#ever get an idea when your barely awake and think I should write that but immediately fall back asleep

[elithemiar-blog]

KimChay reconciliation and a bit of Porsche & Chay

Let me know what ya think. First time writing for this fandom, Kim may be a bit OOC, but I tried.

--

The garden had darken under the fall of the sun, stars climbing over the horizon as the moon stays hidden. The gorgeous bright almost neon colors in a sea of pastel that is normally seen at all times in this new life of violence and retribution, revenge and agony, of the mystery if a puzzle will finally provide the details hidden in the message when the puzzle will be solved.

Only to find that the puzzle solved is only a piece of a much larger scale.

The green foliage of the shrubs that surround the compound is a vivid reminder that even though the ones he loves are alive doesn't mean that they are safe. Drops, much like his own tears at one time, fall from the leaves and absorb into the soil to fuel growth, and even help the seedlings that have yet to sprout.

He can't help but think of himself, falling for so long and hard after a brief time of warmth in a struggle of fending off the cold, and seeing the small things to get through until the next day.

Now, even the white posts that hold the small gazebo, he can only see as gray.

And the ceiling that he would normally see as maybe a dark brown, is as black as the sky is right now.

His head hangs back, neck burning at the angle as he tries to reach the railing to rest on but unable to, instead he feels chill of water droplets hitting his forehead.

Flinching at first, as the uncomfortable feeling of dry to wet, of warm to cold shocks his skin, he calms, the different spectrums becoming soothing.

"If you want to get wet, I'll sneak you over to the pool."

His eyes open to see the border between the sky and the wood of the shelter ceiling, not remembering when he shut them in the first place. Raising his head until meeting the almost guilt wrecked gaze of his brother, but he doesn't speak, just turns his head back down, hands already twisting in his lap and brushing his own calluses on his finger tips.

Rough but gentle hands brushing over his shoulders, skin barely touching skin that sent goosebumps down his arms and ricocheting back into his heart that gave him the courage to speak up, and release the bound feelings inside.

"Chay."

His brother calls again, and still doesn't answer. He shifts until is back is against one of the corners, but his front still staying facing the entrance. Something that he has felt the need to do as of recent, startled several times already with the guards coming up behind him. He feels safer seeing the way in, and exactly who is standing there.

He tucks is legs up on the bench, one leg bending to lean against the railing while the other stays tucked under, hands gripping that leg in an act of self comfort.

"Chay."

He swallows, knowing that this is a conversation has to happen, no matter how much he wants to avoid the nerves, "What?" Where is his courage to battle through those nerves like last time.

Porsche sits next to him, and with his brother being for more proficient at keeping them safe he turns his gaze to his hands, feeling the weird soft material that the oldest brother of the mafia sons had procured for him.

He heard his brother sigh, and the near choking feeling climbs and builds in his throat, but he's so tired of crying, of seeming weak. Another hand hovers over his, then pulls away.

"I know we haven't talked in a while, with everything going on, I just thought that you need time to…let everything settle."

He nods, that was one way of putting it.

"You've changed, Chay. These spontaneous decisions aren't you."

"And what if they are?" he challenges back, softly, barely a whisper between them.

A small smile appears unbidden on his brother's face, "Because I know you. I've seen you angry, happy, sad, nervous, and even petty. I've practically raised you, but you're acting like -- " he sucked in a breath, "Who hurt you, Chay?"

"Does it matter?"

"Yes, tell me their name and I'll go take care of them."

He could, but there was only two, and for once he's tired of holding back the hurt. "You can't take care of yourself."

Porsche flinches back.

"I understand why, I really do, but you couldn't tell me the truth? At least hinted that what you were involved with wasn't legal?" he quickly wipes away the single tear that had escaped, sniffling.

"I didn't think you'd approved."

"Obviously, I didn't matter -- " snapping his mouth shut, the frustration voicing his darker thoughts.

Porsche's voice pitched as he spoke, "You are the reason I took this, our money problems are no more and even if I declined on my death bed, I'm pretty sure we would've been here anyway."

He chokes out a laugh, barely making it past the lump in his throat that still remains there.

Porsche observes him for a moment before nodding along, though concern still evident. "At least you're feeling something."

The corner of his lips tucked up slightly, at least one of them can still see the bright side.

"Who else?"

If there is one thing Chay knows of himself, he can't lie, not to Porsche, no matter how much he really wants to. "Nothing worth your time."

"You're worth everything." he replies. "When everything started to go down before the coup, I thought of taking you and running, escaping while there was still a chance. Then just like that, answers started come, secrets being revealed, and the amount of a hassle there had been of someone trying to keep everything hidden."

"I don't think Kinn," and Kim, he wants to believe, "wouldn't try to follow if we tried."

"And about a dozen bodyguards." Porsche agreed. "I just want you safe, that's all."

He rolls his eyes, "I know."

Porsche opens his arms, inviting the younger for a hug, and this time Chay doesn't deny the embrace hiding his face into his brother's shoulder. "I haven't forgotten that you hadn't revealed a name, but…I'll wait until you're ready."

Nodding back, and seeing the garden around them makes him feel a little lighter.

"Come back to the party when you're ready. I'll keep them distracted for as long as I can."

With one final look, Chay turned his back, refusing to witness Porsche leaving.

His heart felt a little lighter, being able to get through that without the yelling he fearfully expected, for a moment thinking that his brother found out about his outings, and how he'd been followed home, and by who.

The feeling of being watched, eyes penetrating into his back, and he could only think of one single person who would genuinely be watching over him, and that person just left. His heart thumps thinking that it could be the other person, the same person that keeps an eye on him for some reason other than a duty.

"I don't know why you continue to follow me when you've never cared!" he shouts, the accusation on his tongue tingling, taking a breath to release another statement.

"I never said I didn't care." a mellow-toned voice whispers.

Chay whips around, "Then what was with the apology?" the anger that had surfaced immediately dropped back down at seeing the cold, frigid eyes that gazed back. "Kim?"

"Chay, I -- " his gaze turned away, jaw clenching, his hands though hidden in the pockets of that leather jacket, could still be seen forming into fists. He leaned back on his heel, already twisting to walk away.

"Why should I stay, when you won't?"

Kim is forced to pause at that question, his body a quarter of the way twisted back to exit the structure, slowly he met Chay's gaze over his shoulder. "Would you have? If you knew?"

"I don't know." incredulous at the question, but hopeful, "Not like you gave me a choice!" He suddenly stood, finding more strength than he had all week, and nearly stood toe to toe in front of Kim. "I can see why you wouldn't answer any question in the vicinity of this place, from what very little I could figure out, but why hurt me?"

Kim didn't move, just stated straight into the doe-eyes that had haunted him, but at the very least no tears were shedding.

"Did you enjoy playing me like a fiddle? Enjoy that I had been so easy to get information out of? Enjoy--"

"Enjoy our time as if breathing sunlight?"

Chay blinked, "Then why hurt me?"

"Safer --"

"For who?!" he snapped, those frustrated tears threatening to re-run their course down his cheeks.

Kim barely stopped himself from reaching out, shifting so minutely that no-one could've noticed.

"For me? Or for yourself?"

Frustration and anxiety with a brush of hope shifted through Kim's veins, and he couldn't stop his next words, "I can't let my own father know of any weaknesses!"

The sheer vulnerability that reflected in his eyes, of regret, fear, and so much more made Chay's own emotions freeze, his hands rose scrubbing over his eyes, and he turned away, moving back toward the bench he'd been on to curl up as if he's a defenseless child.

Kim reached out, hand missing the fabric of his shirt to hold him there. Tamping down the panic that pierced his heart, as he witnesses Chay turn his back on him, to look out into the garden. A part of him knows that he should leave, and he realized that he's a coward, the beauty in front of him having so much courage for the both of them.

And maybe it could be enough.

Chay lets the tears roll into his sleeve, hearing the footsteps, so light as he's sure Kim is walking away.

"For both of us."

Stunned, the younger turns to give him his full attention, but stays silent.

"If my father knew about our connection he'd use that to tie me into this family again, he'd put your life in danger to get me to cooperate." He sits, turning his head to the garden, being unable to meet the inquisitive gaze just yet. "I knew early on that you didn't know anything, and even after trying to cut contact, you persisted."

"Alright, so attracted to stubbornness?"

"No." Kim glances back to see Chay, insecurities showing through as the younger's shoulders dropped. Panic of a different kind squeezed his heart as he struggled to say something. Than an idea came through the fog, "What do you see in the garden?"

Chay shrugs, "Bushes, foliage, might be some rose bushes." he sees colors, various ones, "What's that got to do with anything?"

"Humor me. What did you think initially?"

"It's calm, quiet, even without the sunlight or the moon, it's beautiful."

Kim, missed the exaggerated hand movements, that showed there was nothing that could be hurt him in those hands. "I see where cameras can be placed, I see places to hide, I see an open area with very few places to use as a barrier in case of another fight. I see things that could be used as a weapon, and even though we are a bit further from the main building, there are cameras that point in this direction."

"I -- "

"This is my world."

"Okay, I can see your point." he nodded, once, "How would keeping me in the dark protect me, if I don't know what I'm being protected from? If I'm in danger, I have a right to know that, so I can protect myself, so I know what to look for."

"I was hoping Porsche would take you and run." he mutters out, "I didn't know about your mother."

"But you knew something." Chay shakes his head, getting his thoughts back on the reason they're here, "What do you want?"

"Whatever you'll give me." his answer rushes out as he exhales.

Chay wants to go back to whatever they had on the base of lies, to go back to that comfort, but he knows that he needs to know Kim without the pretentions of an investigation. To know all sides of him, even the ones he tries to keep hidden. Memories flashed back to Hum's Bar floor, he's not exactly happy about the killing, but at the same time he's grateful, satisfied in a weird way of Kim's ability to protect him.

Kim, will deny to anyone else that he did not perk up at watching Chay unblock his number, a thrumming in his veins that gives in the urge to be able to reach him again.

"I'll let you know."

[thewintersoldierdisaster]

a/n: hey there! i never actually planned on writing a sequel to ‘9 pm’ but a few anons asked about it and i liked the idea of giving them some happiness following that fic! the perfect title gave me the idea for the fic and here we are ☺️ i hope you guys enjoy!!

word count: 2.8k

tw: brief and minor mention of a miscarriage, pregnancy

direct sequel to 9 p.m. in vancouver

summary: andrei’s off on a road trip and you’re more exhausted than normal. once you realize why, you have to call andrei immediately

It’s barely ten at night and you’re falling asleep on the couch, Friends rerun playing at a low volume on the TV. Your blinks get longer, eyelids heavy, while Joey yells about the Coast Guard.

A yawn creaks at your jaw and you try to blink away some of the sudden exhaustion in your body. It doesn’t really work, another yawn catching you a few minutes later. You wrap your arms around one of the throw pillows, cheek smashed up against the pillow tucked under your head.

It’s been a long few days, work overwhelming you and Andrei up in the tri-state area for a mini road trip. The Canes had lost to the Flyers before beating the Devils. They’re currently up two goals on the Rangers, according to your NHL app updates, with just a few minutes left in the third.

The team will spend the night in the city before heading to Long Island for the second half of a back to back tomorrow.

It’s a grueling schedule so early in the season, four games in six days, and you know Andrei will be exhausted when he gets home on Monday morning. At least they’re off for two days before hitting the ice for a home game on Wednesday. You yawn again and decide vaguely that maybe you’ll go to the game, if you can keep your eyes open. It’s been a while since you went to the arena and you miss watching Andrei play live.

You can’t help but think briefly about the game in Vancouver last November, almost a year ago now, and your hand drifts to your stomach.

The baby would’ve been four months old, probably keeping you wide awake right now.

You don’t really think about the loss as much anymore, you can go long stretches of time without thinking about him - because you’d decided that it was a boy, even though it was too early to ever tell. Your due date had come around at the end of July and Andrei had spirited you out of the country, the both of you quiet and moody for a few days.

And then training camp had started and you’d gotten busy with work and then the season started and you didn’t dwell on the loss for a while.

But now it’s late and you’re tired and you haven’t seen Andrei in a few days and you should be cuddling a baby right now.

A few tears trickle down your temple and you swipe at them, emotion clogging your throat.

“God, get a grip,” you mutter to yourself, shaking your head slightly. It’s not even like you’re on your period to be so hormonal right now. Your brain takes a second to process the thought and when it does, your eyes widen and you kick your legs out, struggling with the blanket to try and sit up.

“Oh, oh my god,” you scramble for your phone, tossing blankets around until you hear the tell-tale thunk of the phone hitting the floor. You lunge for it, the TV remote going flying, but you barely pay attention to that as your fingers wrap around the loop on the back of your phone case and snatch it off the floor.

Your hands shake violently as you unlock your phone and thumb over to find your period tracker app. The app takes seconds to load, seconds where your heart beats wildly and your vision goes a little blurry. You mutter, “come on, faster, faster,” under your breath and suddenly the screen loads and there in the center of the screen, in bold font, is the notice that your period has been late for more than thirty days.

You’ve missed two periods.

Without even realizing it.

To be fair to yourself, after the miscarriage, everything was thrown off and you’ve only had seven or eight periods in the past year. So it’s not totally crazy that you didn’t realize you missed two cycles.

Your stomach lurches a little bit and you chew at your lower lip. You probably should take a test. But do you want to know without Andrei, again?

It didn’t work out so well last time.

You’re probably not even pregnant, you rationalize, it’s the stress of a new season starting and your body getting back to normal.

Never mind the fact that you’ve long been cleared to get pregnant again and your gynaecologist hadn’t said anything was wrong at your last appointment.

Your phone vibrates in your hand, nearly scaring the shit out of you. It’s just a notification from the NHL app - sometime in the last few minutes, while you’d been spiralling, the Rangers had tied the game and it was going to overtime.

Overtime anxiety is better than maybe-pregnant anxiety, so you tune into Bally, the sudden brightness of the glare off the ice making you blink. You’re half-heartedly paying attention, fingers tapping against your thigh while the players zip up and down the ice, trading scoring chances. Andrei’s on the ice for a shift and then he’s back on the bench. Pyotr makes a save and then another and then he doesn’t.

You frown at the TV, watching Andrei and the guys file off the ice, miserable for the team’s loss. You change the channel back to Nick at Nite, not interested in seeing the post-game analysis of the loss.

The audience laughter from the show echoes around the living room and you chew at your lower lip anxiously. Andrei won’t be back to his hotel room for hours, the post-game process already underway, but between media, a shower, and the travel. Well, it’ll be at least close to midnight before you can talk to him.

He’ll reassure you that you’re overthinking, that it’s nothing. But a quiet part of your brain is insistent that you’re pregnant and it just won’t shut up.

The smartest thing would be to take a test, find out once and for all if you’re even going to mention anything to Andrei. You’re pretty sure there’s no tests left after last time and if there are, they’re probably expired.

Your fingers tap at the screen of your phone almost by memory, the Google search showing that there’s a twenty-four hour CVS just a ten minute drive away.

The episode ends and another begins while you sit on that information, giving yourself a moment to imagine what you’ll do if the test is positive. He has to know immediately this time, you don’t think you’d be able to wait.

“Oh fuck it,” you mutter to yourself, pushing the blankets off your legs and getting up from the couch. Your vision goes fuzzy, briefly, the blood rushing from your head. You blink and everything shifts back into focus, your heart hammering a little.

Before you can overthink it, you turn off the TV and head for the front door, making a stop at the front hall closet to grab a jacket. Your fingers close around the sleeve of one of Andrei’s, the jacket dwarfing your frame as you slip your arms into the sleeves. You shove your feet into a ratty pair of Uggs and drop a faded Canes ball cap on your head.

You look insane, more like a college kid doing a walk of shame than a married woman, but Andrei’s scent embedded deep into the collar of his jacket is comforting you.

At CVS, you grab at the pregnancy test boxes like a woman possessed - Clear Blue, First Response, and the CVS generic brand all go into your basket, along with a bag of pumpkin shaped Reese’s Cups and a pack of Twizzlers. Something about the waxy, artificial strawberry ropes seems appealing right now.

Thank God for self-checkout, you don’t think you can face another person right now.

The pregnancy tests feel like they weigh a million pounds in the plastic bag and you gnaw anxiously on a Twizzler as you drive back home.

