eyes you skeptically, thick eyebrows furrowed, while you try not to drool over his still-dripping form. He’s shirtless, wearing only a pair of red and black checkered pajama pants that are just one size too small. If you squint, you can just barely see the outline of his cock pressing against the fabric, and your eyes nearly roll and you realize that he’s probably not wearing underwear. Before you can work yourself up again, Bucky shakes his head at you, accepting your white lie, and gestures for you to slide over. You eagerly oblige, ready for some quality time with your boyfriend.

Despite your innocent act, you have a devious plan in the works. It had come to you the second he walked out of the shower looking irresistible. You’d decided that two could play at that game, and maybe he just needs you to seduce him. It’s bolder than anything you’d typically try, but maybe Bucky just hasn’t realized how badly you want him yet. Well, you were going to make it obvious for him.

When Bucky eases under the covers next to you, you purr happily and guide him onto his back, head resting comfortably in the pillows. You lie on your stomach and swing one leg over his hips, then throw your arm around his shoulder, effectively splaying yourself out on top of him. Bucky huffs out an amused laugh and wraps his human arm around your back. “Miss me that much, huh?” He says, voice soft and low. The weight of his arm feels nice draped across you like that, but you crave more.

You can’t help the shiver that forces its way down your spine at his deep voice speaking so closely to your ear. “Mhm,” you mumble. “Need to feel you.”

Cold, vibranium fingers card through your hair, and you don’t even try to suppress the moan that bubbles up. If you were going to properly seduce Bucky, you couldn’t hold anything back. “Well, I’m here, doll, feel me all you want.” His human hand grips your shoulder possessively, and the message is clear. ‘You’re mine, and I’ll keep you safe.’

At that, your hips rock involuntarily, and you freeze when you realize that the wet spot on your panties has managed to make contact with the bare skin of Bucky’s stomach. That was a little further than you had intended to take this scheme, and you shift away, praying that Bucky hadn’t noticed.

To your dismay, Bucky rockets up from the bed like a cannon, immediately scrambling to the other side of the room like you had burned him. You start to turn away in embarrassment, then notice the wild look in his wide eyes. Bucky’s terrified. But why?

Seeing the bewildered look on your face, Bucky pauses in his frantic movements, then slowly slides down the wall and comes to a rest seated on the floor. His breathing pattern stutters until it settles into the slow and deliberate one his therapist taught him to stifle panic attacks. Regret sinks into your chest like a thick cloud. Christ, you had really messed up this time. “Baby,” you say softly, voice dripping with worry.

Your boyfriend looks up from the carpet, and tries to give you a reassuring smile. “I-I’m, I’m sorry,” he manages. His normally strong voice cracks, and your heart splits. “It’s not you, I just…” He fumbles for the words, and you keep quiet, pulse high while you await his explanation. “Doll, it’s hard enough for me to control myself when you’re all up on me like that, but I’m just a man, and when you-” Bucky shakes his head frantically, eyes dropping back to the floor. “You just can’t be tempting me like, okay, babe?” His head falls into his hands.

Wait, what? Somehow, you’re even more confused. “Bucky, what are you talking about? You don’t have to ‘control yourself,’ I’m your girlfriend. Hell, I’d be upset if you weren’t sexually attracted to me!” Your voice is rising in volume, but you can’t help it. All these months spent taking cold showers, and he wanted to fuck you the whole time? “Jesus, Buck. I was all over you today because I wanted you to lose control. This entire time we’ve been together I just thought, I dunno, that I wasn’t attractive enough for you?” You can’t mask the hurt in your voice.

At that, Bucky’s eyes widen and he raises his head to look back up at you. “Baby doll, no, you’re the sexiest damn thing I’ve ever laid eyes on. I just...I don’t want to hurt you. If I lose control like that and let myself go, who knows what could happen? I could relapse, I could seriously hurt you. You saw when I came inside today! I almost broke your door without meaning to, I can’t put you at risk just for my own pleasure.”

Anger swells up inside of you again, and you rise from the bed to stalk towards Bucky. When you reach his place on the floor, you sink to your knees and stare daggers at him. “Your own pleasure? What about mine? Bucky, this isn’t just about you. I have needs, too.” Bucky looks away in shame, and the guilty expression in his eyes manages to cool your temper. You gently take his face in your hands and pull him to look at you. Now that you’ve come back to yourself, you feel guilty for being selfish. You chew on your lips anxiously. “Hey, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have gotten mad like that, I know this isn’t easy for you. But Bucky, if you want me, then I’m yours. I know you won’t hurt me, I trust you.”

Bucky pulls away from you, lips screwed up in a pained frown. “No, I’m sorry. It’s just too dangerous.”

You fall back onto your butt, sighing, and try to think. “Okay, well what if we worked up to it?”

That earns you an intrigued look. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” you start, mind racing as a plan hatches. “What if we started off with something low risk, like phone sex. You could stay at the Avengers tower, I could stay here. How can you hurt me if we’re on different sides of the city?”

“Phone sex?”

Oh, right. Different era. “It’s where we call each other on the phone and get off together. If you really don’t want to try, you can say no, but you deserve pleasure. We’ve both been stressed lately, this can be a good thing.” You try to keep your tone casual, giving Bucky the chance to relax from the brief argument. You can see the wheels turning in his mind, and though he’d never admit it, his cheeks flush just the slightest bit red.

“Okay,” he whispers, brushing back a piece of stray hair from his face and taking a steadying breath.

Your eyes follow the movement of his hand as what he said sinks in. “Really, you’re okay with it?”

“Yeah,” Bucky replies, making an attempt to smile at you. “Just...can we do this slow? It’s been a long time.” He still looks nervous, and you almost want to back off. To tell him to forget it, that you were just being selfish. But it’s not just you that he’s denying pleasure to. Bucky’s suffering, too, and you know that intimacy would be a huge step forward, so you push on.

You grin brightly at him, then stand, offering your hand to help him up, too. After hesitating for a brief moment, Bucky takes your hand and lets you pull him to his feet. He stands, towering over you, and you realize that you’re so tiny compared to him. His worries absolutely held merit; he could crush you so easily, especially with those rippling muscles that you’re always staring at. But you’re not scared of him, you never have been. Bucky has never been anything but gentle towards you, and you know that even The Winter Soldier would not lay a hand on you. Bucky would never allow that to happen, you trust him.

You just wish he could trust himself that much, too.

It’s been weeks since you and Bucky’s conversation, and you’re beginning to think he’s forgotten about it. That, or he’s just pretending that he doesn’t remember in order to avoid a stressful situation. The latter was probably more likely, and you decide not to push it. Maybe you’d been asking for too much. So you put a lid on your desires, and acted like everything was fine for Bucky’s sake, even as disappointment dampened your moods. And when he left for yet another mission, you began to accept that maybe he just wasn’t ready. You can live with that.

Your phone rings, and you hoist yourself off the couch, pausing the movie you’d been watching to trudge over to your phone. When Bucky was away on missions, calls were never anything good. He’d usually send texts to reassure you that things were going well, but he always saved bad news for phone calls. It was a nice gesture, but it just made you associate them with misery.

Steeling yourself, you click ‘answer,’ and force out a cheerful greeting despite the anxiety twisting your stomach.

“Hey, doll.” Bucky’s voice is gruff, and he sounds exhausted. Your hands twitch, wanting to reach for him.

“Hi,” you reply. “Everything going okay?”

A groan floats through the speaker, and you sigh, knowing that your instincts were correct. “I wish, it looks like I’ll have to stay another night in this stupid safe house. We think our cover might’ve been blown and Stark wants to lay low before trying to extract me.” You can hear the apology in Bucky’s tone; he doesn’t need to say it.

You want to scream and throw your phone. Another night away from your lover, spent lying awake worrying that this time he wouldn’t make it home safe. Another night of counting the seconds until he’s back in your arms, and you can kiss away the stress of his mission. You knew what you were signing up for, dating an Avenger, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t hard sometimes. Still, you need to keep it together. For Bucky. “It’s okay, just stay safe, alright? I need you to come back to me in one piece.”

Bucky mumbles his assent, and you hear shuffling on the other end, presumably him getting more comfortable. You do the same, and make your way back to the couch so you can sit down and talk to him. “At least it’s just me here,” Bucky says. “This would be a hell of a lot more irritating if I had to put up with Sam’s chatter for another day.” 

With a snort, you flop onto the couch and lean back. “Don’t be too hard on him, he means well.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Bucky grumbles. He pauses, and you hear a shaky inhale before he speaks again. “What’re you wearing?”

Your eyebrows shoot up. Well, this was unexpected. “One of your shirts, why?”

“No pants?”

“You know me, pants are kind of against my moral code.”

Bucky chuckles on the other line while you wonder where this is going. “Yeah, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.” Another pause. “Which panties do you have on?”

Oh. Oh. Your heart speeds up in excitement as you start to realize what’s going on. “Buck, are you wanting to…?” You don’t finish your sentence, letting your silence speak for itself.

“Um, I think so. If you don’t mind?” Bucky says, voice rising a bit in pitch as it tends to do when he gets nervous. 

You’re quick to reassure him, not wanting to screw this up when you’ve been dreaming about it for months. “Yes, yeah!” You blurt out. “I just wanted to make sure we were both on the same page here.” You tug at your bottom lip with your teeth while you think about how you want this to go. “Hold on, lemme move to the bedroom.”

“Okay.” Bucky’s voice has gotten raspier, and it sends a gush of arousal into your panties. You rush to the bedroom, legs more than a little shaky from excitement.  You hop onto the bed and settle back into the pillows, putting your phone on speaker and setting it beside you on the sheets. “You still haven’t told me which panties you’ve got on,” Bucky prompts, sounding a little unsure.

“The black ones,” you answer. “They’re the ones that have the lacing around my ass.”

Bucky growls his appreciation at your response. “Those are my favorite.” You beam. Now that he’s finally expressing his attraction to you, you feel like the sexiest woman in the world.

“Your turn to tell me what you’re wearing.” Your fingers tug at the hem of your underwear, itching to dive inside and start touching yourself. But you wait patiently, wanting to take things slow like Bucky had asked.

“Just my briefs. The dark blue ones that you said look nice,” Bucky says. He goes quiet, and you remember that phone sex was a foreign concept to him just a few weeks ago. You can picture his uncertain expression. His eyes always narrowed in a cute little squint, and his lips would purse in a way that made you want to kiss him breathless.

Taking the lead, you shimmy your panties down your legs until they’re completely off. “I’m taking my underwear off now. Do you want to touch yourself?”

Bucky inhales sharply. “Yeah.”

“Do it. I will, too.” You bring your fingers down to your dripping pussy, absently wondering if you should’ve laid down a towel before starting. It’s too late now, though. You slide one finger across your folds, humming softly at the pleasure.

There’s rustling on the other end, and you close your eyes to imagine Bucky pulling down his briefs, thick cock springing free. You think about running your tongue up the leaking head, and your core cramps involuntarily.

“Doll…” Bucky breathes. You hear a slick sound--did he always bring lube with him on missions?-- and then a steady rhythm of slow strokes. 

“Does it feel good?” You ask, and bring your thumb up to rub at your clit. A small whimper escapes your throat. There’s no reason to try to stay quiet; this is for Bucky, and you want him to hear that you’re enjoying yourself.

“Y-yeah,” he grits out. “Tell me what you’re doing.”

“I’m touching my clit, wishing it was your fingers on me. I wanna touch you so bad.” There’s a whine to your voice, and your fingers speed up.

“I wish I was there,” Bucky says. “Fuck, I bet you look so good right now. I don’t even know how many times I’ve gotten off to the thought of licking that pretty pussy.”

A gasp tears its way from your throat. You never knew Bucky had such a mouth on him, and you briefly think about how many girls he’d talked out of their skirts before the war. You turn your head to the side, burying your nose in Bucky’s shirt and inhale deeply. His scent makes you dizzy with need, and you abandon your clit to dip two fingers into yourself. There’s no need for preparation—you’re soaked—and you easily slide the digits past your opening to reach the most sensitive spots. “I’ve got two fingers inside me now,” you moan. “Wishing they were yours.”

The strokes on the other end speed up, and Bucky curses. “Shit, doll. You’re driving me crazy, here.”

Bucky’s moans are the hottest thing you’ve heard in your entire life. Nights spent fantasizing about how he’d sound in bed didn’t even come close to the real thing. His ragged pants on the other end of the line have you edging closer and closer to your orgasm, and you begin to ramble mindlessly. “Bucky, baby, I need to feel you. I want you here with me, I wanna watch you cum.”

“You know we can’t--”

“I don’t care,” you whine. “I’ll use Stark’s handcuffs to keep you restrained, you can’t hurt me if you’re all tied up. Please, baby, I just need you.” You know that you’re rambling, but you don’t care, it feels too good. Your fingers move faster and faster, chasing your high.

A startled moan echoes through your speaker. “Oh, fuck, stop talking. Please, I can’t--” Bucky’s voice is tight, strangled, but it only encourages you to push him further. 

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Being tied up while I ride you?”

That’s the last straw for Bucky. The rhythm of his strokes stutters, then comes to an abrupt halt as he chokes out a high pitched whine of your name. Hearing his orgasm pushes you into your own, and you claw at the sheets with your free hand. Bucky’s name tumbling from your lips while your hips arch up into your hand, everything clenching and then releasing into bliss.

You lie in silence for a few minutes, your breathing mixing in with Bucky’s as you both come down. Finally, you break the silence, feeling a bit embarrassed now that pleasure’s no longer clouding your judgement. “I-I’m sorry. I got a little carried away.”

“What?” Bucky replies. “No, that was, that was really good. Were you serious about wanting to try restraining me?”

You swallow tightly. To be honest, it was kind of a spur of the moment fantasy, born from reckless pleasure. “Uh, only if you want. I definitely should’ve cleared it with you before bringing it up.”

Bucky is quick to reassure you. “No, doll. At the moment, I only really saw it as a hot fantasy, but now that I’m thinking about it...it could actually work.”

You sit up in bed, not able to believe your ears. God, you aren’t even sure if you’d be able to handle that kind of control over Bucky. You might just melt the second you lay eyes on him. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Bucky says. “We’d have to use something that could hold me, but I’d feel better about not hurting you if I was handcuffed.”

A dizzying rush of excitement washes over you. “Fuck, okay. Let’s talk about it more when you get back, yeah? You need to focus on getting home safe.”

“You’re right. Thank you for being patient with me, I know you could easily find some guy you didn’t have to jump through all these hoops for.” Bucky’s laugh is self deprecating, and you shush him.

