#haha get it. rap on the knuckles.

[paingoes]

Destroyer - Marks

(Masterlist)

girl help i can't stop making bonus content

this is set right around Part XIII, in regard to the “I should probably give you more visible marks.” comment.

(Content: living weapon whumpee, obedient whumpee, somewhat reluctant whumper, dehumanization, power imbalances, physical abuse, minor blood, brief drug mention, death mention)

==============

He got approximately ten million fucking emails calling him an arsonist, or telling him that the experiment is an accident waiting to happen, or asking why he was letting the A-bomb walk around off-leash, why he was letting the bomb walk at all. Accusations he wouldn’t dare repeat. It was all so stupid. Delta was good. Paris never worried about him fragging. But the appearance of insubordination was damning all on its own. It was not a good situation.

Unfortunately, the messages kept coming. From staff he actually respected, too. People he needed. He didn’t even know how word reached them that quickly. He sometimes forgot just how scared they were of Delta. It had never been a popular project. That night, he received many requests for him to be killed outright. Not fucking happening.

Fucking Nezu telling him what to do with his fucking psychic. He was more mad about that than he ever could have been at Delta. That was why he’d gone easy on him. It gave him serious pause whenever his wants overlapped with Nezu’s — sometimes enough to evaporate them completely. He really wasn’t in the mood.

Something had to be done though, by the time the next meeting rolled around. They had to know that Delta had been punished for it, that Paris didn’t just let him get away with everything.

Delta didn’t fight him on it — not that he’d expected him too. He kneeled in front of the desk like he’d been asked. Paris leaned back against it, hitting the pen a few more times than he needed to. 

Delta looked bad. That day had been the only time Paris had ever seen him cry — even weeks later, he hadn’t seemed to recover from it. His eyes were still so pleading, in a way they’d never been before. It was unsettling.

Paris readjusted the only ring he wore on his right hand. It was sapphire — and it was clean. There wasn’t any reason to drag it out. He tilted Delta’s face up a little, tucking the slick hair back behind the webbed fin of his ear. 

“Hold still.” He didn’t want to hit his eye by accident. The jewel was sharp.

He backhanded him hard across the face. Harder than he would have normally. It needed to bruise.

Delta’s head was forced sharply to one side. His hair fell back in his face, totally obscuring it when he looked down at the floor. He didn’t outwardly react, but his next breaths came out shallow and shaky. Yeah, that hurt. 

Paris cupped his face again, moving it back up to examine the injury. It’d landed where he wanted it to — a thin cut right along his cheekbone. He could see the spot where the bruise would form over the next couple hours. Delta winced. Paris gently smoothed over the flushed skin with his thumb. 

“I’m sorry.” Delta’s voice was quiet. It was all he would say recently. 

“I know.”

It was hard to be mad at him when he was so clearly repentant. When he was being this good about it. Paris released him. He’d planned on hitting him across the other side of his face as well, in the interest of covering all his angles. It didn’t feel worth it anymore.

“Hand.”

Delta placed his hand gingerly into Paris’s own. Paris tightened his grip around it, supporting the palm beneath so that it’d absorb the full force of it. Knuckles facing up. Paris reached back for the ruler left out on the desk.

It cracked down hard against his knuckles, fast enough that he didn’t really have time to flinch. His injured hand reflexively tightened around Paris’s in the aftermath; it was the only real physical reaction he’d had. His claws dug painfully into Paris’s hand, not yet breaking the skin.

Paris released his grip on the hand. Delta’s hand relaxed and the claws withdrew, but he didn’t pull it back like he’d expected. He just left it resting there in his grasp.

“Other one.” 

He offered it without resistance. Same routine. Paris brought the ruler back down over his other hand, watching as the first signs of bruising appeared upon them. He placed the ruler back down and released his grip on Delta’s hand. 

“Done.”

There wasn’t much else to do, really. Delta was always dressed in long sleeves and ceremonial garb. For the most part, only his face and hands were exposed on vanguard days. It was enough, though. His expression alone was enough. If he just stayed like that, he’d be fine.

Delta folded both of his hands back into his lap, bright purple and blue against the pale white of clothes. His hair fell messily in his face, but parts of his eyes were still visible. He was still looking at Paris in that desperate, shell-shocked way.

“…Easy. You’re fine.” Paris didn’t know what to say to make him normal again. “The sting will be gone in a few minutes.”

For the hands, anyway, though the numbness would remain. The mark on his face would hurt a lot longer. 

Delta nodded slowly. A small amount of blood appeared by the cut. 

Paris gestured for him to lean forward again. Delta did so, cringing a little. Paris pressed a tissue against his cheek to stop the bleeding. He sighed as it bled straight through.

“…You want a bandaid?” He offered. The bruise would still be visible beneath it. 

“Yeah.” His voice was barely audible. He took the tissue from Paris, keeping the pressure there. 

Paris disappeared for a moment, loudly knocking shit over in the overfilled medicine cabinet. He came back with the split bandage. Delta held still as he applied it over the cut, smoothing it out against his cheek. It was pale white, the same color as his clothes, standing out sharply against the dark blue of his skin.

“…Thank you,” Delta said quietly. Sweetly. It fucking killed him sometimes.

Paris felt something strange in the pit of his stomach. He ignored it. He made a small, noncommittal noise as he discarded the paper into the trash. 

Delta touched the side of his face gently with the newly discolored fingers. Bruises on bruises. He put his hand abruptly back into his lap when Paris looked at him, as if he’d gotten caught. 

“We’re done.” Paris waved him off, sliding the ruler back into the drawer. The pen was starting to kick in. He was getting lightheaded. 

Delta rose slowly, giving something like a curtsy before he left. Or maybe his legs were just unsteady. Paris didn’t really care. 

The door closed quietly. Paris slid the lock shut. He pressed his forehead against the wood grain. Definitely lightheaded.

……

tags:

@catnykit @snakebites-and-ink @vivulapom @scoundrelwithboba @whatwhump

@pumpkin-spice-whump @deluxewhump @fuckass1000 @fuckcapitalismasshole @defire

@micechomper @writereleaserepeat @aloafofbreadwithanxiety

[jobean12-blog]

Next Door to Love

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female reader (Neighbor AU)

Word Count: 3,188

Summary: When you made the move to the city you never expected your new neighbor to be so sweet and helpful...or hot.

Author's Note: Because why not! Moving in across the hall from Bucky would be a dream, one I'd like to live out please and ty haha! Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy!🥰

Warnings: fun and flirty, teasing and tension, a curse or two or three, Bucky is impatient and cocky in the best way!

Last week

Your tired, fuzzy slipper clad feet drag along the floor as you trudge toward the door across the hall. You’re hoping someone is home. Someone who has sugar. Anyone.

You let out a quick exhale and lift your chin before rapping your knuckles against the wood. A frown starts to mar your forehead when you hear a sleepy mumble come from inside the apartment.

Shit, fuck, shit you woke him up. It’s a guy. Of course it is…because you don’t look like you just rolled off your mattress that still has no bedframe and tripped over twenty-five unopened boxes…etc, etc.

The door swings open revealing said guy…a hot-as-fuck guy. Naked, except for his unbuttoned jeans.

Oh hi neighbor.

Before you can stop it, your gaze instantly drops to the dark trail of hair below his bellybutton, framed by a set of abs that you could dry your laundry on.

You reel yourself in and lift your eyes to his which does nothing to help your declining focus. His hair is perfectly mussed from sleep, his chiseled jaw shadowed with dark stubble and his incredible blue eyes lined by dark lashes.

His hands are planted on either side of the door frame and with every passing second you’re mesmerized by flexing muscles in his chest and arms.

He drags a lazy hand through his unkept hair and smiles. Knowingly. Smugly.

“Can I help you doll?”

“Um…hi. I’m sorry if I woke you…it’s just…I moved in yesterday and haven’t gone shopping yet and I have no sugar. I need my coffee.”

“So you’re my new neighbor,” he croons. “Lucky me.”

You audibly swallow and hold up your coffee cup pleadingly.

“I’ll take care of ya doll.”

With a wink he holds up one long finger.

“Come on in and make yourself comfortable. I’ll be right back with that sugar.”

He spins on his heel and walks toward what you’re guessing is the kitchen and it should be considering your apartments are mirror images of each other.

You step inside and stand by the door to wait. You hear him rummaging around and then hear a crash followed by grumbled curses.

Before you can react the cutest white cat saunters out of the kitchen, looking quite proud with his fluffy tail held high and blue eyes unblinking.

“That’s Alpine,” he yells from the other room. “Don’t let his cuteness fool you. He’s a menace!”

You let your laughter ring out and then kneel down to give Alpine some scratches. The cat instantly warms up to you and presses himself against your leg, purring loudly.

“Ah, of course he likes you.”

You look up at the sound of your neighbors voice and reluctantly give up petting Alpine to take the offering of sugar.

“Thank you….?”

“Bucky,” he finishes for you. “Name’s Bucky.”

“Thanks Bucky,” you say with a smile and then introduce yourself.

You look back down at the cat that is now circling between Bucky’s bare feet. “And Alpine really is cute. I can’t imagine he’s a menace.”

“Just wait until you get to know him,” Bucky says. “Can I get you anything else doll?”

“No. Thank you and again I’m sorry if I woke you.”

“No problem at all. I had a late night at the office and I was just being lazy. If you need anything else just come by. Anytime.”

His lips turn up in a boyish grin and he winks again.

You can feel his eyes on you as you turn and walk out into the hall and toward your apartment. Just as you push your door open you look over your shoulder and catch him staring, his teeth dug deep into his bottom lip.

The knock at your door startles you from your unpacking trance and from your spot on the floor, surrounded by open boxes and a mess of things, you ask, “who is it?”

“It’s Bucky…and I have food.”

Your smile is impossible to hide and you shout back, “come in!”

Bucky appears in the doorway with a pizza box.

“Hiya doll face,” he chimes. “I figured you’d need some fuel.”

You drag yourself out of the mess on the floor and hop up onto the edge of the counter.

“Thanks Bucky. I really appreciate it, but you’re spoiling me. What is it now…the third time this week you’re feeding me?”

He hands you a slice and then stands there, watching while you take a bite.

“And why not? You need to eat and I love to eat, might as well do it together!”

You laugh through your bite. “Then what motivated you to help with my furniture?”

He shrugs and grabs a slice of pizza, shoving half into his mouth before he answers.

“Perfect opportunity to show off my muscles.”

He waggles his brows suggestively and flexes a bicep.

“Double win for me,” you admit, licking your lips. “How will I ever repay you.”

He remains quiet for several moments while he studies you then asks, “how about a real dinner?”

“Pizza is the realest dinner there is!” you state with a mouthful.

“Let me take you out. For something other than pizza.”  

“Are you asking me on a date?”

“Would you say yes if I were?”

Your legs swing back and forth at the knee as you finish your bite and then place your slice of pizza down. You reach over the box and grab the marker you left out on the counter, placing it between your lips.

Watching him from under your lashes, you take his arm and roll up the sleeve of his Henley and when your fingertips make contact with the sensitive skin on his underside of his forearm you can feel his muscles tighten.

Your mouth curves around the marker at his reaction and you pluck it from between your lips and start writing on his skin.

“Now you’ve got my number. Text me and we’ll pick a date for our date.”

“Thank you,” he says, leaning in close and dropping his eyes to your mouth.

Your lips part with your small gasp of air and when his thumb lifts to brush along the corner of your mouth you let out a rush of air.

“Sauce,” he states before he licks his finger clean, his gaze locked on yours.

You nod as he steps back and pulls out his phone to dial your number on his arm. Your phone rings and he says, “and now you’ve got mine.”

You spend the rest of your weekend unpacking and doing errands, running into Bucky only once in a frantic rush of laundry. He offers to help but you know if you let him you’ll become distracted and never get anything done. The two of you text back and forth, deciding on Saturday for your official date. No pizza involved.

The next morning you get another text from him.

“Morning doll face. Don’t forget an umbrella. Gonna rain later today.”

“Are you the weather man now?” you message back, smiling at your phone.

“Nah. Just a friendly neighbor.”

“Did you tell everyone in the building about the rain and remind them to bring an umbrella.”

“Just you…”

“Thanks, but I’m already half way to work sans umbrella.”

“Damn it. I knew I should have texted earlier. Now if you get caught in the rain it’ll be all my fault.”

“Hardly! I should have checked the weather. Can’t rely on you for everything can I?”

He sends a wink face.

“Is it Saturday yet?”

“Still only Monday morning. What’s Saturday?”

“Don’t tease me doll. I’ve been looking forward to this date since you showed up at my door lookin’ for sugar.”

“Have a good day Bucky.”

“You too doll…stay dry.”

You’re only two blocks from your apartment building when the sky opens up and the rain comes down in buckets. By the time you reach the doors you’re soaked through and cursing at yourself for forgetting an umbrella.

The door attendant lets you in with a sympathetic smile and as you’re sloshing past him and toward the elevator you hear Bucky’s voice.

“Oh doll. Look at you.”

He tugs his mail from the box and slams it shut, rushing toward you and taking your arm.

“Soaked,” you say sadly.

“I can see that,” he muses with a twitch of his perfect lips. “Come on, let’s get you upstairs and dry.”

The elevator doors open and you step inside with a shiver. He immediately starts to pull your jacket from your shoulders.

“What are you doing?” you ask without stopping him.

“You have to get out of this jacket. I’m sure your shirt is….”

He stops speaking when his eyes catch sight of your white button down, soaked through so that you can see the lace of your bra outlined against the fabric.

“Fuck,” he mutters, dragging his eyes back to your face. “Here.”

He shrugs off his damp jacket and then takes off his suit jacket and drapes it over your shoulders.

“But it’ll get all wet,” you protest.

“Don’t care. You can’t walk out of the elevator like that.”