It’s well after midnight by the time you manage to drink enough water in order to pee on all the sticks and this round is more anxiety producing than when you’d done it over a year ago. Once you’re done, you set the timer on your phone and flip each stick over on the counter, so you can’t see the displays.

Instead of waiting in the bathroom, which is feeling small and stuffy despite how large it actually is, you pace around your bedroom for the few minutes it takes for your timer to count down. You wonder if you could call Andrei now, be on the phone with him when you look at the display, but if you’re not pregnant and he’s on the phone, he’ll be disappointed right before the next set of games. He’s been talking about it a little more lately, in the abstract, how nice it’ll be to have a baby one day. And you maybe haven’t been as enthusiastic as he’s been, so you don’t want to get his hopes up.

If you’re not pregnant, Andrei doesn’t need to know that you worried yourself into a tizzy over nothing.

But if you are? Well, Andrei will be the first call anyway.

The timer goes off on your phone and the sudden, shrill noise makes you jump. Your stomach lurches and you flatten your palm over it. Underneath the anxiety, there’s a little bubble of excitement growing, the thought of a baby providing a little spark of joy.

You wander back into the bathroom and close your eyes before flipping the tests over with shaking hands.

The plastic clatters against the countertop and you squint one eye open and then the other, vision focusing on the little displays.

“Oh!” You gasp, eyes immediately filling with tears, hands flying up to cover your mouth.

All three are positive, the little Clear Blue display declaring you ‘Pregnant’ in tiny letters.

Tears slip down your cheeks and you start giggling wildly, overwhelmed in the best possible way. Your hands press on your stomach, palms flat and fingers splayed.

“Hey there, baby,” you murmur, looking down. “Stay safe in there, okay? We want to meet you.”

The tears fall faster and you wipe at them with your shoulder, a damp splotch forming on the fabric of your sweatshirt. It’s so late, but you need to tell Andrei, and you move on autopilot, climbing onto your bed and finding your phone among the messy covers - the bed hasn’t been made in two days because Andrei is more of a stickler for that than you are and you like to get right back into the nest of blankets at the end of the day. It’s on your list of things to do before he’s back in a few days. Now, you pile yourself into a little cocoon of the blankets and comforters, warm and happy.

You text him first, just a quick ‘you awake?’ that you know he’s going to read as a request for phone sex.

True enough, your phone vibrates in your hand a few seconds later, Andrei’s name at the top of the screen. You grin and slide the bar to answer, “hey there.”

“Is late,” he replies, a faint laugh in his tone. “Thought you would be sleeping.”

“No,” you giggle, feeling a little unhinged. “Not asleep. Couldn’t sleep. Um, are you alone?”

Your husband laughs fully now, the sound echoing over the line. “Solnyshka, been a long day. I love you, but we have early morning,” he teases and the rumble of his voice makes you smile.

“No, not for that you perv,” you shoot back, twisting your fingers in a loose thread. “I wanted to talk to you about something.”

You know you’re sounding vague and strange, but to his credit, Andrei doesn’t call you out on it. Instead, he’s quiet for a second before your phone vibrates against your ear, signalling an incoming text. You pull the phone from your ear and tap over to your messages, laughing when you see the picture Andrei just sent.

The hotel room is nearly pitch black, but you can still make out the shape of Martin Nečas passed out in his bed with what looks like an eye mask covering his face. Andrei’s grinning face is cut off in the corner of the picture.

“Guess that’s a yes then,” you smile, bringing the phone back to your ear.

“Neci has earplugs in too,” Andrei informs you. “Says I snore, which is lie.”

It’s not, but you don’t feel like relitigating that particular point with him right now. So you move on.

“I know I should’ve waited, done something cute, but I’m bursting,” you let the words come out in a rush, feeling lightheaded with excitement. “I couldn’t, I had to tell you right away, Drei, baby, I’m pregnant.”

Andrei’s silent on the other end and a slightly manic laugh bubbles out of your mouth while you wait for him to say something.

“Pregnant?” He repeats, sounding like he’s just taken a blow to the stomach - winded and hoarse. “Like, with baby?”

“Yeah, mhm,” you hum, just letting the news soak in. Andrei’s breathing is audible in your ear, a soft ‘huh’ puffing out.

He starts to laugh and you can hear the grin in his voice when he says, “oh, solnyshka, fuck, I’m… ya chertovski schastliv.”

He slips into Russian and you’re not totally familiar with the words, but he repeats them in English, “I’m so fucking happy. Are you okay? How you feel?”

“I’m okay, I was feeling a little tired earlier,” you say. “That’s kind of why I took the test, just to see.”

Without asking, Andrei switches the call to a FaceTime and you pull the phone back, his grinning face taking up the entire screen. He looks lighter and happier than he has in months and the sight of him, of that smile that you love so much, makes you emotional.

“I wish I could kiss you,” he shakes his head, still smiling. “Hold you, something other than smile like idiot on phone.”

“I’m just happy to see your smile,” you say truthfully. A hug wouldn’t be unwelcome, but just seeing Andrei’s face has you calmer. “It’s late,” you continue, catching sight of the time in the top left corner of your phone - nearly 1:30 in the morning. “You should get some sleep.”

The adrenaline is starting to wear off now and you slump back against the pillows and headboard.

Andrei nods. “Call me when you get up,” he requests, phone bouncing slightly as he shifts on the bed. “We leave early, but call any time, okay?”

“Okay,” you promise, pressing your lips together to smother a yawn. “Hey, I love you.”

“Ya tebya lyublyu,” Andrei replies in Russian, warm and awed. “You and baby, both.”

You’re both quiet for a bit, comfortable and sleepy, reluctant to end the call. You just want to enjoy his long-distance presence and this little bubble, but eventually Martin lets out a snore on his side of the room, startling you since you forgot he was there. Andrei laughs faintly and reluctantly ends the call, after telling you he loves you again.

Now that Andrei knows, your whole body relaxes and you sink happily into the nest of blankets and pillows, curled up in a c-shape, one hand on your stomach.

There’s a million things to figure out in the coming days, weeks, and months, a million worries to ruminate on, but for now, you fall asleep with a smile on your face and pure happiness bubbling in your stomach.

The next morning, you snooze your alarm and allow yourself to wake up slowly and lazily. It’s an easy morning and you don’t plan on getting out of bed until you hear the doorbell ring.

With a grumble, you climb out of bed and shove your feet into a pair of slippers to pad downstairs, wondering who could be at the door this early.

It’s a delivery man, half-hidden behind a huge bouquet of flowers. You accept it, surprised at the delivery but not at the sender.

The oversized bouquet made up of baby roses, baby’s breath, and a few other types all in various shades of baby pink and baby blue can only be from your husband. Your face hurts from the size of your smile and you dig out the little card from between a pale pinks rose and a light blue hydrangea.

���I love you, we will celebrate as soon as I am home. A hug and a kiss from New York for you, mama. -A’

It’s not Andrei’s handwriting, but you trace your fingers over the letters and feel tears well up. Any concerns or worries you might have about having a baby are pushed aside.

Andrei’s going to be the best dad and you’re so lucky to be doing this with him.

[modern-gremlin]

Morning Errands | Sebastian SDV — Married Life 🔞

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Pairing: Sebastian (SDV) x afab!reader

Summary: You need Sebastian's help with beginning-of-season errands. If only there was a way you could "wake him up".

Tags: Husband!Sebastian, Smut, established relationship, detailed descriptions of sex, a dash of fluff. NSFW Tags below the cut.

Word Count: 2,900 (I did it, a fic under 5,000 words lol) A/N: Fun Fact — this idea started as a non-SDV related adult animation concept I was in early development of. I unfortunately do not have a lot of time for animating things anymore, so it's definitely more feasible to write it down. PLUS, I just love quickly shooting these stories out — better spat out here than rotting in my brain!!

It was really fun to rewrite it to fit the Stardew Valley world; I think it just gives me so much more to work with. Especially when it comes to writing about the world in detail. (and I get to feed my Sebastian brainworms <33) Hope you enjoy the read xoxo

NSFW Tags: morning sex, foreplay (dry humping), some dirty talk (mostly teasing), oral (male receiving), overstimulation, creampie

"Seb? Seeeeebb, it's 6:40," you say softly with a gentle shake of his arm, "we gotta get going." Still unwilling to move from his comfortable spot on the bed, Sebastian stifles a sleepy groan in response. It's always been hard to wake him up — that's something you knew even before you married him. Working freelance comes with the blessing and curse of setting your own work schedule, which means late night cramming sessions are a normal occurrence. You don't really blame him for wanting to sleep in, but today, he promised to help you with your ever-growing list of morning chores.

You run your fingers through his hair, lightly brushing the dark strands off his cheek with the back of your fingers. He just looks so peaceful when he's asleep; it's really such a shame to wake him up like this. Especially when he wraps his arm around you to cuddle against your thigh. It's almost tempting to sink yourself back into his arms and shut the whole world away under the protection of your shared bed covers. Almost — but you know better than to underestimate your beginning-of-season errands. It doesn't help that you also agreed to host a family dinner with Robin and Demetrius this evening. So much to do, so little time. In hindsight, you wish you planned this all a little better.

With a little more force this time, you try to shake him awake. "Mmph… just a few more minutes…" he mumbles while releasing his arms from your thigh, now lying on his back. At least he's able to get a few words out. That's a good sign, you think to yourself. You head toward your bathroom, hoping that by the time you're done brushing your teeth he'll be sitting upright. Maybe.

A soft, cool breeze enters the small opening of your window as you pass through the hallway. It's remarkable how quickly the seasons change in the valley. From your view in the bathroom, you can catch a glimpse of your summer crops, now reduced to wilted clumps in the soil. You'll definitely need Seb's help with this today. You take a little extra time to brush your teeth and wash your face, trying to buy him time to get up. He's gotta be awake by now, right?

You're not surprised to see him still splayed on the bed, eyes just barely fluttering at the sound of your footsteps entering the room. "Seb, it's almost 7 now. I really need your help," you plead sweetly, hoping the cute tone you've adopted would prompt him to move with more haste. He just smiles and offers a curt, "Mhm," in response, eyes still shut. Wow, he's really out of it, huh? You might need to switch strategies.

If you married Sebastian knowing that he's not exactly a morning person, he should also count on the fact that you're always up for a little bit of mischief — because now, you've got a plan that's basically foolproof. Creeping up to the bed, you slowly plant a knee on each side of his body to gently straddle his lap. With your chest pressed against his, you place kisses on his face. "Sebby, come on" you whisper tenderly into his ear, "you can get up for me, can't you?" He lets out an amused huff out of his nose and wraps an arm around the small of your back. He's definitely more awake now, but perhaps a little more provocation will do the trick.

You kiss along his jaw down to the side of his neck, playing with the collar of his t-shirt with your fingers. His eyes lazily open when you stop, now meeting his gaze from where your cheek rests on his chest. "Morning, sleepyhead. Remember those errands I need help with?" you tease. He lovingly smirks at your remark, placing a hand on your head to gently stroke your hair.

"Mm… what time is it?" he asks in a raspy voice. You answer his question with a light pinch of his cheek,

"Probably seven, by now. We're running a little late, y'know?"

The fact that 7AM is considered late to you is something he's still getting used to. If left to his own devices, he'd absolutely sleep the day away and have his breakfast at 3PM. Yet, he tries his best to slip into your daily schedule because that'd mean he'd get more time to see your face throughout the day, wouldn't it? But you know what they say, old habits die hard, and right now his old habits have him basically glued to the bed.

"What are the chances I can convince you to push these errands to tomorrow?" he asks cheekily.

"Hm… slim to none," you reply. "With the dinner party today and the fair coming up in a few weeks, it's gonna be really tough to–" You notice his eyes droop as you speak. "Seb?" He startles awake at the sudden call of his name.

"M' sorry, babe. Promise I'm not doing it on purpose," Sebastian rubs his eyes and yawns. "It's just... hard to stay awake."

With a smile, you shake your head and sigh, "what am I gonna do with you?"

"Hm…I don't know. What are you going to do with me?" He places his hands onto your back again, looking down at you with a suggestive smirk.

Leaning in closer to his face, just barely grazing your mouth over his, you whisper, "I might have a few ideas."

Placing your hands around his neck, thumbs resting against his jaw, you pull him closer into a deep kiss. He tightens the grip around your waist in response, pulling you closer toward him. God, if he wasn't awake a few minutes ago, he definitely is waking up now. He takes your mouth into his, enveloping your lips entirely and gently brushing them with his tongue. You can feel your pulse quickening as your breasts press firmly against him; an urge slowly building and itching at you from below. Unable to contain yourself, you lower your hips to grind against the thick bulge beneath you. You can't help but smile at how hard he already is; grinning against his tongue.

You pull away to shift your weight onto his clothed cock, gasping at how it rubs against you. "At least one part of you is up," you jeer, rocking slow movements against his length. He muses at your words and brushes his hair away from his face, granting him a better view of your body on top of his.

"Can you blame me?" he smiles, his sleepy eyes scanning your form. Running thumbs underneath the hem of your shirt, he gingerly lifts up the fabric to reveal your bare chest steadily bouncing at the rhythm your clothed pussy rubs against him. "Fuck me," he gasps breathily, "what a way to wake up."

His exasperation makes you laugh, motivating you to grind your hips with more fervour. "I'm glad this is working," you admit, "because we have just– so much– to do…" Your words are broken up with every sway of your hips. He pulls your shirt off your arms as you continuously pleasure yourself with his dick, moaning and creating a wet spot on his boxers. He just watches as you use him, in absolute awe by how your body reacts to his. His head slowly falls backward onto the pillow, closing his eyes to take in the stimulation. Then suddenly, you stop.

His eyes dart open again at your weight being lifted off his lap, ready to pull you back onto him. You move his hands away and lower your face to his lap. "Nuh uh. You gotta wake up," you chastise before pulling down his boxers. He groans breathily when his thick cock springs free, smacking his toned stomach from the speed of your movements. Without warning, you spit on his tip and run your palm against his shaft, causing him to tense at the sudden sensation. For a while, he can only stare at you with furrowed brows and complete admiration.

"I should sleep in more often," he teases while grinning at his own remark. But soon his sly grin is replaced by a strained grit because you wrap your fingers around his fat length, stroking him at an unfair pace. He perches himself up by the elbows, watching you fist his cock from base to tip. "Fuck, baby. You gotta slow down or ill–" You lower yourself to lick his balls, dragging your way up the shaft.

"Can't, Sebby," you say, stopping at the tip. "Can't have you falling asleep on me." Taking his length in your hand, you guide his cock into the warmth of your mouth, swirling your tongue around the head.

He instinctually places his hands on the top of your head as he throws back his own. The bed gently shakes at the bobbing of your head, catching and swallowing his length into your throat. It's all so sudden; so frustratingly sexy that he can hardly take it. With the hand that grips at your hair, he tries to pry you off him — hoping to gain some reprieve. But this only invites you to suck on him with more excitement. It's just too hard to resist when he praises you in his gravelly, morning voice. "Holy fuck, babe. You're too good at tha–" You can feel his cock twitch in your mouth as he pushes you away from him; he must be close.

With a gentle tug of your hair, you give in and pull away. You and Sebastian heave heavily, the latter trying to regain his composure. He's usually the one to make you melt underneath him, so you can't help but marvel at his flustered expression. "You awake now?" you triumph with a mischievous smile. He picks himself up to stare into you; the look in his eyes tell you that you're in for it now.

Releasing his grip, he sits himself upright and leans toward you. "Hm, yeah. I think I am," he says while returning your expression, "turn around."

Without a question, you turn yourself around, resting your chest on the bed while lifting your ass toward him. You wiggle your hips tauntingly in his direction until you're greeted by a firm smack — a small yelp escapes your lips from the impact. "So impatient," he chides while soothing the sting with his palm, "well, you got what you wanted. I'm up." He slaps your ass again before leaning behind you, pressing his chest to your back to whisper into your ear, "unless…there's something else you wanted."

Just the sound of his condescending tone sends shivers down your spine, and he knows it. He hooks a finger by your dripping slit and tugs at your underwear, causing the fabric to bundle tightly against your clit. All semblances of your mischief has disappeared, vanished with his scolding and now you're moaning his name into the covers. You can tell he's enjoying every lewd noise you make, because now he's tugging at your panties harder, trying to elicit a bigger reaction.

"Well, now that I'm awake, let's go over our to-do list, hm?" He releases your underwear, only to slip his cock beneath the fabric and vigorously rub your clit.