“Shut up, you’re perfect. I’d jump through as many hoops as it takes to call you mine for the rest of my life.” And you really would. You’re head over heels for this man, and it isn’t just the post-nut bliss talking. “Just come back home to me and I’ll show you just how much I’m willing to do you.” You pause. “For you. Do for you.”

This time, the chuckle that Bucky lets out is genuine, and your heart swells. “Okay, doll. I’ll be home in a day or two and you can do me all you’d like.”

[obwjam]

Ooo how about - 2. “It’s like you’re trying to get hurt at this point.” - maybe with obi wan? xx

“It’s like you’re trying to get hurt at this point.”

oh yes anon this is the STUFF. local sassy man is exhausted, sources say

from this post

———————————————————————-

“It’s like you’re trying to get hurt at this point.”

“Obi-Wan...” you sighed, looking down at your legs dangling in the air. You weren’t too fond of being grabbed, so Obi-Wan’s solution was to use the Force when you fell — and you fell often. “Do you have to do this every time?”

Obi-Wan didn’t even look up from the book he was reading. “Yes.”

“Please,” you rolled your eyes. “I was totally gonna make that jump!”

“It certainly didn’t look like it.”

“You always say that!” you protested, now crossing your arms as you jerked your body to face your Jedi friend. The light of the Coruscant sunset was bathing you in a pink and orange glow. “And you weren’t even looking this time!”

“Even you’d have to admit your track record is less than stellar,” Obi-Wan ignored your comment and smirked, hand barely outstretched as he kept you hovering a few feet from the ground. “Wasn’t it just last week that you tried to swing from the bookcase to the table and ended up on the ground instead?”

You huffed a breath. “That was a miscalculation.”

“And how many more miscalculations until you seriously injure yourself?”

“Come on, you know as well as I do that borrowers don’t get hurt as easily as humans.”

Obi-Wan finally looked up from his book. His expression wasn’t irked like you thought it might be — it was concerned. “(Y/n). That isn’t an excuse to do dangerous things.”

You shut your eyes as Obi-Wan stood up from his chair and kneeled down in front of you, pulling you from midair into his open palm. In all the time you had known Obi-Wan, you still could barely look up at him. The sheer size difference was something you figured you’d never get used to.

You refused to look up at Obi-Wan as he took a seat.

“Your stunts get more and more wild by the day,” he said quietly. “Is something the matter?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” you grumbled. “Why would something be wrong?”

“You know I can tell when you’re lying,” Obi-Wan chuckled. “You’re not the first one to try getting one’s attention by acting out.”

You grimaced as you wrung your hands together.

“It’s not easy, you know. Being around you all the time.”

Obi-Wan tilted his head, trying to get a read on your expression. “(Y/n), what are you talking about?”

“You know! You’re—you’re this great, powerful Jedi master, who—who can move things with his mind and do incredible things. You think just because I’m small that I’m helpless and can’t do anything!”

“Missions are far too dangerous for you, and you know that!” Obi-Wan said sternly, rolling his eyes. It was another one of these conversations. He didn’t even notice your flinch when he raised his voice.

“But I could help!” you cried, standing up and balling your fists at your side. “I could—I could be a spy, or—or I could crawl into places you normally wouldn’t be able to reach!”

“(Y/n), people die on these missions! All the time! The clones who are bred for battle don’t often make it back. I can’t let you take that risk!”

“You don’t let me do anything! Sure, I’ve gotten hurt before, but you get hurt too! Everybody does!”

Obi-Wan groaned. This had to have been the fifth time this week you begged him to take you on a mission. He wasn’t in the mood to keep rehashing his decision, and guilt-tripping wasn’t going to work. “It’s different for you and you know it.”

“Oh really? How come? Because I’m so small, I can’t be trusted? Because I’m just a pathetic little thing you took pity on?!”

It was like all the air disappeared from the room in an instant. Obi-Wan gasped softly while you covered your mouth, utterly horrified that you has let that slip. In an instant, he had gone from annoyed to embarrassed. In the months that had passed since Obi-Wan found you, he had mostly kept you confined to his quarters. He had left you alone when he went on missions, but he figured that was for the best — the fewer giants you had to encounter, the better. He failed to consider the possibility that sheltering you would just make you more afraid.

“(Y/n),” he started, lifting his hands up to his eye level. He could barely see the makings of a tear track on your cheek. “Is that really how you feel?”

You crossed your arms and turned your head down, giving it a small shake.

“No? Then why would you say that?”

Your stomach felt like there was a lead weight resting inside. “People say things.”

“What people? Other Jedi?” Obi-Wan had to suppress the rage that was bubbling up.

“I dunno!” your quavering voice shouted in defense. It was times like these that you hated being confined to his hand. “I just... I hear it sometimes, okay? When you’re not around.”

“It’s not Anakin, is it?”

“No, not him,” you scoffed. “Though he does seem to look at me like some sort of helpless pet.”

Obi-Wan shook his head. “He needs to learn some manners.”

There was a beat of silence.

“Sometimes it just feels like you’d be better off without me here.”

Obi-Wan almost screamed. If he ever found out who was saying those things to you...

“(Y/n), what are you trying to say?”

You finally looked up at Obi-Wan and felt a pang of guilt at his hurt expression. You didn’t think he would be so... offended by your words.

“I’m just... I don’t understand why you keep me around. I just get in your way, don’t I? You’re always worrying about me, even when I don’t need to be worried about. I’ve fallen from treetops to the forest floor. This is the safest place I’ve ever been — you —you won’t even show me around the temple! — but you still feel the need to—”

“—to protect you?” Obi-Wan finished. Embarrassed, you nodded.

“Yeah. To protect me. When I never even leave this room. I can’t be the only person you ever saved from danger. You... you have far more important things to do than save me when I fall.”

Obi-Wan closed his eyes for a moment as he steadied his breathing. It was never lost on him how small and vulnerable you were compared to the environment around you. Even in the safety of his hands, his curled fingers loomed overhead. How could he not worry when even he was an inherent danger to you? You were his responsibility now — just as Anakin and Ahsoka are. When he rescued you from your old planet, you were injured and afraid. The temporary shelter he promised had turned into a permanent solution because he enjoyed having you around. You were a friend.

“It seems I have failed to properly convey my feelings,” Obi-Wan said softly, almost sounding disappointed in himself. You looked at him, confused.

“You matter to me a great deal. I wouldn’t have let you stay if you didn’t. You’re a wonderful companion and an even greater friend. You’re right, you’re not the first person I’ve saved from this horrible war. It’s... not often that Jedi get the opportunity to let themselves care so deeply for someone. I want to protect you because I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I let you get hurt.”

You gawked up at him, almost not believing what you were hearing.

“It’s not that I don’t trust you, or think any lesser of you.” You could have sworn Obi-Wan’a cheeks flushed red for a moment. “Quite the opposite, actually.”

“You... you really mean that?” you blushed, gently resting your hands on his thumb. His hand didn’t seem so imposing anymore.

Obi-Wan didn’t even hesitate. “Yes, I do.”

“It’s just... I dunno,” you frowned. “You travel all across the galaxy. You meet so many amazing and powerful people. Why me? Why do you care about me so much?”

Obi-Wan stroked his beard for a moment. He had never thought about it concretely, but it didn’t take long for the words to come to him.

“Well, for starters, you’re far more observant than I am. And quite good at understanding people and their feelings.” He smiled to himself. “And I must admit, you are very agile. If you were my height, you certainly would have no problem holding your own.”

You rubbed your eyes, foolishly hoping you could conceal how red your face was. No such luck.

“Look, I know I can’t do everything I wish I can. Or act like I can. But I spent my entire life living by myself in a forest. I got by just fine until the war came. I’m—I’m not used to just sitting around all day doing nothing. I... I can help. I want to help! I owe it to you. You saved me, and I should be doing more to show my thanks. Nothing crazy, or-or anything, but maybe I could—”

“Tenacious.”

“What?”

“You’re tenacious, too. I like that about you. It reminds me of...” he trailed off. He didn’t need to say for you to know. “You don’t like to accept the circumstances given to you. You’d rather be the one setting the terms.”

You shrugged. “I guess so.”

“Perhaps I am a bit overbearing at times. But it’s because I care, not because I don’t think you’re capable. But even I can admit when I’m in the wrong.”

You sniffed a laugh. “Can’t imagine that happens all too often.”

Obi-Wan smiled. “No, not really.”

There was a comfortable silence as Obi-Wan thought over what he was about to say. He could only imagine how you felt — ripped away from your home, forced to sit inside all day as you recover from everything you saw and went through. Nobody in their right mind would want to return to the war after being rescued from it, but Obi-Wan supposed he underestimated how you were just his kind of crazy.

“How did you like being in space when I brought you to Coruscant?”

You cocked your head. “Um, I liked it just fine. I was kinda scared, but I thought it went well for my first time on a ship. Why?”

“Well, as you know I’m due to leave for a relief mission to Corvo tomorrow. I don’t suppose you’d like to join me?”

Your eyes lit up. “Really? Yes! I mean—yeah, if—if you’re offering, I’d really — I’d love to.”

Obi-Wan laughed. “Good. The people of Corvo are allies of the Republic, and very kind. If you’re to make Coruscant your new home, it might be nice for you to meet the Corvoian Prime Minister.”

It took a great deal of discipline to contain your excitement, and Obi-Wan knew it. You leaned into his thumb in sort of a makeshift hug, and he flexed his fingers to reciprocate the action as best he could. For a few minutes, neither of you said anything. The moment didn’t need any words.

“Obi-Wan?” you said finally.

“Hmm?”

“How come you changed your mind so quickly?”

He shrugged. “I know when I make a mistake. And I like to fix it as soon as possible so people don’t realize it happened.”

You laughed. “How very humble of you.”

“Oh, you know me.”

“Yeah,” you said, resting your head on his thumb as Obi-Wan leaned back. The sun had just about set and the hundreds of brilliant lights were beginning to pop up along the horizon. You would never get tired of its beauty.

“I do.”

[missjanjie]

Taste of a Poison Paradise | Chapter 8

Title: Taste of a Poison Paradise Summary: Life at Jackie Cox’s strip club, Poison Paradise, isn’t just lapdances and g-strings. There’s enough drama, lust, and heartache to rival any soap opera. None of the girls know what to expect on any given shift, especially while navigating their torrid, complicated relationships. Word Count: ~3k (this chapter) / ~24.2k (total) Relationship(s): Lemyanka (Lemon/Priyanka), Crygi (Crystal Methyd/Gigi Goode), Sportsdoll (Jan Sport/Nicky Doll), Jaidie (Jaida Essence Hall/Jackie Cox), BVK (Brooke Lynn Hytes/Vanessa Vanjie Mateo/Kameron Michaels), Rosnali (Rosé/Denali Foxx) Rating: E

Read on AO3 | Ko-Fi

Chapter Summary: Things seem to be going well for Lemon until they go really bad really fast. Things are actually going well for Jackie and Jaida.

-

For the next couple of weeks, it seemed like Lemon was on the mend. She had finished her finals, gotten through her senior year, and now it was time to celebrate. Hers and Gigi’s graduations were only a couple of days apart, so the group decided to combine their graduation party that weekend.

It was one of the rare times the club was closed on a Saturday, but Jackie wanted to make sure everyone could celebrate together and turned the main room into their party space. “Cheers,” she said, raising her glass, “to Lemon and Gigi, college graduates!”

The group clinked their glasses together and drank, everyone resuming their casual conversation, relaxed, and enjoying one another’s company. With the exception, of course, of Lemon and Priyanka, who were still trying to avoid each other like the plague.

“Look, I love those two as much as the rest of y’all, but I’ve stopped feeling sorry for them — at this point, it’s just annoying,” Kameron remarked as she watched the way they behaved with a grimace. “Not that it’s any of my business, but it kind of is considering how often I have to witness them, but how long were they hooking up for anyway?”

Vanessa furrowed her brows as she counted on her fingers. “Dunno, like four months?”

“Shit, that’s like a lesbian year,” she murmured, sipping her drink. “This isn’t gonna fix itself is it?”

“Not as long as Pri’s got that rock on her finger.”

“It could be worse,” Brooke Lynn chimed in, her lips pursed around the straw in her glass, “at least she doesn’t wear it to work, can you imagine the fit Lemon would throw if she had to stare down a diamond every day?”

The three of them looked at Lemon, who, at least for the moment, appeared to be enjoying herself, then at Priyanka, who was talking to Crystal and looking stressed.

“So, dress shopping is happening on Wednesday?” Crystal asked. “Does she know?”

“Of course she doesn’t know,” Priyanka scoffed and shook her head, “I have no idea how to keep her from knowing, no one can keep a secret in their family.”

Crystal winced but nodded. “Well, good luck,” she offered before Gigi made their way to her side and her attention immediately became divided.

“Thanks,” Priyanka mumbled, her gaze drifting to Lemon, who was talking animatedly to Jan and Rosé, “I’ll need it.”

------

By the time Wednesday rolled around, Priyanka’s nerves hadn’t quelled in the slightest. Lucky for her, at least, those with her — her mother, sister, and future mother-in-law wrote it off as pre-wedding jitters. Scarlett knew better, but there was no need to blow up her best friend’s spot like that.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go to a more traditional store?” The mother-in-law asked, “I know Mark doesn’t want your culture to be ignored.”

“It will be two separate ceremonies,” Priyanka’s mom cut in before she could speak for herself, “she will be wearing her grandmother’s sari for that.”

Priyanka had to fight off the pained expression that tried to twist its way onto her face. It was only when she had broken the news to her family that she remembered what a big event weddings were in her family. She wasn’t about to get off lightly with this. Instead, she let the assistant at the shop lead her to a rack of dresses and suggested a few. She agreed to them without giving them a proper look, figuring she would let a majority rule.

Once she was in the first dress, she returned to the main room and stepped up on the platform in front of the mirrors. Right away, the women began discussing and debating the pros and cons of the dress — where it fit right, where it’d need to be taken in. But she couldn’t bring herself to focus on anything, instead zoning out to the song playing through the store’s speakers.

I'm living for the only thing I know I'm running and not quite sure where to go And I don't know what I'm diving into Just hanging by a moment here with you

Normally, Priyanka would roll her eyes at this sort of song, at the cheesy love in the lyrics. But with her only alternative being actively participating in shopping for a wedding dress, she listened to the music and let it resonate.

Desperate for changing Starving for truth I'm closer to where I started I'm chasing after you

She winced but blamed it on accidentally being stuck with a pin. They didn’t have to play a song that hit so close to home, she thought. It made it that much harder to ignore the feelings that bubbled up inside her. It was only then that she realized someone was talking to her. “Huh?”

“I asked if you liked the dress,” Scarlett replied.