His jaw is set in a hard line as his fingers work over the scruff that lines it. The elevator dings at your floor and he takes your hand, leading you out and checking the hallway.

“Why are you looking around like that?” you ask.

He turns back to you and tugs you closer. “I don’t wanna anyone seeing you.”

“Why not?”

“Because then I’ll have to kill them,” he states.

“Someone is acting a little jealous,” you giggle.

“Yeah well…we haven’t even had our first date yet. Can’t have someone looking at what’s about to be mine.”

“Yours,” you breathe out, not even realizing you’re now standing in front of your apartment door.

With shaky fingers you start to remove his suit jacket but before you can he stops you with a hand on your wrist.

“Don’t doll. Just keep it for now.”

“But we’re at the door. I’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, but if you take that off then I have to see you in your wet shirt again. And I’m not sure I’ll be able to control myself if I do.”

“Control yourself how?” you ask in a breathy whisper.

He responds with a pained groan before his mouth meets yours and he has you pressed against the door.

Even though your shirt is soaked through and your skin is cold you can feel the warmth of his body seep into yours. You wrap your arms around his neck to steady yourself and he lifts one hand to cup the back of your neck, tilting your head and deepening the kiss.

Your scrape your nails along his broad shoulders and he moans out your name.

“Fuck, I love having your hands on me.”

The desperation in his voice has you arching into him and you drop your head against the door, giving him access to trail his lips down your neck. Your fingers slide into his hair and tug at the soft strands. He growls into your skin and scrapes his teeth over your pulse point making you gasp his name.

“Oh I like that,” you whisper.

He does it again.

“You’re going to like everything I do to you doll face.”

His lips graze yours and he swallows your whimper, crowding you closer to the door before muttering out a curse and letting you both take a breath.

“Is it Saturday yet?” he asks, still breathless.

“Still Monday,” you answer, feeling just the same.

“Right,” he says, planting his hands on the door above your head and dropping his head forward.

A door down the hall opens and he pauses, straightening his body to hide your own. You both smile at the older lady who walks by with a questioning look.

When Bucky’s eyes return to you they drop to where he spread his jacket open to put his hands on you, your shirt sticking to your wet skin even more now.

He stares before reluctantly dragging his eyes up and taking the sides of the material and pulling them tightly around you.

You tremble.

“Still cold?” he asks, his eyes soft with worry.

“Hardly,” you answer and lean up to kiss the corner of his mouth.

“See you later Bucky.”

“I’m counting on it doll.”

You spend the rest of the week juggling your time between work, texting Bucky and sleeping. You’ve only seen him once since Monday evening and that was for five minutes when he caught you coming home again but this time he had his friend Steve with him and there was no chance for any kissing.

Saturday morning rolls around and you wake up to a text from him.

“It is finally Saturday or am I dreaming?”

“It’s really Saturday!”

“Thank fuck! Can we start our date now?”

“No…I have to do girly things and prepare.”

“What kinds of things….?”

“I’ll see you tonight Buck.”

You can almost hear his groan through the phone.

“I’ll be at your door at 7 sharp.”

Bucky knocks on your apartment door at exactly the same time your phone clock hits 7:00pm. You grin at your best friend Nat before she gets up and walks toward the door.

“Oh girl. He’s hot!” a muffled voice says from the other side.

It isn’t yours so Bucky assumes it’s your friend.

“He’s at least a nine.”

Bucky scoffs, muttering, “a nine?” quietly to himself.

“Hey, I can hear you in there. Are you gonna open the door?” he asks the unknown voice.

The door swings open to reveal a red head who looks him over with two scrutinizing green eyes.

“Hi,” he smiles, holding out his hand. “I’m Bu…”

“Bucky,” she finishes. “I know who you are…question is…do you know who I am?”

“You must be Natasha,” Bucky answers with a smug smile.

“That’s right and I’m a black belt in jiu jitsu so you do anything I don’t like and I will end you.”

Bucky’s eyes light up and he watches Nat as she moves toward the kitchen.

“You almost ready doll face,” he yells, not taking his eyes off Nat in case she goes for a knife.

“I’m right here,” you say.

Bucky turns to find you standing right in front of him. His mouth drops open as his eyes sweep you up and down.

“This is where you say she looks amazing,” Nat admonishes from the kitchen, dangerously close to the knife rack.

However, Bucky’s eyes never leave you and when he steps into your space and wraps you in his arms, pulling you into his chest, you let out a squeal of delight.

“You look fucking gorgeous,” he says, loud enough for Nat to hear, then whispers, only for your ears, “I want to rip this dress off you.”

Your lips spread into a sly smile. “We made the right choice Nat.”

“Of course we did,” she chimes. “Now go. I’ll lock up.”

“I’m so ready,” he says, ushering you toward the door, but not before turning to Nat, still in the kitchen eyeing him warily, and asking, “I’m good with a nine, but just out of curiosity, what did I lose a point for?”

“You’re really gonna make me say it in front of you?” Nat asks.

“I wanna hear it too Nat,” you say, raising an expectant and skeptical brow.

“You didn’t shave.”

He runs the free hand, the one not wrapped around your waist, over his jaw.

“I didn’t get any complaints earlier this week,” Bucky says, eyes now sparkling with mischief.

“He’s right Nat,” you add. “I like it.”

Nat rolls her eyes and shoos you away.

Once you’re safely in the elevator and away from prying eyes Bucky invades your space, plastering you against the cool metal wall and caging you there with his large body.

“It almost killed me to not be kissing you for the past five minutes,” he says against your lips.

When you press into him and slide your body along his it sucks the breath right out of his lungs and fills them with something else. Need.

The kiss pulls a throaty groan from him and his belt buckle digs into your skin, the muscles hidden beneath his clothes, pressing and flexing over the thin material of your dress.

The elevator door dings and begins to slide open, causing you to give his chest a gentle shove.

“You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?” he asks as he lifts a finger and traces your swollen lips.

“That would suck,” you reply. “I kind of like having you as a neighbor.”

After a delicious dinner at a roof top restaurant down town, Bucky walks you along the street, hand in hand, as you listen and laugh to his childhood stories about growing up in Brooklyn.

“Where are we going now?” you ask.

“It’s a surprise,” he says as he twirls you into his side and presses his fingers under your chin to steal a kiss.

As you get closer to your destination the bright lights sparkle and the smell of the ocean is carried on the warm breeze.

“Which bridge is that?” you ask with awe.

“The Brooklyn Bridge,” he tells you and grabs your hand to pull you along. “Come on. I have something to show you.”

When you reach the top of the look out he slides an arm around your waist and pulls your back to his chest.

“This is so beautiful Bucky,” you whisper.

He kisses your cheek and takes your chin between his fingers, turning your face up to his. “I always thought it was the most beautiful thing in the city…but not anymore.”

You’re thankful for his strong arms holding you up and after a sweet kiss you enjoy the view in comfortable silence for a few more minutes but his hands start to wander, soft and sure, and with each passing touch your body aches for more.

His warm breath fans across your neck and his arm moves lower until his hand grasps your hip and he pulls you back to feel the hardness between his legs.

You suck in a breath and fight the urge to move against him.

With a curse he pulls away and grabs your hand, dragging you toward the park under the bridge. The only lights come from the lit-up buildings across the street and when he finds a hidden spot he backs you against the cold stone but you’re too hot to care.

“Bucky,” you whisper as your hands roam over his broad chest.

His mouth brushes yours before he gently nips at your bottom lip.

“I can’t even keep my fucking hands off you long enough to bring you home,” he murmurs.

His fingers find the hem of your dress and he slides them under, slowly teasing the fabric higher until his hand brushes over the wetness on your panties.

“Please, Bucky,” you pant.

“Fuck, I love hearing you say my name like that,” he growls. “I need to get you home so I can hear you scream it for me.”

@hiddles-rose @littleseasiren @randomfandompenguin @blackwidownat2814 @goldylions @buckysdollforlife @lizette50

[hatkuu]

dw i AM slowly returning to my kylar roots...imagine kylar walking in on you wearing his hoodie...i think he would scream and faint and die. he would be so torn between wanting you to keep it forever bc you look so cute and wearing his clothes in public would affirm that you belong to him but also wanting it back so he can smell it and breathe in your scent (and not do nefarious things with it)

hngnnggg yeah im glad ur coming back to ur kylar roots... i missed you nica please come rave about kylar's cock with me again :'(

uuuggghhh especially if you make it out to be something innocent like you spending the night at his house (bestie kylar sleepover....) and it gets really cold!!!

gen! reader and m! kylar utc <3

Kylar hates the feeling of water against his skin. It never really sticks, or cleans anything. His skin is overly sensitive, flaring up against his will if he scrubs too hard or uses any scented soaps. He's given up on making himself attractive to others, and yet—

He's hiding in the bathroom while you're cuddled up in his bed.

He thought he'd be all over you, panting and drooling, lapping at your lips until they parted just enough that he could taste you. Maybe you'd face him, breathing in his exhales and sharing oxygen with one another until you fell asleep. Or... Maybe you'd face away from him, letting him guard you where you're most vulnerable, baring yourself in a way that you've never let anyone else see you. He'd be unable to resist you, then. He'd drool onto your hair, mindlessly grinding his cock against you until you wake. You'd help him out, as graceful and kind as you are—you'd turn to face him, burying your face in his neck and clinging so tight that his chest would burn. Not from legs wrapped so tightly around his waist. Only from the sheer love and affection you're spoiling him with—something he hasn't felt in so long.

The faucet before him groans, on the brink of filling up the sink. Kylar has the mind to turn it off before his whole body locks up.

"Ky-Ky? Are you okay...?"

He hears your sweetened tone from beyond the bathroom door, your knuckles gently rapping at the wood to gain his attention. So cute. Of course you'd check if he's okay! He stumbles to the door, fumbling with the lock as his wet hands slip against the door handle. You're probably so lonely without him! He's upset with himself for losing track of time and leaving you alone in bed when the two of you could've been snuggled up against one another. He finally unlatches the door, breathing heavy at the prospect of you being just behind the thin plywood.

The door slams open and Kylar's smile falls from his face.

You're now wearing a hoodie. He's kind of disappointed that he won't be able to touch as much of your skin. The hoodie you're wearing looks worn. It's fraying at the sleeves, stained various different colours at it's front, he's never actually seen you wear it before so it can't possibly be new—

His hoodie.

You're wearing his hoodie.

You fiddle with the sleeves as you speak, shyly looking at your feet while he gapes at you. "Sorry... It got cold while you were in the bathroom. I can take it off if you want?"

You look so cute. So very, very cute that Kylar can only stare at you, open-mouthed. He thinks about what it'd imply if you started wearing his clothes at school—no, even better if you just wore his clothes entirely—maybe he should offer you a pair of his sweatpants too, in case your legs get cold. He thinks about it, but then looks at the deliciously smooth skin of your thighs, and decides against it.

Kylar shakes his head quickly, commiting the image of you in his hoodie to memory. "N-No! It's fine, um, you can raid my whole wardrobe if you like... Haha..."

Kylar makes a note to start stealing more of your hoodies and long-sleeved shirts, just so he can see you in more of his.

You stare at him for another second, smiling at the cute expression on his face. Then your smile turns upside down into a confused pout. "Why's your face all wet?"

Kylar blushes choking on his own embarrassment, tugging you back to bed. "I brushed my teeth," He lies, tucking you in as he crawls in beside you, covering the two of you with a worn-out sheet. He purposefully hid the other thicker sheets underneath his bed so the two of you had no choice but to cuddle for warmth tonight. He smiles as you roll over, bidding him a quick goodnight before shuffling your rear painfully close to his crotch. You grab one of his arms, pulling it over you before yawning softly and closing your eyes.

"Goodnight, my love." He mumbles into your hair, voice addled with sleepiness.

He leans forward, burying his face in your hair and the soft hood of his hoodie. You smell good on your own, but you smell even better mixed with the scent of him. Like he's claimed you.

[jjkamochoso]

Carhartt? More like Car Heart to Heart

NoCursesAU!Choso x female reader

Angst, fluff

Reader and Choso go for a late night drive (inspired by “Streetlights” by Elko)

Warnings: cussing

“Fuck you! We’re over!” you screamed, car keys grasped in your hands as you slammed the front door behind you. Your heart was racing in your chest, ready to burst out of your skin. You knew it probably wasn’t the best idea to be driving while in this enraged state of mind but you had to get out that house immediately. You and your boyfr—well, you weren’t sure what to call him. You had been seeing this guy for a few months. You two were supposed to be exclusive, sure, but there weren’t any real labels on what you two were. It didn’t matter anyway. That relationship was as good as dead now. You and him had actually just gotten into a big fight about the label, the lack of, rather, on your relationship. You’d dwell on the details of that fight later. The problem now was where to go. You were in between places at the moment and had been living with your now ex at his house for the time being. Thankfully most of your belongings were in storage, but you dreaded having to go back to the house for some of your personal belongings. You just hoped he hadn’t trashed anything. Putting your car into drive, you raced away from that place as fast as you could without sparing it a second glance. As you sped through the city, tears threatened to fall as streetlights lit your path. It was 1:30 in the morning and all of your friends were asleep; all, you knew, except one. As you pulled into his apartment complex, you took a deep, shuddering breath. There was a slight breeze as you exited the car and you felt goosebumps appear all over your skin. Although he lived in a safe area, you were still scared as you locked your car and ran up to his door, knocking frantically. You prayed he would hear your knocks over the sound of his video games that kept him up all hours of the night. As you kept your knuckles rapping on the door, your other hand was digging through your purse for your phone to call him. However, there was no need. You faltered slightly as the door opened and you were met with concerned brown eyes.