"Seb… I can't–" you plead, eager to feel him plunge inside you. He places his hands on your waist, stroking soothing circles with his thumbs against your back.

"Don't worry, baby. You'll get it, after we go through the list. Okay?" he coos.

Stumbling your words in between moans, you begin listing the day's tasks. "W-we… need to clear off the crops…and prepare the fields."

"Mhm," he hums while wetting his tip along your slit. "What's next?"

"Clear off the weeds in front of the b-baaaarn–" You words shake as he teases your entrance with his tip, gliding it to catch your slick. "Then go to Pierre's… to pick up ingredients for tonight." Your legs quiver as he prods your wet cunt, not fully entering.

"Is there…anything else?" Sebastian meaninglessly asks, his own voice getting shaky in anticipation. He doesn't really care what's on the to-do list, not at the moment at least. No doubt he'll have to ask about it later, because all he cares about now is making you beg to be railed.

"We might also need to–" This time, he slowly pushes his cock through your wet folds, slipping himself inch by inch into your cunt until his thighs are flush against you. His size fills you entirely, stopping any words from escaping your mouth.

He lets out a breathy moan as he feels your pussy clench around him, still gritting his teeth to continue, "We might need to what? I didn't… catch the last part." He nearly pulls himself out entirely while waiting for your response.

"We…might need to–" You breathe in heavily while his dick pulses inside you. "Seb, please," you beg in a petulant tone. Your cries are so needy and desperate, but you don't care. There's no pride between you two, only true love and the aching desire to be fucked. Lucky for you, the feeling is mutual. Deciding he's equally impatient, he fucks his full length back into you.

"I think I get the gist," he says with a satisfied smile before plunging himself in and out of your cunt. He so badly wants to praise how well you took his teasing, but he's almost completely breathless. Lost for words at how tight you are, how well your pretty pussy takes him, and utterly smitten by the way you moan his name between thrusts. He wants to pound more of them out of you — a reminder to everyone in town that you've chosen him and he's the one fucking you the way you deserve.

Really, this is just one of the many moments he's reminded just how lucky he is. He feels so lucky that you decided to move to this boring town. So lucky that you stuck around despite his icy exterior, and miraculously lucky that you fell in love with him. Now he gets to wake up beside you everyday, fuck you like no one else can, and navigate life's mundanities with the person he loves. Morning errands be damned; nothing ever feels like a chore now that you're his.

He pounds you harder now — as if he's trying to bury his intentions deep inside you so you can feel his gratitude. Because even all his sly remarks and bullied thrusts are just another way of praising you; another way to tell you he loves you without saying it out loud. Your pussy clenches down on him so tightly, grasping onto his praises like your life depended on it. Ready to cum all over his cock to confirm that you feel the same. But even if your cunt wasn't being obvious, your words certainly were.

"Seb– it feels so. Fucking. Good," you whine in between thrusts. You try to warn him of your impending burst, but the arch of your back signals your orgasm much faster than you can speak. Backing your ass further into him, you accept his length against your cervix until you feel your release. You convulse around him, whispering thank you's under your breath. The only sound reaching his ears are your muffled cries of pleasure and the squeaking of the bed. He fucks you through your orgasm, but even after you come down from the high, he's still not done.

He rails your stimulated pussy over and over again, causing you to reach out your hand behind you to slow him down. "S-sebastian, I just came. Slower, it's so f-fast"

Grabbing your arm by the wrist, he plows deeper into you. "Sorry, baby. Can't," he says breathily, "We got too much to do today, remember?" You turn your head back to look over your shoulder and flash him a blissed-out smile, silently laughing at his twist of your words.

Reaching around to your front, he rubs circles around your puffy clit while he fucks his last few, sloppy blows inside you. "So close, babe. M'so fucking…close" he says with gritted teeth. His movements on your bud stokes the fire within you, threatening to shatter you once again. With one last buck of his hips against yours, he shoots his load deep inside your pussy, filling you to the brim with in white. He groans profanities as he sputters small thrusts into you. The warmth of his semen hitting against you is the last straw, sending you into your second orgasm of the day.

Dropping your wrist from his grip, he leans forward onto your back, pulling out slightly causing his cum to spill out of you. You breathe in unison, heavily and laboured as you try to regain your bearings. Maybe it's been ten minutes or maybe it was an hour, but you both lay beside each other, unbothered by the time that's passing you by.

When you both come down to your senses, your eyes lock onto his and suddenly you're both chuckling at the morning's happenings. With a bright-eyed smile, he takes your palm to rest on his cheek. Placing a kiss on your knuckles, he greets you to start the day.

"Good morning, honey."

[my-writings-and-musings]

Transformers ROTB

Mirage x Reader

(Hurt/Comfort)

It's a billion degrees here so thinking is hard and I've been imagining cold... This fic of Mirage keeper reader warm after a snowy rescue was born. As the last fic proves, I just love writing Mirage cuddles, and can you blame me?

Look at him. Absolute cuddlebug. Has to be.

---

Everything was cold and aching when you came to, but considering you'd expected not to wake up at all, you could tentatively call that a win. Too exhausted and pained to shiver, you cracked your eyes open as sounds finally drifted into focus. A blue figure moved through the darkness with curses of frantic frustration, their inhumanly large frame bent over a pile of damp wood they were having no luck lighting. Recognizing their familiar shade of blue in the brief flashes of light from their attempted fire, you perked up despite your exhaustion.

"Mirage?"

The mech snapped his helm around, optics wider than you'd ever seen them as he looked at you in total disbelief.

"Hey, you're not dead!" he gushed as he crawled across the cave, looking so overjoyed he must not have believed you'd ever speak again. Too worn out and stiff to chuckle, you managed to crack a smile as the mech leaned over you, seemingly drinking in your presence as if he hadn't seen you in ages. Not having the slightest clue how you'd gotten here, you found your head free of worry despite your injuries, and you couldn't resist the urge to crack a joke.

"Should I be?"

"No, definitely not! Don't you go getting any ideas!" Mirage replied, his tone a solid mix of playful admonishment and serious warning. Adjusting a small emergency blanket that you'd been loosely swaddled in, he fretted long enough for you to pick up on his worry despite the continued jokes. "I've busted my aft keeping you alive this long, you don't get to put all my hard work to waste."

"What happened?" you asked as you tried to hug the blanket closer, numb fingers making it nearly impossible. Confused but able to recall a blurry series of events, the lack of other Autobots stuck out to you, especially when you remembered the whole group had been together in battle the last time you'd seen them. Not seeing a single other being in the cave activated your worry. "Where's-?"

"Shhh, questions take stamina you can't spare. I'll do the talking for both of us." Mirage interrupted gently, still teasing but sounding much softer as he encouraged you to lie back. The warmth of his servo and the comfort of his much larger frame beside yours allowed you to relax and listen, but as you did so It became apparent you were still quite exhausted, and you had to fight the urge to sleep. A fascinating narrative made consciousness stick around despite your heavy eyelids. "It took some expert tracking, but Bee was able to find two sets of tracks; a big ugly bot and the human he was tearing after. Unfortunately enough for him, we found him first."

Now you could remember how you'd gotten into this mess; running from a Decepticon and trying to lose them in the dense, frozen forest... The last thing you'd seen of Mirage had been the main battle, and you couldn't even begin to recall how long you'd been out in the cold, but it was good to know everything had more or less worked out. If only you weren't so terribly cold...

"I don't know how you outran him, but you were sorta... asleep and awake when we found you, so cold you weren't even shivering. We called Noah, and he's arranging to meet Optimus somewhere "clandestine" and escort a medic this way. They're gonna look you over and then pretend they didn't see us." Mirage continued. Nodding in incomplete understanding, you tried to keep your eyes open, and would have yawned if you'd had the strength. You knew what was being said meant a lot to you, and that a doctor was very much in order, but it all felt so far away. Aching body going increasingly numb, you barely found the strength to reply.

"Thank you..." you croaked, so terribly tired you couldn't convince yourself that staying awake was worth it. Mirage reacted swiftly, cupping his hand behind your head and looking into your eyes. The fear in his optics made you yearn for the energy to comfort him, but as it was you couldn't even understand why he was so upset.

"Don't thank me, just stay awake, yeah?" he encouraged, positive facade crumbling as he scooped you up in a panic. Feeling his chest, which radiated a reduced but still appreciable amount of warmth, you sighed and leaned into his embrace. The speedster held you tightly against him, digits patting your cheek as he tried to get you to focus on him. "Talk to me, Y/N, tell me what I can do."

"Cold..." was all you could say, exhaustion all but dragging you down into unconsciousness. Only your desire not to upset him kept you awake, but you knew there was precious little fight left in you. Mirage frantically reached back to the damp wood he'd been attempting to dry and ignite with his blaster.

"Okay, okay... I can... Scrap, I can't get this to light!" he cried in briefly hopeless frustration, his servo transforming back into a limb so he could hold you close to share what little warmth he had to spare. The pain in his expression compelled you to comfort him, but you didn't have the strength to do anything but lay your hand on the glowing center of his chest. You only wanted him to know it was alright, but the mech took much more from the gesture, his optics widening before his brows furrowed in determination. "Plan B then; come here."

Snapping open his chest panels and revealing the beautiful yet surprisingly soft glow of his spark, he pulled you close, allowing you to practically snuggle against the heat generating essence of his being.

"Sorry if this is weird... but it's warm, right?" he said quickly, aware of the awkward intimacy even if the situation was desperate. Being held so close allowed you to finally thaw after hours of exposure, and the feeling of life returning to your limbs was soothing enough to compel you to sigh. Cradling you tightly against his spark, Mirage sat back against the cave wall and relaxed at your increasingly less pallid complexion, returning to a more playful tone filled with affection. "My spark always runs hot, part of being an Outlier. I'll keep you close until the doc gets here. Least I can do for my little space heater."

Smiling back at the joke, you sighed once more and touched your hand to his spark, able to feel the soft hum soothing your aching body. As much as you still yearned for sleep, being so close gave you the strength to stay awake a little longer, the growing ease in his frame compelling you to keep going for both your sakes. A tender cupping of your face helped make you all the more certain that everything was going to be alright.

Mirage continued to encourage you, the devotion in his spark more than warm enough to keep the dark, frigid cold of the cave at bay. "You just keep getting nice and toasty. I've got you..."

[pbaz7]

AN: Hellooo, a few people told me they liked the story so I’m back with part 2. Please please let me know if I should continue. I’m actually really enjoying writing this and I have ideas of where I want it to go if people are interested.

It’ll Always Be Her Part II

The sunlight peeked through the blinds, casting warm, soft streaks across the bed. Paige stirred first, her eyes fluttering open. A peaceful calm washed over her as she took in the sight of Azzi sleeping beside her, the morning light catching the subtle contours of her face. Her dark lashes rested against her cheeks. She looked beautiful in every sense, Paige couldn’t help but smile, the sight filling her chest with an unfamiliar lightness.

She didn’t feel the usual pang of guilt or confusion. Not this time.

Azzi shifted slightly, her brow furrowing as she blinked herself awake. Slowly her eyes found Paige’s, still groggy but already catching the look in Paige’s gaze. That look–a mixture of curiosity, affection, and something deeper–was unmistakable. It sent a ripple through Azzi that she immediately understood but knew they weren’t quite ready to act on.

“Good morning,” Paige whispered, her voice soft but carrying an edge of playfulness.

Azzi smirked lazily, her voice low and a little raspy. “Morning, You’re staring.”

Paige chuckled, her cheeks warming slightly. “Maybe, You’re just really pretty when you’re not yelling at me to wake up.”

Azzi rolled her eyes but laughed, the sound rich and warm. “I’ll keep that in mind for tomorrow.” She stretched a little bit but her arms stayed around Paige, drawing her back into their cozy tangle. “So, what’s on your agenda today, superstar?”

Paige leaned in slightly, their faces close enough that their foreheads nearly touched. “Mmm, not much. Gotta deal with a test, and we’ve got practice, of course.”

“Sounds thrilling,” Azzi teased, her hand lightly brushing against Paige’s arm. “Think you can keep up with me today?”

Paige arched a brow, a playful glint in her eyes. “Keep up? Please. You’ve been trailing me on the court for weeks.”

Azzi snorted softly. “That’s cute, You’re cute when you’re delusional.”

The banter flowed effortlessly, their voices barely above a whisper, intimate in the quiet morning. With each exchange, they seemed to draw impossibly closer, their breathing syncing, their words punctuated by the occasional brush of hands or shift of legs.

Paige’s heart raced as Azzi’s gaze dropped briefly to her lips, then back to her eyes. She felt the weight of the moment, the pull between them stronger than ever.

“You know,” Paige murmured, her voice carrying a hint of something unspoken, “if we don’t get out of bed soon, we’ll be late for lifting.”

“Probably,” Azzi replied, but she made no move to leave, her fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns along Paige’s arm.

Their faces were inches apart now, breaths mingling, Paige could feel the heat radiating from Azzi, and for a fleeting second, she thought about closing that last bit of distance. Azzi seemed to be thinking the same, her hand moving to gently rest on Paige’s hip.

The tension between them was electric, each waiting for the other to make the next move.

Then without warning Azzi’s smile faltered slightly, a flicker of hesitation in her eyes. “Paige,” she said softly, careful not to hurt the older girl's feelings, her tone shifting. “We can’t.”

Paige frowned, the warmth in her chest dimming. “Why not?”

Azzi sighed, her hand moving up to rest lightly on Paige’s arm. “Jess,” she said simply. “We both know this..we can’t go there while she’s still in the picture.”

Paige groaned, flopping back onto the pillow. “I was going to break things off with her,” she said, her frustration evident. “Before she dropped the family stuff on me. I was ready, Azzi.”

Azzi’s gaze softened. “I know. But doing it now? Over text, while she’s dealing with all of that? You don’t want to be that person, Paige. And you’re not.”

Paige exhaled heavily, running a hand through her hair. “It just feels so…messy. I don’t know how much longer I can keep pretending everything’s fine.”

Azzi shifted closer, her voice gentle. “We’ll figure it out. Just…wait until she’s back. Talk to her face-to-face.”

Paige nodded reluctantly, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly. "Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

As she sat up, ready to start her day, Azzi’s eyes followed her. Paige was halfway to stretching when she caught Azzi openly raking her gaze up her body, lingering for just a beat too long.

"Really?" Paige teased, raising an eyebrow.

Azzi didn’t even try to deny it, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. "Can you blame me?"

Paige crossed her arms, leaning slightly to one side. "You’re supposed to be the responsible one, remember? Telling me to wait and all that."

Azzi shrugged, her eyes still shamelessly drinking Paige in. "I never said I wasn’t tempted."

Paige rolled her eyes, but there was a faint blush creeping up her cheeks. "We’re waiting," she said, her tone firm, though the smile tugging at her lips betrayed her resolve.

Azzi bit her lip, her smirk deepening as she slowly got out of bed. "If you say so." Her gaze lingered just a moment longer before she turned, the sway of her hips deliberate as she headed toward the bathroom.

Paige watched her go, muttering under her breath, "Impossible."

Azzi glanced back over her shoulder, catching Paige’s eye one last time. "You love it," she said with a wink, disappearing through the doorway.

…

The weight room buzzed with energy, the sound of clanging metal and low chatter filling the air. Paige and Azzi ended up in separate lifting groups, but that didn’t stop them from finding each other across the room.

Every time Paige moved to adjust a bar or add weight, she’d catch Azzi’s eye. The smirk that played on Azzi’s lips whenever their gazes met sent a thrill through her. Azzi, for her part, seemed to always be positioned just right—either brushing past Paige or standing close enough for their arms to graze when they crossed paths.

Paige wasn’t subtle, either. Her eyes lingered on Azzi’s toned frame when she thought no one was watching, appreciating the effortless way she moved.

Caroline, spotting Azzi leaning against a squat rack, sauntered over, towel slung over her shoulder. “Alright, spill,” she said, her tone playful but pointed. “What’s going on between you and Paige? Because whatever it is, you two are about as subtle as a KK coming into a room and the whole room can feel the tension.

Azzi raised an eyebrow, chuckling softly as she picked up a kettlebell. “What are you talking about?”

Caroline gave her a deadpan look. “Don’t play dumb. The eye contact, the lingering touches, the whole...thing.” She gestured vaguely in Paige’s direction. “Come on, I’m not blind.”