“Oh,” she cleared her throat. “Yeah, it’s fine.” She then realized she should have been more convincing because she found herself ushered back into the dressing room to try on dress number two, which she would then force enthusiasm for so the day would end as soon as possible.

“Are you okay?” her mother asked with sincere concern.

Priyanka nodded as she stepped off the platform. “Just a little lightheaded, I didn’t have breakfast.”

“Well, let’s get this dress taken care of, then we’ll go get something to eat.”

She nodded again as she went back to change into her regular clothes. Maybe she did just need to eat, she thought. Maybe some food or a nap would bring her back into reality. The reality where she was preparing to get married. The reality that Lemon could no longer be the main character in, no matter what some stupid song was trying to tell her. Or even worse, no matter how much she wanted her to be.

------

“You don’t normally ask me to make house calls,” Jaida remarked as Jackie let her into the apartment, “is everything okay?”

Jackie exhaled deeply. No matter how many times she had rehearsed what she was going to say, she still ended up tongue-tied the second she laid eyes on her. But she was determined to work her way through this and not let nerves get the best of her. “I watched the video you did with Denali. I… I watched it more times than I’d like to admit,” she confessed. “And I can’t get the image of you fucking her out of my mind. But more specifically… I can’t stop picturing myself in her place.”

Jaida had to put all of her mental energy into fighting off a smug grin. She wanted to choose her words carefully, not wanting to overwhelm an already anxious Jackie. “Since we’re being honest here, that’s kinda what I was aiming for,” at Jackie’s confused reaction, she continued, “you could have been less obvious with your username and how you talk online. Maybe it’s ‘cause I know you so well, but I could read all of your messages in your voice.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

She shrugged. “I didn’t want you to feel pressured to confront how you felt, considering your coming out was still fresh for you. I just wanted you to know that the option was there whenever you were ready.”

There was a silent beat before Jackie swallowed thickly and told her, “I’m ready.”

“Then tell me what you want, baby.”

“I want you to fuck me.” The words felt foreign for Jackie to say, the phrase has never left her lips with any sort of sincerity before. But at the same time, she had never been more certain in her life about what she wanted and how badly she wanted it.

Jaida moved to Jackie, wrapping her arms around her waist and kissing her deeply. “I’m gonna take good care of you, okay?” she promised as they made their way to the bedroom.

And Jackie trusted her, she trusted her more than she would have anyone else in this position. She let Jaida take her to bed, let her take her time undressing her and pressing kisses to every newly exposed inch of skin. She eagerly helped her clothes off as well, letting her hands roam her body in ways she had only fantasized about.

“I don’t want you to be afraid of being loud,” Jaida told her. “I wanna hear you, wanna know how good I’m making you feel.” As she spoke, her fingers glided down Jackie’s body, stopping between her thighs before starting to rub her clit in small, firm circles.

Jackie’s head tilted back into the pillows, soft moans spilling from her lips. Her body yielded to Jaida’s touch and her moans grew louder as the other woman eased one finger into her, thrusting and curling it before adding another and picking up a steady rhythm.

“Good girl,” she praised, trailing kisses down her body. She then slowly eased her fingers out and replaced them with her tongue, licking and thrusting at a similar pace while her fingers moved to rub her clit in tandem.

It wasn’t long before the sensation became overwhelming and Jackie’s hips started to jerk erratically. She barely managed to squeak out a warning before she came harder than she ever had before, her body trembling when she was spent. “Oh my god…”

Jaida came back up and laid beside her. “Are you okay?” she asked softly, pushing the hair out of her face.

“I’m good,” Jackie assured. “I just… I haven’t… it, um…”

“Jackie…” she furrowed her brows and sat up a bit, “have you ever been with a woman before?”

Jackie’s face turned a deep shade of red. “I have, kind of. It’s been hard to work through so many years of repression and internalized homophobia, you know? I’ve made out with girls, fooled around a bit. But I guess no, I’ve never properly had sex with another woman before. I wouldn’t have wanted to put that pressure on you anyway. Besides, I couldn’t have asked for a better first time.”

Jaida exhaled deeply, suddenly becoming aware of the weight that’d built upon her chest. “Then that’s all I needed to hear.”

------

“There’s a birthday party out there tonight,” Gigi remarked offhandedly as they and Lemon got ready in the quick-change room. “I know how much you love those,” they added with an overly exaggerated eye roll.

Lemon groaned. Birthdays and bachelor parties were tied for the worst groups of men to deal with as clients, the only exceptions being the ones that take it as an opportunity to go all out and tip well. “And you’re on the stage next?” she let out another disgruntled whine when they nodded, finishing off her cocktail. “Gonna get a refill, gonna need it for doing rounds.” Naturally, when she went to the bar, she went right to Crystal. The downside was Crystal knew to cut her off after three drinks and she had to flirt with men to keep the drinks coming.

“You’re getting your third one this early?” Crystal questioned as she mixed it for her. “Something on your mind?”

“Nope. Just got a birthday party that’s probably all gonna want lap dances,” she replied, taking a swig as soon as she got the drink in her hand. Sure, it didn’t help that she had seen Scarlett’s instagram post of Priyanka in her wedding dress earlier, but she wasn’t about to hash that out, especially not with the bride-to-be all of four feet away.

And Crystal wasn’t entirely convinced, but she knew there was no use in pushing further. “Well, good luck,” she offered.

Lemon set her empty glass on the counter before making her way through the crowd. It took a little while before she ended up in the vicinity of the group of men, and not long after that, they flagged her down. At first, it was business as usual, though she couldn’t shake the feeling that one of the men seemed familiar.

“Hey Mark,” the man celebrating his birthday remarked, “maybe we should come back here for your bachelor party. I bet Priyanka won’t mind!” he laughed.

That made Lemon freeze in her tracks as it all clicked. She saw red and her blood boiled with a wave of anger and loathing she had never felt before. Something inside of her took over, she hadn’t even realized she had thrown a drink in his face and screamed at him until Kameron was pulling her away and all eyes in the club were on her, including Priyanka’s, who had dropped everything to run over the second she heard Lemon scream.

“Who the hell are you?” Mark asked incredulously.

“I’m who your fianceé thinks about while you’re fucking her,” Lemon snarled while locked in Kameron’s grasp.

It was then that both Mark and Lemon realized Priyanka was right there. “What the fuck is she talking about, Pri?”

Priyanka felt her heart drop into the pit of her stomach as she prayed for the floor to open up beneath her so the ground would swallow her whole. She knew she had been playing a dangerous game, but she could have never predicted that it would blow up in her face this badly. “I-”

“She’s never gonna love you,” Lemon continued with disdain in her voice. But then her tone softened to a calm, albeit distant one. “But don’t worry,” she looked towards Priyanka, their eyes meeting, “she’s never gonna love me either.”

Other than the music playing in the background, the room was silent as Lemon let Kameron take her upstairs to the common room. “How are you feeling?” she asked gently as she sat at the other end of the couch, resting her hand on the smaller girl’s leg. “You really caused a scene back there.”

“Whatever,” she mumbled. “He was gonna find out eventually. You can’t live a lie forever,” she hiccuped as she sprawled her barely-dressed body out. “I need another drink.”

“The only thing you’re drinking is water,” she said sternly, getting up and grabbing a water bottle from the fridge and bringing it back, propping Lemon up enough so she could drink. “I’m gonna call Rosé and have her take you home, I don’t think you should stick around tonight,” she told her as she fished her phone from her pocket.

Lemon nodded and pushed herself to sit up properly. She hung her head down, intentionally hiding her face from Kameron as she sniffled quietly. “Pri’s gonna hate me now, isn’t she?”

Kameron winced, unsure of how honest she should be with someone both drunk and emotionally unstable. “I think once the dust settles, you two are going to have to have a long talk. It’s not gonna be easy, but it’s gonna be the only way you two have a shot at healing.”

“I ruined her marriage.”

She shook her head. “She ruined her marriage the moment she said yes to someone she didn’t want to be with. She probably would’ve gotten cold feet and left him at the altar,” she mused, both out of her honest belief and the hope that she could get Lemon to crack a smile. And once she did, she felt comfortable getting back up and calling Rosé, warning her of exactly what happened.

“I got here as fast as I could,” Rosé announced once she made it upstairs. “Three different guys tried to buy lap dances off me on the way, sorry,” she added before rushing to her cousin’s side. “You’ve done it now, huh, Lem?” she shook her head as she helped her to her feet.

Vanessa emerged from the locker room with the rest of Lemon’s belongings. “Here, you might wanna get her changed before you take her back outta here.”

Kameron furrowed her brows. “You know her locker combination?”

“Um… yes?” she tucked a bobby pin into her back pocket. “This ain’t about me,” she was quick to change the subject and helped Lemon get changed.

Rosé effectively ignored the entire exchange, saying her goodbyes to the other women before driving Lemon back home and getting her changed again, this time into pajamas. “Mik isn’t home, you can sleep in her bed,” she offered.

Lemon chewed her lip for a moment, then shook her head. “Can I stay with you? I just… I don’t wanna be by myself.”

“Of course, baby,” she assured and tucked her into bed. “Do you need anything? Water? Something to eat?”

“Need to wake up in a world where none of this happened.”

Rosé sighed sadly. “Fresh out, unfortunately.” She changed as well before joining her in bed. “Just wake me if you need anything, okay?” When she got a nod of confirmation, she turned the lights off and called it a night.

But that wasn’t the case for Lemon. No, she wouldn’t be so lucky. Even though she had been drunk, the incident replayed in her mind in great detail no matter how many times she tried to shut it off. That, coupled with struggling to sort through the mix of emotions still swirling through her, kept her awake for another hour or so before exhaustion took over and she passed out.

And back at the club, everyone else was left to pick up the pieces of the explosive incident. But as much as the clientele was willing to move past what they’d witnessed, none of the employees could get themselves to carry on. So, with Jackie’s blessing, they called it an early night and nearly everyone went back home.

Priyanka hung back, seeking solace in Jackie’s office, knowing her boss might be the only one that could understand the gravity of the fallout. “What the fuck am I supposed to do now, Jackie? This is effectively outing me to everyone. And I look bad too, they’re gonna find out I’m gay and a cheater in one go. What should I do?”

Jackie sighed, her heart truly breaking for her. “I wish there was an easy answer for this. I think, for now, you just need to get through the night.”

And Priyanka would, though she was afraid to fall asleep, overwhelmed with the need to postpone tomorrow as long as she could, because she had run out of ways to hide or lie her way out of it.

[delimeful]

(don’t) take this the wrong way (3)

sequel to underwater & blood | ao3 link

warnings: blood mention, hypnosis/mind-altering mention, fear, miscommunication, bad assumptions made while stressed

-

Virgil hurriedly propelled himself through the wide tunnels of the underwater cave system, all of his nerves screaming. Every time he turned a corner, he expected the two giant mers to be on the other side, sharp teeth and cage-like hands at the ready.

It didn’t help matters that he was already weighed down by an entire human dragging along behind him. He cast a glance over his shoulder, where Logan was clutching at his spectacles with one hand and desperately hanging onto Virgil’s wrist with the other. Good thing humans didn't have claws, or Virgil would be spilling even more blood all over the place than he already was.

A fresh current brushed past him, and he took the next turn sharply, just barely not grazing the rough tunnel walls. There! He could see an exit, the bright blue of the open ocean just beyond it.

Halfway there, Logan’s grip on his hand turned painful, the bones in his wrist creaking under the pressure.

“What?” he snapped, despite knowing that the human couldn’t understand his irritable clicks.

When he turned, however, the problem was obvious: the human was out of air, bubbles leaking from his nose and mouth.

Virgil bit his lip and wasted a moment looking between Logan’s purpling face and his gateway to freedom. His instincts knew what the smart thing to do was, but he couldn’t stop remembering the way the human had given him space, spoke politely, kept him calm in the face of overwhelming terror.

“Oh, fine, fine!” he finally groaned, swearing profusely as he found the nearest upward crevice and dragged the both of them into it.

The moment they breached the surface, Logan was spluttering and gasping, halfway to choking on his own spit. Virgil shoved him up onto the nearest ledge and hurriedly pulled himself up after, the phantom feeling of giant hands grasping at him enough to make him want to vacate the water entirely.

Unfortunately, he’d massively overestimated the size of the rock shelf, and ended up flopped over the wheezing human from head to fin.

Whoops.

---

“Wh-- What--?” Logan attempted to dislodge the mermaid sprawled on top of him, and then stilled as Virgil hissed at him from close range, those rows of teeth only inches from his neck.

It was just one thing after another, today. He tried to steady his breathing, and after a moment, regained his composure. “Seeing as this is a limited space and sharks are quite sensitive to blood, I would advise against trying to consume me at this juncture.”

Virgil pushed himself up further, enough that their faces weren’t inches apart, and now Logan could properly see his disgusted expression. “What? Ew, gross, no. If I cared that little about your life, I would have just let you drown back there.”

“Oh.” Logan coughed awkwardly, his cheeks a bit hot. “In that case, why tackle and pin me?”

Virgil rolled his eyes. “I’m trying to keep out of the water so we don’t get noticed, numbskull. Do you see any more room on this little ledge?”

It was true; there wasn’t much space in the fissure. At least some light made it down from above, illuminating their current position. Logan frowned thoughtfully.

“Hm, if you’ll allow me to adjust…”

With a significant bit of shifting around and a few more hisses from Virgil about ‘manhandling’, Logan managed to get upright, with his legs crossed in the lotus position. Virgil was sitting up as well, though half of his tail had to curl over Logan’s lap.

“Much better,” Logan said, satisfied. Virgil still looked a bit green around the gills from watching Logan bend his knees. “I suppose this is as opportune a time as any to thank you for saving my life.”

Logan had kind of hoped the mermaid would be too nauseous to pay attention, but to no avail. Virgil’s ear fins twitched strangely, and he lifted his head to look at Logan with something like surprise.

Seemed as though he had to elaborate. Ugh, feelings. “From my observations, you could have left me and made your escape much faster. It would have been pragmatic of you, but I appreciate that you didn’t. Unfortunately, now we’re both trapped here, with no idea when or if those giants lurk nearby. So you have my thanks and my apologies.”

Virgil made a strange trill-click, his expression amused. “Don’t apologize for me saving your life, dumbass. You had no say in the matter. Anyways, at least when I die, it’ll be in the company of a ballsy human.”

“If you die,” Logan corrected the cognitive distortion automatically. “Remember, there’s still options available that could lead us to freedom. Though… I’m unsure how far out in the ocean the siren carried me. It’s entirely possible that I will run out of stamina and drown before I reach land.”

“Listen, if we get out of this alive, I’ll tow you to a beach myself,” Virgil replied with a snort. “Sorry man, but once they find their snacks have vanished, they’re going to be out for blood.”  