“Y/n? What—“

“Choso!” you cried out, throwing yourself at him in a tight hug as your tears began to flow. You felt him back up and shift around, bringing your body with him so that he could close and lock the door. You felt his strong arms grip you tight, resting his chin on your head while his hands moved up and down your back in an attempt to soothe you. Your crying finally slowed into emotionally drained hiccups and Choso took that as a sign that it was okay to let go for a few moments.

“I’m so sorry to just show up like this, I just had nowhere else to go and—“

“Y/n,” Choso said, calm and with a little smile, “whatever happened, it’s okay. I’m glad you made it here alright, given the state you’re in.”

You wanted to be mad at his crack of a joke, but he was right. You were a whole mess right now.

“I’m sorry to pull you away from your game,” you motioned to his headphones that were hanging haphazardly around his neck and the game that was sitting abandoned on the tv. Choso furrowed his brow.

“It’s totally fine, it’s just a game. You’re much more important,” he said. You felt your heart flutter at his words. Anything Choso said, he said with such conviction and passion. He was the greatest friend anyone could ask for. He was reliable, kind, passionate. You’d had the biggest crush on him for years and years but you could never risk losing his friendship in case he didn’t feel the same. Sometimes, when he said things like that, and looked at you with that unwavering eye contact and soft smile, you couldn’t help but wonder if maybe he felt the same.

“Hey guys, I gotta go, my friend needs me right now. Yes, it’s important. Oh, haha, very funny. Okay, bye, I’m logging off now.” Taking off his microphoned headphones, Choso turned off the tv as well. “You wanna go for a drive? I know that usually relaxes you.”

You nodded in agreement. Choso grabbed you a blanket off his couch, holding it open to help you get wrapped into it. Then he put on his leather jacket over the grey sweatshirt he was wearing and picked up his keys.

“You ready?”

You felt so much safer walking in the parking lot with Choso. He worked out often, that you knew, and he was most likely ripped, that you wished you knew. He opened the passenger door for you and you thanked him. Even though he does this kind of thing all the time, tonight felt different. Was it because it was so late at night? Was it the stress of the breakup? Or do streetlights just cast an ethereal look over attractive men who wear space buns? As he pulled the car out of the lot, you began to unpack everything that happened.

“Jake and I had a fight. It shouldn’t have gotten that big or that explosive, but it just got out of control and I broke it off.”

You couldn’t figure out the look that Choso had on his face. Was it… relief?

“Oh thank god! Y/n, he was a horrible dude. We all hated him anyway.”

“Is this the time where you say ‘I told you so’ and start making fun of me for being an idiot?”

The raven haired man laughed slightly and spared you a quick glance before looking back at the road.

“Yes to the ‘I told you so’ part but I would never call you an idiot. Love makes you do weird things.”

You scoffed.

“Trust me, there was no love there. We’d been together for months and he couldn’t even call me his girlfriend. Not even after I moved in with him! Not to mention, I thought we were exclusive. That’s how the whole fight started. I asked him why he couldn’t be my boyfriend and the whole thing tumbled into me finding out he’d been seeing other girls on the side.” You noticed Choso’s jaw clench at the mention of infidelity. “I mean, am I in the wrong?”

Now it was Choso’s turn to scoff.

“He cheats on you and you’re wondering if you’re in the wrong? You are seriously too good for this world. Y/n, the guy’s trash. I wouldn’t even give him a second thought. He didn’t deserve you and all the good things you have to offer.” The car plugged along, Choso’s knuckles going white at how hard he was gripping the wheel. “I just can’t believe how he could fumble a girl like you. How he could miss the great thing he had right in front of his eyes. Besides the fact that he couldn’t even offer you basic fucking respect. You don’t deserve to feel like that!”

“Choso,” you gently laid a hand on his arm, “I appreciate your passion but you don’t have to get so upset on behalf of me.”

“How can I not when I-” He cut himself off, changing the subject. “There’s that park you like coming up, I’m going to stop there for a second.”

When he pulled into the quiet parking lot, the car was filled with silence as well. Choso groaned, putting his face in his hands, and resting his forehead on the top of the steering wheel.

“Y/n, I’m sorry. You’re one of my closest friends and I only want the best for you. I just get so upset seeing these guys take advantage of you and your kindness. You deserve someone who will open car doors for you, someone who listens to you and understands you. Someone who’s only wish is to be around you at all times. Someone who respects and worships you. Someone who loves you completely and unconditionally. Someone—“

“Like you,” you finished. “Someone like you.”

You’d never seen a person whip their head over to look at you as fast as Choso did in that moment. You were tired of hiding how you felt. Who else would be there for you at the early hours of the morning, offering you sympathy and a shoulder to cry on? Who do you call when you want to talk about something that happened at work, who do you text when you see a silly little snail on the sidewalk? Who do you want to wake up to every morning and eat breakfast with? Who do you want to eat dinner with and go to bed with? Who do you want to kiss and caress for the rest of your life? It’s Choso.

It’s always been Choso.

“What?” His voiced was barely louder than a whisper.

“You, Choso. I’ve been in love with you for years, I’m surprised you never saw it. The guys I dated, they were just distractions from the fact that I had my dream guy right in front of me the whole time, just barely out of reach.”

His big brown eyes with the slight bags under them from lack of sleep were boring into your own, frantically scanning your face for any sign of deceit. After what felt like hours, he finally spoke once more.

“You’re not joking, right?” he asked, and you shook your head.

“No fucking way am I joking about this.”

He breathed a sigh of relief and let out a slight chuckle. “I’ve been enamored, head over heels in love with you since the day we met. I always felt you were too good for me, that’s why I never said anything.”

“God, we’re such losers. We really are perfect for each other, aren’t we?” you asked, giggling.

“You know, there’s one way to make sure we really fit together.”

“And what’s that?”

“This.”

Choso leaned in toward you slowly, giving you enough time to back away if needed. There was no need, however, because you’d spent years dreaming of the moment you could kiss Choso Kamo. When your lips met, it was like all was right in the world. His soft pink lips meshed perfectly with your own. Even though it was a bit of an awkward angle, being in the car and all, it was still perfectly romantic. When Choso rested his hand on your cheek, you felt like you were going to faint. It was like a scene straight out of a movie. The kiss wasn’t too long, but made your heart skip a couple beats just the same. When you broke away, both of your faces were warm with blushes and you two couldn’t stop smiling.

“So, what’s next for us?” you asked.

“Hmm,” answered Choso, “I’m thinking we head back to your ex’s shithole of a house, you get everything you need, and come stay at my place however long you feel like.”

Your face lit up with a bright smile. “Really? You’d do that for me?”

Choso looked at you like you hung all the stars in the sky. “I would do anything for you, my darling.”

You gave him a kiss on the cheek and held his hand as the car pulled out of the lot and into your happily ever after.

[atom-writings]

what about hetalia main 8 react to walking in on you changing or something? u dont have to do it if u dont want to ofc and it doesnt have to have any actual nsfw stuff

(Hetalia Main 8 x Reader) Walking in on you changing!

(Gender Neutral) Scenarios ~ A/N ohohohoOHOHOHO,,,,,,.,. <- sorry what who was that guy haha im normal im so normal about this

Trigger Warning: Kind of suggestive content, but NOT NSFW!!! Swearing. Fem nickname used one, fem descriptor used once.

“Babe, I was wondering-” Alfred said as he opened the door to your bedroom,

“WAIT- WAIT!” You yelp in response, running to stop the door.

Upon hearing your cry, he looks up from his phone. Then, he freezes in place, his eyes wide as saucers. Awkwardly, he tries to sputter out some kind of response, doing nothing but making extremely intense eye contact with you.

Until he breaks, his eyes darting down to your partially unclothed body for no more than a second.

“ALFRED!”

“You look absolutely smoking, I gotta say-” he says, trying to hold back giggles before you growl loudly in response.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” He yells back, frantically backing out of the doorway. You run forward, slamming the door in his face. With your back against the door, you breathe a sigh of relief before he begins knocking on the door.

“W-Wait, I had something to show you!”

“You lost the privilege to see me!”“Aw, man…” You hear Alfred say as he walks away, probably pouting like a little kid.

“Darling, are you done yet?”  Arthur asks, rapping his knuckles against the door.

“Arthur-” You start to respond, before he begins opening the door, “WAIT!”

You run to the bed, trying to grab a blanket to cover yourself with. But all that really did was leave you in perfect view, only wearing your undergarments. You jerked awkwardly to look at the door, only to see Arthur there, frozen in shock.

His mouth agape, his face flushed, and his eyes firmly locked onto your body. Your heart dropped.

“Wh-what the hell?!” You yell, to no response. Heat rises to your cheeks as you see his hungry eyes still not leaving your form.

“ARTHUR!”

“Huh?” He responds, clearly not paying attention to what you said.

“GET OUT!” 

“Hold on, wha-what?” He finally comes to, looking up into your eyes. Clearly, he still wasn’t listening.

“I said to GET OUT! I’m changing for fuck’s sake!” Your voice filled with anger.

“Right. Right, yes. I’m- I’ll do that.” He looks at you with a scared expression, backing out of the room awkwardly.

“I-I’m sorry for staring, love!” You hear him yell through the door moments later, clearly panicked.

“Shut it, perv!”

Before you could even react, Francis burst into your room. You froze, still in the process of taking off your shirt.

“My love!” He gestures dramatically, his eyes closed for effect, “I ju- oh.”

When he lays eyes on your body, his face drops. You just stared into his eyes awkwardly, as his expression changes to a wide smile.

“Well, aren’t you such an attractive little thing!” he remarks, slowing walking towards you.

“F-Francis!” You shoot back in disbelief,

“What? It’s just your body!”

“Y-YEAH! Get out already!”

“Come on, I’m not judging you!” He tries to lay a hand on your waist, before you push him away.

“Francis, for fuck’s sake!”

“Oh, alright! If it bothers you that much…” He looks disappointed as he turns away, exiting your room. You sigh exasperatedly before you’re interrupted by him peaking him head back in quickly. Although at least this time, his eyes are closed.

“Don’t be ashamed of your body, Y/N!”

“I told you to get out!”

“And I’m telling you I just finished dinner!”

“Coming in!” Yao announces, not waiting for a response before he opens the door to your bedroom.

“ONE MINUTE! W-WAIT!” You try to stop him, running to grab the door handle. But you stop just in time to come up to him, nearly touching noses. His eyes widen for a second in surprise, before returning to his usual distant stare.

With that stare, he slowly looked you up and down. Wearing nothing but your undergarments, you began to blush, at a loss for words.

“Cute,” he remarks simply, returning to look you in your bewildered eyes.

“Anyway. Your show is about to be on. Don’t take too long,” he says before shutting the door, still with a relatively blank expression. Leaving you there, wearing next to nothing, still wildly flushed.

What the hell was that?

Before you could even react, you heard your bedroom door opening from behind you. You struggled to turn around, your pants bunched around your legs. But before you could see who it was, you heard a loud familiar yelp.

In only a few seconds, you saw Ivan slap his hands over his face, clearly blushing bright red.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t see anything!” He stuttered out, frantically exiting the room. Barely even giving you time to process the exchange.

-

“Ivan?” You ask quietly from behind him, causing him to jump in surprise.

“Y-yes?” He turns around to face you, but he desperately searches for anything in the room to look at.

“You don’t have to be so embarrassed, you know.”

“I’m so sorry! I didn’t- I promise-”

“It’s fine!”

“N-no! I do not want to make you uncomfortable!” He pleads as you place a hand gently on his arm.

“We’re dating, it’s awkward but it’s fine, promise.”

“If… if you say so.” He relaxes slightly.

“Now can we move on?”“Yes! But-but… um… one thing.  You’re… really pretty.” Ivan says, taking your hand in his, still blushing.

“Belllaaaaaa~” Feliciano calls, bursting into your room without even a second’s warning. And because of that absence of warning, he was immediately greeted with the sight of you, with absolutely no semblance of a top on.

As you spun around to yell at him, he immediately ran up to you. Taking your hands in his like he had done absolutely nothing wrong, he smiled.

“You look so absolutely perfect today!” He gushes, tucking a hair behind your ear as you lean away from him in surprise.

“F-Feliciano?!”  You struggle to sputter out.

“What? What is it, my love?”

“I- Uh, wh-what?” You stutter in disbelief.

“Huh?”

“Get out! I’m changing! Can’t you see that?!”

“Yeah, but why does that matter?” He cocks his head to the side questioningly.

“Get out!”

“But bella-”

“Feliciano!” You yell. His face drops, looking like a kicked puppy. He starts walking towards the door, before turning to face you again.

“Can’t I see you like that?”

“NOT NOW!”

“F-Fine!” He responds as shuffles awkwardly out the door.

“Can I come in?” Ludwig asks as he knocks on your bedroom door.

“W-Wait!” 

“Alright, so-” he continues, opening the door to see you, with only a pair of sweatpants on. 

As you yell in surprise, he yells back, just as loud. Immediately, his face flushes and he slaps his hand over his eyes. 

“I’m-I’m so sorry, Y/N!” His voice strains.

“I told you to wait!”

“I didn’t hear!  I t-thought you were done!”

“HOW?!”

“I’m sorry!” Ludwig yells, clearly incredibly embarrassed as his face continues to grow more red. He fumbles behind him with one hand, trying to open the door while his other hand is still clasped over his eyes.

“I only saw for a second! I promise!”

You groan, “A little more to the left,”

He finally grasps the door handle, desperately opening the door and running out.

“Dear, I promise I didn’t mean to!” He yells through the door.

“I GOT THAT!”

You shot around, mid-taking off your pants, as you heard your door knob turn. 

“Hold o-” Before you could even tell him to wait, Kiku opened the door, just to see you barely clothed. With no sound between you, he froze, his eyes wide as he looked you up and down.