Azzi sighed, setting the kettlebell down. “It’s...complicated.” She wiped her hands on her shorts, her gaze flickering back to Paige, who was busy adjusting her grip on a barbell. “We want each other. That much is obvious.”

Caroline snorted. “Yeah, no kidding. So, what’s stopping you?”

Azzi hesitated, her voice lowering. “Paige has a girlfriend. Jess.”

Caroline wrinkled her nose. “Jess? The one who’s been a total bitch to you since day one? Please. Why does that even matter? What does that have to do with you two?”

Azzi let out a short laugh, shaking her head. “I might’ve given her a few reasons to be upset.”

Caroline raised an eyebrow. “Like what?”

Azzi hesitated, then gave a wry smile. “Let’s just say I’m not exactly subtle when Jess is around.” She shrugged, almost sheepishly. “I’ll admit, I push it a bit sometimes—making Paige laugh, leaning in close, touching her just enough to make her flustered. All while Jess is watching.”

Caroline’s eyebrows shot up. “Wow. Bold move.”

Azzi leaned against the squat rack, her smirk returning. “Only because of how rude Jess is to me. From the moment we met, she’s been cold, making snide comments. I wouldn’t normally do it, but she brings it out of me.”

Caroline tilted her head, curious. “Like what? What does she say?”

Azzi shrugged. “Little things. She questions why I’m always around, makes passive-aggressive comments about me crashing at Paige’s place. Stuff like that. So, yeah, I might wear Paige’s hoodie when Jess is visiting. And, yeah, I’ve been known to brush my hand against Paige’s back or shoulder, just to see if I can get a reaction.” She grinned wickedly. “Paige gets this cute little blush every time.”

Caroline laughed, shaking her head. “You’re evil.”

Azzi grinned wider. “Maybe. But I wouldn’t do it if Jess wasn’t so nasty all the time. It’s not like I go out of my way to make things worse. Most of the time, Jess does that all on her own.”

Caroline considered this, then shrugged. “Still, if Paige is letting it happen, that says something. You sure she’s even into Jess?”

Azzi’s eyes softened as she looked across the room, where Paige was adjusting weights on a barbell. “She’s loyal,” Azzi said quietly. “And she feels guilty. That’s why she hasn’t ended it yet.”

Azzi’s gaze drifted back to Paige, who was stretching now, her shirt riding up just slightly to reveal a sliver of toned stomach. Paige caught Azzi looking and shot her a playful glare, which only made Azzi grin wider.

Caroline rolled her eyes at the two. “Screw timing then. Jess isn’t here, and it sounds like she doesn’t treat Paige that great anyway. Why are you holding back for someone who barely even likes you and who Paige is barely in a relationship with?”

Azzi considered that, her gaze softening as she watched Paige laugh at something one of her teammates said. “Good question,” she said quietly.

Paige glanced up then, her eyes meeting Azzi’s. The air between them seemed to spark, the weight room fading into the background for a moment. Paige’s gaze flickered down Azzi’s body, lingering just a little too long, before she quickly looked away, cheeks faintly pink.

Caroline nudged Azzi with a knowing grin. “See? You’re wasting time.”

Azzi smirked, picking up her towel. “Maybe you’re right,” she murmured. “Why should I push aside what I want for someone I barely know?”

With renewed determination, Azzi grinned to herself. Over the next few weeks, she’d turn up the heat. Subtle glances and light brushes wouldn’t cut it. She’d make sure Paige felt everything she did.

“Time to step up my game,” Azzi said, her tone full of resolve.

Caroline laughed, slapping Azzi on the back. “Now that’s the Azzi I know.”

…

Paige adjusted the weights on her barbell, her mind far from the task at hand. Her thoughts kept drifting back to that morning, to the way Azzi’s warm body felt against hers, the low murmur of her voice, and that damn smirk. The memory of Azzi’s lips—soft, so close—sent a shiver down her spine. She clenched her jaw, trying to focus, but it was impossible.

Her eyes wandered, almost involuntarily, back to Azzi across the room. The other girl was effortlessly beautiful, her skin glistening under the gym’s harsh fluorescent lights, her curls pulled into a loose bun that seemed to defy gravity. Paige's gaze lingered on the curve of her shoulders, the way her muscles flexed with every movement, and those lips, parted slightly as she concentrated.

God, she was a distraction.

The worst part was the heat building inside her—frustration, desire, and something softer, more dangerous. She’d tried to ignore it, to bury it under excuses and loyalty to Jess. But this morning, tangled up in Azzi, it was impossible to deny. She wanted her. She wanted the girl with the dark curls, the quick wit, and the way she always made Paige feel like the only person in the room.

And the way Azzi looked at her…like she knew exactly what Paige was thinking, like she was waiting for her to break.

Paige exhaled sharply, forcing herself to focus as one of her teammates called out that it was her turn to lift. She stepped up to the barbell, wiping her hands on her shorts, but not before catching Azzi’s eyes.

Azzi was staring at her, and for a moment, everything else faded. There was something different in her expression now—a determination that sent a thrill through Paige. It wasn’t just teasing or flirtation anymore. It was a challenge, a promise, a silent declaration.

Paige’s heart skipped a beat, and she quickly looked away, gripping the barbell tightly as she prepared for her set. But even as she lifted, the weight pressing down on her shoulders, her mind stayed on Azzi.

What was she planning? And how much longer could Paige resist?

…

Later that night the suite buzzed with energy, the air thick with laughter, playful banter, and the occasional sound of someone dramatically yelling about losing at cards. The movie was more of a formality now, its dialogue drowned out by the team’s antics. Paige sat on the couch, her legs stretched out comfortably, but her focus was entirely elsewhere.

Azzi was beside her, close enough that their arms brushed every now and then, each touch igniting a spark that neither could ignore. Paige felt bold tonight—bolder than she’d expected. Maybe it was the residual energy from the morning or the way Azzi kept glancing at her, but she found herself leaning into the tension.

"You always this handsy during movie night?" Paige teased, her voice low enough that only Azzi could hear.

Azzi smirked, her eyes glinting with mischief. "Only when the company’s good," she shot back, letting her fingers briefly graze Paige’s forearm.

Paige’s lips quirked up as she tilted her head toward Azzi, her voice dropping to a playful murmur. "You might want to be careful. People could get ideas."

Azzi chuckled, leaning closer, her curls brushing against Paige’s cheek. "Let them," she whispered.

For a moment, they simply sat there, the weight of unspoken words hanging between them. But Paige wasn’t content to let Azzi have all the fun tonight. As the room’s energy shifted, with some teammates moving around to grab more snacks, Paige stood up. She circled the couch and came up behind Azzi, her heart pounding with anticipation.

Azzi was mid-conversation with Ice when Paige leaned down, her breath warm against Azzi’s ear. "You know," Paige whispered, her voice just loud enough for Azzi to hear, "you’re making it really hard for me to focus tonight."

Azzi froze for a split second, her eyes widening before she quickly masked her reaction. "Oh, am I?" she said, her voice a little breathier than usual.

Paige grinned, enjoying the rare sight of Azzi flustered. She let her fingers trail lightly over Azzi’s shoulder as she pulled back, returning to her seat.

Azzi turned her head slightly, her cheeks tinged with a faint blush. "You’re trouble, blondie," she muttered under her breath, her lips curving into a small smile.

Paige arched a brow, her eyes glinting with playful challenge. "Takes one to know one."

The night went on, but the game between them only intensified. Azzi wasn’t about to let Paige’s sudden boldness go unanswered. She leaned in closer during conversations, her touches lingering a little longer, her voice softer and more intimate.

At one point, Azzi let her hand rest on Paige’s thigh for a moment too long as she reached for her drink, her thumb brushing against the fabric. Paige felt her breath catch, but instead of pulling away, she leaned in, her voice a teasing murmur. "Careful, Azzi. You’re making it hard to behave."

Azzi’s smirk was immediate. "Good," she whispered back, her eyes locked on Paige’s. "I wasn’t planning on making it easy."

The room around them faded further into the background as they continued their unspoken dance. Paige felt a heady mix of exhilaration and frustration as the night wore on, each shared glance, each touch, pushing them closer to a line neither was ready to cross.

When the movie ended and teammates started to gather their things, Azzi stood, stretching casually. Paige couldn’t help but watch the way her shirt rode up slightly, exposing a sliver of toned skin. Azzi caught her staring and bit her lip, her eyes flicking down Paige’s form in return.

"You heading to bed, P?" Azzi asked, her voice laced with suggestion.

Paige crossed her arms, leaning casually against the couch. "Maybe. You planning to behave yourself tonight?"

Azzi stepped closer, her smirk widening. "Depends," she said, her voice dropping. "Will it be more fun if I don’t?"

Paige laughed softly, shaking her head. "You’re impossible," she said, though the warmth in her tone betrayed how much she was enjoying this.

Azzi shrugged, biting her lip before turning toward the bathroom. But before she could get far, Paige reached out, gently grabbing her wrist.

"Wait," Paige said, her voice softer now, her eyes searching Azzi’s. "What changed? This morning, you were the one telling me we needed to slow down because of Jess."

Azzi tilted her head, her expression softening. "I thought about it," she said simply. "And I realized…I want you. I’m not going to ignore that anymore." Her eyes flicked to Paige’s lips for a second before meeting her gaze again. "But I’d never let you do something that goes against who you are. That’s not how this works."

Paige blinked, her throat tight. She felt the weight of Azzi’s words settle over her, the pull between them growing stronger by the second.

Paige lingered in the living room for a moment, her thoughts swirling as her teammates filtered out one by one. The air still buzzed with the energy of the night, but she knew she wouldn’t find any calm out here. With a deep breath, she pushed off the couch and headed toward her bedroom.

When she stepped inside, the soft glow of a bedside lamp illuminated Azzi, who was already tucked into bed. She was scrolling through her phone, her curls spilling over the pillow in effortless waves. She looked up as Paige entered, a slow, knowing smile curving her lips.

Paige leaned against the doorframe, crossing her arms. "Settling in, huh?" she said, her voice light but laced with teasing.

Azzi chuckled, setting her phone on the nightstand. "You know it," she replied, her eyes flicking up to meet Paige’s.

Paige shook her head, smiling as she grabbed her sleep clothes from a drawer. "You’d better behave tonight," she said over her shoulder as she changed.

Azzi propped herself up on one elbow, her smirk widening. "What? You think I’m plotting something?" she teased, her tone playful but with that familiar edge of suggestion.

Paige turned back to her, hands on her hips. "I wouldn’t put it past you."

Azzi laughed softly, her gaze warm. "Relax," she said, patting the space beside her. "I just expect the usual cuddles. Nothing more…unless you’re offering."

Paige rolled her eyes, but her grin betrayed her. "You’re impossible," she muttered, climbing into bed.

As she settled under the covers, Azzi shifted closer, wrapping an arm around Paige’s waist like it was the most natural thing in the world. Paige let out a soft sigh, her body relaxing into the familiar comfort of Azzi’s embrace.

"Goodnight, Azzi," she said softly, her voice carrying a warmth that wasn’t there earlier.

"Goodnight, Paige," Azzi whispered back, her tone light but sincere.

Despite the tension that had simmered between them all day, the comfort of their closeness made everything feel just a little bit easier. Paige closed her eyes, a small smile lingering on her lips as sleep began to pull her under.

[scribblesofagoonerr]

— What if I'm not good enough, anymore?

pairings: beth mead x reader, vivianne miedema x reader

summary: reader has self doubts that she won't be as good as she was when she makes her return to the pitch.

Warnings: heavy angst, talks of mental health and a minor eating disorder.

Okay, I won't lie. This was, well this was hard to write and there was a lot of tears throughout because its' a little too close to home right now with things going on, but you guys wanted it, so here we go.

Let me know what you think!

"What if I'm not good enough now?" The thoughts spiral through your brain.

It's your number one fear. It's the thing that keeps you up at night, lying awake with those thoughts plaguing your mnd.

You know you shouldn't be thinking about things like that, but your mentality of your injury was overshadowing the physical rehab your still yet to get the greenlight for yet.

Would you be good as you were when you come back?

Sure you've watched each of the girls come back from their injury and make a return to the pitch, some of them a bit more rockier than usual, but now they're striving and you can only hope that your own journey will be as smooth sailing.

Your impatient though, both incredibly and insufferably impatient.

It's a downfall that has come back to bite you in the ass, one too many times previously.

Could you blame your dad for that though?

Growing up, hes' only ever pushed you. Pushed you to push through the pain; Your dad was an impatient man himself, one with a temper and he didn't believe that letting you rest was the best thing sometimes.

The first few months of your recovery after your surgery felt long, all you felt was agitation and more so frustration not being allowed to do things that you once took for granted.

You really did hate depending on those around you, you felt like a constant burden despite that fact that all the girls kept on reassuring you that you weren't, but in the back of your mind, you always thought different about it.

The one thing you never realised would be as hard would be the mentality of it all, the physical pain was tiresome and therefor, your mental health was taking a battering rapadly.

"You okay, kid?" The familiar voice of your team mum speaks up to get your attention.

Your too wrapped up in your thoughts to barely even hear her, "M' fine,"

"You sure? You seem quiet-- What is it, does your knee hurt? Do you want another pillow?" Beth tries to offer her help, assisting you with whatever you need.

"I'm fine, Beth!" You shout loudly.

You hadn't meant to snap at Beth of course, but your emotions got the better of you and your temper has always been your worst enemy, amongst other things.

"O... Okay," Beth is taken back by your sudden burst of anger. "Well, you know I'm just through the kitchen if you need me, okay?" She reassures you.

"Mhm," You barely acknowledge her precense, choosing to stare blankly at old episode of Bones you'd put on to try and disract your mind.

You wanted to retreat to your bedroom, but after the last time where you remembered the staged intervention with a certain blonde english skipper, you thought against the idea of that.

So for now, you'll just sit on the sofa, wallowing in self-pity and get attached to fictional characters whos' deathes are inevitable.

"Have you noticed that Y/N is uh..." Beth whispers, hesistant for you to overhear her from the other room.

"Distant?" Viv guesses straight away.

The blonde furrows her eyebrows and nods in slow motion, "Well, yes, uh and a bit snippy as well. Should we talk to her?" She wonders, trying to figure out the best approach to talk to you.

"It's probably a good idea--" Vivs' agreement is cut off.

"You know I can hear you guys, right?" You make your voice known, of course you knew they would be whispering about you.

After all, your not a complete moron to not hear it.

"Y/N," Viv begins to speak.

"I don't like it when you talk about me like that!" You uneasily stand up on your feet, going to move towards the direction of your bedroom for a bit of peace and quiet.

"At least use your crutches!" Beth shouts aloud, gesturing to the item that is currently the bane of your life.

"Bite me!" You respond, scowling at them as you shuffle slowly past, trying to withhold from wincing at the sudden shooting pain in your knee.

At least you do a good job to hold your tears back until your in the confindments of your own bedroom, comforted with the blanket that you can wrap around you and try to block out the rest of the world.

As soon as you got the go-ahead from the doctors to start your rehab at the training grounds, you were virtually jumping for joy.

At least you was on the outside; Inside on your head, it was a completely different story. You were battling your own inner feelings of doubt.

Of course from the minute you'd been allowed back in the gym, every single of your team mates were more than supportive of this step forward in your recovery.

They all knew you'd been finding it difficult, and sure enough most of them had even got the brunt of your anger.

Starting out with your rehab process, you had to start with light excercises but in your head that didn't feel good enough.

You want to be out there on the pitch already, you hate the fact that the healing process is taking so long.

You didn't feel it was fair at all, why won't your stupid knee just heal already?

"You've got this, Y/N!" One of the pyshios' encourage you to keep going with the current training excercise, something so simple felt so hard to you now.

Viv smiles encouringly as she cheers you on from the sidelines, "You're doing great kid." She states.

"Keep pushing!" Leahs' right there beside her, her voice gentle but still managed to hold a firm tone in a way to keep you going.

"You can do this, kid!" Beth chimes in, trying to keep her own tears of happiness at bay as she watches your journey to recovery step that step forward. "We're so proud of you!"

Tears of frustration were visable, even the simplest of tasks felt so gruelling; There were even times whether you questioned if you wanted to hang your football boots up, but that was an easy way out.

Football is your life and its your passion, you'd be gutted to do that.

You had to push forward, you had to do better. You had to be better!