“You seem to have quite a negative outlook on our chances.” Logan watched as the purple caudal fin flicked back and forth absently. “Are they truly that devoted to devouring us?”

“I mean... I dunno how much, I’m not a mind reader. I just try not to make a habit of pissing off anything big enough to eat me in one bite,” Virgil snarked back. “It’s how I’m still alive. If there’s one thing I’m sure about, it’s that there’s no way they would just let us go.”

---

Patton and Roman stared at the cave shelf in stunned silence.

Where before there had been a human and a tiny mer, there was now only a splotchy puddle of blood and the remnants of a fishing net scattered about.

“Oh dear,” Patton said, looking down at the kelp bandages he’d retrieved.

Roman dropped his sword and ran his hands through his hair, shocked. “Why in the sea did they vanish like that? What about sharks? What about the human?!”

“Oh dear,” Patton said again, remembering how far out they were from the little guy’s home. “Why would they leave? I didn’t think the human could swim far enough or long enough to get out of this cave system!”

Roman frowned, squinting at a sharp tooth he’d found among the shredded net. “... Maybe he couldn’t. The little mer— he couldn’t hurt us, obviously, but— the human is so small, and he growled at him, remember? What if—?”

The shark mer was looking more horrified by the minute, and Patton set a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“Let’s not jump to conclusions, Ro. How about I try and call for the human? If he hears it, I’ll know.”

Roman nodded quickly, and Patton took a deep breath before letting the magic coiled inside him rise up, lace itself through his voice in the ringing tones that the human had best responded to back on the beach.

In the distance, there was a jerk of surprise-recognition-fear as his song reached the ears of the human, and Patton grimaced at the feeling that curled along the siren bond. He tried to soothe the terror, coaxing the human back towards the water with promises that he wouldn’t be hurt, that they were just there to help and get him home.

After a few moments, the human succumbed to his magic, letting go of his resistance with something like resignation. Patton bit his lip briefly but didn't stop, waiting for the moment he would hit the water and reveal his whereabouts to Patton.

It never came.

Patton blinked, surprised, but the human continued to stay in place, despite struggling to reach the song’s source. Was he being… restrained?

He broke the song off after another few moments with no movement, quickly reassuring Roman that the human was still alive, and not hurt.

“I think he’s being held in place though,” he added, and Roman’s expression darkened. “I can get close, but I’m not sure I’ll be able to pinpoint the exact place. In tunnels like these, it could be anywhere.”

“The small mer was bleeding, remember?” Roman replied, tail swishing in agitation. “If I can catch the scent, I can get us the rest of the way there. Let’s go.”

[plasticnightmaredoll]

So, this is a little goofy thing featuring Arkham Knight Eddie and a female!o/c  that was inspired by an actual dream I had recently. Like, literally, the dream mentioned in this story is almost exactly the same.

It’s pretty short and I’m....not entirely sure it’s good but I dunno...I wanted to get that dream out of my head somehow and turn it into something positive so...here is this silly drabble.

Contains some smut and suggestive comments, but nothing overly explicit. 

Words: 2104 Title: i'm best when I'm In love Rating: M (going with the AO3 smutty content labels here)

“My Dear, you’re struggling,” Edward said as he moved one of his pawns. 

“Well, I have yet to beat you, Eddie,” Sara responded in a tense voice, letting out a sharp, frustrated breath.

“True, but lately, you’ve been performing much better than this. Right now, your tactics are sloppy, like when I first started teaching you.”

“Chess takes time to learn, right?”

“Correct, and you have the benefit of learning from an astounding genius like myself. However, your focus is not on the game, so no matter what I say, you’re still going to lose much sooner than you should.”

“It’s not over yet.”

Edward’s gaze moved from the chess board to Sara’s agitated expression, noting the almost pained look in her eyes as she tried so very hard to concentrate on the game. It was easy to see that she was becoming more panicked by the second, and whatever skills she had acquired from his teachings had gone out the window for the time being.

“No, but the way you’re tap, tap, tapping that Knight piece on the table indicates there’s a much more serious problem here,” Edward said.

Sara hadn’t even realized she was doing it, and quickly stopped once she looked down at her right hand. The Knight piece was given a much-needed break as she set it on the table and tried to gather her thoughts.

“Sorry,” Sara said, running a hand through her hair. 

As much as Edward wanted for Sara to look at him, he knew how nerve-wracking it could be for her to make direct eye contact when she was upset. It did sadden him, though, that she had barely glanced at him the whole time they’d been together that day, and part of him wondered if there was something he did to make her uncomfortable -- or something he didn’t do. Both of them had a lot of pent up emotions, and while they were quick to unleash them when under stress, they were also terrible at asking for help or simply being vulnerable in general. So, he had to approach this cautiously. 

“Where is your mind at, Dearest Devinette?” he asked, tilting his head slightly to the side.

Sara let out a little huff which was as close to a chuckle as she could muster upon hearing one of his (rather adorable) nicknames for her.

“I’ve just got something on my mind,” she replied, resting her head in her left hand as she leaned on the table.

“Obviously,” said Edward, rolling his eyes. “But what precisely is on your mind?”

Sara chewed on her lower lip as she pondered how to respond. It was stupid, she told herself, what she was thinking, what she had been thinking, and she was almost embarrassed to admit it out loud -- let alone to herself. Edward was not going to take “no” for an answer, though, nor would he believe any lie she could toss into his lap. She was a terrible liar to begin with, and he was far too perceptive. 

“It’s about, um….” Sara began, her throat starting to clamp up as her heart raced in her chest. “It’s, uh, about...a…”

The need to “hide” was too great at that moment, and Sara abruptly stood and turned her back to Edward, bringing her index finger to her mouth to bite at the second knuckle.

“It’s about a dream I had recently,” Sara confessed, her mouth dry and her heart beating so loudly in her ears she thought Edward might hear it.

“Ok?” Edward said slowly, waiting for her to continue despite feeling a little impatient.

As much as Edward wanted to help his love, there was little he could do without knowing the details of what troubled her so. Being helpless like this -- being helpless at all -- always drove him crazy. He needed to solve this, but he also needed answers first.

“Well, in the dream, we were working together,” Sara continued. “At a job. At a company. We were programmers.”

“It sounds like a very tame dream so far,” Edward commented.

“We were on a project together, and we liked each other. You liked me. I felt so happy to be noticed by a guy, and I thought I had a chance with you. But then...things changed. A new programmer started working there, a pretty blonde woman who was really smart. Like, a natural. You suddenly stopped paying attention to me, choosing to spend time with her. You both looked very happy, had lots to talk about, and whenever I tried to get your attention, you would...brush me off. You even...removed yourself from the project we were working on so you could work with this woman on a different one. I was invisible to you after that, and very alone.”

Edward felt a mixture of frustration, sympathy, confusion, and hurt over Sara’s dream. It was pure nonsense, no doubt, in every possible way, but clearly, it had an effect on her. Insecurities could twist your thoughts and emotions in painful ways, ways that didn’t even make sense. But they tugged at you until you gave into them and believed what they believed. 

He could relate to that, even if he wasn’t willing to admit it out loud.

Edward got up from the table and approached Sara, wrapping his arms around her from behind to hold her against him.

“Oh, my silly little riddle,” he said with a smile, trying to brighten her spirits in some way. “It was just a dream, nothing more.”

“But...would you ever…?” Sara asked, her voice cracking.

“Would I ever, what?”

“Leave me for someone smarter, prettier…”

“What? No! Don’t be foolish!”

Edward made Sara turn to face him, his heart breaking upon seeing her tear-streaked face.

“I’m not going to leave you,” Edward said, cupping her face in his hands so she’d look at him. “You are the only one I want to be with. That dream was absolute nonsense, My Dear. I cannot even fathom for a second the mere idea of choosing someone else over you…” He leaned in and nuzzled her nose with his, smiling sweetly. “...my favorite distraction, my Darling Devinette, my Ravishing Riddle...”

Sara snorted, a grin spreading across her face.

“My Endearing Enigma,” Edward added, relieved to see her giggling.

“The nicknames are killing me,” Sara said, wiping her face. “You’re goofy.”

“”Goofy? Goofy, you say?” 

“Yes, and a total fucking nerd!”

“Oh, is that how it is then? Hmm?”

Edward scooped Sara up into his arms, humming contentedly.

“Well, this ‘Goofy Nerd’ is going to whisk you off to bed and physically  -- very physically -- demonstrate to you exactly how I feel.”

“Oh, my…” Sara said with a chuckle.

“I am going to make it so that you won’t be capable of coherent thoughts or speech,” Edward said with a smirk as he carried her to their bedroom. “You’ll be so overwhelmed with pleasure that the only thing you’ll be able to do is feel. No more negative, idiotic thoughts!”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Sara said, biting her lip.

---

“Oh, God, Eddie, there, please!”

“You’re so perfect, My Darling, so perfect…I can’t get enough...Oh, God!”

“What?” 

“Oh, no, no, no...not now!”

Sara watched Edward sit up, one hand covering the lower half of his face. While she couldn’t see anything yet, she knew what was happening.

“Oh, Eddie,” she said, quickly grabbing tissues for him. 

Edward took them and applied them to his bleeding nose, looking completely humiliated. Sara reached out to him, brushing hair from his face, but he jerked away, too embarrassed to even look at her. The poor man suffered from chronic nosebleeds, probably because his nose had been broken so many times (Thanks, Batman), and sometimes he got them during the most inconvenient moments.

“Let’s go to the bathroom,” Sara said.

She followed Edward into the bathroom, grabbing a wad of paper towels to hand to him for his nose. He threw the bloody tissues into the waste bin with a grunt, still unable to look her in the eye.

“I’ll run a bath,” Sara said as she went to turn on the tub faucet.

Edward’s nosebleed did slow while the tub filled up, but he still hated himself. Why did he have to have one while he was in the middle of…? With her? He was supposed to be making her feel good, not...bleeding on her. It was disgusting -- he felt disgusting. What kind of lover was he? 

Sara tapped Edward’s shoulder, telling him the bath was ready. He mumbled something, tossing the blood-soaked paper towels into the waste bin before turning to her. Why did she have to look at him like that? Like she was worried? Why did she care so much? Why wasn’t she angry with him for ruining ‘the mood?’ Or grossed out? There was drying blood on her shoulder still, and yet, she didn’t seem to care. 

Edward and Sara got into the tub with her sitting behind him. Taking a rag, she soaked it in the bathwater then handed it to him so he could clean his nose, lips, and chin of blood, and thankfully, the nosebleed had stopped by then. When she started to shampoo his hair, her elegant fingers lightly scratching his scalp as she hummed some random tune, he remembered the dream she had told him about. Once his hair was rinsed, he turned to face her, his expression full of guilt and sorrow. 

“What’s wrong, Eddie?” Sara asked.

“This is just one of the many reasons why I could never want someone else,” Edward said quietly. “You’re so kind to me, so gentle...and I didn’t do anything to deserve it -- to deserve you. No one has ever treated me the way you do, no one has ever looked at me the way you do, no one has ever spoken to me the way you do.... I never realized how...how alone I was until I met you. I’d do anything for you, give up everything for you…”

Even my own life, he thought. 

“So, please, never doubt how much you mean to me,” Edward said.

Sara was blushing, trying to come up with a response but too flustered to speak properly. 

“I...I don’t know ….I don’t know...what to say,” she admitted, smiling shyly. “I’ve….never heard someone say something like that before…”

“You don’t have to say anything,” Edward assured her with a small, warm smile. “Just be with me.”

“Of course.”

Edward turned around so he could rest against her, his head on her shoulder as she wrapped her arms around him. While he was planning to finish what he started once they were out of the tub and back into bed, in that moment, he felt absolutely perfect where he was. All his life, he’d never had affectionate physical contact. Sure, there was the awkward hug here and there, or obligatory embrace when he had a lover (and there were very, very, very few of those), but nothing that was genuine or even remotely pleasant.

But in moments like this one with his beloved, he felt like he could be as vulnerable as he needed because she’d never hurt or humiliate him. When she hugged him, it was always warm and welcoming. Whenever she held his hand, she loved to lace their fingers together, almost like she was “trapping” him but in the most romantic way possible. Whenever she kissed him, he felt absolutely smitten because her kisses were so comforting or even playful.

“I love you, My Dearest Horny Geek,” Sara whispered, barely holding back a cute chuckle.

Edward rolled his eyes but smirked at her outrageously endearing nickname for him. 

“And I love you, My Dearest Horny Enigma,” he replied, and they both couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Two horny peas in a pod,” she said as she placed a kiss to the top of his head. “And, you know, if you’re still up for it, you could put your ‘pea’ back in my ‘pod’ once we’re done with this bath.”

Edward slowly turned his head to look up at Sara, his cheeks a bright pink and his gaze full of bewilderment. When she snorted in amusement, he soon found himself joining her in a fit of childish giggles. And here she had been worried he would fall out of love with her. No one could make him laugh or grin like he did. No one could make him feel loved and needed like she did.

Only her. 

What a lucky little shit he was….

----

And there we have it! Hopefully it’s not too crappy. I’m not totally satisfied with it but don’t feel like making it a longer story (at least, not right now). Let me know what you think and damn, I have really depressing dreams sometimes.

[haikyuu-sickfics]

Akaashi sickfic where he’s rlly nauseous and there’s a lot of build up. He’s trying to keep it down as long as possibly but eventually loses its

> Maybe Akashi and Bokuto are at an amusement park and Keiji throws up there? You can choose why he does.

Glowing yellow reflected off the various metal surfaces at the amusement park, their bright shine blinding those without adequate eye protection. Keiji and Koutarou both fell into the unfortunate group with melting eyes, the former squinting while the latter looked ahead without twinge.

"What should we ride first?" Koutarou wondered outloud, his eyes shimmering with glee.

Keiji thought to himself for a moment, deciding which ride would be the best on his nervous stomach. A feeling akin to anxiety nestled deep into Keiji's core, it's root remained unknown. There were no triggers present, the crowd was light and and calm, the high tempo music providing the perfect upbeat atmosphere. Additonally, Keiji was not one to be afraid of roller coasters.

So why did his stomach flip every time he thought of riding one?

"Maybe the carousel," Keiji offered quietly, subconciously gravitating closer to Koutarou.

"Sounds good to me!" Koutarou grabbed Keiji's wrist and practically dragged him closer to their day of immature fun.

---

--

-

A cold breeze fluttered the area as the sun set over the horizon, gentle pink and orange hues blanketing the atmosphere of the park. Abandonded litter skittered the asphalt, the walkways significantly less crowded as guardians carried their sleeping kids out of the park. Keiji couldn't help but feel envious for those kids, their arms stretched lazily towards the grounds as they struggled to keep their eyes open.