“I…  um-” you start to say before he slowly backs out of the doorway, his eyes still locked on your body. His face was flush, nearly as red as a tomato, yet he said absolutely nothing as he left the room. 

-

“You want to talk about you walking in on me?” You ask, sitting down next to him hours later. The moment you bring it up, his face turns red once again and he begins sitting awkwardly.

“I’m very, very sorry.” He responds quietly, bringing his book up closer to his face. 

“I- it’s ok… but do you not knock usually?”

“I didn’t think you were doing anything…”

“Well, I was, so from now on…  please knock.” He nods slowly, still not looking you in the eyes. 

He pauses for a few seconds, “You look very nice…”

“KIKU!”

[rwby-encrusted-blog]

RWBY vs KRML

Ruby: *Twirls CR* Well Hello There~

Meliny: *Loading Budge* Um. Hi?

Ruby: Oh! Sorry, I was talking to the Gun!

~~~~~

Meliny: Does that thing get heavy?

Ruby: Nah, my Baby it perfectly weighted~

Meliny: Cool.

~~~~~

Weiss: *Cycles Dust* Hello Remington. You seem well.

Remi: *Flourishing Levy* I am Feeling Better. It is a Pleasure to see you again.

Weiss: That is excellent News. I ... I had missed you. It's good to see you as well.

~~~~~

Remi: *Loading his Revolvers* Hey, Weiss, I want to apologize for being so Abrasive when we last saw each other. These guys have really Helped me come out of my shell.

Weiss: *Curtsy* Yeah, My team has tdone the same for me. You're forgiven.

Remi: I'm Forgiven? That Easy? Alright then! Let's Roll!

~~~~~

Blake: *Swings in* You must Be Marigold. I've heard a fair amount about you.

Marigold: *Stands Tall, Points sword at Blake* Aye! And a little Birdie told me you were one them Belladonnas! Seem our Reputations precede us.!

Blake: ... And Now I've heard From you. Hi.

~~~~~

Marigold: *Accidently sets off Hookshot, retracts it* Heya Catsup! How's the Family?

Blake: I could ask you the same question, Privateer.

Marigold: ... So that's how We're going at it, Aye?

~~~~~

Yang: *Punches Knuckles, Burn ignites* Wil, Wil, Wil, Look Who we've got here!

Wilhelm: *Nocks Bolt* Oh? Xiao-Long You been hanging onto that one?

Yang: Haha! Looks like we got a fight on hands!

~~~~~

Wilhelm: *Raps Crossbow against Shield* Come and GET SOME BLONDIE!

Yang: *Riding in on Bmblb* WITH THIS ENERGY! GLADLY!

Wilhelm: THIS BATTLE SHALL BE ONE OF LEGEND!

~~~~

Bonus

Ruby: *Petal bursts in* Ooh! Are those Dual Chamber Dust infusion Revolvers?

Remi: *Loading Revolvers* Yep! That's a custom scythe, yeah? That Blade collapsing mechanism seems really tough for how thin it is!

Ruby: Ah, Thank you! My baby is my pride and joy!

Remi: Yeah, Well my pals here are some of my finest work - the most consistent and versatile tools I have! Carbon steel blade edge-

Ruby: With a custom Steel/Aluminum mixture for Weight, Strength, and-

Both: Heat sinking, because repeated firing increases weight of wear and results in damage to the edge of the blade unless the barrel is properly cooled ...

NO CONTEST

[drabbles-mc]

Caught in the Act

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Jake "Hangman" Seresin Robert "Bob" Floyd & Jake "Hangman" Seresin

Warnings: 18+, language, alcohol, semi-public hookup

Word Count: 2.6k

A/N: I always have such a fun time writing Rooster and Hangman haha. Wrote this for a fandom exchange a little while back and finally get to post it here, too! Protect Bob Floyd at all costs 🥰

Top Gun Taglist: @garbinge @proceduralpassion (If you want to be added to any of my taglists, please let me know!)

Bradley knew from the jump that whatever it was that he and Jake had gotten themselves into, it wasn’t going to be anyone else’s business. Things got messy enough without throwing their, well, he felt like calling it a relationship maybe gave it more weight than it deserved, but it was the closest word he could come up with. Things got messy enough without throwing their ‘relationship’ into the mix with the rest of it. He didn’t need anyone else knowing about it. He knew that Jake felt the same way. Neither of them ever said it, but they didn’t have to. Talking wasn’t really their strong suit, anyhow.

Some days it felt like they were tempting fate more than others. It was nothing to keep up their usual brand of antagonism in front of everyone else. Hell, they still kept up most of that even when it was just the two of them, too. Bradley was fairly certain Jake considered getting under his skin some brand of foreplay. His annoyance was compounded by the fact that it was an effective tactic. But when Jake punctuated every verbal barb with one of his slick little smirks, or by gripping onto Bradley’s shoulder for a brief moment, it was hard not to get drawn into the frenzy of it all. They all had a little bit of a self-destructive streak to keep doing the work they were doing. Bradley and Jake just let theirs bleed over into their personal relationships too. No one had to be the wiser.

Jake was leaning against the bar at The Hard Deck, patiently waiting for the next round of beers that he’d ordered for everyone. He was half-tuned into the conversations happening on either side of him, shaking his head at some of it because he just couldn’t help himself.

He tensed up when someone materialized beside him, body pressed so closely to his that their arms and shoulders were pinned to each other’s. He turned, annoyance all over his face and a comment on the tip of his tongue about how there was more than enough bar to make it so that whoever it was didn’t have to practically be on top of him. When he turned and saw Bradley, though, his annoyance faded and shifted into a completely different type of tension.

He spared the briefest look back over his shoulder, just to make sure that everyone else was still too preoccupied to be paying attention to them. Looking back at Bradley, he spoke loud enough to make sure he heard him, but quiet enough so that the rest of the bar didn’t hear him too. “Don’t be stupid.”

Bradley shrugged, shoulder somehow managing to press tighter against Jake’s. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Listen, Bradshaw,” Jake grit out, frustration mounting quickly in the way that only ever seemed to happen when it was the two of them, “I’m not lookin’ to—”

“Don’t start lying now,” Bradley said with a chuckle. He seemed perfectly unbothered which only served to annoy Jake even more. It wasn’t often that he turned their usual dynamics upside-down, but when he did, it still seemed to work just as well.

He gave a tight shake of his head. “Not the time,” he briefly scanned over the hustle and bustle of bar, “or the goddamn place.”

When Bradley turned to look at Jake head-on, there was a cocky smirk on his face, one that confirmed that he had been spending far too much time around Jake. “It could be.”

“I—”

“See you in five,” Bradley didn’t even let him get a word out. He lightly rapped his knuckles against the top of the bar before prying himself away. He strode off so easily, like nothing had even transpired between them.

Jake wished that he was in the same boat. When Penny came back with beer bottles in hand, Jake had nearly forgotten that the reason he was standing at the bar was because he was waiting for another round. He recovered quickly, flashing her the same charming smile and wink he always did, the same smile and wink that never impressed her and probably never would. But it was part of the routine now.

He was practically tossing the beer bottles to everyone when he got back. Natasha took one bottle from him, giving him a skeptical look as she did. “What’d you say to Bradshaw that had him taking off like that?”

Jake gave an easy smile despite the shot of fear that went down his spine at her question. “You know Rooster—always a little too sensitive for his own good.”

She hummed, an expression of disbelief written all over her face. “Yeah, sounds like him alright,” she said sarcastically. She wasn’t going to press him about any of it but she wasn’t going to pretend to believe him, either.

Jake hung around for another minute just so that it wouldn’t be too noticeable when he slithered his way out of the crowd. He wondered if it’d even been five minutes. Had it been two? Ten? Each second felt like an hour at that point. He wondered if Bradley was even going to be there, or if he had taken off just to drag out the game of cat and mouse a little longer.

He pushed open the heavy wooden door, landing himself in the cramped but always clean and tidy space of The Hard Deck’s men’s room. He hardly had a second to get his wits about him when suddenly Bradley’s lips were on his, hands balled into his nicely pressed uniform.

Jake didn’t know why he was still stunned for a moment. He knew it was coming. It was the reason he showed up. And yet there was still a split second before he got his body to react. But once he did, he was kissing Bradley back with just as much fervor, channeling all of his annoyance into the way his teeth pulled at Bradley’s bottom lip.

It was so easy to tune it all out, the music, the chaos of the bar just on the other side of the bathroom door. The door that neither of them thought to lock because they were too busy trying to drive the other insane. They were both simultaneously winning and losing that battle, the way that they always were.

“This is a dumb idea,” Jake murmured against his lips when they broke their kiss. Hooking up in the bathroom of a bar made him feel like he was back in college all over again, but not in a way that he particularly coveted. They could’ve picked just about anywhere else to do this, and yet.

Bradley’s lips curled into a smirk as his hands dropped down to Jake’s belt. “You’re free to leave whenever you want.”

Jake scoffed at that, but there was no real anger behind it. How could there be, when he was so focused on the sounds of Bradley undoing the buckle of his belt? It’d been a long time since Jake felt like he wasn’t the one in control. He always seemed to forget that there was something thrilling about being on the other side of the power dynamic.

Bradley was just untucking the shirt of Jake’s uniform from his slacks when the door swung open. For a brief moment all of the noise came flooding in, only to be muffled again a second later as the door shut behind whoever had walked in. It wasn’t often that both of them froze when it came to fight or flight situations, but it felt like neither of them could move. Jake was still pressed back against the wall, Bradley criminally close to him, hands still on the waistband of his slacks.

Bob’s eyes widened in panic, knowing for a fact that he’d just walked in on something that he wasn’t supposed to see. He wanted desperately to turn tail and sprint out of the bathroom—he’d be more than happy to pretend that he’d never walked in, never saw anything, but it felt like his feet were glued to the floor. He’d settle for the ground swallowing him whole if it meant that he wasn’t going to have to deal with any of this. Hangman already gave him a hard enough time as it was, he didn’t need to give the guy an actual reason to make his life more difficult.

“Bob,” Bradley finally forced out, not a clue where he thought the sentence was going, “I—”

Bob tried to take a step backwards towards the door, tripping in the process and nearly falling all the way down to the ground. He motioned back over his shoulder, stammering as he tried to think of what to say. “I, I’m just,” he felt blindly around behind him for the doorknob, “I’m just gonna…”

Jake found one shred of certainty deep within himself, his voice and his gaze steady as he looked over at the man trying to escape the clutches of the awkward situation he’d just found himself in. “If you say anything—”

“I won’t,” Bob denied it immediately, shaking his head as his fingers finally wrapped around the handle of the door. “Wouldn’t. I won’t. Don’t,” he was already maneuvering his way back out, “yeah, no. I…yeah.”

When the door shut again, both Jake and Bradley let out exasperated sighs. Jake’s head tilted back, tapping against the wall behind him for a moment. Looking down at Bradley, he said, “Told you this was a dumb idea.”

Bradley chuckled, shaking his head. “You could’ve left. Could’ve not even shown up in the first place, actually.”

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, like I—” He stopped himself short when he noticed the way that Bradley had resumed untucking his shirt. “What are you doing?”

“What?” he asked, like it wasn’t the most obvious thing in the world, like it wasn’t equally obvious why Jake wouldn’t want to be getting right back into things.

Jake swatted his hands away. “We’re not doing this now.”

Bradley studied his expression for a moment, trying to figure out just how serious Jake actually was. When he didn’t see any waver in his eyes, he let out a short sigh of defeat. He took a small step back, his gesture of surrender, and let Jake set about getting himself back in order.

Bob was barely registering the conversation that was happening among the group he’d just left and returned back to. The only thing he had going for him was the fact that more often than not when they were all spending time together in a large group, he usually looked a little dazed and confused. The look was a little more intense now given everything, but everyone else seemed to busy chatting to really notice.

“You see Rooster on your way back?” Natasha asked, snapping him out of his daze.

“What?” he said, eyes widening as he shook his head. “I didn’t—I, no.”

She looked a little confused at the hesitancy in his response, but she didn’t get a chance to press him on it before Javy spoke up. “You’d think they’d get along a little better now, you know, since Hangman saved his damn life.”

Natasha rolled her eyes. “Yeah, because we all know that he’s such a gracious savior.”

“I think they’re fine,” Bob blurted out before he could stop himself, eyes still wider than they needed to be. “You know? I, I think, you know, I think they’re probably fine.”

Natasha narrowed her eyes just slightly, just enough to make Bob see that she was studying him. “You alright?”

Javy jumped in first. “Yea, Bobby, got something you wanna share with the class?”

Bob adamantly shook his head. “No, I, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Bob felt the metaphorical walls closing in on him and he had no idea how he was going to get out of this one. Lying had never been one of his strengths. Most times he didn’t need to lie about much of anything, so it wasn’t really an issue. But now he was put on the spot, trying to conjure up lies about something that his brain hadn’t even fully processed yet to begin with.

The hand that clamped down on his shoulder made him flinch, and for a moment he didn’t know if it was real or if it was just the manifestation of the universe coming to get him. He turned to see who it was, and was faced with Hangman’s signature grin. A far cry from the sight Bob had walked in on just a minute or so before.

“They givin’ you a hard time?” Jake asked.

“Gonna try and play savior now?” Natasha asked, her face saying everything her words didn’t about her opinions on that.

“You should all be cutting the kid some slack, that’s all,” Jake responded easily, clapping Bob on the back with enough force to make him flinch. With the exception of a few shaking heads and brief comments, everyone moved on quickly enough, going back to the conversations they’d previously been wrapped up in. Once they were all distracted, Jake put all of his attention on Bob. “All good?”

“I didn’t say anything,” Bob said, his voice almost seeming like a whisper against the noise of the bar.

Jake smiled, like he was perfectly unbothered. “Atta boy.”