If only it was that simlpe, right?

Nobody warned you off the setbacks in the journey. You had to figure that one out yourself, even the slighest knock and it was a step backwards.

It always seems to be one step forward, two steps back.

You shouldn't have pushed yourself, you should have known better, but of course, your stubborn streak let you down.

In your own opinion, your recovery wasn't going as quick as you wanted it to. So you took it upon yourself to train extra hard in the gym, sure it was difficult under the watchful eye of the older girls' as they wanted to make sure to not let you overdo it, but you had your ways.

Making excuses and staying late at the training grounds once the team had all gone, pushing yourself to the extreme - Unaware of just how much damage you'd be putting yourself through.

Damn stupid knee injuries.

It works to keep your extra training sessions a secret, at least for a while, until one night when your caught red handed, by no other person that the stern blonde English skipper, so just so happens to have come back to pick something up that she'd forgotten.

"Y/N?" You recognise that all too familiar voice all too well, having been on the recieving end of a few lectures.

You freeze in your spot on the treadmill, which isn't very safe in itself, "Shit-- It's not what it looks like!" Your quick to protest.

"Oh? So your not overworking yourself in the gym then, hm?" Leah quirks, raising an eyebrow.

"No, well, uh yeah. I guess?" You stutter your words, knowing you've definitely been caught out now.

Leah can't help but chuckle amusedly, "You guess?"

"I, uh... Look I know it looks bad, but I needed to do this, Le." If you've been caught out then you're at least going to try and fight your reasoning for it, even if she doesn't believe you.

Judging my her facial expression, the blonde definitely isn't fooled.

"Come on. Lets' go, baby England," Leah motions you to follow her, holding out her hand for you to take.

Furrowing your eyebrows, you shut the whirring treadmill off and gingerly look at her, "Why-- Where are we goin'?" You ask.

"Well first I'm taking you for something to eat and then I'm taking you home, its' already been a long day," Your English Captains' quick to tell you, although before you have chance to protest, she continues to speak. "And you shouldn't be pushing yourself anymore than you already are, alright?" She states.

"But..." You still try and protest against the idea.

"No buts, I know you haven't eaten much, buddy," Leahs' firm voice interjects, still continuing to hold her hand out for you to take. "Come on. Grab your stuff and lets' go,"

You should have known it would only be a matter of time before you were caught out.

How could you be so careless, though?

You didn't think you not eating enough would be that noticeable, but apparently not.

Begrudingly, you step off the treadmill and clutch onto her hand to steady your uneasiness coming off it, "Are you going to tell Beth and Viv about this?" You ask, cautiously.

"I have to," Leah replies in agreement.

"Why?" You fight the urge to whine, even if makes sense for them to know, you wish they didn't have too.

"You can't push yourself, kiddo. You know how serious this injury is!" Leahs' firm voice makes a return, not missing the chance to make it known how much of a bad decision this was for you to make.

You know it looks bad, you do but yet you still couldn't help yourself.

You wanted to get better. You wanted-- No, you needed to do better.

"But I'm so fed up, Le," You grumble, walking in the direction of the changing room to grab your stuff. "Why... Why won't it just fuckin' heal already?" You don't mean to swear, you've never been one to use colourful language, but your frustration is at it's brink right now.

"Whoa, easy on the language there, buddy," Leah jokes, chuckling as she wraps her free arm around your shoulder. "Listen, I know your frustrated, but its' going to take time and you know this. You can't rush it, or you'll make it worse!" She states, firmly.

"Stupid knees' injuries suck," You murmer, gathering your stuff together before you make the exit from the training grounds.

Leah chuckles as she unlocks her car, gesturing for you to climb in the passenger seat, "Yep, yes they do," She agrees with you.

"I just want to be out there on the pitch already," You admit, slumping down into the seat once you have buckled yourself in.

The blonde smiles sympathetically at you, understanding your frustration, "That day will come, but for now, you've just gotta trust the process and let your body heal," She pauses before she continues. "I know you don't like it and all, but you have to just be patient this once, buddy."

"Even if it takes forever?" You resist the urge to groan and throw your head back.

"Even then, because it'll be worth it when you make your return to the game," Leah promises you with a gentle tone of voice.

"Yeah, but, what if..." Your sidetracked from what you are going to say, trying to not spiral into your dark thoughts once again.

"What if?" Leah furrows her eyebrow.

You swallow the lump that forms in your throat, "What... What if I'm not as good as I was before I got injured?" You confess the fear that's been plaguing your mind for god-knows how long.

Leah looks at you concerned, "You don't know how its' gonna be, but what I do know is that whatever happens, we're all behind you," She promises you as she gives you a kind smile and gently squeezes your good knee. "The day you eventually do return to the pitch, you're damn sure we'll all be there cheering as loud as we can," She promises you.

"Even if you're on the pitch as well?" You can't help but giggle.

Leah proudly nods in agreement as she grins, "Hey, I'll personally stop the game just to welcome you on the pitch, baby England." The blonde winks playfully at you from where she sits in the car.

"Your silly sometimes, Le," You mumble, finding it hard to take the blonde serious in this very moment.

"I know you're all up in your head about this, but it's going to be okay," Leah words stick firm in your brain as you smile. "Your not alone in this journey, you're never alone. We've got you." 

© scribblesofagoonerr

[strongheartneteyam]

I wet you like water but she stained you like blood.

Pairing: widowed!dilf!jake sully x younger!female!human!reader

CW: slight sexual language, can be triggering to some, heartbreak, age gap kink, hurt/no comfort, age gap relationship problems, angst, reader reminiscing (pls tell me if I missed anything) 

So, yeah... I never know when I'm gonna come back with another writing. My hiatus n working periods are all a bit unpredictable lol sorry. Anyways... I literally spent the whole night awake n I was struck by a sudden lightning of creativity early in the morning and I edited this chapter n wrote a bit more, but I still haven't slept at all, so, I apologize if some parts of this make no sense at all. I'll fix it when I can. Hope you guys like it <3 ily guys a whole lot :)) obs: this chapter is a shorter one.

Slightly proofread.

Chapter 4 𓆩♡𓆪

They say all's well that ends well

But I'm in a new hell every time you double-cross my mind

You said if we had been closer in age maybe it would've been fine

And that made me want to die

The idea you had of me, who was she?

A never-needy, ever-lovely jewel whose shine reflects on you

All Too Well - 10 minutes Version (Taylor Swift)

𓆩♡𓆪

It had been 1 year since the last time you saw Jacob Sully. Or Jakey, like you used to call him. The wound never healed. It still throbbed and bled every time you remembered the words he told you that dreadful day. "I think we should stop seeing each other." It felt like you would never get over him. How can one get over such an overpowering, raw feeling? He marked you forever, like a bruise that seemed to never disappear from your skin.

The flashback came like thunder in a storm, haunting your thoughts with a loud pain that echoed through your mind. What you told Jake that night.

“The truth is I love you. The truth is I can't take this anymore. I'm giving you my everything but you don't seem to be doing the same. You're still guarded.” There was a tense period of silence “Jake… I love you. But I don't think you feel the same.”

Maybe you shouldn't have said anything. Maybe if you had kept your mouth shut, he would still be with you.

Ugh!! Stop that, now, (y/n)! Some self love, please? You're better than this. You deserve better.

You tried to convince yourself of that, at least.

The pain was unbearable at times and almost easy to conceal at other times. It depended on how distracted with work or your studies you were. These days you ran to any distraction that could ease the perpetual angst that squeezed your heart inside its hands all the fucking time. It had been like that ever since Jake left you. What were you expecting anyway? You should have known you were never truly loved by Jake. The love of his life was Neytiri and it would always be, alive and walking through Pandora or dead and with Eywa.

It felt beyond weird to have to hear people talking about Jake and have to pretend he was a stranger to you, someone you barely knew, when he had actually left a mark so strong on you, a memory ingrained in your brain, a feeling, a pain buried inside your heart that made you want to scream and hit your head against a wall. That's how much it hurt.

You would never have his body against yours again, warming you up when it was cold, after you spent the whole day in that damn lab, studying Pandoran plants but all you could really concentrate on was how much you missed his reassuring, protective presence. He made you feel safe for the first time in your life. But now he is gone. Just like every single good thing you ever had in your life. But you know what? Maybe your mother was right, maybe love wasn't really something that could ever last forever.

Did Jake ever really make a real effort to be with you? Thinking back, it was extremely easy for him to just come to you and fuck you anytime he felt sad and lonely. What if you had just been a naive, dumb girl all this time? Were you mourning a love that never actually existed? It was always so hard to talk to him about his feelings for you, he never actually let you in, to be honest. All the time you two spent together, you were never able to know if he ever saw you as a partner or just a fuck buddy. 

Oh, but the high… it was worth all the lows. The butterflies in your stomach every time you guys were almost caught fucking in the back of your work room by Norm. Eventually you guys had to tell him about your situationship because, oh well… he already knew what was going on, really. Norm is not a fool or a child. He could add 2 plus 2.

The adrenaline was worth all the tears. And, fuck… you would do it all over again in a heartbeat.

𓆩♡𓆪

Taglist:

@aonungsoneandonly

@coldbabyheroin

@fairyyrosee

@myh3artttt

@explosiongamora

@ufiy

@yeosxxx

@happyyappysworld

@avatar4eva

@henhouse-horrors

@jakesullyfatjuicypeen

@fujimoribaby

@layla2-49

@zoetrope1997

@yeosxxx

@luvv4j4ybe11

@bakugouswaif

@slytherdor01

[eluxcastar]

For the whole dottore basically adopting the reader, what would he do if reader got sick? And would reader call him dad, dottore or zandik?

Dadtore with his sick child

── ୨୧：il dottore & reader

୨୧﹑synopsis :: more dadtore but with germs this time (the first germs)

୨୧﹑genre :: fluff

୨୧﹑content :: gn reader, child reader, not proofread, also written at one am I'll edit in the morning 😭

୨୧﹑words :: 700

originally this was gonna be another ramble but I was like this could be cute let's write it. as for the name I actually have no idea largely because when I wrote child reader last time I wrote them intentionally without dialogue so I actually didn't even consider it but Dad feels like a very down the road choice

Zandik feels more familiar than Dottore but whether he'd want a kid running around calling him that to everyone is a different question. I think there's a definite Dottore to Dad pipeline

Perhaps you managed, no thanks to your infinite curiosity, to get into the things he'd tried to keep you from. Dottore thought he'd done everything he could possibly do, but children find a way. When you wake up in the middle of the night to him still up and about, he's surprised to find you look barely awake, unsurprising on its own, but you are unsteady and warm to the touch.

That's not good. You've never been sick before. Dottore pauses, hand practically glued to you as he tries to think of what to do. Should he run you a cold bath? Maybe he should leave you or warm you up more so that you can sweat it out easily. He's not even sure what's wrong with you yet.

You're sleepy, it seems, as you're passed out in Dottore's arms before he can even carry you back to your makeshift bed, breath softening against his skin as your head rests on his shoulder. It's such a natural way for you to settle by now, even after only a few months, that Dottore waits to let go. You feel too warm, too fragile. It is the polar opposite of how cold you were when he found you.

He sets you back in your spot on the couch and wraps your blankets tightly around you. Your face is flushed, and you still look far too addled.

Rest and a lot to drink are enough, but they certainly don't feel like enough as Dottore stares down at you, all curled up amongst your blankets. More than ever, you look like a pathetic newborn kitten stumbling about and too small to do anything but sleep and blink with great effort. It's all in an endearing way. Dottore can't have you dying on him, especially not to a fever, but there's little he can actually do to help you and little that says he should be. Fevers are the kind of thing you have to sweat out, often because they're fighting something else. Dottore knows that well.

"Did you touch anything you weren't supposed to?" he asks. Dottore doesn't recall a time at which you went poking around with a dedication to finding anything or that you didn't cut it out the moment he scolded you.

You slowly shake your head as you register his question. It reassures him, seeing as he can't find a reason to doubt that. You've had very few problems with honesty before today. You're trustworthy enough not to interrogate you.

"Then you got it from someone else," he concludes. "You're not uncomfortable?"

Again, you shake your head once the question sets in. That's the best you'll get as you are. Whatever this fever is trying to fight off is not something you found in a petri dish and probably came from your disagreeable habit of being far too welcoming to strangers in the lab. If nothing else, he can find comfort in the fact he won't spend the next few hours worrying if you've contracted a deadly disease or greatly repel properties of the abyss. You're still very safe right here where he's able to watch over you.

Dottore takes a moment to lay you down, a vaguely tender show of practically pushing you over as you've dozed off to sleep again in the time it takes him to act. Dottore collects the mess of blankets around you and pulls them over you, opting to keep you from getting cold unless you get worse or throw them off in your sleep. He finds his overcoat bunched at your feet and drapes that on top of the blankets too, your favourite item of comfort and what keeps you most warm.

Dottore sits beside you in the tiny space between your feet and the edge of the couch. There is just enough room for him. His hand rests against your leg as he waits, watching your chest rise and fall in a steady rhythm. He is pleased to see you sleep well despite the circumstances.

That coat had once been wrapped around you, cold and shivering, and it engulfed you with fabric to spare. Dottore doesn't mind sharing it with you now.

[periprose]

Ps5 Peter Parker x reader inspired by this?

It's one of my favorite MerDer moments on Grey's anatomy 🙈😭

Peter explains something about physics or an idea for a gagdet...

🤣 this image really cracked me up lol thanks for the ask!! I've set the fic to take place in the first game, Peter and Reader are Otto's assistants at Octavius Industries. Please ignore the science mumbo jumbo in this fic.

/

Otto's lab was really cold this time of year. He barely had the funds to make rent in Manhattan, let alone provide optimal heating and other luxuries.

Still, you shiver, searching through your locker for your comfy, oversized jumper. You're just pulling it on when Peter pops up from behind you.

"Hey."

"Jesus!" You flinch and then rub your eyes. "Hey, Peter. How do you get behind me so fast? That's the third time this month I didn't even see you come in."

"Uh... I just have good reflexes, I think." Peter's mouth twists a little, as he tries not to laugh at your jumper. "Are you sure that's up to lab standards? Where's your lab coat?"

"Ah, Otto doesn't mind. He knows I'm cold." You explain, and Peter sighs.

"Well, he never gives me special treatment."

"Probably because you're not as cute as I am." You joke, but Peter nods and you feel a callous level of attraction towards him for being so nonchalant in terms of flirting.

You never really know where you stand with the guy. He's a naturally witty person and you refuse to read into anything any deeper, just for self preservation.

"Hey, I can't disagree with that." Peter laughs that quiet, soft laugh that makes you smile on your own. "Here, I got you a cup of coffee. That should help warm you up."

You look down and see, sure enough, Peter's holding a coffee cup tray, loaded with three cups, surely your usual orders- for you, extra black espresso to stay awake, for Peter, usually some kind of healthy tea hybrid, and for Otto, a large, creamy Italian coffee blend that's particularly expensive (Peter always jokes that Otto wastes funding on things like this).

"Oh, I'll pay you back." You reach back into your locker for your wallet, but Peter stops you with a raise of his hand.

"It's free of charge. No worries." He hands you the cup gently, and your hand skirts across his. You think for a moment.

"Nothing is ever really 'free of charge', Peter." You give him a side glance. In the last couple of months you've known this guy, you've figured out when he has an ulterior motive.

"... Alright, alright. You got me." Peter starts pulling you along by the hand, towards one of Otto's offices filled with white-boards and desks and equipment. You take a sip of your coffee and notice that it's still quite hot- Peter must've been really fast to make it so.

Not that you're complaining, and now that you're warmer you do feel more inclined to listen to him.

"Okay. You know how Otto's neural interface for the experimental arms have been glitching out?" Peter's got a firm look on his face, as you sit and listen.

"Yeah. It's a poor prototype, I think he asked us to leave it alone? He said he'd deal with it." You shrug. "I've moved on to his requests for a tighter, stronger arm. You know I deal with hardware."

"Yes, but even so, the neural interface problem still persists. Otto's lying." Peter looks at the whiteboard, and sees that half of it is covered all over with erratically drawn diagrams and equations. It's fine, he knows he can write what he needs in that space.

"Okay, look." Peter begins drawing a diagram of the neural interface's circuitry. "See how the voltage is really high?"

"Yeah- but isn't that what Doc wanted?" You grimace. "Last time I brought up the voltage issue, he told me to mind my business and continue with soldering. He wants so much power for some reason."