Truth be told, Keiji felt drained. The awful feeling in his stomach had remained promiment, if not more so after a small greasy lunch. But he was almost done. He had made it through the day and Koutarou seemed to still be in high cheers.

"Akaashi!" Koutarou dragged out the 'a' in Keiji's surname, "can we please ride the ferris wheel?"

Keiji frowned, his right hand instinctively traveling towards his stomach.

"You said the last ride would be the last one. I'm tired and ready to go home."

"I only said that cause I wanted to get you to ride it! Plus," his voice got softer, "I really want to see the sunset from that high with you."

Closing his eyes and breathing deeply, Keiji turned towards the direction of the attraction. Koutarou's excitement was contagious, an aura of happiness radiated off his body as though he was the sun. Keiji liked being around him for this reason. Fueling the happiness was one of the most rewarding activities in the world-- and Keiji would do anything for the familiar splash of yellow to infect his grey world.

"Let's go," Keiji conceded softly, walking towards the queue enterance.

Koutarou smiled widely to himself before reclaiming his spot at Keiji's side. The latter bit back a frown. Anxiety gnawed away at their midsection, with more strength and warning than normal. Going on this last ride was a bad idea. But who could say no to the charming team captain?

Well, a lot of people- predominantly Keiji- but something about being away from their responsibilities made him want to shrug off his sensible side for a day. Take a walk on the wild side, so to speak.

Or maybe Koutarou's sheer volume of dumbass-ery was finally rubbing off on him.

No matter the cause, here the two sat. Across each other in a plastic car, still warm from the previous passengers, slowly rising into the daunting evening.

The movement, though far slower than the previous attractions, affected Keiji in an overpowering way. Perhaps it wasn't the movement at all. Maybe his luck had simply run out, leaving him white knuckling the edge of his seat and practically glaring ahead.

"Are you mad that I made you come on to this last ride?" Koutarou asked, guilt seeping into his tone.

Keiji shook his head.

"I don't..." Should Keiji be honest with his upperclassmen? Lying wouldn't get him far in this situation... But maybe he could will out for a few more minutes.

His stomach turned

Scratch that. There was no willing this out, "I haven't really been feeling that good today."

"Really? Why didn't you tell me? I mean- you did look kinda constipated all day but you usually have that stoic expression so I didn't think much of it. No offense. Well I just said that you look constipated all the time there's not really a way to not take offense to that but I didn't mean it in a bad way, you pull it off. Well that sounded weird, but I meant that in a totally normal way, in a 'you always look good' way not a 'I like it when you look constipated way'; because that would be weird wouldn't it? Or maybe I'm just overthinking it. Sometimes I surprise myself with how much I think. It's like. Woah. I've been holding this in my brain without even realizing it and boom it's all coming out at once. Did you know that competive art used to be in the olympics? What did they do? Isn't art relative based off perception? How could they judge what someone elses mind created? That's why I like volleyball. It's set in stone. I'm gonna be in the olympics, you know that? I dunno when but it will happen. And everyone will look on their screens and see how awesome I am and you'll be in the stands because you don't want to continue your carreer for SOME reason. But that's besides the point. Hey, are you listening?"

Keiji had his eyes closed. The nausea was becoming overwhelming. There was too much happening at once.

The smell of food, perfume and trash.

The jerking movement of the cart.

The incessant rambling of the person seated across from him.

Everything surrounding Keiji took on microscopic form and roiled ruthelessly inside his gut. His shoulders occasionally lurched with queasy hiccups- threatening to send everything overboard.

Why now?

Of all places why did Keiji's stomach chose to revolt at the very top of a ferris wheel, the setting sun casting a blindingly painful glare into his eyes.

Did he have a migraine? Maybe. He couldn't tell at this point. Keiji couldn't keep into account everything going wrong in his body at this point. The only thing he was concerned about was finding a way to leave this ride with as little mess as possible.

"Do you have a bag, Bokuto-san."

"A bug?"

"A bag."

"A rag?"

"A. Bag."

"A hag?"

Keiji muttered curses under his breath at the futility of trying to properly communicate with Koutarou.

"This is time sensitive," he took a deep breath, swallowing a bubble of air traveling up his throat, "I don't believe I'm going to make it off this ride without being sick. So I ask you once more. Do you have a B-A-G."

Koutarou's eyes widened as he began patting his shorts in search of a valid recepticle. There was a fish net (who knows why) but that wouldn't work for obvious reasons. The only other thing which came to mind to be of use was the suveneer sinsola hat he had purchased earlier in the day to protect his neck.

Hastily, he pulled the hat off his head- having a bit of struggle with the strings and his ears, but handing it to Keiji top-down in record time.

"What am I supposed to do with this?" Keji squinted his eyes at Koutarou.

"It's that or your lap."

"I'm not going to-"

Get sick in a hat- is what he was planning on saying. But the first gag took over his body before he had a chance to vocalize the rest of his sentence.

"Not going to... what?" Koutarou smirked, finding humor in the situation.

Keiji hiccuped over the hat, averting his eyes from Koutarou and clenching his jaw in embarrassment and annoyance.

Just as their cart jerked to a top at the peak of the ride, Keiji's stomach squeezed. It was a sensation stronger than the tugs he had felt throughout the day. This time, a hot sense of urgency burned the back of his mouth and gripped his esophogus.

Coughing, his body instinctually tried to dislodge the psycological ball in his throat. In response, his stomach contents finally pushed it's way up and out of his mouth in one large wave.

A strange sense of relief came with the awful act- as if the tension which had been slowly building up finally broke. He closed his eyes and allowed the conflicting feeling to overcome him.

Spitting residue acidic spit from his mouth, Keiji leaned back against the seat rest. Drying tears cooled around his eyes, which felt achingly tired. His thighs felt warm where he allowed hat to rest, lacking the energy to lift it fully up.

He barely registered the warm body sitting next to him, let alone the hand gently squeezing his shoulder.

"You okay now?" Koutarou asked gently, his breathy voice warming Keiji's ear.

"Mn-mn," Keiji slowly shook his head no, his eyes remaining shut and face tilted toward the sky.

"And you call ME reckless and stupid, how the turn tables twisted. Why didn't you say anything? Or like, I dunno, stayed home? I would've understood... Maybe."

"Please just be quiet," Keiji mumbled, "and keep rubbing my shoulder... It feels nice."

"I'll rub it until we get you in bed," Koutarou assured, adding his right hand to Keiji's right shoulder.

"Mm, thanks."

Keiji paused.

"And sorry about the hat."

[12tardis]

My Funny Valentine  (Newt Scamander x Reader)

Warnings: none Requested: Yes! Lovely anon asked for ‘some funny moments with Newt and reader? Like those moments that make you laugh but at the same time you say ‘oh God I love him’ and vice versa...” I really hope you like it! Like I said I have a weird/dry sense of humour so I’m super unsure about this one! 

Pairing: Newt Scamander x Reader  Summary: A collection of short moments wherein Newt makes the reader laugh and vice versa. Includes colour blind Newt, exasperated Theseus, a misshap with some Billywigs and a lousy take on the Erumpent dance.  A/N: I read somewhere once that Eddie is colour blind and I really have the NERVE to post this wearing bright purple thermal stockings, tan uggs and a green and blue flannel?? Thank you anon for requesting this I seriously hope its okay! Guys I dunno what I’m doing my brain broke . Thank you to everyone that reads my stuff , you make my day x  Words: 3,324

Newt was one of the few people that could make you laugh, a proper full-bellied laugh no matter what mood you were in. And little did you know that he’d made it a personal goal to make you smile at least once everyday ever since your days at Hogwarts. He would usually achieve this by doing or saying sweet things to you but occasionally he’d do something so outrageously ridiculous or dorky that you couldn’t help but laugh. 

Usually he would feel insecure and flustered when people would laugh at him but with you he didn’t mind. You would never mean anything out of animosity. In fact he only felt pride that he, Newton Scamander could draw such a beautiful musical sound from you. 

It was a little known fact that Newt was colour blind and you were one of the only people to know about this fact because it rarely came up. There’d been a few questionable wardrobe choices over the years as a result but for the most part no one ever suspected a thing because he tended to wear the same staple outfits day in and day out and you were always there to fix him up if he was ever dressed too outrageously.

You were only fairly recently an official couple when you found yourself waiting for Newt at the bottom of the stairs in your shared apartment. Standing with his older brother Theseus and chatting away as you were all about to head off to one of Newt’s book signings where many more of his friends and family would be. Of course, Newt was the last one to get ready though, having gotten carried away in his case while you had busied yourself getting all dolled up.

“By Merlin’s beard”, Theseus suddenly breathed out, looking up the stairs at his brother who was rushing down towards you, wearing at least 4 different colours and 5 different prints. You didn’t even recognise half of the ensemble he was wearing.

Theseus quickly looked away from his brother and down at his watch, trying to hold it together but you didn’t even attempt to hold back your laughter as you slapped a hand over your mouth, gaping at your boyfriend.

“Newt, did you let the creatures dress you?”, you gasped, gripping him by the shoulders as it was Theseus’ turn to gape at you. 

Newt blinked back at you and then glanced down at his own outfit before looking back at you “I-I thought you liked this shirt!”, he huffed as you openly started to laugh now.

“Goodness Newt I do! I love this shirt. But not with that green paisley waist coat. Not with the purple tie,” you breathed out, gripping his shoulders harder as you couldn’t control your giggles any longer. You cupped his cheeks as you looked him over, shaking your head “I love this shirt and I love you and you look utterly adorable but I’m just not sure this is the look you were going for.”

And Theseus looked on in bemusement when Newt just gazed back at you with bright eyes and a smile of his own, taking you in properly in your own gorgeous gown and perfectly done hair and make up.

Newt only held you closer as he smiled back at you, beginning to laugh too because your laughter was infectious. “I thought you were going to wear your blue three piece”, you eventually managed to say to which Newt shook his head with a frown “I can’t find it anywhere!”

You rolled your eyes fondly in response before you jogged up the stairs to fetch the outfit, leaving Newt gazing after you. He yelped when Theseus slapped him in the chest, staring at him incredulously “what the hell was that?!”

Newt looked back at his brother with his eyebrows drawn together, holding his hands up “what was what?”

“That!” Theseus huffed, gesturing in the direction you had gone “I laughed at you for the very same reason once and you didn’t talk to me for a full weekend but she does and you stare at her like she hung the moon and the stars!”

Newt pursed his lips together for a moment as he looked back at his brother “Right, well for one - you were being a jerk that day. Two, it’s not the same at all because you’re not her, I mean did you not see how she lights up? And three, as far as I’m aware-“ he paused as he fixed Theseus with a deadpan expression “she did hang the stars and the moon.”

Newt grinned back at his brother obnoxiously causing Theseus to groan in frustration. “Gross!” he said as he threw his arms up in exasperation before he stomped out of the apartment to wait outside, just as you came back down the stairs thrusting the suit bag into Newt’s hands.

Newt grasped the bag in one hand and pulled you close against him with the other now that the two of you were alone. He pressed a long kiss to your lips, humming as he pulled back “hmm, how do I know this isn’t just a ploy to get me undressed my darling girl?”, he murmured as he squeezed your hip, causing your cheeks to warm in response.

“Newt! Go and get dressed we’re already late!”, Theseus shouted, banging on the front door.

-     -     -     -     -     -     -     -     -     -     -     -     -     -     -     -     -     -     -

“My god, I swear he does stupid things just to make her laugh”, Jacob murmured in disbelief as he shook his head to himself , watching you bent over, clutching your stomach as you cackled with laughter while Newt smiled back at you over his shoulder.

Theseus nodded furiously, looking over at Jacob “YES! Thank you! I’ve been saying this for years! This one time for an event I swear he purposely dressed like a muggle clown just to amuse her.”

“Yeah jeeze”, Jacob nodded, slightly distracted as Theseus continued to recount all the times he’d witnessed Newt doing something dumb to woo you. He barely registered a word, too preoccupied watching Newt continue to dance around in the snow looking like an absolute buffoon.

He was apparently performing a mating dance to try and lure the escaped Erumpent back into his case while Y/N was too busy laughing in the distance to help him lure the creature with the vial of musk in her hand.

Newt picked up on your giggles in the background, smiling slightly to himself as he continued to wiggle his ass in the direction of the Erumpent, eventually looking back at where you were almost wheezing with your laughter “Come on Y/N! A little help here!” he called, and you quickly pulled yourself together when you saw the Erumpent begin to huff in Newt’s direction.

Newt ran towards you and the case when you finally pried the lid from the vial, narrowly avoiding being gored by the Erumpent as he skidded to a halt in front of you. You quickly snapped case shut and shouted when Newt slammed into you, knocking you both back into the snow, the two of you collapsing into a fit of giggles a moment later.

Jacob rushed towards the pair of you to make sure you were okay, Theseus hot on his heels as he continued his story of something embarrassing Newt had done in school. He let out a sigh of relief when he saw the you both clutching each other in the snow.

“Oh! And in school he used to eat these lollies that make you hiccup bubbles. They taste absolutely horrid but he kept doing it and she thought it was hilarious! They’re both insane”, Theseus said passionately as he gestured to you tangled in one another’s arms and giggling still.

“Insanely in love,” Jacob countered wondering if that’s what he and Queenie looked like to the outside world when they were absorbed in each other.

Newt was the first to climb to his feet, helping you up and brushing the snow off of you as you turned to Theseus with a frown “Drooble’s gum was the best!”

-     -     -     -     -     -     -     -     -     -     -     -     -     -     -     -     -     -    -

Newt was just finishing tending to the Mooncalves when he spotted a stunning flower growing in one of the nearby enclosures. He hummed to himself as he wandered over to get a closer look at the flower, looking down at Pickett when the Bowtruckle climbed over to the flower, chirping up at Newt as he gestured at it. “Yes I was just thinking that myself. Y/N would love it”.

He hummed as he leant forward over one of the trees to pluck the flower out from its spot, completely oblivious to the Billywig nest that was hanging over his head. You were always warning him about this particular tree. 

He stood up quickly when he had the flower in his hand, yelping when he felt a sting in his neck, his other hand flying up to grasp his neck. He sighed when he caught a glimpse of a Billywig buzzing away and he quickly jogged back towards his shack where he knew he had some anti venom stashed away.

He made it, only a few steps away from the shelves of vials when his feet left the ground and a few giggles began to spill from his lips as the effects of the Billywig sting set in quickly. He rushed to grab his wand, crying out in frustration punctuated by more laughter when it slipped from his grasp and fell to the floor along with the flower as he was left levitating in the air.