Natasha hadn’t heard what either Jake or Bob had said to each other, but she was still able to see the looks on their faces. Clearing her throat, she allowed herself into their conversation. “So neither of you know where Bradshaw went?”

Bob’s grip on his beer bottle tightened immensely, but luckily Jake was much quicker on his feet. He nodded towards the door. “He was taking off a couple minutes ago. Something must’ve spooked him off.” Bob nearly choked on his drink at Jake’s answer, earning him another clap on the back from Hangman. “Alright?”

Bob nodded. “I’m good. I’m gonna…” he looked at Natasha before gesturing to the pool table. “Yeah?”

She nodded, willing to take any excuse to get out of talking to Jake more than she had to. “Yeah.”

He watched the two of them grab their pool sticks. Before he could try to give any unsolicited commentary on it, he felt his phone going off in his pocket. Pulling it out, he saw that the only notification waiting for him was a text from none other than Bradley Bradshaw.

“I’ll be at my place in 10 if you wanna finish what you started” Before Jake had even finished typing in the code to unlock his phone, Bradley sent a follow-up text, “Uninterrupted this time”

Jake let out a deep sigh, wondering if it was worth it while also knowing in the back of his mind that he was going to end up there before the night was out regardless. He stared at the text bubbles for a long minute before finally typing back, “Be there in 30”

He hung around a little longer. He talked, finished off his beer, heckled Natasha because he knew it got under her skin. Even though he was joking around and talking with everyone, in his mind he was already in his car and tearing down the street to get to Bradley’s place.

When he finally did make a break for it, no one seemed to think twice about it. There was an assortment of goodbye’s, a couple humorous reminders to square up the brutal tab he’d racked up on behalf of all of them. But no one paid much mind to him otherwise. Except Bob.

“All good?” Jake asked, his tone casual as he fished his car keys from his pocket.

Bob nodded. “Mhm.”

Jake gave a nod of approval, a satisfied grin on his face as he stepped past Bob and made his way towards the door. “That’s what I thought.”

[saturnine-saturneight]

Writing Share Tag

Thank you to @the-golden-comet for the tag!!

I'm itching to share Haru's introduction on page, so I will do exactly that.

There is a dumpster behind the building, so hot in the sun that Ron has to pull his thin fingerless gloves as far down his digits as they'll go, unwilling to give himself blisters. He goes up and over, onto a wall that divides the backyard of the ex department store from a row of residential houses, and then up, up again, hanging by his hands from a ledge and pulling himself into an open window, rolling over his healed shoulder as he lands on the floor. Haha, still got it.

Somebody clears their throat pointedly. Ron sits up, startles, and comes face to face with hired muscle. Ah, fuck.

He's dragged through the corridors by the scruff of his shirt.

"Hey man," he laughs awkwardly as he tries to extract the guy's hand from his clothing. "I can walk on my own, y'know? No need to pull!"

"Slippery fuckers like you," the guy growls, "are something you never let go of if you can help it."

"Dude, c'mon."

"Let's see how the boss will deal with you." He raps his tattooed knuckles against the door of a back office.

"Yes," comes the voice from the other side.

The hired muscle opens the door very carefully, and then, anything but careful, throws Ron down face first onto the carpeted floors. He's just barely able to catch himself on his arms before his nose takes another hit, and has to push himself up by a hand to look at the figure behind the desk.

She's round-faced, East Asian, with black eyes like cool daggers staring out from underneath an asymmetrical black bob. The corner of her round mouth is scarred, and although she's small, there is heft to her, with broad arms and a full figure. She looks down on Ron impassively, like she's being presented with a bug.

"Found this one climbing in by a second story window, boss," the hired muscle says. "You want me to throw him back out?"

"Whoa, hey!"

The woman in the chair sighs deeply, folding her hands on the table.

"Are you capable of using the door?"

"Throw him out of the -"

"That wasn't directed at you."

Ron laughs out loud. "Nope! Fully incapable, sorry, boss."

Haru sighs again, pinching the bridge of her nose like she has a headache. "Thank you, Flint," she waves her hand. "You can go back to patrolling."

Flint looks back and forth between them very oddly as Ron picks himself off the ground. "…Got it," he says, shocked into silence, and shuts the door behind him.

"Come here," Haru says, and Ron does so as he's dusting himself off. "Sit." He places his ass on the table as Haru gets up to stand, and stares her down expectingly. She's small enough that the top of her head reaches his shoulder just so when they're both standing, so Ron hunches his back as he holds the eye contact. It's a long moment, then she breaks down. "Oh, fine, then. You win."

Yessss. Ron wraps her in a tight hug, feeling the warmth of her, feeling her shape fill in the memory of her perfectly. Haru holds him in return, although stiff, for a long moment before she pats his arm as a sign to let her go.

Paging @fortunatetragedy @cowboybrunch @fairytaleinagem @rotting-moon-writes

[disturbedbeautywrites]

huge congrats on 100 followers!!!! im so happy for you :D <3333

for the event, how about 🎵 with enchanted by taylor swift and robin or steve x reader? either is fine, i personally cant choose haha

Enchanted - Robin Buckley imagine

A/N: this is my first time trying to write for Robin so I hope I did okay! Thanks for the request lovely ❤️🤍

You had grown up with Robin; having been best friends since the two of you were in middle school together. The two of you had sleepovers, talked about crushes, and we’re together 24/7. There was a special bond there, and the two of you thought you were platonic soulmates.

That’s until the very real feelings started. It was blushes after accidentally brushing hands. It was gazes that were caught from across the room that held just for a few seconds too long. It was compliments that soon got the other way more flustered than normal. It was two massive crushes that collided and formed an amazing relationship once the two of you decided to actually go for it.

You were hanging out in your room one night, both of you facing each other as you laid on your bed. The two of you were just staring into each others eyes, the tension building in the air as you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth. Robins fingers gently moved out to cup your cheek in her hand, her fingers moving over your flushed skin. “You’re really pretty..”

The blush spread all over your face, your hand moving up to cover hers. “You’re really pretty too..” and with those words spoke into the world, you were both leaning in to kiss the other. The sparks from the kiss felt like it was enough to set the room on fire, all the unspoken feelings spilling into it. It was passionate, messy, but it was also perfect. The two of you had massive smiles on your face as you pulled away. You just sat there, dumb-founded with a love struck look on your face.

That night, you two decided to make yourselves an official couple. But, you were in no big hurry to announce it or make a big spectacle of it. The two of you were laid back, and that’s how your relationship would stay. She was yours and you were hers. That’s all that mattered.

However, things started to get more complicated as time went on. Robin got new jobs and started to hangout with Steve Harrington and the kids he babysat. Nights that were once spent with Robin were now spent alone, your anxieties and fears making you start to pace around your room. You tried calling her house, once, twice, three times. She was supposed to be at your house by now. “Please, Rob..” your voice cracked as you sank down against your door, laying your head in your hands.

A few minutes later there was a rap of knuckles on your door, Robin standing there once the door was opened. She had a bouquet of flowers in her hands, an apologetic smile on her lips as she walked inside. She sat the flowers down, pulling you into her body. “I want you to know something. I’m so lucky to have you in my life. I’m sorry things have been hectic lately, but I want you to know I was enchanted to meet you.” Her words were sincere, her gaze locking on yours as you looked into the eyes that you loved so much.

“You’re such a cheese ball.” You felt yourself chuckling at her words, hugging her tight as a way of telling her that you accepted her apology; but she wasn’t done yet.

“You’re my priority, princess. You always have been. I’m going to tell everyone about you. I love you so much and I’m so lucky to call you mine.” Her words were genuine as her lips found yours, sealing every single word she said.

[incubabe]

  These weekend retreats up into the mountains, once a rare treat to center herself, had in time  become an increasing necessity to isolate Riley from her hunger. Proof that she was in control, not it. Traveling light, she only reconsidered how well her rather old sedan could handle mountain roads when something beneath the hood began to smoke.

  Not wrongly, this was worrying. Blessedly, an immediate side-road was available, and Riley pulled in. Two minutes of squinting at the engine later, she accepted the reality that she didn’t know shit about cars, went for her phone. No signal. Dammit all. Needed to find a landline, and no better hope than the driveway her car now blocked. The place didn’t have any immediately evident ‘trespassers will be shot’ or far-right signs displayed, which made for -- haha -- a good sign. With dusk setting in, she needed to get AAA on the horn if she wanted to get her car even near a mechanic before midnight.

  Rapping her knuckles on the door, reflexively to the tune of ‘skunk in the barnyard, P-U,’ Riley glanced around the lot, suppressing a shudder. Please be normal.

[universe-on-her-shoulders]

I had to sign up to Tumblr to submit this, and it wouldn't even let me use my actual AO3 username (Queer_Whovian) lol. Anyway, I've been reading your drabbles for a while and I absolutely adore them, so I figured it was about time I tried prompting one. I've had this idea for a while, but can't seem to write it myself in a way that will actually do Wilf justice, so.. Here goes: I would love to read a drabble of Wilf telling baby/child Rose Noble about the Doctor. I just imagine that he probably had such a hard time not talking about aliens for 15 years; Sylvia wouldn't want to hear about it regardless, and Donna clearly wasn't an option, so.. I can totally see him venting to Rose and making her swear not to tell her mum, or maybe telling it to her as a fairytale to get her to sleep. Up to you which direction to take it in, really, these are just some of the ideas I've had :) (It's also worth noting that I'm a bit behind on your collection still, so, if you've done something similar already, feel free to ignore me of course haha) Thank you <3

“Tell me about the Doctor,” Rose said sleepily, clutching her stuffed panda to her chest and snuggling down under her duvet until it came almost up to her ears.

“Which story do you want?” Wilf asked, mentally flicking through his catalogue of tall tales and wondering which one she might be hankering for today. “The Library? Agatha Christie? The Ood?”

“The one with the Adipose,” Rose requested, and Wilf grinned.

“That’s a good choice,” he told her, nodding sagely. “The Doctor was always a very astute man, you see? Not suspicious, but always on the lookout for things that weren’t quite right or that seemed too good to be true. And he knew that Adipose Industries was not quite right. They were promising wonderful, magical things! They were a brand new company but were making so much money! They had a mysterious director that no one had heard of! All very bizarre things, my Rosie Posy, and things you should absolutely be suspicious of. Any company that seems too good to be true and has come out of nowhere? You run a mile in the opposite direction, my girl, because that’s never a good thing. So the Doctor started to dig around, and he started to look into Adipose Industries, because he wanted to make sure that people were safe. So he went undercover! Like a spy… he went undercover and he was looking around…”

There was the soft rap of knuckles on Rose’s bedroom door, and he looked up to find Shaun stood there, eyebrows raised.

“Another spaceman story?” he asked softly, and Wilf grimaced guiltily, glancing back at Rose to find her asleep already. “No, go on. She loves them.”

“But I’m not meant to…”

“You think she could keep a secret? She’s far too like her mother,” he grinned. “She told me about them when she was little.”

“Does… does Donna…”

“Of course she does. She thinks they’re fairytales, but space ones.”

Wilf felt a weight lift from his chest; Donna knew? She knew, and she wasn’t burning up, wasn’t dying, wasn’t at risk from his silly stories?

“And she’s…”

“Oh, she rolled her eyes a lot and said there was nothing wrong with Grimms Fairytales, but otherwise she’s fine,” Shaun sighed sadly, despite the tangible relief in his words. “Nothing there. Nothing remembered. I wish she would, sometimes.”

“I do too,” Wilf admitted, looking over at his slumbering great-granddaughter. “All of those adventures, reduced to just stories. Mad, impossible stories, nothing more.”

“The maddest, most impossible stories. But I think the Doctor would like being a fairytale.”

“I think he already is one,” Wilf smiled to himself, casting his mind back over the stories he’d once read to Donna, and which he sometimes still read to Rose if her mother was around. Tales of princesses and knights and dragons and animals; tales of magic and curses and strange beings that definitely had a lot in common with aliens. “Some of those old fairytales, with all-powerful wizards? Wouldn’t put it past him. At least when I tell ‘em though, he has the TARDIS and all of his usual gadgets. Not a magic wand in sight.”

“I could see him with a great long beard and a pointy hat.”

The two of them chuckled conspiratorially. “That’s an image.”

[quill-n]

(written with your Living Doll AU in mind, didn't feel right to post it since it isn't technically mine, so here ya go.) *drops this like a bomb and runs away*

“Tsunagu?” Shinya asks through the door, rapping his knuckles on the old ancient wood. “Do you have a spare moment?” Shinya opens the door and pokes his head inside. Tsunagu has his head on his crafts table as if he’s fallen asleep while trying to work, but stirs at the sound of Shinya’s voice.

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you, I saw the light and thought….” Shinya trails off, feeling foolish. “Sorry, I’ll let you sleep.”

Four spider-like eyes blink at him through the demure light of the lantern, and Tsunagu’s words stop him from leaving the room. “What did you need, Shinya?”

“Oh! Ah, haha,” Shinya chuckles nervously and scratches the back of his head, and Tsunagu already notices the problem before Shinya says it; the threading around his mouth is undone again. “My stitches are messed up and, I can’t find the hand mirror?”

“I’ll fix them, it’s no trouble,” Tsunagu says, bidding Shinya to sit as he reaches for his sewing kit. As he sits, Shinya notices an open book on Tsunagu’s desk that Tsunagu must been reading before succumbing to sleep. It’s flipped to an herbal remedy, and guilt pricks at Shinya like a thorn. He should be diverting Tsunagu’s attention from trying to save that human boy, but damn him if he doesn’t love Tsunagu’s attention.