"Right, that's what I'm talking about. Notice how Otto keeps having those outbursts?" Peter sighs, a deeply upsetting look overtaking him. "He's getting a bit aggressive as of late, and I think it's because he can't figure this out."

"You're telling me. Just yesterday he chewed me out for clocking in a bit late." You sniff. "Okay, I was fifteen minutes late, but still."

"I've been there, you don't even have to justify it." Peter laughs, and begins drawing squiggly lines. You can't help but notice how his strangely muscular arms are tense and visible through his lab coat as he scrawls, and you take a sip of your coffee, savoring the view. Looking isn't illegal, you try to rationalize, but you quickly banish these thoughts as Peter looks back with a sly glance, to make sure you're paying attention.

"This is the electricity flow... and it should be heading this way, but the neural interface is made incorrectly and the flow of energy is heading back this way... towards the-"

"The battery of the arms, not the interface." You suddenly realize, and take a scrap piece of paper off the desk, scribbling down notes. "Hmm... maybe the wiring used for the arms is absorbing too much energy? Or the batteries are too big?"

"Maybe, but neural interfaces are tricky business." Peter winces as Otto yells at something in the background of the lab. "I told Otto not to get too involved with it- it's far too easy to accidentally mess with your brain, and then suddenly you've got anger issues or worse-"

"Dementia." You finish his sentence with an equally grim expression. "Okay. I hear you, but how are we supposed to fix it, exactly? I can only think of using different, smaller wires, or a less cost heavy battery- but then it won't move at the speed Otto wants it to."

"Yeah." Peter's shoulders slump a little, and you feel bad. He's always just one dude trying to take on the entire world's problems.

"Peter, it's not your problem, really. You can only do so much- the man has made up his mind, he's going to have to take the brunt of the problem." You try to console him, but Peter has that determined Parker Pride you've seen far too often, and you know he's not going to let it go.

"Wait, wait. Okay..." Peter starts frantically drawing on the board, and seeing that he's running out of space, without missing a beat, begins to draw on the wall.

"Peter! You're drawing on the wall!" You admonish him, and to your shock and utter horror, but not to your surprise, he keeps going. "Now you've completely lost it- it'll take two seconds to erase the board-"

But Peter isn't listening, in that overly stubborn, inventor way that you know you've done before. He's too lost in his own thoughts, and you know that spark will disappear if he takes a moment to stop drawing.

"I'll clean it. It's fine. We got to get a move on." Peter points to the new diagram on the wall. "Look at this."

Peter's drawn a rudimentary depiction of the robotic arm prototypes you've built for Otto, but the battery pack has been split up into several, smaller batteries that extend over the course of the arms. Something about the way the arms move in Peter's drawings look a lot more... smooth, silky, like a cephalopod.

An octopus.

But you are amazed at Peter's capabilities, either way. "Using multiple different batteries, so the energy isn't drawn away from the neural interface in a great capacity?" You blink, a bit amused at Peter's eager expression. "It would work, I think, but only if Otto is willing for a slight decrease in power."

"Ah, but that's where you're wrong. We don't need to sacrifice power at all." Peter draws a set of gears, interlocking through the squiddy looking arm, and you clap your hands, clambering up out of your seat, finally enthused by his idea.

"Peter Parker, you genius!" You shake his arm excitedly, and he turns a bit pinker as he watches you, grinning. "Otto wanted the arm to be almost entirely synthetic material- but if it has rotating gears, the less it will jerk around. It'll be faster, smoother-"

"Thus requiring less power anyways, and less power will be redirected into his neural interface. And, hypothetically, no more angry Otto." Peter grins, and you smile up at him. "I mean, it'll still take some tinkering to figure out, but incremental improvements are still improvements, right?"

"Definitely. Plus we can always try to convince him about solar power again." You joke as Peter snickers.

Peter opens his mouth, about to say something to you, but he stares for a moment too long and hesitates, especially because in the nerdy excitement, he had gotten so close to you, and he was a liar if he said he had never checked out his cute co-worker. Any second now, you should be teasing as you usually do- but your eyes are wide and Peter gets the sense you've been swept up in this too.

He's never been so... close. He can make out individual eyelashes, tiny scars, imperceptible to normal people, but not to him.

And his phone buzzes with some kind of alert. He looks it over with bright, concerned eyes, while you take a moment to step back, much to Peter's mild irritation.

"Ah... must be MJ?" You ask, trying so very hard not to sound like a jealous girlfriend, just a curious colleague. You have nothing against MJ- you just feel that she and Peter are so meant for each other, and this is exactly why you've been trying to protect yourself.

Who are you kidding? You and Peter are both so busy- you'd never have time to be his doting, adoring girlfriend. You just have to remember him as a friend.

Already you feel the walls coming into place, your expression turning neutral, your heart becoming steely, when Peter looks at you again, surprised.

He can tell you're holding yourself back- and he doesn't like that. He wants you to come back to him, to be close with him again, and it drives him nuts that it has to be your choice, but he respects that.

"Not MJ. We broke up a while ago." Peter swallows, hoping he's saying the right things. "Uh... I don't think we're going to get back together. She's dating someone else now."

"Oh." You squeeze Peter's shoulder as comfortingly as you can. "Peter, I'm sorry. I would've been less of an ass if I'd known."

"No, don't be." Peter fixes a firm, kindhearted glance at you, taking your hands, the warmth of his own making you feel especially treasured. "You're great."

There's a teeny bit of hope working it's way into you, into your silly, girly heart despite all the steel around it, and Peter has a soft smile reserved just for you- you know that smile, you've seen it before when he comforts you when an experiment goes poorly, or when you've had a Eureka moment.

He rubs your hands. "Jeez, you're cold! I know women are usually freezing in the workplace- different body temperatures on average and all that- but I'm going to have to talk to Otto about making it warmer in here."

"Lest I die of hypothermia, right." You snort, and Peter snickers, but he still stays close, as if he's using this as an excuse. "Well, at least I have your hands."

Peter's phone buzzes again, another alert, which he apologetically takes a moment to read after letting go of you. Something about Fisk's thugs making their way through Grand Central Station- he shouldn't leave right now, but he can see your curiosity is piqued.

"Just a news alert. Nothing big." Peter lies, and you don't quite buy it, but you don't want to pry at this moment after he's complimented you and been so nice to warm up your hands.

Otto bursts through the entrance of the room, sighing.

"Will you two lovebirds stop canoodling with each other and test out the circuitry? You know, like I'm paying you to do so with very limited funds?" He barks, and then inhales. "Sorry. Just... try to stay on task. And I know you're young and all... but stop drawing on the walls!"

He leaves, grumbling about youth being too romantic and wishing they would understand sensibility.

You're about to refute whatever Otto said, so Peter doesn't feel uncomfortable, when he speaks first.

"I take it he isn't a romantic." Peter jokes as he grabs some paper towels, and you laugh, feeling that Peter's flirting was more genuine than you thought.

[herofics]

hi! I love your works SO MUCH and I’ve had this certain idea in my head for DAYS😭 a gn!reader with Megumi and Gojo (separate) who’s cursed technique causes them to just be always tired. I really just don’t have the motivation to write this for myself because ONE I’m not very good at writing and TWO I like seeing others perspectives on ideas

Anyway, thanks! Have a good day and take as much time as you need on this😊

A/N: Thank you so much! I decided to do a scenario for Gojo and HCs for Megumi, because I didn’t feel like writing scenarios for both. This is basically just fluff and the character taking care of the reader. I've also got this post you might want to check out about a tired reader

~Gojo Satoru~

Gojo was gone for a couple of days again, and you had just come home from a mission too. His sleeping schedule was abysmal, since he slept between missions, but he never seemed to be tired, always all bright-eyed and bushy tailed. You, on the other hand, had probably not woken up refreshed for a single day in the past 13 years, ever since you started to first use your cursed technique. You were perpetually tired and sometimes even fatigued.

You’d learned to manage on your own, even on the really tired days. Though there had been a few times you’d almost caused a fire, because you’d sat down and fallen asleep while cooking, and something had burned. You had also fallen asleep in the bath a couple of times, and slipped underwater, which of course was a horrible way to wake up.

It was easier when Gojo was home, you knew nothing bad would happen, even if you happened to fall asleep or were too tired to do something. You always tried to make it as much of a fair split as possible, but sometimes you just couldn’t manage, so when he was home, he did his part and a bit more too. 

Gojo missed you, and he was looking forward to seeing you again. Even though it had only been a couple of days since you saw each other, it always felt like it had been too long. He was almost home, and he was basically skipping half the stairs up to your shared dwelling, he was so excited to see you.

He knew you would probably be asleep, since you had texted him you had also come back from a mission a few hours ago. So when he got to the front door, he slid the key into the lock and opened it quietly. He slipped into the house and closed the door behind him. He looked around and found you sitting on the living room couch, barely staying awake.

“Whatcha doing up?” he smiled as you finally noticed him.

“I wanted to stay awake till you came home, I missed you” you smiled back at him tiredly.

“Was it worth it?” Gojo smirked.

“For this view? Eh, I guess…” you joked.

“How about now?” Gojo said, unbuttoning his jacket while walking towards you.

“I really hope you’re doing that so you can take a shower and come to bed with me” you said, still smiling tiredly.

“Duh, what else could it be for?” Gojo rolled his eyes dramatically.

“Now that I think about it, I should probably take a shower too” you noted.

“Shall we then?” Gojo offered his hand to you.

You took his hand and followed him to the bathroom. You both took your clothes off and stepped into the shower. You just stood under the warm water, dozing off a little bit, before Gojo tapped your shoulder.

“My turn?” he asked.

“Oh yeah, sorry” you muttered as you moved away from under the water and grabbed a bottle of shampoo.

“Do you want me to wash your hair?” Gojo inquired as he turned the water hotter.

“Yes please” you yawned, and handed him the shampoo bottle.

Gojo stood partly under the hot water as he squeezed some shampoo onto his hand and started massaging your scalp as you stood in front of him.

It felt so nice to have someone else wash your hair. It was so relaxing, and you felt like you were melting under his fingers. You were getting so sleepy at the same time, which just made you lean back against his chest.

“Rinse yourself off and go to bed, doll. You’re about to fall over” Gojo said gently as he finished with your hair.

“Probably a good idea” you muttered tiredly as Gojo moved away from the shower so you could get the shampoo out of your hair.

You rinsed yourself off and stepped out of the shower, wrapping yourself in a big towel. You brushed your teeth and went to put some clothes on as Gojo continued his shower. You laid down, wanting to stay up until he came to bed with you, but it was getting so hard to keep your eyes open.

When Gojo came out of the bathroom, a towel around his waist, while drying his hair. He noticed you were already asleep on the bed. He couldn’t help but smile a little. Even though your cursed technique had such an annoying side effect, you’d managed to deal with it pretty well. He just wished he could be with you more, so you didn’t have to always deal with everything yourself, but it wasn’t really realistic. He had so many missions, so many responsibilities with teaching and mentoring the next generation.

Gojo threw in some underwear and a t-shirt and climbed into bed with you. He pulled the covers over you and himself and pulled you close. You snuggled to his chest and he placed a kiss on your forehead. It felt so good to have you in his arms, you fit there so perfectly, it was a pity this wasn’t a more common occurrence. Sometimes you wouldn’t get a chance to do this for weeks, because you just passed each other like ships in the night. Being a sorcerer was enough of a pain in the ass as it was, you really didn’t need these side effects too. He just wished he could do something about it. He would do just about anything if it helped you.

~Fushiguro Megumi~

•He’s never seen someone sleep as much as you

•Of course, there are other aspects to your tiredness, such as difficulty to focus and being irritable

•Megumi is pretty good at dealing with you when you’re annoyed, he just mostly shrugs it off if you happen to snap at him and you talk it out when you’re in a better mood

•Megumi also tries his best to help you manage your tiredness and the stuff that comes with it

•You don’t just fall asleep in the middle of a battle, but you often can’t stay awake in the car afterwards and just lean on Megumi’s shoulder and fall asleep

•You’re also sometimes just too tired to do things, like clean your dorm room or go to eat in the cafeteria, so Megumi just brings you something you can eat when you wake up, in case you wake up when the cafeteria isn’t open

•You can sometimes become really reckless when you haven’t had enough sleep, because your critical thinking skills decline

•Megumi sometimes has to save your butt, and so do Itadori and Kugisaki, but you do the same for them when you’re in a better state and they need it

•Thought those two requirements don’t coincide that often

[sketchehm]

Augh wait, completely non Canon but I just had an idea for like, if the cats were actually kids

_-_-_-_-_-_

'I have an important message for you'

The message is followed by a three minute audio.

Finally, after hours of scrubbing through months and months of massages between Sapnap and his old family, they finally found something about his mission to infiltrate Team Mafia.

(Shadoune swears Sapnap wasn't on his phone this much. How did he find the time to text these two so much? How many times do you need to text someone a reminder to eat in one day??)

The phone is already connected to a speaker so they can all hear everything without having to circle around it, so there's only hesitante stopping them from pressing play.

This is what Sapnap was sent here to do. This spells out exactly the ways he was ordered to betray them.

Shadoune presses play.

"Hi Dad! Hiiiiiiiii" Two children voices come from the speaker, "We miss you lotssss!! I got the tiara you sent me! Me and Patches are matching now, we look like sisters!"

"Of course we do, we are sisters stupid."

Another child's voice sounds out, a little father away and a little deeper

One of the first two kids giggles, and there's a shuffle before the other's voice sounds again

"When are you coming back home? Pops and Papa say we should take down the Christmas decorations, but I like them!! Milo don't steal the phone! I'm asking Dad when he's coming home! Oh yeah... Dad we miss you a lot, will you be done with work soon?"

"You two..."

There's two tiny sad sighs

"We know... Be careful Dad, we love you lots! You need to tell us all the cool work stories when you get home! Yeah, we need like, 5 whole bed time stories when you come back! Love you bye! Byeeeeeeeee-"

The audio ends. There's pure silence in the room, a variation of shell-shocked faces all around. Serpias looks a little teary, and no one is quick enough to grab him before he rushes off, thankfully up to his room instead of to the basement.

"Creo..." Rich starts awkwardly, "Creo que eso es suficiente por hoy."

_-_-_-_-_-_-_

Honestly Serpias would probably run straight to Sapnap, but if anyone ever brought up his kids while he was in the basement he would murder them with his bare hands and I didnt know how to write that right now so... Serpias! To your room!

Serpias beloved 🥺

He just wants the best for Sapnap always and forever....

Serpias after going through every crisis and still not thinking straight, he makes a quick pitstop, shoving something in his pocket before going down to the basement in the dead of night.

Sapnap is actually awake with Dream this time. And when they see Serpias enter... Eyes bloodshot, sniffling, overall looking terrible.....well. Sapnap is beyond worried. He grabs Dream's arms tightly. He doesn't know what Serpias is gonna say.

"Lo siento."

It's quiet. Could barely hear it over his sniffling.

Sapnap thinks they're going to die.

Dream asks what's wrong. Tone dangerously grave.

"You....have children..."

Dream will tense. But Sapnap will be on his feet. Hands already gripping Serpias' shirt collar and slamming him against the door

"What happened with them?"

Serpias has never heard Sapnap so serious, so frightening. It's actually the first time he's heard Sapnap speak on his own without Dream.

Sapnap will scream in Serpias' face asking what happened. Threatening to make his death and everyone else's in this house slow and painful if they laid a finger on them. His eyes are wild. The kind of insane he's only witnessed watching Sapnap in the ring and taking down an opponent.

This is life or death to Sapnap he realizes.

George is waking up from the noise as Sapnap continues to yell and slam his head against the door. What happened. WHAT HAPPENED!

"NADA! SAPNAP HICIMOS NADA!"

Serpias can barely get it out. He feels dizzy. He might be bleeding.

"Then why are you sorry." Sapnap's cold tone hurts Serpias' more than scares him. Never wanting Sapnap to hate him ever. But he knew this would happen. Expected to be more than half dead by this point.

"For taking you away from them....They are alone..."

It's quiet again.

"Why are you saying this?" It's Dream. His tone is cold and calculating, something Serpias is familiar to. Welcomes it even. Something to focus on that isn't Sapnap's hatred.

"Para escaparé." He produces the keys in his pocket. They're for a car.