As the time wore on the giddiness symptoms wore away but much to Newt’s dismay the levitation side effect didn’t so he resigned himself to flailing around along the ceiling of the shack while a small group of the creatures gathered below him and paced nervously. He had tried and failed several times to coax the creatures to rescue his wand for him.

You arrived home from work not much later, calling out to your boyfriend as you wandered into the apartment, frowning as you wondered where he was. He was usually waiting for you with a pot of tea and biscuits ready, waiting to tell you something exciting about his creatures. You checked in the bedroom and frowned when you couldn’t see any sign of him, calling out for him again “Newt?”

You paused when you thought you heard him shouting in the distance, nodding as you headed straight for his case and climbed down the stairs into his shack.

“Y/N thank Merlin you’re home!”

You gasped and jumped back clutching your chest when you heard Newt’s voice from above you, staring up at him in shock “Newt, goodness are you okay?! Are you hurt?”, you panicked, rushing towards him trying to reach up to him.

Newt waved his hands when he saw your panic, shaking his head “I’m fine I got stung by one of the Billywigs”, he sighed when he tried to reach for you and couldn’t quite stretch far enough.

You looked back at him in silence for a moment before you suddenly burst into full bellied laughter, tipping your head back. “Y/N! can you help me down first before you spend the afternoon laughing at me”, he called, pouting at you when you continued to laugh, grabbing your wand and pointing it at him. You paused your laughter long enough as you flicked your wand at him.

“Levicorpus!”

Newt shouted when he suddenly flipped upside down, “Y/N!”, he huffed in exasperation but he softened slightly and couldn’t help but smile at the way you giggled in response. His face was now roughly in line with yours and he was able to reach out and grasp your shoulders. “I thought Billywig stings were supposed to make you giddy?” you murmured as you gently stroked Newt’s face and he leant into your touch instinctively “that symptom wore off about 20 minutes ago.”

You giggled again and nodded, pressing a soft kiss to his lips causing Newt to hum in surprise as he closed his eyes and took in the new sensation of kissing you while hanging upside down. You let go of him and stepped back to give him room as you cast your wand at him again “Liberacorpus” and Newt closed his eyes as he suddenly spun upright again, still levitating above you.

You wandered over to the storage cabinet, scanning the shelves and grabbing the anti venom vial, setting it on Newt’s desk before you walked back over to him, trying to tug him down by his ankles. You huffed and puffed as you eventually managed to get him a safe distance closer to the ground, holding the vial up to him.

Newt quickly skulled the liquid, scrunching his face up in disgust and not catching himself in time to land on his feet as he hurtled towards the ground. Your eyes widened and you quickly grabbed him, letting out a yelp when you crashed to the ground under Newt, the two of you a mess of tangled limbs.

Newt quickly shifted his weight off of you, checking you over for any injuries as he lay over you, smiling as you began to laugh again, cupping his cheeks “darling, are you okay?”, you murmured, looking back up at him in amusement. Newt nodded, pressing a quick kiss to your lips “I’m fine. You saved me, my love.”he murmured, smiling in amusement when you let out another giggle “goodness, it’s almost as if you were the one that got stung with all that laughter”

“I can’t help it! You should have seen your face when you were flailing around up there! What were you even doing near the Billywig nest you goose?”, you grinned at him, your lips then pulling into a small frown when you noticed the angry looking welt on his neck, skimming your fingertips over it.

Newt hummed when he saw the concern wash over your face, quickly hopping to his feet and pulling you with him “I’m fine my darling, I promise.” he soothed knowing you were prone to worrying over him. He squeezed your hand before he quickly snatched up the flower from where it had fallen, holding it out to you.

“I spotted this and thought you would like it, it’s not my fault that Pickett was a terrible watch guard”, he murmured, poking his tongue out at the Bowtruckle who squeaked in offence.

You held the flower up and admired it with a wide smile, shaking your head to yourself because Newt’s thoughtfulness never ceased to amaze you “Thank you, Newt. It’s beautiful.”

You leant in to kiss him again before you pulled him upstairs into the apartment where you set the flower into a vase on the dining table and Newt let you fuss over the his sting welt.

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You were sitting at the small makeshift desk in Newt’s shack in the case, having decided to use the desk to repot a bunch of your plants while your husband was nearby. You claimed that the desk was just a convenient height for your planting needs and that you wanted to spend time with him but Newt had caught on to the fact that you were really just taking the chance to ogle him as he tried to train a father cranky Kelpie.

He had been suspicious immediately because you’d never had any issue with your work bench in your greenhouse he’d built for you before but he fell easily enough for your excuse of wanting to spend time with him.

So he worked in the room beside you, trying in vain to slip a bridle onto the agitated Kelpie, catching you leaning back in your chair dangerously several time’s to properly look at him. It wasn’t until he caught sight of your slightly heated gaze that he realised what was really happening. You’d always had a thing for him in a wet shirt, he remembered because you’d told him as much once before you had practically tackled him in a very heated kiss.

You knew you’d been caught out from the look of realisation that passed over Newt’s face followed by the faintest blush on his cheeks and you nibbled your lip slightly before you smiled teasingly at him. Newt still wasn’t used to this openly flirty side of you that had seemed to emerge after the wedding but he couldn’t deny that he loved it.

“Perhaps you should take off your shirt”, you said as flirtatiously as you could muster, throwing in a wink at the end and letting out a chuckle when Newt grew flustered in response.

“Y/N, I am trying to do serious work here! I do not need you trying to distract me with your charms”, he huffed, rolling his eyes at you fondly when you only smiled innocently back at him.

You held up your dirt covered hands and shrugged “I’m just saying you will probably be more comfortable without that sopping wet material weighing you down. And Kelpie will probably like you more, because I know I certainly do.”

Newt snorted in response and turned away from you and back to the creature that was still splashing around in protest. He had to admit he was flattered by your blatant ogling but he had a creature to train! Plus it couldn’t hurt to tease you a little in return. Merlin, knows you deserved it after every stunt you’d pulled on your honeymoon.

He tried a few more times unsuccessfully to slip the bridle over the Kelpie before he climbed up onto his step ladder, reaching up and rummaging around through his storage for the other bridle he had that the creature would sometimes accept.

He glanced over at you, biting back a laugh when he glimpsed you leaning back in your chair again, your eyes fixated on where his shirt had ridden up, exposing the lower part of his abdomen.

His smile dropped however when the chair slipped out from beneath you and you let out a yelp as you fell backwards, potting mix flying all over you as you landed on the ground with a soft thud.

“Y/N!”, he shouted, leaping down from the step ladder and kneeling down beside you quickly, relaxing in relief when you grasped his hands, assuring him you were fine. Though you were clearly a little embarrassed as you lay there covered head to toe in dirt and the Flitterbloom you had been planting had landed in your hair and was squirming around your head, tousling your hair up.

Newt looked down at your vexed expression, laughing loudly as he carefully removed the plant from atop your head “My darling girl, I told you you would fall if you didn’t stop that.” he chuckled, setting the plant on the desk before he helped you sit up, looking at you with a mixture of amusement and pure adoration.

You huffed and brushed the dirt off your dress, “well it’s partially your fault for being so handsome,” you grumbled, only making Newt laugh more as he pulled you into him, wrapping his arms around you tightly and effectively drenching you with his soaked shirt too. “It’s entirely your fault for being such a tease”, he countered, holding you tighter when you scrunched your nose up at the damp hug.

He grinned as he nuzzled his wet hair into your neck and you squealed at the ticklish sensation before you too broke down in a fit of giggles in his arms. “Merlin, I love you so much”, he breathed into your shoulder, groaning when you lifted your hand and smeared some potting mix over his face “Y/N!”.

You snorted in response and pecked him on the nose, closing your eyes when he rubbed the dirt over your face in return “I love you too, even when you make me fall out of my chair.” 

Title: My Funny Valentine- Ella Fitzgerald (her voice is so beautiful. But also Michael Buble does the BEST arrangements Lyrics r kinda mean :( but makes sense in the musical) -MASTERLIST HERE-

[theres-an-impulstor-among-us]

Hello yes I love the Sparation AU but I also need these two boys to be reunited please and thank you.

This is my take on how Impulse and Skizzleman might be reunited in the Separation AU! Doesn’t have to be canon to the AU, we just have to see these guys finally happy again :)

That being said, I am super proud of the way this turned out :D

…

  Impulse follows Xisuma and the small group of Hermits through the specially generated portal, his heart pounding in his chest and sweat dripping down his back. This is the first time EVER that easy inter-server travel has been possible, but Impulse isn’t nervous about it possibly going wrong. He’s nervous about their intended destination.

  The Hermits arrive on the Legacy server and are immediately greeted by a small group of Legates, led by Logicalgeekboy. “Hi, Xisuma!” he says warmly. “Hey, everybody. Welcome to Legacy.” 

  As the groups exchange pleasantries, Impulse wanders off through the nearby village, his eyes searching for one person. He didn’t see the person in the crowd at the portal, so he knows he must be somewhere here. 

  Sure enough, he happens to glance upwards and catch sight of a figure emerging from a small cave just above him. 

  His heart stops. 

  Skizzleman starts coming down the hill before he looks up and spots someone he never thought he would ever see again.

  For what feels like hours, Impulse and Skizzleman stare at each other, frozen. 

  Then a pale smile breaks out on Impulse’s face. “Oh my god… Skizz…”

  “I-Impulse…?!” Skizzleman slowly approaches him, but stops a safe distance away, not quite able to believe his eyes. “Is it really you? H-How did you get here?”

  “I came over with some of the Hermitcraft people. Some kind of experimental inter-server travel portal thingy brought us over. Everyone else is at spawn but I… I just wanted to come and see you.”

  “Hermitcraft?”

  Impulse nods. “When I disappeared from our world, it was because I was being summoned to Hermitcraft. I’m a Hermit.” 

  “You’ve been on Hermitcraft this whole time?” Skizzleman stares at him. “And you never thought to come back?”

  “Of course I did!” Impulse’s voice rises. “I worked for WEEKS to find a way to go back to you! But I couldn’t. All of Xisuma’s admin powers had been spent bringing me to the server and there was no way he could either bring you there or send me back.”

  “Even if he could have sent you back, would you have asked him to?” Skizzleman challenges. 

  “Wh-What do you mean?”

  “I mean you were finally on a server with a load of amazing, talented people! Why would you want to come back to our crappy little world with one idiot who causes more problems than he solves?”

  Impulse stares at his best friend in shock. “Skizz, don’t say that! Given the choice, I would’ve come back to you!”

  “Why, because I had nobody else?” snaps Skizzleman.

  “No, because you were my brother and I loved you. I still do. It… It tears me up inside when I think about the horrible stuff I put you through.”

  Skizzleman hesitates, seeing the guilt-ridden look on Impulse’s face. “Yeah, I bet. You never had a bad bone in your body. I can just picture you crying yourself to sleep at night cuz I wasn’t there to tuck you in.”

  “Hey…!” Impulse complains mildly. “You stopped tucking me in years before I disappeared, pal.”

  Skizzleman laughs softly, which makes Impulse smile. He hasn’t heard that laugh in so long. 

  “Skizz, what happened to you after I left?” he asks quietly. “How did you end up in Legacy?”

  After a moment, Skizzleman lets out a long breath. “I moved away from our house after about a week. You were everywhere there, from the crops you planted to the whole building itself. I built a little shack next to the spot you vanished from but I moved from there as well after less than a month. It just became way too painful. I packed up all my stuff and just wandered around for a while until I got to a village. I ended up just settling down there. I know I used to make fun of villagers and call them dumb but… I dunno, I felt a lot less lonely living with them.”

  “Did you stay there permanently?” asks Impulse.

  Skizzleman nods. “I stayed there until the world corrupted and I got flung into the void.”

  Impulse winces, unable and unwilling to imagine how painful and terrifying that must have been. 

  “I dunno how long I was in there for. Time passes differently in the void. It might’ve been a couple hours or a couple months, I really don’t know. Eventually, I was pulled out by Logic, who took me to the brand new Legacy world. But you know, six years communicating with nobody except villages who don’t have a lot of vocal talent… took a real toll on me. I couldn’t speak properly anymore; I just kept making noises and offering people emeralds. I still remember how confused I was to see Pearl’s expression the first time I tried to give her an emerald because she welcomed me to the server.”

  As Impulse stifles a laugh, he’s relieved to see Skizzleman chuckling too. “I can picture that, honestly.”

  “Well, what did you expect?” says Skizzleman amusedly. “That was all I could remember how to do; my social skills had been completely destroyed by my isolation. Even now, I’m not as chatty and carefree in social interaction as I used to be.”

  Impulse’s smile falls. “I can’t imagine spending all that time in a world with nobody else around. I remember starting to feel a little daffy myself in that world after a long time, and there were TWO of us there.”

  “Yeah…” Skizzleman hesitates. “Honestly, though, the worst part was the trauma left over from losing you. I had so many panic attacks in the first few months, whenever I got reminded of you. It slowly got better after a long while but after I joined Legacy, it got so much worse again. Everything my new friends did reminded me of you, from their building styles to just the way they laughed when I attempted a joke. The first few weeks were absolute torture. I couldn’t sleep because I got nightmares, I couldn’t eat because I had no appetite, I couldn’t build because everything I saw reminded me of you. Then about two months after I joined Legacy, I… I had a complete breakdown.”

  A lump rises in Impulse’s throat. “What happened…?”

  Skizzleman’s eyes glass over at the painful memory. “We… um… A few of us decided to do some PVP. I was starting to feel better so I decided to join in. It was me and Pearl vs Logic and Sausage. Any weapons allowed. I thought I would be okay, and I totally would have been. I just didn’t realise that Logical had spectral arrows.”

  As Skizzleman pauses, Impulse abruptly realises exactly what happened. “Oh no…”

  “Yeah. When I saw Pearl glowing just like you did before you vanished, I completely broke down, right in front of her, Logic, and Sausage. It was easily the worst panic attack I’d ever had; I was so gripped with panic that I was about to lose her the way I lost you. Logic told me later that he was terrified for me; he thought I was gonna die. And so did I, honestly.”

  “Oh my god, Skizz, I…” Impulse trails off. How is he supposed to finish that sentence? What can he possibly say to make this better? “I… I’m so sorry… This is all my fault…”

  “Impulse, I need you to know that I don’t resent you for having a good life on Hermitcraft,” says Skizzleman gently. “I spent a lot of time grieving for you but I really am glad you’ve got this great new life. The Hermits have given you the life we could never have back in our world, and I’m starting to get the same here on Legacy. So much has changed since you disappeared.” 

  Impulse can’t quite hold in a sniffle. “We’re not the same people we were all those years ago, are we?” 