Gentle fingers guide him to look to his right, and butterflies flutter in his stomach as the touch lingers, tilting Shinya’s head up so Tsunagu can have a better view. A clawed finger—or is it just a pointed nail?—brushes over the tear in his flesh and he shudders at the feeling. There’s always a sort of inexplicable sensation when Tsunagu touches him as if his undead skin is reacting to Tsunagu’s spirit energy. He’s not sure if Tsunagu can feel it too, or if it’s something only the dolls can feel, but a blush rises and he adverts his eyes.

A small smile tugs at Tsunagu’s lips as he eyes the tattered string still in the tear. The broken edges are too clean to be anything but intentionally cut, perhaps with the scissors from Shinya’s own sewing kit.

He gently plucks the cut threads free, then begins sewing the tears with fresh navy thread. His stitching is as seamless as ever, after a lifetime of tailoring, it’s effortless and somewhat calming to him now. He never minds fixing up his dolls when they break, especially Shinya, although, fixing Rumi and Keigo does annoy him from time to time, and sometimes he just wants to sew their mouths shut to stop them from bickering.

Tsunagu tries to stitch through the holes already present but Tsunagu has no fear that Shinya’s in any pain. Being dead, their pain receptors don’t function as they used to, but they can feel the uncomfortable sensation when something foreign enters their skin, like when you get pricked with a needle but the nurse can’t find a vein and just digs around for one.

Shinya wants to lean into Tsunagu’s touch, close his eyes and enjoy the moment, but Tsunagu would probably judge and question the action, so he turns his gaze to Tsunagu’s face instead. His eyes are focused on his work, each movement slow and controlled as he takes his grand old time to do things right. Or perhaps he’s taking his time so he can enjoy the moment for as long as possible? A cute, self-indulging, hopeful thought that warms his heart, but is utterly false.

“Where’s Rumi and Keigo?” Tsunagu murmurs.

“They went out to find something edible for our new friends,” Shinya answers not thinking much of it, but a fond huff from Tsunagu has his eyebrows scrunching in question. “What?”

“I was just thinking of the Christmas cake you tried to make me one year.” Shinya’s face turns to a scowl in rapid time, and Tsunagu laughs, though Shinya’s change of expression forces him to pause in his work.

That cake, if you could even call that inedible monstrosity a cake, was made about a year and a half before they died. He’d tried to recreate his mother’s old recipe for it and completely missed the mark. “That’s hardly an example of edible food.”

“Indeed, but it’s a pleasant memory, now stop moving if you please. Thank you.” Tsunagu prods Shinya to look the other way and begins working again. They continue reminiscing, talking about nothing in particular and Tsunagu is grateful for the distraction. He has no idea how to help Bakugou, and he’s been running himself ragged trying to figure out how to help, which he should be doing now, but the break is welcome and it eases his stress.

Tsuangu finishes much sooner than he or Shinya would’ve liked. Tsunagu wants nothing more than to stay here with Shinya and forget about his troubles for a little while longer, the time already eclipsed seems too short.

He trails a finger over the new stitches “Do they feel okay?”

“Yeah,” Shinya affirms. “good as new.”

“Good, then I suppose we’re done.”

“Uhh, wait, could you, uh,” Shinya flushes, his voice becoming meek and quiet. “could you check the stitching on my tongue too? I-I think I felt it loosening a bit ago.”

“Did you?” Tsunagu asks, not at all believing that, but fully willing to indulge his little doll as he attempts to play his not-so-subtle mind game. “Let me see?”

Shinya obediently opens his mouth to let Tsunagu check for the nonexistent loose threads. He slips two fingers into Shinya’s mouth, his mind flashing to a very different thing he could slide into his doll’s willing mouth, and Shinya unknowingly echoes a similar thought, his breath hitching. Tsunagu gently raises Shinya’s tongue to look under it but finds nary a stitch out of place. Which is exactly what he expected.

“The stitching looks perfect.” Tsunagu retracts his fingers, and Shinya mourns the loss but closes his mouth and swallows back the building saliva. Tsunagu grabs some spare cloth he’d been meaning to turn into a towel before certain recent events transpired and wipes the saliva off his hand.

“Sorry, must’ve been my imagination then.” Shinya lies.

“There’s no remorse needed for cautiousness,” Tsunagu says, turning to put his needle and thread back where they belong.

“Oh, well, thank you for indulging me.” Shinya murmurs, looking for any reason he could stay. He’s already taken up enough of Tsunagu’s time, and he knows that since Tsunagu is done patching him up he should leave, but he doesn’t want to. He wants Tsunagu to himself a bit more.

“Of course, Shinya. I’m happy to indulge you.” Tsunagu’s voice sounds pleased and a bit teasing as he speaks and he makes sure everything is neatly squared away, then glances at the open book with a frown—he’s studied it for hours and has yet to glean any useful information from it—and shuts it.

Their companionable silence is short-lived, however, as a very panic-stricken Aizawa barges into the room unannounced, and Shinya frowns at the sight of him, already knowing what’s about to happen.

“Hakamata-san!” Aizawa all but shouts, and Tsunagu whips around, his heart sinking. Back to work. “It’s Bakugou, he’s…”

“Show me.” Tsuangu’s already rising from his chair, and he follows Aizawa out of the room, casting Shinya a regretful look as he passes, his sharp fingertips flighting across his shoulder.

Shinya’s heart flutters at the touch, and an anger-fueled jealousy bubbles from his core, anger at Bakugou for getting hurt so badly, for Aizawa stealing Tsunagu away from him and monopolizing all his attention. And, selfishly, he wishes it were just them like it was in the beginning, before all the other dolls.

The bone-deep chill of guilt chases his anger away leaving a hollow cave in his heart, and he instantly feels horrible for even thinking such things. it’s not Bakugou’s fault for getting hurt, nor Aizawa’s for helping him.

I’m acting like a child having a temper tantrum when his mother forces him to share his toys. I should be doing something useful, not… not this.

He eyes the book on the table, it must’ve come from the library. Perhaps he should check the library too, it’d give him something to do at least.

OH

OH MY GOD? OH MY GOD OH MY GOD???? (positive)

I kept almost-dropping my phone while I was reading this because I'm SHAKING FROM EXCITEMENT

hold on—

^ artist's rendition of my actual reaction to this

I seriously can't get over this— you wrote their dynamic SO PERFECTLY I'm

AaAAHDHHJGJJJJ (positive)

I am *so honored* to have such good writing done for my au— THANK YOU SO MUCH!! (genuine; very excited)

[astarab1aze]

// light blue heart, for Safe Haven. unu

muse relationship headcanon game

who curses more?

haha bee. i thought about it for a minute, honestly thinking it'd be vergil, but we must never forget bianca listens to hardcore gangster rap in her private time, like when she's gardening, cooking, or dancing. she's always cursing. sure, maybe under her breath when bobbing along to a song, but who cares? let bee say fuck--

who is more patient?

bee by a mile, i feel like. vergil's patience comes from his careful planning, until it comes down to the execution phase, then he focuses so- hard on doing the thing. bee, on the other hand, is just passive in general, so she's much more inclined to be patient and bide her time altogether. also very tolerant, but she does get very anxious and self-doubting at inopportune moments, putting her in a panicked urgency. hummmmm. i wouldn't say they actually defer much on this point, like they're similar levels of patient but display it differently. if that makes sense? idk kjdfh

who does the driving?

vergil. c'mon, as if bee's learned how to drive. :I vergil can try to teach her all he likes. he's simply better at it and she trusts him more than she trusts herself behind the wheel.

who is louder? who is quieter?

hmmmm. vergil's louder, bee's much much quieter by comparison but this has to do more with dominance versus submission, assertiveness versus passivity. their upbringing, how they survived, the reactions to their individual traumas. like at the root of this. do you get where i'm coming from homie?

who is more physically affectionate?

they're about even. they both have their positively wild moments, but, for the most part, they've always been chaste and particular with and about each other. until the need for proximity is overwhelming, or they're searching for comfort, warmth, reprieve. when they sleep together, they sleep together. when they bathe, they often bathe together. little touches, pawing in the night after a nightmare. bee's favorite spot to kiss and touch has always been his jaw, for instance. vergil gathers her into his arms, brushes his knuckles against her skin. yes. bye.

who is more likely to tease the other?

they can both be playful, but i feel like...it's still probably bee. but overall? i think they're far more serious and uptight than v and garrett will ever be skjjdhfjs i'm not going to lie. playful and loose sometimes in private, where garrett is only too happy to be coocoo for cocoa puffs with v in public kind of a deal.

who is better with time management?

vergil. all that schemin' ya dig. no, the hacking! the hacking. all his computer sorcery bee doesn't understand because computers. numbers bad. time? all she knows is morning, noon, and night. she has zero proper time management skills, especially because she doesn't generally plan for anything unless she's being sneaky. but even then, she can be impulsive so everything goes awry.... -looks at her time in hell- vergil plans and actually thinks more critically about what he's doing, even when he does stupid shit--

who wins the arm wrestling matches?

vergil ksjdhfsd but i feel like...he lets her win sometimes. but then i think he wouldn't insult her like that, but he's also much stronger than her, and it just. goes round and round. ooze, send help

who controls the music in the car ride?

they talk to each other or sit in silence, what music. shut--

who covers dinner when they order in?

vergil. i know he pays for their groceries. i know they never go out. bee cooks but vergie pays mhmmmmmmmm, that just be how it do. a little traditional in certain ways but it works for them

who is more outgoing? who is more shy?

i think vergil's usually more reserved unless pissed off, where bee is more friendly but less inclined to talk to people she doesn't know or trust explicitly, unless she has absolutely no other option. she was so terrified in the beginning, but now it's more like she's neutral? just. um. friendly with people they know, fuck off to people they don't ok

who has the more outlandish fashion sense?

vergil. it's that goddamn jacket (the fedora doesn't exist, it can't hurt us)

who starts the tickle fights? who ends them?

hmmmm. tickling? i can't see it happening, but i can't not see it happening either, like in the first place. :I i'm unsure. vergil and vergil skjdhfsd

who has the darker/more “edgy” sense of humor?

i don't think either of them have a very clear sense of humor tbh. they're both so serious... hmm. we will have to discuss.

who is more competitive when it comes to games?

what? vergil omg. he's a competitive guy. look at his and dante's interactions throughout the game. hell, look at our brief interactions when i wrote him. they has such rivalry between them sure, but also that distinctly brotherly sort of dick-pulling contestery. remember ksjdfhs 'i have a bigger dick' HAH bee wins--

who has the bigger appetite? the bigger sweet tooth?

vergil takes his tea with lil pieces of chocolate bee makes for him and burns way more calories, so vergil. i don't remember ever writing bee eat or drink anything more than lemonade, tea, water, and stew omg..... going by evidence alone ksjdhf she grew up horribly poor. sweets and such were a luxury anyway so she learned not to care about them, just filling enough foods like rice, beans, potatoes, surviving on the bare minimum literally her whole life-- she eats a bit like a bird in the first place... ah. made myself sad

who is more likely to get in a confrontation in public?

vergil. :I

who hosts the parties/hangouts? who organizes them?

bee organizes family gatherings with v and that's about it on that front

who is better at cooking? do they ever cook for each other?

they cook together, or at least vergil helps and is otherwise very involve. sometimes. he can get so wrapped up in his work! so diligent. i don't think we've ever talked about him cooking for her? not that it wouldn't happen. but i do think bee does it the most often and has learned lots of things over time, so she's better at it skjdfhsdf

who is more likely to engage in dangerous and/or illegal behavior?

vergil. he shot the succubus. >:I and i don't think he actually gives a damn about the law. knows very well about it, enough to bend and break it, but he doesn't give a shit about it-- it's his world and we're all just living in it unu as far as specifically dangerous things, law aside, they're both veeeeeeery guilty of that and covered in the evidence.

who is more likely to notice when something is wrong with the other?

they both are entirely attuned and affixed to each other. i think when vergil gets focused on his work, he ends up doing it for hours and hours (a point against him for time management skjdhfs), but when he has a minute to spare, he very much notices. bee checks on him regularly throughout the day, so she would just know faster.

who does the talking in public settings (i.e. to the waiter at a restaurant)?

reeeeeeally depends on context. she follows his lead for certain things, puts her foot down on others, but doesn't really...hm. generally speaking? follows his lead but checks him if necessary. when they're around family? bee never shuts up, but is still somewhat polite and reserved.

who is more likely to extend a helping hand & provide emotional support?

bee. beeeeee. she is the bleeding heart in this outfit, at least as far as other people go. when it comes to each other? they both do the best they can, and that's genuinely enough for them (-sweeps bee's insecurity causing her to go to hell under the rug-)

who is the bigger prankster? do they get the last laugh or do they suffer for it?

pranking? uhhhhhh. hmmmm. no

[stories-of-the-multiverse]

Muse A is caught out in a snowstorm and breaks into a nearby house to wait it out. It’s Muse B’s. (//i will admit that i don't have a good idea of Which muse, sorry </3 i just think it would be funny if somebody broke into ruv's place haha!)

Once again, he found himself mentally cursing his employers. Fuckin' pricks...

Now, realistically, what were the odds of a storm happening right after he'd finished a hit?

At least he had the foresight to grab a heavy jacket on his way out, but fuck, he wasn't even close to being home yet, and the snow was dampening his shoes and the fabric of his clothes. He needed to get out of this sn-...

... Not ideal but...

He swallowed as he stared at a nearby home.

... Okay...

This is stupid, but maybe if he knocked...

The hitman waded threw the snow, fighting against the wind. Once at the door, he hesitated before rapping his knuckles against the door.

... No response.

Tried again.

"Uhm... 'Ello?" he called.

Nothing.

Was no one home? Or maybe someone didn't live here? That might actually be preferable.

Alright, fuck it.

Pico slipped out a set of lock picks before working the door... And...

As soon as he hear that satisfying click, he hurriedly opened the door, slipped in, and shut it immediately afterwards. Then, he moved to relock it.

... So either this was one of those prefernished homes, or this was already taken.