And Sapnap let's him go. Serpias feels really dizzy without the support now. The headache so overwhelming, he can't help close his eyes. He's out cold before he falls over.

When he wakes up he's in the infirmary with Farfa at the side of his bed. He can feel the headache of a concussion, the back of his head pounding. He notices the bandages wrapped around his head.

"Se fueron."

Serpias jumps at Farfa's voice. But once the words register, despite the incredible pain, he can't help but be relieved.

[velvetydream]

꒰ :🌹 [ Motion sickness of a Dragon Slayer ] ”♡ᵎ꒱ˀˀ ↷ ⋯

Summary : It was already the second day of the grand magic games and you seriously didn't understand why they let Sting compete in the race. So now you had a sick Dragon Slayer on your hands, who was way to stubborn to admit it was a stupid idea to not let Orga or Yukino go.

Pairing : Sting x Gn! Reader

Word count : 625

Genre : Fluff

➵ Warnings ;

a/n : I can barely find Fairy Tail content, so now I've made it my resposibility to write fors this awesome show, starting with my all time favorite boy.. Sting! <3

I also just finished the grand magic games arc, so perfect to write for Sting!

┌───────────────────────── ·  ·  ·  · ♡

Why did he have to be so stubborn? It would have been much smarter to let one of the others compete.. But no that dumb ass with the adorable smile had to go up against Fairy Tails Natsu Dragneel and Gajeel Redfox. You understood that he wants to beat Natsu, the one he looked up to for years.. But did it really have to be in a race on moving carts?! Jiemma was so mad, Sting and the whole team couldn't allow themselves another slip up, or the whole guild would feel his rage.

“Sting it's me, I'm coming in.” Entering his room in the inn the guild was staying at, he was laying on his side, clutching his stomach. Beside his bed a little bucket just in case. Well at least it was good to know Sting and Rogue weren't the only Dragon Slayer with this issue. “Lectors out with Rogue and Frosch, they'll pick up some soup for you.” Upon the mentioning of food, the blonde poorly clutched his mouth, letting out a low groan, warning to not mention food again.

Setting the bowl of water you were carrying onto the nightstand, you take a seat at his side. Stings eyes averted. Of course. Ashamed is what he felt when he stood in front of Jiemma, of front of the whole guild.. And he still feels like this. Taking the rug from the water, you carefully wring out the excess water, before rubbing it softly over his face. A content sigh could be heard, as Sting turns onto his back, so you had better acess to his face. Poor boy, he looked completely out of it.

“Feeling better a bit?” Looking at him now, he nods. Eyes closed. For once he had a soft look on his face, no scowl, no sadistic smirk. Deep down he was a hurt little boy wanting to prove himself to whoever. It's sad what this guild made out of him.

“Sting! You're awake!” A cry could be heard, as the little red exceed jumped onto the bed, followed by Rogue and Frosch. “You should really think a little more before jumping straight into the games.” Rogue had a little annoyed look on his face, as he sets the bag with the soup on the table, the green cat letting out a little – Fro thinks so too. The two exceed seriously were the most adorable little beings ever. “Sorry you had to take care of him for being careless.” Words now directed to you, making you let out a little laugh. “Oh it's fine, at least I get to spend some time with my favorite Dragon Slayer.” Ruffling Stings hair now slightly, Lector letting out a surprised scream – at how someone could just touch Sting like that. The later now wearing his usual scowl on his face, with a little twist – he was blushing madly, averting his gaze to the other side and away from you.

Now that Sting was finally feeling better, it was time for the battles of the day. Following them back to the arena, Lector comfortably in your arms. Even if he didn't want to admit it, Lector liked you a lot. The battles were interesting to say the least, especially Mirajane against Jenny. What a show truly. So lastly now Yukino. Of course you were cheering for the white haired stellar magician. You two were quit close. Just like you were with Sting and Rogue. But at the end, she fell. Laying on her back and staring at the sky, tears streaming down her soft features. This was bad. Jiemma will not like this.

The evening and night to come.. were definitely something no one would have expected to happen.

[yanderefarm]

i just read through achilies, Nephite and Noemie's tags rn and all i have to say? YOU NEED TO STOPPPPPP YOUR WRITING IS AWAKING THINGS IN ME IM NOT SURE I LIKE😭😭😭 (im kidding, i love it. i am a freak and now i know it.) also question- for turning the yan's into potatos- are we doing elbow and knee amputations or full blond hipbone and shoulder. becuse one of those things is more 𝒻𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓀𝓎 then the other...

🦑-anon

we here at yandere farm are not liable in case of awakened kinks, unlocked sadism, or marriage fraud. you signed the waiver when you followed--

cw;; amputation, nsft

tbh i think it changes depending on which one. but also im a fan of thighs so i don't think id ever remove a boy's thighs. i mean their cute thighs trying to cling to you??? pressing their thighs together and fucking them... the idea of depriving them the thing you've decided is their only use by not even using one of their holes.... hhhh

i think silvan is the one most likely to get amputated at the shoulder and hip. basically turn him into luggage.

i didn't talk about nephy potato but i should. you should potato your wife because c'mon!!! his only purpose is to please you he doesn't need to be anything but a set of holes. lovingly turning him into a sweet little toy so he can never go back to the cult. his cute little face all covered in tears because he feels useless but you reassure him that he's fulfilling his only true purpose. im also a big fan of potatos + dumbification so like he becomes a cute little needy toy who can barely think to form words.

i think for nephite, achilles, and noemie its at the elbows + knees. like for achilles and noemie i think making them crawl around like literal animals is fun even if they can't do it very long. and i like nephy trying to cling to you and pretend things are normal somehow even as his brain is slipping.

[rorywritesjunk]

Let’s be one another’s present tense

Buggy ‘rescues’ you from an abusive situation, and after a less than stellar introduction, he has you audition for his crew to keep you safe. You want safety, security, and joining a circus seems like the best idea.

Rating: This chapter is NC-17. They finally do it.

Warning: Swearing, sex, Cupcake is chatty and prolly a little bratty. Buggy is a worried boyfriend. Lots of talking during sex but its their first time together and I had a feeling it would happen tbh. Communication is key.

A/N: It starts. I aint a pro at writing porn.

Title comes from “Crater Lake” by Lady Lamb

Chapter 1 + Chapter 2 + Chapter 3 + Chapter 4 + Chapter 5 + Chapter 6 + Chapter 7 + Chapter 8 + Chapter 9 (NC-17) + Chapter 10 + Chapter 11 + Chapter 12 + Chapter 13 + Chapter 14 + Chapter 15 (NC-17) + Chapter 16 (NC-17) + Chapter 17 TAGLIST: @lostfirefly @neuvilleteismybby @fluffybunnyu @sinning-23 @the-angriest-angel @ane5e @fanshavegottensotoxic @honey-deerling

Chapter 9

Morning came with Buggy practically on top of you as he slept, arms wrapped around you with your legs tangled together. You were waking up, trying to stretch your muscles, but it was difficult with your current position. Your head felt a little tender but the bandage managed to stay on. Sighing, you tried to wriggle away from him but he just tightened his hold on you. 

“Buggy, babe, I gotta pee.” You told him as you tried to shake him awake. “Lemme go.”

“Few more minutes.” He mumbled against your neck where he was currently nestled against. You rolled your eyes and managed to reach his ass, giving him a pinch which seemed to shock him awake. You took the chance to get out of bed to get to the toilet to have a few minutes of privacy. After washing your hands, you sighed when you saw the water splashed onto your shirt. You didn’t want to go back to bed with that on so you stripped the shirt off.

Once you were done, you checked the bandage before going back to the bedroom and crawling back into bed, snuggling up against him as he continued dozing. His arms went back around you and he pulled you against him, never bothering to open his eyes.

“How's your head?” He asked as he tucked his face back against your neck as your fingers slid up and down his bare arm slowly. “Do you feel okay today?”

“Mm, I feel fine. It's a little tender but I'm okay.” You told him as you closed your eyes. “I just wanna sleep for the rest of the day.”

“Don't see why not.” Buggy sighed as he tilted his head enough to start peppering kisses along your neck. “I'll keep you company. Call it a day off for both of us.” He opened one eye and looked you over. “Where’s your shirt?”

“Yea, but there’s um, I got things to do.” You murmured as his hand moved between your legs. “Like… things. Laundry. My shirt got wet in the bathroom, so I should get out of bed and start working on laundry.”

“The captain orders you to stay in bed.” Was his response as his fingers slid over the crotch of your underwear, teasing you and causing you to gasp. “This okay?”

You could only nod, a moan escaping you as he pushed your panties aside, dipping into your folds as he sucked a spot on your neck. You spread your legs for him, eyes closed as he touched you. He mumbled something against your skin before ripping your underwear off, tossing them aside before shifting positions and settling himself between your legs. He moved your legs over his shoulders, resting them there as he dragged his tongue over your slit, looking up at you. 

It took you a moment to register what was happening. One moment he was kissing your neck and now he was down between your legs, smirking up at you as he held your legs apart, tongue swirling around your clit before dragging over your entrance. It was almost too much for a moment, the sensation, and you had only ever had one partner before this and that was years ago, one time with the neighbor’s son when you both were 19, and it was dumb and uncomfortable and you didn’t think you’d want to try it again unless it was the right partner. 

And currently your partner was using his Devil Fruit powers on you.

While he stayed between your legs, arms holding your legs apart for him, his hands were on your breasts, kneading them, pinching and rolling your nipples between his thumbs and pointer fingers. You were gripping the bed sheets in your hands, moaning and whimpering for him as he sucked on your clit. 

And Buggy wanted this to be perfect for you, your first time with him. He held off for months, wanting you to feel safe and comfortable with him, only ever kissing you and holding you. Last night would have been it had the two of you not been interrupted, so this morning seemed like the best time. No one would dare wake the captain up unless it was serious.

One of his hands left your breast, moving down between your legs as Buggy pulled back for a moment. You lifted your head to look at him, confusion on your face, and before you could ask what was wrong, he pressed a finger into you as he watched you for a reaction, making sure you were okay. Your head fell back against the pillows as you sighed loudly. 

“Fuck, Buggy, don’t stop like that.” You managed to say as you reached down, placing your hand on his head and pushing down gently. “Please don’t stop.”

“Mm, don’t tell the captain what to do.” He retorted, finger pumping into you slowly. “D’you want me to actually fuck you, Cupcake?”

“Yes, asshole, obviously!” You whined. “I wanted you to fuck me last night!”

“I wasn’t going to do it when I was upset!” Buggy told you as he pushed in a second finger. “I want this to be romantic and… and great for you, okay? I don’t want to hurt you!”

You threaded your fingers through his hair, tugging on his hair gently as his fingers curled, brushing over your g-spot. While you appreciated him being thoughtful, you wanted him to fuck you into the mattress. You weren’t as fragile as he seemed to think you were. You were about to tell him, let him know you wanted him to actually fold you in half and get with it already, when his mouth was back on your clit as he fingered you. You were moaning for him, pushing on the back of his head as he kept his attention on your clit. 

He wanted to ask if you were okay but you were pushing down on his head, not wanting him to stop just yet, and he decided to add a third finger. Your juices were coating his fingers, he could feel you clench, your breathing hitched and he gave your clit a final suck which had you cumming, gripping his hair and pulling his hair as you cried out for him. 

“Ya still want me to fuck you?” He asked, smirking up at you from between your legs, the makeup on his face more smudged than before and his chin and lips coated in your juices. You nodded, pulling on his hair again, but he managed to get you to let go, grabbing both of your wrists and pinning them above your head as he sat up and stripped off his pants. He spat into his hand, giving himself a few strokes before pressing the tip against you and pushing his hips forward. 

He released your wrists and you reached for him, pulling him down on top of you as you kissed him. He put one hand on your hip while the other rested on the bed as he pressed in all the way, bottoming out before giving you a moment to adjust. He could feel you tense up, the hitch in your breathing at the sudden fullness. He stilled, rubbing your hip slowly as he kissed you, waiting for you to give him the go ahead. 

“You good, Cupcake?” He asked, breaking the kiss as he studied your face. You nodded after a moment, rocking your hips against his. “Use your words.”

“‘m fine, Buggy.” You mumbled, nails digging into his back. “Please fuck me now.”

“You'll tell me if it's too much, right?” 

You nodded first but when he didn't move you sighed. ‘Y-Yea, I'll tell you.”

“Good.” He murmured as he began to move his hips slowly, wanting to make sure you were okay at first. You knew he was afraid of hurting you, and you appreciated he was taking it slow, but you had little patience. He hesitated for just a moment before he started to pick up the pace, moaning when your muscles clenched around him as your nails scratched along his back. He grabbed your hands, once more pinning them above your head.

You gasped when he did that, feeling his hand tighten around your wrists as he angled his hips. Moaning, crying, whimpering, those were the sounds that escaped you as he started fucking you harder. He kept his eyes on your face, looking for any signs of discomfort, but you had shut your eyes, mouth open as you panted softly. When his cock hit that sweet spot, your eyes shot open and you cried out for him.

“Ah, fuck, Buggy! More!” 

He just nodded, feeling his heart skip a beat when you cried his name like that. His lips crashed against yours as his hips slammed into his at an almost bruising pace. He wasn't going to last long, hearing the sounds you were making or how you felt around him. It wasn't until he let go of your wrists, his hand moving between your bodies to touch your clit that you came undone after just a few touches of his fingers. He followed after, swearing and moaning your name as he came, sinking into you as he dropped on top of you.

You grunted at the weight of his body on top of yours. “Um, you okay?”

He just nodded as he pulled out of you. “Uh, yea, fine. Just fine.”

“You sure?” You pulled him back down beside you, kissing him on the forehead as his arms went around you. He just nodded. “Okay, now can I really have the day off if I spend it in bed with you?”

“Of course.” He mumbled as he pressed his lips to your neck and throat. “Captain's orders.”

~

The only time the two of you left the bedroom was to get breakfast and lunch, other than that Buggy kept you naked in bed with him while he explored your body. When he needed time to recharge in between sessions, he would be using his hands and mouth to have you screaming his name for him. 

It went on for a while until you were finally tapping out, literally tapping him on the shoulders with both hands as he had you cumming on his tongue for what you were certain was the millionth time since lunch.

“Break, I need a break, Buggy!” You panted out. “Too, um, too much.”

He pulled back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “You okay? Did I hurt you?”

“No, fuck, just need a break.” You told him as you stretched out on the bed. “Fuck, aren't you tired? Your tongue isn't cramping?”

He shrugged as he moved to lay down beside you, wrapping his arms around you as he pulled you against him. You sighed and leaned into him, pressing your face into his neck as you closed your eyes. 

“I dunno if my legs work.” You mumbled as his fingers slid down your back slowly. “I'm going to be walkin’ bow legged for a few days.”

Buggy shrugged, resting his hand in the middle of your back. “Was it too much?”

“No.” You said as you reached up to play with his hair. “You don't have to worry, babe. I'm not going to break if you're a little too rough.”

“I'd never be rough with you.” He frowned. “Why would I be?”

“I'm not saying you would be, I'm just saying don't treat me like I'm going to break.” You told him. “Babe, I trust you, okay?”

“I know, but-”

You leaned up to kiss him, cutting him off before you sat up. “I'm just saying that… for example, I liked it when you held my wrists, y’know? And I'm glad you check in with me, but I'm not going to shatter if like, you fuck me a little too hard.”

Buggy nodded though he had a frown on his face. The thought of causing you any amount of pain, intentional or not, didn't sit well with him. He was glad you trusted him enough to say that but he was hesitant. He didn't want to put you through anything you might regret. 

You touched his cheek, caressing softly before you kissed him again. “I trust you, Buggy.”

“I trust you too, Cupcake.” He murmured as he turned his head to kiss your palm softly. “I'm not going to hurt you.”

You sighed softly and smiled. “I know you aren't, babe.”

[wordbreaker]

Strings ✷ Eddie Munson

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Words: 2k

Description: If there is one person that can piss Eddie Munson off, it’s the new neighbour… or the three times Eddie Munson ends up angry and how it stopped. 

( SILÉAS says ... ! ) I wrote this last year when season 4 came out. It's not a masterpiece⏤I don't even write for ST anymore⏤but it's fun and I wanted to share it with you.

THE FIRST TIME Eddie wants to kill his new neighbour, it’s a Wednesday night and it's long past midnight. He knows she's the one making all that noise because it's not like Max Mayfield to blast her music for the whole neighbourhood to hear. The little redhead is far too glued to her walkman for that.