  Skizzleman slowly shakes his head. “No, we’re not. What I went through in that world after you disappeared… will stay with me forever. Six years alone with nobody but the villagers to talk to did some real damage to my mental state. It’s only because of the other Legates and their patience and compassion for me that I’ve been able to start healing and get somewhat back to normal.”

  He pauses. “I guess the best way to sum it up is we both started in the same place but you continued to grow, whereas I got worse and had to get back to normal before I can actually get better. I’m still in the middle of the recovery process.”

  “I want to be part of your recovery,” says Impulse quietly, taking his best friend’s hand. “I couldn’t be there for you when you needed me most, but I can be here for you now. If… If you want me.”

  As he says that, he winces internally. Why would Skizzleman want him around? He is the cause of all Skizzleman’s current problems. Surely his presence would be far more of a hindrance than a help. He’s survived six years without Impulse; does he really want him around now?

  After a moment, Skizzleman’s eyes fill with tears and he nods. “Of course I want you around. You’re still my best friend and my brother, and we’ve got seven years of lost time to make up for.”

  Impulse can’t hold back the tears anymore. He grabs Skizzleman in a hug, burying his face in his best friend’s shoulder. Skizzleman hugs him back, clutching his best friend like his life depends on it. He can hardly remember the last time he hugged anyone like this, much less his oldest friend. Seven years of pain and separation seems to melt away as they relax in each other’s presence. 

  “Missed you, Dippledop,” Skizzleman whispers. 

  Impulse gives a wet laugh. He hasn’t heard that nickname in seven whole years. It’s music to his ears. 

  “I missed you too, Skizz.”

[artificialqueens]

Taste of a Poison Paradise, Chapter 8 (Multi) - Joley

Chapter Summary: Things seem to be going well for Lemon until they go really bad really fast. Things are actually going well for Jackie and Jaida.

ao3 link

For the next couple of weeks, it seemed like Lemon was on the mend. She had finished her finals, gotten through her senior year, and now it was time to celebrate. Hers and Gigi’s graduations were only a couple of days apart, so the group decided to combine their graduation party that weekend.

It was one of the rare times the club was closed on a Saturday, but Jackie wanted to make sure everyone could celebrate together and turned the main room into their party space. “Cheers,” she said, raising her glass, “to Lemon and Gigi, college graduates!”

The group clinked their glasses together and drank, everyone resuming their casual conversation, relaxed, and enjoying one another’s company. With the exception, of course, of Lemon and Priyanka, who were still trying to avoid each other like the plague.

“Look, I love those two as much as the rest of y’all, but I’ve stopped feeling sorry for them — at this point, it’s just annoying,” Kameron remarked as she watched the way they behaved with a grimace. “Not that it’s any of my business, but it kind of is considering how often I have to witness them, but how long were they hooking up for anyway?”

Vanessa furrowed her brows as she counted on her fingers. “Dunno, like four months?”

“Shit, that’s like a lesbian year,” she murmured, sipping her drink. “This isn’t gonna fix itself is it?”

“Not as long as Pri’s got that rock on her finger.”

“It could be worse,” Brooke Lynn chimed in, her lips pursed around the straw in her glass, “at least she doesn’t wear it to work, can you imagine the fit Lemon would throw if she had to stare down a diamond every day?”

The three of them looked at Lemon, who, at least for the moment, appeared to be enjoying herself, then at Priyanka, who was talking to Crystal and looking stressed.

“So, dress shopping is happening on Wednesday?” Crystal asked. “Does she know?”

“Of course she doesn’t know,” Priyanka scoffed and shook her head, “I have no idea how to keep her from knowing, no one can keep a secret in their family.”

Crystal winced but nodded. “Well, good luck,” she offered before Gigi made their way to her side and her attention immediately became divided.

“Thanks,” Priyanka mumbled, her gaze drifting to Lemon, who was talking animatedly to Jan and Rosé, “I’ll need it.”

——

By the time Wednesday rolled around, Priyanka’s nerves hadn’t quelled in the slightest. Lucky for her, at least, those with her — her mother, sister, and future mother-in-law wrote it off as pre-wedding jitters. Scarlett knew better, but there was no need to blow up her best friend’s spot like that.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go to a more traditional store?” The mother-in-law asked, “I know Mark doesn’t want your culture to be ignored.”

“It will be two separate ceremonies,” Priyanka’s mom cut in before she could speak for herself, “she will be wearing her grandmother’s sari for that.”

Priyanka had to fight off the pained expression that tried to twist its way onto her face. It was only when she had broken the news to her family that she remembered what a big event weddings were in her family. She wasn’t about to get off lightly with this. Instead, she let the assistant at the shop lead her to a rack of dresses and suggested a few. She agreed to them without giving them a proper look, figuring she would let a majority rule.

Once she was in the first dress, she returned to the main room and stepped up on the platform in front of the mirrors. Right away, the women began discussing and debating the pros and cons of the dress — where it fit right, where it’d need to be taken in. But she couldn’t bring herself to focus on anything, instead zoning out to the song playing through the store’s speakers.

I’m living for the only thing I know I’m running and not quite sure where to go And I don’t know what I’m diving into Just hanging by a moment here with you

Normally, Priyanka would roll her eyes at this sort of song, at the cheesy love in the lyrics. But with her only alternative being actively participating in shopping for a wedding dress, she listened to the music and let it resonate.

Desperate for changing Starving for truth I’m closer to where I started I’m chasing after you

She winced but blamed it on accidentally being stuck with a pin. They didn’t have to play a song that hit so close to home, she thought. It made it that much harder to ignore the feelings that bubbled up inside her. It was only then that she realized someone was talking to her. “Huh?”

“I asked if you liked the dress,” Scarlett replied.

“Oh,” she cleared her throat. “Yeah, it’s fine.” She then realized she should have been more convincing because she found herself ushered back into the dressing room to try on dress number two, which she would then force enthusiasm for so the day would end as soon as possible.

“Are you okay?” her mother asked with sincere concern.

Priyanka nodded as she stepped off the platform. “Just a little lightheaded, I didn’t have breakfast.”

“Well, let’s get this dress taken care of, then we’ll go get something to eat.”

She nodded again as she went back to change into her regular clothes. Maybe she did just need to eat, she thought. Maybe some food or a nap would bring her back into reality. The reality where she was preparing to get married. The reality that Lemon could no longer be the main character in, no matter what some stupid song was trying to tell her. Or even worse, no matter how much she wanted her to be.

——

“You don’t normally ask me to make house calls,” Jaida remarked as Jackie let her into the apartment, “is everything okay?”

Jackie exhaled deeply. No matter how many times she had rehearsed what she was going to say, she still ended up tongue-tied the second she laid eyes on her. But she was determined to work her way through this and not let nerves get the best of her. “I watched the video you did with Denali. I… I watched it more times than I’d like to admit,” she confessed. “And I can’t get the image of you fucking her out of my mind. But more specifically… I can’t stop picturing myself in her place.”

Jaida had to put all of her mental energy into fighting off a smug grin. She wanted to choose her words carefully, not wanting to overwhelm an already anxious Jackie. “Since we’re being honest here, that’s kinda what I was aiming for,” at Jackie’s confused reaction, she continued, “you could have been less obvious with your username and how you talk online. Maybe it’s ‘cause I know you so well, but I could read all of your messages in your voice.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

She shrugged. “I didn’t want you to feel pressured to confront how you felt, considering your coming out was still fresh for you. I just wanted you to know that the option was there whenever you were ready.”

There was a silent beat before Jackie swallowed thickly and told her, “I’m ready.”

“Then tell me what you want, baby.”

“I want you to fuck me.” The words felt foreign for Jackie to say, the phrase has never left her lips with any sort of sincerity before. But at the same time, she had never been more certain in her life about what she wanted and how badly she wanted it.

Jaida moved to Jackie, wrapping her arms around her waist and kissing her deeply. “I’m gonna take good care of you, okay?” she promised as they made their way to the bedroom.

And Jackie trusted her, she trusted her more than she would have anyone else in this position. She let Jaida take her to bed, let her take her time undressing her and pressing kisses to every newly exposed inch of skin. She eagerly helped her clothes off as well, letting her hands roam her body in ways she had only fantasized about.

“I don’t want you to be afraid of being loud,” Jaida told her. “I wanna hear you, wanna know how good I’m making you feel.” As she spoke, her fingers glided down Jackie’s body, stopping between her thighs before starting to rub her clit in small, firm circles.

Jackie’s head tilted back into the pillows, soft moans spilling from her lips. Her body yielded to Jaida’s touch and her moans grew louder as the other woman eased one finger into her, thrusting and curling it before adding another and picking up a steady rhythm.

“Good girl,” she praised, trailing kisses down her body. She then slowly eased her fingers out and replaced them with her tongue, licking and thrusting at a similar pace while her fingers moved to rub her clit in tandem.

It wasn’t long before the sensation became overwhelming and Jackie’s hips started to jerk erratically. She barely managed to squeak out a warning before she came harder than she ever had before, her body trembling when she was spent. “Oh my god…”

Jaida came back up and laid beside her. “Are you okay?” she asked softly, pushing the hair out of her face.

“I’m good,” Jackie assured. “I just… I haven’t… it, um…”

“Jackie…” she furrowed her brows and sat up a bit, “have you ever been with a woman before?”

Jackie’s face turned a deep shade of red. “I have, kind of. It’s been hard to work through so many years of repression and internalized homophobia, you know? I’ve made out with girls, fooled around a bit. But I guess no, I’ve never properly had sex with another woman before. I wouldn’t have wanted to put that pressure on you anyway. Besides, I couldn’t have asked for a better first time.”

Jaida exhaled deeply, suddenly becoming aware of the weight that’d built upon her chest. “Then that’s all I needed to hear.”

——

“There’s a birthday party out there tonight,” Gigi remarked offhandedly as they and Lemon got ready in the quick-change room. “I know how much you love those,” they added with an overly exaggerated eye roll.

Lemon groaned. Birthdays and bachelor parties were tied for the worst groups of men to deal with as clients, the only exceptions being the ones that take it as an opportunity to go all out and tip well. “And you’re on the stage next?” she let out another disgruntled whine when they nodded, finishing off her cocktail. “Gonna get a refill, gonna need it for doing rounds.” Naturally, when she went to the bar, she went right to Crystal. The downside was Crystal knew to cut her off after three drinks and she had to flirt with men to keep the drinks coming.

“You’re getting your third one this early?” Crystal questioned as she mixed it for her. “Something on your mind?”

“Nope. Just got a birthday party that’s probably all gonna want lap dances,” she replied, taking a swig as soon as she got the drink in her hand. Sure, it didn’t help that she had seen Scarlett’s instagram post of Priyanka in her wedding dress earlier, but she wasn’t about to hash that out, especially not with the bride-to-be all of four feet away.

And Crystal wasn’t entirely convinced, but she knew there was no use in pushing further. “Well, good luck,” she offered.

Lemon set her empty glass on the counter before making her way through the crowd. It took a little while before she ended up in the vicinity of the group of men, and not long after that, they flagged her down. At first, it was business as usual, though she couldn’t shake the feeling that one of the men seemed familiar.

“Hey Mark,” the man celebrating his birthday remarked, “maybe we should come back here for your bachelor party. I bet Priyanka won’t mind!” he laughed.

That made Lemon freeze in her tracks as it all clicked. She saw red and her blood boiled with a wave of anger and loathing she had never felt before. Something inside of her took over, she hadn’t even realized she had thrown a drink in his face and screamed at him until Kameron was pulling her away and all eyes in the club were on her, including Priyanka’s, who had dropped everything to run over the second she heard Lemon scream.

“Who the hell are you?” Mark asked incredulously.

“I’m who your fianceé thinks about while you’re fucking her,” Lemon snarled while locked in Kameron’s grasp.

It was then that both Mark and Lemon realized Priyanka was right there. “What the fuck is she talking about, Pri?”

Priyanka felt her heart drop into the pit of her stomach as she prayed for the floor to open up beneath her so the ground would swallow her whole. She knew she had been playing a dangerous game, but she could have never predicted that it would blow up in her face this badly. “I-”

“She’s never gonna love you,” Lemon continued with disdain in her voice. But then her tone softened to a calm, albeit distant one. “But don’t worry,” she looked towards Priyanka, their eyes meeting, “she’s never gonna love me either.”

Other than the music playing in the background, the room was silent as Lemon let Kameron take her upstairs to the common room. “How are you feeling?” she asked gently as she sat at the other end of the couch, resting her hand on the smaller girl’s leg. “You really caused a scene back there.”

“Whatever,” she mumbled. “He was gonna find out eventually. You can’t live a lie forever,” she hiccuped as she sprawled her barely-dressed body out. “I need another drink.”

“The only thing you’re drinking is water,” she said sternly, getting up and grabbing a water bottle from the fridge and bringing it back, propping Lemon up enough so she could drink. “I’m gonna call Rosé and have her take you home, I don’t think you should stick around tonight,” she told her as she fished her phone from her pocket.

Lemon nodded and pushed herself to sit up properly. She hung her head down, intentionally hiding her face from Kameron as she sniffled quietly. “Pri’s gonna hate me now, isn’t she?”

Kameron winced, unsure of how honest she should be with someone both drunk and emotionally unstable. “I think once the dust settles, you two are going to have to have a long talk. It’s not gonna be easy, but it’s gonna be the only way you two have a shot at healing.”

“I ruined her marriage.”

She shook her head. “She ruined her marriage the moment she said yes to someone she didn’t want to be with. She probably would’ve gotten cold feet and left him at the altar,” she mused, both out of her honest belief and the hope that she could get Lemon to crack a smile. And once she did, she felt comfortable getting back up and calling Rosé, warning her of exactly what happened.

“I got here as fast as I could,” Rosé announced once she made it upstairs. “Three different guys tried to buy lap dances off me on the way, sorry,” she added before rushing to her cousin’s side. “You’ve done it now, huh, Lem?” she shook her head as she helped her to her feet.

Vanessa emerged from the locker room with the rest of Lemon’s belongings. “Here, you might wanna get her changed before you take her back outta here.”

Kameron furrowed her brows. “You know her locker combination?”

“Um… yes?” she tucked a bobby pin into her back pocket. “This ain’t about me,” she was quick to change the subject and helped Lemon get changed.

Rosé effectively ignored the entire exchange, saying her goodbyes to the other women before driving Lemon back home and getting her changed again, this time into pajamas. “Mik isn’t home, you can sleep in her bed,” she offered.

Lemon chewed her lip for a moment, then shook her head. “Can I stay with you? I just… I don’t wanna be by myself.”

“Of course, baby,” she assured and tucked her into bed. “Do you need anything? Water? Something to eat?”