Great.

Alright, maybe they won't be home by the time he leaves. Won't even know he'd been here. After all, what crazy person wouldn't try to stay indoors until this blizzard passed.

Or they could be home and are just a heavy sleeper... Or maybe are just waiting to strike.

As that thought passed his mind, he stiffened.

Worst case scenario.

... He'll just... hide for the time being. Just in case.

His pale still adjusting eyes scanned around the dark area before zeroing in on what looked to be a more obstructed corner. Pico crept his way there, carefully, before huddling in that corner. He'd unzipped his jacket just to tuck is legs into it, partially for warmth and partially to make himself appear smaller and more unnoticable. Even slipping his hood on to hide his bright red hair.

Whatever the case, it's gotta be bizzare to find a five foot two ginger that may or may not be in wanted posters in their home.

[mellowswriting]

I saw that requests are open! would it be possible for you to write a follow up to Second Chances with javi and reader? Maybe you have another kid and this time javi is able to be there for you throughout the whole pregnancy, and get to experience the first kick, you giving birth, etc (I am a sucker for domestic!javi if you can't tell haha) I think it would be really cute!!

From the Beginning

pairing || Javier Peña x afab!Reader

summary || Javier gets to experience the chaotic excitement of welcoming a new baby to the family.

word count || 6,466 

warnings || kid fic, pregnant reader, non-graphic childbirth, some spiciness but no smut, dad!Javi being adorable 

a/n || I can’t even express how much I love writing about the boys as dads, especially Javier! I really hope you all enjoy this, it was so very much fun to write.

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Early spring mornings always had a special quality about them. The air was never too hot, pleasantly warm with a hint of a cool breeze that still lingered from winter’s sharp grip. Plants were beginning to bloom, the trees regaining their bright green foliage that ruffled in a symphony with every pass of the wind. Spring was the bringer of warmth after the ice and snow, the nurturer that coaxed seeds to sprout and flourish, the guide for new life and hope.

Ironic, then, that those very qualities you had grown to love were the ones causing you so much inner turmoil that you couldn’t even enjoy the gorgeous morning happening around you. You hadn’t even realized what was happening at first. Mother nature hadn’t exactly gifted you with a cycle that could be easily followed and predicted. Instead you had the supreme pleasure of having to carry around menstrual products everywhere you went and having to replace your underwear far more often than usual. So when you went two months without the waves of cramps and frustration of your period, it wasn’t all that remarkable.

It was when you were doing some last minute grocery shopping the night before that you realized something was off. Well, more off than usual. The sight of the shelves of tampons made your stomach bottom out with realization. You must’ve made quite a sight as you stood in that aisle with a cart half full of food, just staring at tampons with dread. Two boxes of pregnancy tests got tossed in with the various other items in your cart and you hoped that Javier was too tired from work to insist he help you put away the groceries.

For once, the universe appeared to be on your side. Your husband was sitting on the floor with Elianna, a spread of coloring books and crayons scattered on the living room carpet, and he actually listened to you when you waved him off to carry the bags in yourself. The tests were tucked away in the bathroom behind your tampons - ironic, yes, but it was the one place Javier really wouldn’t be poking around.

Honestly, a part of you felt bad for not telling Javier right away. He had more than proven himself as a great father and husband in the nearly two years since he returned to your life. Those irrational little fears of him leaving you and little Ellie had been crushed into nothing in the wake of the role he readily took on with his daughter, but this was different. Maybe it was pretty naive of you to not have that conversation with him, but it was something you thought you still had time for.

The plus sign on the pregnancy tests told you the time for that conversation was now, apparently. You were grateful for the timing of your little realization. Saturday mornings saw the standing trend of your sister whisking Ellie away for some ‘auntie and niece time’, and you really didn’t want her to feel the tension you were carrying. She was such a perceptive little girl that had an eye for everything.

Javier was still asleep. You usually slept in with him on the weekends, but you were restless to find out if your period was just pulling a fast one on you or if you actually were pregnant. Now you had four positive tests sitting in front of you and a sleeping husband who you couldn’t decide whether or not to wake up. Luckily, you ended up not having to make that choice since two sharp raps of his knuckles against the bathroom door snapped you out of your trance.

The door opened a millisecond after you snatched up the tests and hid them behind your back, not so unlike Ellie when she was hiding a treat she wasn’t supposed to have yet. The difference was that you didn’t know if this would be a treat to Javier. He was still half asleep, his thin pajama pants slug low on his hips and his eyes squinted against the bathroom light.

“G’morning,” He grunted as he moved to shuffle past you. “Move over, I gotta piss.”

You were rooted to the spot, though, your brain floundering to gain control of your muscles. “Uhm…”

“What’s wrong?” Javier slowly perked up through his sleepy haze at the realization that you looked downright terrified. He put his hand on your bicep and squeezed slightly. “Is Ellie okay?”

“What? No, yeah, Ellie’s fine. She’s with Amelia.” You spluttered, cringing at your inability to function.

“Then why do you look like you’ve seen a ghost?” Javi pressed. There really wasn’t any hiding things from him. Ellie must get that sharp eye of hers from her father. “What are you holding behind your back?”

You tried to swallow down the thickness that enveloped your throat to form some sort of words, literally anything to convey to him what the hell was going on, but your body was seized with fear. So you held out the tests wordlessly. His eyebrows furrowed as he took the bundle of tests from your hand, staring at them with a split second’s confusion before it dawned on him. “This…? You…?”

“Yeah.” You whispered. The worry in your voice must’ve been obvious because Javier was on you in a second flat, his arms crowding you into his chest with a crushing strength.

“You’re pregnant?” Javier croaked into your neck and the dam of emotion in your chest crumbled. His voice was full of excited disbelief, and relief crashed over you.

“Yeah, I am.” You said with a tearful chuckle, winding your arms around him to burrow yourself even further into his chest. “I know we never really talked about having another kid but… is this something you want, Javi?”

“Fuck, this is ironic.” Javier laughed quietly and when you looked up at him, he avoided your eyes with an almost bashful look. “I was gonna ask you today if you ever thought about it. Do you have any idea how many times I went over it in my head?”

You couldn’t help it - you cracked up laughing. The whole thing was almost ridiculous - the both of you worrying despite wanting the exact same thing. Tears of relief and laughter soaked into his t-shirt as you both broke into chaotic laughter, fingers clutching at each other’s shirts as you tried to catch your breath.

“So, uh… are we doing this?” Javier sounded nervous, his hands rubbing up and down your back as if to reassure himself. “You really wanna have a baby with me? Again?”

“Yeah.” Your voice was choked with a tense mix of emotions, so you cleared your throat and tried again. “Yeah, I do.”

“I can’t… fuck, I can’t believe you - you’d… thank you.” He babbled, nearly unintelligible in his scramble to convey how fucking grateful he was, but you knew. It wasn’t the first time you had heard the desperate need to spit words he couldn’t really find, the words that matched the swell of emotions in his chest that still wasn’t used to voicing. “Fuck, Ellie’s gonna be such a good big sister.”

That choked you up more than you expected. She really would be, you knew that for a fact, but it was a dream you had boxed up and shoved on a shelf with all your other unrealistic dreams for your future. Never in your life did you let yourself really think you could have the whole package deal - the loving (albeit gruff) husband, the big house, the sound of little feet chasing each other through the halls…

“Wait, how long have you been…? Or do we have to see a doctor first? Oh shit, we have to find a doctor for you, what the fuck are they called..? A fucking... obstetrician!” Javi rambled in a mix of nerves and excitement, breaking from your embrace to pace the length of the bathroom. “How are you feeling? Are you okay? Is there anything I can do to help, because -”

“Javi, breathe!” You calmed him with both hands out to stop his walking and braced your hands on his shoulders to rub at him firmly. “We have plenty of time, okay? Let me go make some coffee for you and we can sit down and make a plan. First, didn’t you have to go to the bathroom?”

“Oh… yeah.”

----------

Javier couldn’t stop bouncing his knee. It was a subconscious thing, something he stopped the moment he realized but soon found it moving of its own volition all over again. He really was trying not to let his nerves show even though he knew that you could tell. It was all so new to him, which wouldn’t be a problem if the reminder didn’t gut him every goddamn time. He couldn’t imagine how alone you must have felt the first time around when you were pregnant with Elianna, especially in these cold, sterile doctors offices.

His grip tightened on your hand. The feeling of your fingertips pressed against the top of his hand kept him grounded, helped him remind himself that there was no going back and changing everything else that happened. All he could do was be there this time around, be the best version of himself that he could be for you and his kid - well, kids now. Plural. The excitement was almost enough to drown away the guilt. Javi really could barely believe that he was getting the privilege of experiencing this with you.

“I’ve seen files on drug lords shorter than all that.” Javier nodded at the pile of forms and paperwork you held in your lap and you laughed brightly. He preened a little at the sound. It was something he could never get enough of, that laugh of yours. “I love you.”

You looked up at him, the pen in your hand stopping its constant scratching for the first time in forever, and gave him a lopsided smile. “I love you, too.”

There was no way he wasn’t going to kiss you after that adorable little display. Your cheek felt soft against his palm and the little sigh of relief you huffed against him was addictive. Just knowing that he was an anchor for you made Javier feel so incredibly loved and important and all he wanted to do was imbue you with that same sense of security. He held you close, his hand slipping back to the back of your neck to keep you right where he wanted you, and gave you those soft little kisses that never failed to make you melt.

“Mrs. Peña?” A nurse called out and he had no choice but to let you go with one last peck against your lips. He followed you and the nurse into the exam room, nerves and excitement soaring even higher in his chest.

It was kind of fascinating, watching you answer the nurse’s barrage of questions. Questions about your medical history, how many pregnancies you’ve had, all about your menstrual cycle. The two of you went back and forth for at least fifteen minutes, tossing questions and answers back and forth like a tennis match. The nurse left with the promise of the doctor being in momentarily for an ultrasound.

“Come hold my hand?” You asked, and how could he deny such a sweet request?

“Of course,” He pulled a chair from across the room and settled himself next to the exam table, both of his hands wrapping around one of yours as he brought it up to his lips to kiss your knuckles. “So what happens now?”

“The doctor will give me an ultrasound. She’ll probably want to run some blood tests, too.” You sighed, obviously uncomfortable at the thought of needles.

“I’ll hold your hand then, too.” Javier promised.

“It’ll be good practice for you, ‘cause once I’m in labor I’ll probably break your hand.” You teased and yeah, broken fingers didn’t sound all that great but fuck, he was more than ready to let you do just that. Javier wanted to be your rock, wanted to support you through it all - especially since he couldn’t the first time.

Two quick knocks sounded against the door made Javier straighten up hastily. The doctor came in with a smile and a large machine wheeling in behind her. “Good morning, mom and dad! How’re we feeling?”

“All good here, Dr. Hall. A little nauseous, but still… good.” You gave Javier’s hand a little squeeze before letting go to unbutton your jeans and fold the waistband down, followed by pulling the hem of your shirt up. It was hard to believe that the beginning of an entire new life was right there between your hips.

“Good to hear!” Dr. Hall fiddled with the ultrasound machine for a moment before turning to you. “So today we’re going to take a look and find out how far along you are, make sure mom and baby both look healthy, okay?”

“Okay,” You and Javier said in unison, and he took your hand again, needing to feel you there with him.

The gel must’ve been cold based on the way you hissed slightly. Javier watched the screen as Dr. Hall trailed the wand over your belly, lips parting at the sight of the black and white image. It was hard to make out what exactly he was seeing at first, but the image shifted slightly and he could make out the tiniest, vague shape of the newest edition to his little family.

“It looks like you’re about ten weeks along.” Dr. Hall murmured without taking her eyes off of the screen. “Baby is about the size of a plum.”

Javier squeezed your hand lightly, the both of you sparing a glance at each other before staring back at the screen in wonder. The doctor pointed out the baby’s head and a little foot as she took her measurements, reassuring you both that everything looked perfect. He gave a rushed “yes, absolutely” when she asked if he wanted the ultrasound photos - there was a spot in his wallet that he had in mind for it already.

It wasn’t as if he hadn’t been in situations that left him shocked before. This was Javier Peña, after all. Life and career experiences had given him plenty of moments where his mind was completely washed blank with surprise, but never had it been such a good thing. There were so many times that the shock was accompanied by grief or anger, but excitement? Gratefulness? That was new to him, left him reeling the entire drive home, all throughout dinner. Something in the back of his mind nagged at him that he couldn’t be like this when Ellie got home the next day. She was smarter than he could’ve imagined any kid being at three years old and even though he agreed with your assertion that no one should know about your pregnancy for a few more weeks at least, Javier was certain his daughter would be able to needle it out of him.

Those expert interrogation skills must be hereditary.

It wasn’t until he was getting ready for bed that it really hit him how real it was, that you really were sitting in the bed you shared with him, pregnant with his baby and making plans for the usual Sunday brunch and park visit you all did every week. As he set his wallet on the nightstand, he couldn’t help but pull out the little ultrasound picture. He had a feeling he would be doing that a lot, especially when the new cadets were driving him crazy at work. It all swelled up in his chest, the appreciation and excitement and disbelief, because holy shit, how did he get so lucky? One finger traced the little image in his hand, and he couldn’t help but blurt out, “Thank you.”

The confused look you gave him made him flounder for the words.

“I just… I know everything was fucked up the first time around but I swear, it’s going to be different this time. I am not going anywhere.” Javier slid closer at the sight of the tears in your eyes, easily welcoming your arms around his neck as you practically drug yourself into his lap. He held you close to his chest, trying to instill the certainty and promise of it all. “God, fuck, and I thought I couldn’t get enough of you before…”

“Javi…” You croaked, laughing wetly into his neck.