So there's only one other option he can think of.

A new trailer had been sold a week before, the one right in front his. If Eddie hadn't seen anything interesting in this event, he had no idea that the removal of the "for sale" sign would be the beginning of Hell.

He doesn't know what she looks like, the new neighbour, he just knows that she has an annoying tendency to think she's alone. 

In itself, she's not doing anything wrong, and he should even be happy that she's blasting AC/DC and not some shitty music at this hour. However, he has a D&D campaign to prepare for the club’s meeting next week, so he has no time to waste. The shorties—by which he means Sinclair multiplied by two, Henderson and Wheeler—have been bugging him to create a new one since the memorable end of the previous one. 

D&D is serious (at least for him), and Eddie won't be able to concentrate if he has to listen to that damn guitar one more minute. 

The last straw is the Highway to Hell solo.

While another neighbour shouts a totally useless "stop this shit!", Eddie opens his door with a bang—surely waking up Uncle Wayne in the process, or not because he too has to put up with this nightly concert—which slams brutally against the wall of the grey trailer.

From his doorstep he cannot see any light filtering through the curtains of the one opposite, but he does not trust this image: the neighbour is there and more awake than ever as Back in Black begins along its famous chords.

Three big steps to the trailer, three big breaths to calm down and three big knocks to call the neighbour. 

Not even a second later, the door opens and gives way to her, the one he is meeting for the first time. 

"Yeah?" 

His words fade into his throat before he can utter them, the sight before him leaving him speechless. A cigarette in her mouth, barely hanging on, she looks at him with a blasé look, probably in a hurry to get back to her business.

Wisps of smoke form their hazy arabesques and intoxicate him, or perhaps it is the creature that has just appeared in front of him. To be honest, he doesn't know if he's dreaming or if it's reality, but the woman watching him seems to have come straight from his imagination. 

Tattoos blacken and decorate her skin in a constellation of ink that he wants to admire but can’t—maybe he does sneak a peek—because they're hidden by a big Iron Maiden shirt that falls over bare legs. He swallows. 

Why is he here again? 

That's exactly the question the neighbour asks him. Her voice is low and hoarse, damaged by tobacco and probably other substances. It seems to have collected dirt, sown by something called Life. In any case, the neighbour seems to have seen and done some shit. 

Eddie tries to answer. However, he can't take his eyes off the guitar hanging around her neck. It's simple, black but decorated with a few stickers that remind him of its owner's tattoos, and it's beautiful. Here's another point in common. Less so than his sweetheart, obviously, but it is metal, her guitar, almost as much as the one who holds it. 

So, she was the one playing. 

"Could you turn down your amp? I'm trying to get my campaign ready for my D&D club."

She scoffs, before muttering a "nerd" that he hears perfectly well despite the lowered tone. He thinks she did it on purpose. He doesn't really care. The word isn't said as aggressively as when Jason does it. It even sounds affectionate in her nicotined mouth (which he wants to taste but that's a detail for later, preferably tonight, late at night, and alone). 

"Don't worry, I'll turn it down." 

And without a goodbye, she slams the door, leaving him speechless from this encounter and perhaps, the mere sight of her. That night she keeps her word and Eddie can finish his campaign in silence. 

THE SECOND TIME Eddie wants to kill his neighbour is when he is himself strumming his guitar one night to try to master the recently released Master of Puppets. The chords frustrate him because he can't string them together smoothly.

If that's the beauty of the art —the failure, the determination, the practice and ultimately the success—it's fucking annoying as of right now. And on top of that, he has to deal with his neighbour's solos, which are much better than his own. It's humiliating, and it doesn't help him to concentrate.

He lets out yet another grunt, a clear sign of his irritation, when at the other end of the path he hears Master of Puppets performed to perfection. She got to be kidding him. She must’ve perfect pitch, he thinks. Nobody can learn a song that fast, especially one like that.

She's beautiful, she's charismatic and she's a better guitarist than he is. It's him, only better, and just thinking about this makes him start to hate her as a string threatens to break under the pressure of his bloody fingers.

Or maybe it's not annoyance but rather misplaced frustration at his ineptitude to dare to ask her out. 

"Nice solo!" he hears from his open window. 

He thinks he's dreaming, but no, when he looks up, there she is, on the other side of the road, her guitar in her hand.

Tonight, she smiles and even waves at him. It's a nice change from last time. Her face lights up and becomes more beautiful. No cigarette between her lips either, although there is smoke coming out of the window all the same. It is far too thick to be from any Marlboro. The smell reaches him—Hawkins has been trapped by the wind for several days—and gives him the answer to the question he dares not ask.

It's weed.

An unhealthy jealousy takes hold of his body. He wasn’t the one who sold it to her. 

His thoughts wander and he imagines himself smoking with her, both of them lying in her room, a metal vinyl ripping through the restful silence. His hand would caress her soft thighs, while she would play two or three chords and they would kiss two or three times. 

"You've got good taste, Munson!"

She knows his name. He doesn't. That's enough to snap him out of his stupor. 

"Thank you..!" he yells and waits. 

"Y/N!"

Strangely enough, he doesn't care that she makes noise if it means she answers him.

It's a nice name, almost too much so when it's said in such a broken voice. But at the same time, it makes the sound addictive.

Eddie wonders what his name would sound like in her mouth, when she's underneath him, and his mouth ventures down her throat, her stomach and even lower...

Stop. She may be beautiful and talented, but she's still fucking annoying. 

"I'm not bothering you, am I?"

He should say yes, because of course she's bothering him with her chords flowing perfectly while his are jerky, but with those big eyes looking at him, how could he say anything but no? 

"No, don't worry. I think you could teach me a few things, even.”

"I heard you, though, Munson. You’re good with your fingers." 

He nearly chokes as a sudden wave of heat travels down his spine and goes straight to his lower abdomen. It’s an innuendo; it has to be. And yet, the girl's expression remains innocent, almost too much so in his opinion, but he's not thinking straight. 

Fuck, he really needs to stop with the neighbour. Besides, it's a cliché, "the neighbour". It sounds like the pitch for some cheesy movie Harrington sells in his crappy shop, and Eddie's never been one for cheesy romances. 

THE THIRD TIME Eddie is frustrated with the new neighbour is when she turns her amp up to max and plays another Metallica solo.

Immediately, Eddie is on his way, as he was that first night, to knock on her door.

He's exhausted.

The teachers are giving him a hard time about a diploma he won't get, Jason's critics have multiplied in the cafeteria, and above all, Henderson won’t stop making fun of him and his embarrassment when he talks about the neighbour.

According to the boy, he has a crush on her. This is ridiculous, and it pisses him off. No matter where he goes, even to the high school where she doesn't go and therefore where no one is supposed to know her, he can't escape her.

Everything brings him back to her. 

So, this guitar solo is too much. He drums more than he knocks on the door, shaking the flimsy walls of the trailer. Immediately the music stops, and she appears in front of him. She has a joint in the corner of her mouth. The smell intoxicates him—or is it her fruity perfume?—but he maintains his stance. He won't let it happen this time. He's determined to tell her what he's thinking. 

“It took you long enough.”

She takes him by the hand and pulls him inside. The decoration is basic, it's the posters of different bands that make her personality shine. It's much neater than his house, though, he must admit. 

“You? Huh? What?” he stammers.

“I've been trying to get your attention for days, Munson. Days. My fingers are bleeding because you don't have the balls to come here. Seriously, you couldn't have put me out of my misery sooner? I mean... better late than never, but... Fuck.”

Eddie doesn't understand. It must show on his face. His eyebrows are furrowed, his eyes are wide, his mouth is half-open, and his arms are flailing. Everything about him is in disbelief. Y/N sees it perfectly and sighs, exhaling smoke with it. Tangible frustration. She massages the bridge of her nose, as if this gesture will give her the courage to put up with him and his inability to think. 

“I like you, Munson. I thought that was obvious.”

The neighbour, she pisses him off. She's beautiful, she's more metal than he is, she's a better guitar player than he could ever dream of being, and now she's even got more balls than him. That's the last straw.

“Oh no! No! No! No! I was supposed to say that! Fuck! It's bad enough that you've mastered Master of Puppets while I'm still struggling and now you're the one taking the reins and deciding that you have a crush on me. Hell no! I'm the one- humph!"

She seals their lips, kisses him, and that brief but obvious moment makes his heart beat a thousand miles an hour. Eddie thinks it's more to tell him to shut the fuck up than anything else but he indulges in the moment.

As she bites his bottom lip and leaves the taste of weed behind, he allows himself to tighten his embrace, his hands closing over her, touching the grain of her skin from the small of her back to her neck. Her lips are much sweeter than he thought they would be.

“Can you please shut up, Munson?” she finally says, exasperated. At least that's what she's trying to sound like, but she's far too cute as it is. Her hair is tousled, her lips swollen, her eyes sparkling and her cheeks warm to the touch. He can't help it: he steals another kiss from her, which she promptly returns. 

“Does this mean you're going to stop playing at three in the morning to piss me off?”

“We could play together? After you explain the rules of D&D to me,” she offers.

His heart misses a beat, and he smiles. 

That's the last time he's angry with the neighbour. 

[estrellami-1]

Tagged by @apomaro-mellow @i-less-than-three-you @every-aj-needs-an-angel… hopefully I got everyone! 😅

Rules: generate 5 random words using this generator and then write something using those words! Tag 5 (or however many you want) mutuals to challenge! (If you don’t like your 5 words, try again. This is supposed to be fun!)

My words: mosh, boulangerie, smuggle (technically it was ‘smuggling’ but y’know. Semantics), pearl, fawn

They met at a mosh pit in Indianapolis.

It was rather funny, the way fate works, if you ask Steve, considering he’s from France and Eddie’s from…

Well. He’s not entirely sure, to be honest. He speaks French rather well, but there’s an accent that attests to him being a transplant instead of a native.

Still, they meet and hit it off; they’re sharing the same hotel, same floor, even, so they split the cost of one room.

When in Rome—or, in this case, Indianapolis—do as the locals do.

In this case, as Eddie’d put it with a salacious grin: fuck like rabbits.

They’re on the same plane back to France too, as fate would have it. Steve to go back to his boulangerie, and Eddie to do whatever it is he does in France.

Steve privately thinks Eddie’s in France just to annoy Steve. He’s finding it increasingly hard to care.

They hook up again, more than once, more often than not in Steve’s flat.

He begins to find things missing.

There’s a pearl necklace from his mother. He’s had it ever since she passed, and it was his idea to give it to his daughter, if he should ever have one.

There’s a fawn-colored overcoat from his father. A little loose in the shoulders, but it fits Steve fairly well, and it keeps him warm in the colder months.

There’s a pie dish. Ordinarily he wouldn’t care, but this one is his favorite, for inexplicable reasons.

He asks Robin and Dustin, his friends-slash-employees. He asks his regular customers. He asks Eddie.

No one has any idea, or at least that’s what they say, but Steve’s pretty good at reading people and he feels like Eddie’s lying.

But Eddie’s hot, and a great lay, so Steve keeps his mouth shut, keeps inviting Eddie over, and does his best to keep a closer eye on him.

Things keep disappearing.

It all comes to a head when Eddie barges in one morning, wild-haired and wide-eyed, early enough that the bakery is barely open, that Steve himself is barely awake.

“Where’s the fire?” He teases, but it falls flat when Eddie smacks his hands on the counter and stares into Steve’s eyes.

“I fucked up.”

Steve blinks, thinks maybe Eddie needs a pastry or twelve, and places a gentle hand over Eddie’s, smiling at him. “It’s alright, we can fix it. What do you need?”

Eddie bites his lip, glances behind him. “To hide.”

Steve blinks. Okay, he thinks, maybe it’s more of a crazy ex situation. He nods. “Go upstairs,” he says. “My apartment. I’ll be up as soon as Robin is in. We can figure this out, okay?”

Eddie makes a sound that resembles a whine. “You’re gonna hate me.”

Steve raises a brow. “I find that hard to believe, actually, but I guess we’ll have to wait and see.” He leans forward, presses a quick kiss to Eddie’s cheek. “Go upstairs. I’ll be up in an hour.”

Eddie stares for a moment, presses a bruising kiss to Steve’s lips, and jumps the counter. Steve hears him sprinting upstairs, and he smiles as he shakes his head, continuing his task of placing pastries in the glass cabinet.

An hour later, Robin gets in, and Steve lets her take over, taking off his apron as he heads upstairs.

“Eddie?” He asks, as soon as he’s up.

“Steve,” Eddie breathes, standing up from the couch.

“Hey,” he smiles. He takes Eddie in, sees the way he’s holding himself, the way he’s been running his hands through his hair, and pulls him into a hug. “It’ll be okay,” he murmurs. “C’mon, let’s sit down. Do you want a cup of tea?”

Eddie shakes his head. “I fucked up, Steve, you’re gonna hate me.”

“Like I said before, I find that hard to believe, but go ahead. Try and convince me.”

Eddie takes a breath, scoots away from Steve. Steve tries not to let any expression show. “There’s a reason I haven’t ever told you what I do,” he murmurs, not looking at Steve. Steve’s heart drops. “You mentioned the things that went missing. The truth is… I do know what happened to them.” He rubs his hands together, picks at a nail. “I’m a smuggler, a grifter, a thief… whatever pays the bills, really. Your mom’s necklace was real pearls. Your dad’s jacket wasn’t a knockoff, like you thought. It was the real deal, they both were.”

Steve sets his mouth. “And the pie tin?”

Eddie smiles in a way that makes him look like he’d rather be doing anything else. “That… was purely personal. I thought… if I couldn’t have you… something of yours would have to do.” He runs a hand through his hair, sighs. “The law’s after me. Again. I still have all of your things. I couldn’t bring myself to sell or smuggle them. If you want them… what am I saying, of course you want them. I- shit, Steve, I shouldn’t have gotten involved with you in the first place… you just make it so easy.”

Steve narrows his eyes. “I make what so easy? I make an easy target? An easy mark? An easy fuck?”

“Well,” Eddie says, with the beginnings of a grin, “you kinda do make an easy fuck. But no, I meant… you make it so easy just to be. Just to be a person. Not a criminal, not someone who’s run their entire life. You make it easy to pretend that I can have everything I want. You’re… you’re the hardest target, the hardest mark, because… I care about you, Steve. I’m falling for you. And I know I ruined every chance I ever might’ve had with you, but you’re… you’re so good, and even if you never speak to me again, I thought… maybe you’d help me.”

Steve sighs. “Just answer one question for me.”

“Anything,” Eddie immediately says.

“When we’re… together. Are you putting on an act? Trying to get me to like you, to trust you, so you could steal from right under my nose?”

Eddie’s eyes widen. “No,” he swears. “I mean… Maybe I didn’t show you every part of me, but that’s just because I like you, and I wanted you to like me too. I didn’t want to scare you off.” He offers Steve a crooked grin. “I’ve been told I can be a lot.”

Steve regards him, sends him a crooked almost-grin back. “I’ve been told the same.”

He stands, presses a kiss to Eddie’s lips, and steps back. “You’re good with money, which is one thing my business is sorely lacking. Bring back my things, bring whatever you want to keep for yourself. You start Monday.”

Eddie blinks. “So… I didn’t just irreparably fuck everything up.”

Steve grins. “Oh, you’ll make it up to me. Don’t worry. But for now, go get your things. I’m going to make a call. Who’s after you? What got you spooked?”

“Right now, just the police. But who knows, if they find anything…”

Steve nods. “I’ll make a call. They’ll be off your case by the end of the day, but you should lay low for a while anyways.”

Eddie narrows his eyes. “Is this an example of keeping your friends close and your enemies closer?”

“Oh, Eddie,” Steve tuts, leans in until their lips barely brush, and Eddie’s eyes are closing. “I’m going to do things to you that I’d never dream of doing to my enemies.”

Eddie lets out a shaky breath. “Promise?”

Steve pulls back just as Eddie’s patience wears thin and he leans in to kiss Steve. “Go get your things,” he says, smiling when Eddie blinks confused eyes open at him again. “We’re going to have fun tonight.”

Tagging: @steddieas-shegoes @nburkhardt @thatonegreyghost @ghosttotheparty @wynnyfryd and whoever else wants to do it! Feel free to ignore if you’ve already been tagged. ❤️