“Need to wake up in a world where none of this happened.”

Rosé sighed sadly. “Fresh out, unfortunately.” She changed as well before joining her in bed. “Just wake me if you need anything, okay?” When she got a nod of confirmation, she turned the lights off and called it a night.

But that wasn’t the case for Lemon. No, she wouldn’t be so lucky. Even though she had been drunk, the incident replayed in her mind in great detail no matter how many times she tried to shut it off. That, coupled with struggling to sort through the mix of emotions still swirling through her, kept her awake for another hour or so before exhaustion took over and she passed out.

And back at the club, everyone else was left to pick up the pieces of the explosive incident. But as much as the clientele was willing to move past what they’d witnessed, none of the employees could get themselves to carry on. So, with Jackie’s blessing, they called it an early night and nearly everyone went back home.

Priyanka hung back, seeking solace in Jackie’s office, knowing her boss might be the only one that could understand the gravity of the fallout. “What the fuck am I supposed to do now, Jackie? This is effectively outing me to everyone. And I look bad too, they’re gonna find out I’m gay and a cheater in one go. What should I do?”

Jackie sighed, her heart truly breaking for her. “I wish there was an easy answer for this. I think, for now, you just need to get through the night.”

And Priyanka would, though she was afraid to fall asleep, overwhelmed with the need to postpone tomorrow as long as she could, because she had run out of ways to hide or lie her way out of it.

[much-obliged-timothy]

Dad Tim & Uncle Rhys Part 4

Self-indulgence part 4 is here! I’m always amazed when these get any notes at all, so thank you for that! Debating if I want to do a continuation of this part or not, so feel free to let me know if you want part 5 of this to be a continuation of part 4! And if you have no idea what this even is, you can read part one here

Rhys wondered what the hell he was doing as he approached Timothy Lawrence’s house.

Tim had called out of work sick about three days ago, his voice raspy and coughs constantly interrupting him as he tried to assure Rhys he’d work from home when he could manage it. Rhys, despite tending to rely on Tim’s quick turnaround time on assignments he was given, had told Tim to just check in every day until he was ready to return.

Tim had sounded progressively worse each day, and this morning he hadn’t even called. He’d sent a short, apologetic email to Rhys.

Rhys knew Tim had no friends on Promethea. That meant he was trying to look after himself and his son as his illness grew worse.

So pity had overtaken him, and Rhys had made some soup to bring over. He’d check on Tim, see if he needed anything, and then be on his way back to Atlas.

But as he approached the little house Tim lived in, his steps slowed. Was this appropriate? He worked closely with Tim, but they rarely saw each other outside of work, so was it really appropriate to just show up at his house?

But what if Tim needed medical attention? Phoenix was too young to be looking after Tim properly, so it was possible Tim’s condition had grown worse if he was unable to care for himself or get medicine. 

Rhys took a deep breath and walked the rest of the way to the door. Regardless of if Tim liked to tease him and piss him off on occasion, he was a good man and he was Rhys’ employee. Rhys would make sure he was okay and get him medicine or groceries if he needed them. 

Rhys knocked on the door, looking around. Blinds were drawn over all the windows, giving him no preview of the inside of the house. 

He was waiting for so long that he wondered if anyone would answer the door. But then it finally creaked open, Tim leaning heavily in the doorway.

Rhys stared. Tim always wore his mask at work, but he’d taken it off now, Jack’s scarred face on display.

Even more, though, was that it was clear how sick Tim was. His face was flushed with fever, a light sheen of sweat on his skin. He wore plaid pajama pants and an Atlas T-shirt Rhys had given him as a welcome gift, though it clung to him from the sweat. Tim had heavy bags under his eyes, his breathing labored. 

“Rhys,” he croaked.

“I brought...soup?” He held it up helplessly. “Shit, Timothy, you’re bad.”

“You can set that in the kitchen,” Tim said. “I’d take it myself, but I’d probably drop it.”

“Sit down. I’ll take it to the kitchen,” Rhys said.

He followed Tim inside, Tim dragging himself into the living room and over to the couch. It was made up with blankets and pillows, Phoenix sitting in front of it with a toy gun.

“Boss guy,” he said in surprise.

Tim collapsed on the couch, running a hand through Phoenix’s hair. “Go take him to the kitchen, please.”

Phoenix got up, setting his toy gun down and picking up his tattered Hyperion bear. He gestured for Rhys to follow him, leading him into the kitchen.

There was a chair pushed up to the sink, and another pushed up under the microwave. Rhys looked at them curiously.

“I can’t reach,” Phoenix explained. “But I gotta make food for us ‘cause dad’s too sick to get up.”

“He seems really sick,” Rhys said, opening the fridge to put the soup in it.

“He is,” Phoenix said, fidgeting with his bear. “I dunno what to do. He got worse. Is he gonna die?”

“What?” Rhys said in surprise. “No. He just needs medicine and rest. Has he taken medicine?”

“Uh-huh,” Phoenix said. 

“Can you show me what he’s been taking?” Rhys said.

“Uh-huh,” he repeated, wandering from the kitchen. 

Rhys followed him. They passed Tim, who seemed too tired to pay them any mind. Phoenix took Rhys upstairs to a bathroom, pointing at a medicine cabinet.

“It’s in there,” he said.

Rhys opened the medicine cabinet and looked through the various medications Tim kept. They were all over the counter medicines, and Rhys took time to read the labels to see what could be taken together without hurting Tim.

He settled on a few medications, leaving the bathroom with Phoenix trailing behind him. They went downstairs to Tim, who reached out to ruffle Phoenix’s hair.

“‘M okay, pal,” he mumbled. “Just need to sleep a little more.” 

“Here, this should help with your fever,” Rhys said, shaking a pill into his hand and holding it out to Tim. 

Tim took it dry. Rhys realized the glass of water near him was nearly empty anyways.

“Tim, do you need a doctor?” Rhys said. “You look terrible.”

“No, no doctors,” Tim said. “I’m fine. Just gotta rest.”

“Dad, let boss guy help,” Phoenix said, clutching his bear tighter. “I don’t...I don’t want you to die!”

Tim reached out, drawing Phoenix close and trying to sit up so he could hug him. “Hey, I’m not dying. It’s just a fever, Phoenix. But you know I hate doctors.”

Rhys opened his mouth, then shut it. Of course. Tim was surgically altered. Who knew what he’d been through at the hands of Jack’s doctors to make him a perfect doppelganger?

Still, he looked bad right now. Rhys went back upstairs as Phoenix clung to Tim.

He searched around the bathroom until he found a thermometer. He cleaned it off and took it downstairs, holding it out to Tim.

“Take your temperature,” Rhys said. When Tim opened his mouth to refuse, Rhys shot a pointed glance to Phoenix.

Tim deflated a bit and took the thermometer. He placed it under his tongue until it beeped, glancing at it and wincing.

Rhys peeked at it and shot Tim a look. “If it goes any higher, you need to go to the emergency room, Tim. I’ll drag you there myself.”

“I can’t!” Tim protested, having to stop and cough into his arm. “I don’t have anyone to watch my son if I’m laid up in the hospital. And I don’t do well in hospitals, regardless.”

“Dad, stop!” Phoenix said, gripping Tim’s arm. “Stop, you’re sick. Let boss guy help. Please, I don’t want you to die.”

“I’m not going to die, Phoenix,” Tim said. “Hey, can you get me some more water, please? It’ll help me stop coughing.”

Phoenix hesitated, then nodded. He kissed Tim’s cheek and picked up the glass, heading into the kitchen.

“You’re scaring him,” Tim said.

“Me?” Rhys said in disbelief. “You’re the one half dead on the couch.”

“I’ll be okay,” Tim said, slumping back on the couch. “Please, Rhys, I can’t go to the hospital. I’m...I’m terrified of them. And I don’t have anyone to watch my son. I can’t send him back with his mother. We don’t want him back in the casino. But if I’m in the hospital, we won’t have a choice.”

“You can’t take care of him like this,” Rhys pointed out.

Tim pressed a hand to his head like he was in pain. “I know. But at least he’s not separated from me.”

“If it comes down to it, he can stay with me. But if your fever gets higher, you’re going to the hospital,” Rhys said. His eyes widened. “Oh, hell, I just committed myself to that, didn’t I? Dammit, Timothy, you’re a nightmare of an employee.” 

“You won’t need to act on it, because I’m not going to the hospital,” Tim said, looking miserable but stubborn.

Phoenix returned to the room, sitting on the couch by Tim and handing him the water. Tim took a few sips before setting it down.

“Thanks for the soup, Rhys,” Tim said. “You better head out. I’m going to sleep for a little.”

“Oh no,” Rhys said, putting his hands on his hips. “Phoenix, make sure he takes his temperature once an hour. If it goes up from this,” he showed the number on the thermometer, “then you call me and I’ll make sure we get him help.”

“That’s cheating. You can’t use my kid against me!” Tim said.

“I’m gonna tell boss guy if you get any sicker,” Phoenix said, his stubborn expression mirroring Tim’s. 

“God, I wish I never forgot a condom,” Tim groaned, pressing his knuckles to his eyes. “Freaking Jack. I swear he left me fertile just so I could be tormented in this moment. What an absolute dick.” 

“Timothy!” Rhys said, face heating up. He gestured to Phoenix. “Your kid is right there!”

Tim waved a dismissive hand. “He knows I love him, and he knows he’s a pain in the ass.” 

“You’ll make him get help?” Phoenix asked Rhys anxiously.

“If I have to drag him my- Well, probably not myself, because he scares me. But I’ll...make Zer0 drag him to the hospital?” Rhys said. “He’ll go there if he needs to, is my point.” 

“N-Not happ-” Tim fell into a coughing fit, hacking away so hard that Rhys was worried he’d cough up his damn lungs. Phoenix pushed the water into Tim’s hands, rubbing his back as Tim tried to drink a little to calm his fit. 

“Dad, please,” Phoenix said quietly, putting his arms around Tim. “Please let boss guy help.”

Tim looked at his frightened, worried son, and groaned. “Screw both of you. I’m going to sleep. Wake me in an hour to take my goddamn temperature.”

Phoenix looked relieved at his father’s reluctant agreement. Tim tugged a blanket over himself, shivering despite how badly he was sweating.

“Get him something to eat before you leave,” Tim muttered, closing his eyes. “Thanks, Rhys.”

Phoenix tucked Tim in before getting off the couch and going into the kitchen with Rhys. Rhys searched around for something to make for him that wasn’t a microwavable meal.

“You’ll really make sure dad is okay?” Phoenix said, hugging his bear tightly. 

“I...yea, I promise,” Rhys said with a sigh. “But you need to take his temperature every hour, okay? Uh...do you know how long that is? Shit, can you even read numbers?”

“I know how to tell time,” Phoenix said. “Kinda. But I know how long an hour is. And I can’t count that high, but I know three comes after two so I gotta call you if it’s one-zero-three, right?” 

“Right,” Rhys said, surprised. Kid was smarter than he’d given him credit for, that was for sure. “103 is a high-grade fever. He needs to get help if it gets that high.” 

He was at 102.7 right now, which was bad news. Rhys would prefer to get him help now, but he also didn’t want to stress Tim out in his current condition. He hoped the pill he’d given him lowered the fever a little. 

“You need to make sure he drinks a lot of water and juice, okay?” Rhys said. “He needs fluids. And don’t let him get off the couch if he doesn’t need to. He should be resting with a fever like that.” 

He felt bad. This was a lot to put on a kid, but with Phoenix’s distrust and paranoia, it would be hard to bring in help. Rhys couldn’t stay here; he had to get to work before his meeting in an hour and a half. 

“I have to go to work after you eat, but I’ll come back after,” he promised. “You can call me if his fever gets worse, though.”

“Thank you,” Phoenix said, and Rhys was horrified to see tears in his eyes as he hugged his bear. “Everyone always tried to hurt dad, but you don’t hurt him.”

Oh, god. “So, um, um...what do you want to eat! Food. Food is good. Can’t cry if you’re eating!”

Maybe he should see if Vaughn would come be a babysitter. Vaughn would probably be good with the kid. Rhys had no idea how to handle a child.

He got himself busy cooking a meal for Phoenix. Phoenix retrieved his toy gun while he waited, sitting quietly and taking practice shots at some cardboard targets he’d lined up for himself.

Rhys gave him the meal and did the dishes while he ate, deciding to at least help out a little since Tim was too sick to look after the house. Rhys ended up putting away some laundry that had been abandoned long enough in the dryer to go cold, cleaned up the kitchen, and even changed the sheets on Tim’s bed, which he clearly shared with Phoenix despite Phoenix having his own bedroom. 

He woke Tim just long enough to take his temperature, confirming there was no change before letting him pass back out. He got him a fresh glass of water and set medication near the couch, writing out instructions for what Tim should take and how often. He knew Phoenix couldn’t read, but Tim should be able to handle that part himself.

“I’ve got to go,” he said at last. Weird as it was to clean someone else’s house, he was glad he’d stopped by to check on Tim. Phoenix was too young to properly care for Tim or the house. They were going to need help until Tim was better.

“I can call if he gets sicker?” Phoenix said, taking his dad’s hand in his.

“I did say that,” Rhys said, sighing a little. “Yea, call me if he gets worse. And make sure you get some sleep too, okay? I know it’s just you and him, but it shouldn’t be your job to look after an adult when you’re just a little kid.”

“He needs me,” Phoenix said, that stubborn look back on his face. “Dad takes care of me. I gotta take care of him too.”

“Alright,” Rhys said, raising his hands. “Just get some sleep tonight, Phoenix. You don’t want to get sick, too.” 

“Thanks, boss guy,” Phoenix said, getting up to walk him to the door. 

Rhys hesitated, then reached out and ruffled his hair like he’d seen Tim do, although he was a lot more awkward about it. Phoenix winced a little at the sudden touch, but he didn’t freeze up like he did when he thought someone was going to hurt him.

He stared up at Rhys, with a surprisingly contemplative expression. Finally, he nodded to himself.

He held out a fist to Rhys. Rhys stared at it before awkwardly bumping his own fist to it.

“Thanks for being good to my dad,” he said.

“Oh,” Rhys said. “Uh, right. Of course. He’s, uh, he’s my employee after all. Even if you’re both pains in the ass, I’ll...I’ll look out for you.”

Tim had been a good, loyal employee. It was the least Rhys could do, especially knowing the situation Tim and Phoenix came from.

He left the house, waving to Phoenix before he shut the door. He heard the lock click before he walked away from the door.

Shit. Rhys really hoped Tim got better, because he didn’t think he could handle Phoenix’s separation anxiety and Tim’s fear of hospitals at the same time.