“I’m serious! You’re gonna have to tell me to fuck off when you want space because I can’t keep my hands off you.” Javi teased, relief washing over him at your seeming acceptance of his promises. “And now like this, growing my baby… fuck, I am in this with you. Me and you and Ellie… and our little plum.”

That night, Javier fell asleep with his head on your shoulder, his face buried in your neck, and his hand tucked into the waistband of your sweatpants to cradle that precious space that held his newest child.

----------

Ellie couldn’t stop touting her new title to anyone who would listen.

“I’m a big sister!” She told the cashier at the grocery store, the other kids at the park and their moms for good measure, and even the mailman when they came by each morning. The brightness in her eyes when she said it made your heart flip in your chest. You had expected some sort of confusion or even for her to be upset at the idea of a new sibling, but she launched right into a story about how her friend from playgroup has a baby sister, and you knew that she would be just fine.

With your sixteenth week rapidly approaching, you couldn’t be more grateful that Ellie was excited for the new addition to the family. It was one less thing for you to worry about amidst the chaos of bringing a new person into the world. The fatigue was something you definitely didn’t miss about pregnancy - it washed over you without warning, left you nodding off wherever you sat. Thank god Javier was such a hands on father. He had no problem herding Ellie off into the backyard or off for a walk to let you get some much needed rest.

You hadn’t expected him to be such a hands on husband, though. Sure, you knew he was excited and you knew he already loved everything about your body, but he really wasn’t lying when he said pregnancy made him want you even more. Every night, Javi’s hands gravitated to your body to ease the kinks out of your muscles, to rub your feet until the aches went away, to cheekily offer you an orgasm if you were up for one. It made you feel cherished, something you sorely missed the first time you were pregnant.

“Thank you, Javi,” You groaned lowly as those strong hands of his worked at your lower back. He easily hitched your thigh up slightly to ease some of the pressure on the new swell to your belly. There was a slur in your voice when you said, “Feels so good.”

Javier chuckled behind you, moving on to rub your feet. “Be quiet, you don’t want to wake Ellie.”

“Did you ever see this being our life?” You murmured though your voice was muffled by the pillows you buried your head in. “Telling each other not to wake the kids, making bacon smiley faces for a toddler’s breakfast?”

“I didn’t think I’d actually get it, but I wished for it. Dreamt about how pretty you’d look all full of me.” Javi placed a teasing kiss to the inside of your thigh. “The real thing is so much better.”

You could only groan under his praise. His thumbs dug into the arch of your foot and rubbed in methodical circles, drawing another pleased groan from you that you muffled in your pillow. The pain slowly melted from your tired muscles under his thorough ministrations, leaving a pleasant warmth in his wake that made you all pliant and drowsy beneath him.

“How are you feeling, sweetheart?” Javi asked as he rubbed his hands up your calves and you smiled. You knew exactly what he was gunning for.

You eased yourself onto your back and reached out for him with both arms, bringing him forward with grabby hands that he could never refuse. Javier settled between your thighs, a knowing smirk on his face, and leaned down to kiss you deeply. “‘M feeling good, Javi.”

“You know I love making my girl feel good,” Javi murmured as he kissed down your neck, one hand trailing back and forth over your hip and thigh lovingly. “Can I make you feel even better?”

“Please?” You asked breathily and your husband was more than happy to oblige. The loose tank top you wore was the first to go, followed quickly by your shorts and underwear.

Javier set about lavishing your neck and chest with affection, his touch more gentle than usual on your oversensitive breasts, and once again you were struck by the surrealness of it all. The fact that this had begun in Colombia all those years ago as two coworkers using sex for stress relief and had blossomed into this beautiful life you shared together was a thing of dreams. But there you were, with Javier Peña making love to you, quietly as to not wake your daughter and gently as to keep you and your baby safe and happy, and you could barely believe it.

“I love you,” You choked out through the tears that sprung into your eyes and Javi sat up to look at you with a concerned expression.

“What? What’s wrong?” He asked, his eyes roaming all over to find the apparent source of your tears.

“Nothing’s wrong.” You tried to pull him back down to you but he didn’t budge, the concern unwavering.

“Then why are you crying?” Javier brushed a thumb under your eyes to wipe away the evidence of your strong burst of emotion.

“Because I love you,” You chuckled as you held his hand close to your cheek and pressed a kiss to the middle of his palm. “And I’m pregnant, so everything is a thousand times more intense and you don’t get to tease me for that.”

“I would never,” Javi muttered but the mischievous grin on his face betrayed him. “Let me make you feel better, baby,”

“I’m already better, Javi - oh,”

----------

Two o’clock in the morning was not an ideal time to wake up, especially since Javier knew that Ellie would be awake and full of energy by seven, but something felt off. Even in his unconscious state, he could feel the absence of you in bed and his mind nagged at him to get up and find you. The hardwood was cold beneath his feet as he wandered from the bedroom, finding the bathroom empty before he made his way down the stairs. You often would rest on the recliner in the living room when your back was bothering you particularly bad, especially since your center of gravity had so drastically changed the further along you got in your pregnancy - but you weren’t there either.

Before Javi could start really worrying, he heard the refrigerator open and found you peering into the illuminated fridge in search of… something. A pint of ice cream was already in your hand, a spoonful of it hanging from your lips as you browsed with a frustrated look on your face, and honestly… Javi loved how you looked. It was so domestic and sweet, the sight of you in your pajamas that barely covered your belly as you raided the kitchen.

Thirty-six weeks and four days. He could barely believe how much time had passed since he saw those positive tests. It felt like forever and the blink of an eye at the same time, and he was beyond excited to meet his newest little one.

“What are you looking for, sweetheart?” Javi asked after a moment of watching you helplessly search around.

The sheepish smile you gave him made his heart swell in his chest and he automatically opened his arms as you shuffled over to bury your face in his chest. “Your kid is driving me crazy with the cravings.”

Javier hugged you tightly, relishing in the way you relaxed against him. “Well, if they’re anything like me, they probably want those barbecue chips, then.”

It didn’t take long for him to get you herded back up to bed with the chips in hand and the sight of you sleepily munching away while burrowed in the blankets eased an almost innate need Javier had to see you safe and happy, all nice and taken care of in his bed. He climbed into bed once he was sure you didn’t need anything else, settling on his side with his head propped up against his hand to watch you despite his own sleepiness.

“Let your mama sleep, troublemaker.” He murmured to your belly as he rubbed gentle circles over the spots he could feel the nudges of his little one retaliating to their father’s stern words. “Need some lotion?”

“Hmmm, please?” You hummed.

Rubbing lotion into your skin was something Javi had taken a particular liking to. The first time he had seen you doing it yourself, he was quick to take over. That was the first time he felt his little one kick at his hands and he fell even more in love - something he hadn’t thought was possible. It was a good way to feel closer to you both, to his wife and the baby you were bringing into the world, and the way you dozed slightly as he helped you relax made him feel needed, like he was doing right by you. That’s all he ever wanted to do.

A nudge to the edge of his hand made Javier glance back down to where his hands were running all over your belly, but it was the sight of the baby rolling that made him do a double take. “Holy shit,” He whispered, hands frozen as he saw what had to be the imprint of a little foot or hand poke out before disappearing. “There really is a whole person in there.”

“You’re tellin’ me,” You grumbled, grimacing slightly at the feeling. “It’s aerobics hour, apparently.”

“That’s fucking crazy.” Javi tentatively resumed massaging the lotion into your skin. It was hard to fathom, the idea that your body was so capable of creating and nurturing a brand new life, and for the millionth time he found himself thanking the universe for letting him have this second chance.

----------

Gabriel Peña came early, quick, and with a sharp cry you were sure could be heard throughout the entire hospital. His little nose was scrunched up, his face all red from his wailing, hands curled into angry fists over his sudden eviction from the warmth and darkness he was accustomed to. It was a short labor, so very different from your first with Ellie for so many reasons but the biggest being the strong presence of Javier at your side. The moment the contractions began at the crisp hour of six a.m., he was alert and full of nervous excitement.

True to his word, Javier let you clutch onto him through it all - every contraction, every push, every angered grumble you threw his way for getting you pregnant in the first place. That sharp mind of his kept up under the pressure. He spoonfed you ice chips and let you use him for support as you rocked your way through particularly bad contractions.

There were tears in Javier’s eyes as he carefully set his hand on his son’s head, carefully musing the shock of dark, wispy hair on his head. You leaned your head against Javi’s shoulder, exhaustion, relief, and happiness warring with each other after hours of labor. You felt his lips press against your temple before he sniffled and whispered, “Thank you.”

Javier stayed by Gabriel’s side the entire time the doctors checked him over and cleaned him up, per your instructions, and he was the one to return your son to your arms. It was the most careful you had ever seen him, his movements slow and deliberate, eyes on the baby’s adorable, chubby face.

“Seven pounds, nine ounces,” Javi murmured as he drug a chair as close to your bedside as possible and settled in, his hand resting on your thigh. A disgruntled whine came from the baby wriggling in your arms and you smiled, knowing he was hungry and could probably smell the milk your body had been preparing to make for his arrival. You pulled the gown down to expose your breast, propping your arm with a pillow to better support him, and adjusted his latch to settle in.

“Nice latch, mama,” One of the nurses said as she finished settling the blankets around your feet.

“Not my first time at this rodeo.” You chuckled quietly. It had been a while since Ellie weaned but you still remembered the struggle of figuring out how to get a newborn to latch properly when you had no idea what you were doing. You set your hand over Javi’s, smiling at him when he blinked sleepily up at you. Neither of you had gotten much rest before Gabriel decided to make his appearance into the world. “Can you hand me some water, honey?”

“Of course,” Javi perked up with the small task you gave him. There wasn’t much he could do at this point, but you wanted him to feel involved, to feel like he was helping you, and even though his mere presence helped you relax, you knew he was an ‘action’ kind of man. He needed something to do to feel useful. He held the straw steady for you and everything, your sweet husband. “How’re you feeling?”

“Tired.” You answered honestly, leaning into his hand when he brushed stray hairs from your face.

“I know this wasn’t easy. I’m proud of you.” It was a simple statement but it hit you right in your chest. As excited as you were to have another baby, it was hard. Exhausting. He could see it all, how tired you were and how hard you were working just to carry on like normal through your pregnancy, and while he did everything he could to ease some of that burden, the plain acknowledgement of how hard you worked felt good.

“I love you so much.” You whispered, pulling his hand close to kiss his palm.

“I love you, too.” Javier leaned over the side of the bed and kissed you softly, careful not to jostle his son where he sleepily nursed against you. “How are our kids so damn cute?”

You huffed a laugh, which made Gabriel shift against you before settling back down, sighing suspiciously similar to his father. “It helps that their dad is incredibly good looking.”

“True,” Javi said, trying for that cocky tone you loved but you didn’t miss the pink tinge to the tips of his ears. Compliments always got him like that, all red-faced and adorable - though he would never admit it.

A short nap later and you had one very excited Ellie fidgeting in the chair next to your bed, impatiently waiting to meet her baby brother. Javier stood behind her, quietly reminding her to be careful as you helped keep the squirming newborn steady in her lap. Your heart damn near exploded when she began cooing at her brother and very gently touching his soft cheeks. She was enamored by him, asking so many questions that you and her father could barely keep up.

“Can we share my bed?” “No, he can’t sleep in your bed, baby. He has to sleep in a special bed in mommy and daddy’s room.”

“Does he get a special seat like me?” “Yep! Daddy’s putting his carseat in next to yours right now. You’ll get to talk to him the whole way home.”

“Is he gonna cry a lot?” “Yeah, he will. That’s how babies let people know they need something since they don’t have words like we do.”

“Can I share my crackers with him?” “Not yet! Right now, he only drinks milk.” “Milk? Like for cereal?” “Kind of, but it comes from your mommy.” “What?!” “You ate the same thing when you were a little baby, too.” “What?!”

The entire drive home was full of little Ellie chatting away at her baby brother, mostly about the stuffed animals she had at home that she promised to show him the moment they got home. There was a small smile on Javier’s face as he drove, his hand curled around yours on the center console. He practically radiated contentment and damn did it look good on him.

----------

For what felt like the millionth time, you woke before the sun had a chance to rise. Though this time, it was to the feeling of a full bladder rather than the sound of a hungry baby, so that could be counted as a small win at the very least. You tried to ignore the ache in your healing body as you stumbled your way to and from the bathroom, near silent in your movements even though you were half asleep. It was a well practiced dance, getting out and back into bed without waking your sleeping children.

But something was off. The sheets were cooler than usual, missing the fire-like heat that Javier radiated constantly. You sat up, blinking against the drowsiness and darkness to see your husband passed out on the rocking chair in the corner of the room with Gabriel curled up on his bare chest. Skin-to-skin contact was something Javier couldn’t get enough of. He told you how close it made him feel to his son and you couldn’t complain. It was a precious sight. Avoiding the creaky floorboards, you carefully covered Gabriel with a soft baby blanket and smoothed it down his back.

“S’wrong?” Javier mumbled, words slurred with sleep, his eyes barely cracking open. On instinct, his hands shifted over the little baby asleep on him to hold him closer, even more secure.

“Shh, nothing’s wrong.” You soothed as you gently tucked his curls back away from his forehead. “Go back to sleep.”

“M’kay.” And with that his eyes were closed, back to dozing like he was never interrupted in the first place. You were glad. Tomorrow was an early morning, and paired with all of the midnight feedings and diaper changes, you all could use some rest. So you laid back down, sleep dragging you back under swiftly.

Javier was practically bouncing with nerves just hours later, even though he was trying not to show it. It brought you back to that first appointment when you were pregnant, only this time he held a sleeping one-month old who he was trying not to wake up with his nervousness.

“I just want it to go well.” He grumbled when you asked if he was okay.

“It will.” You reassured him, rubbing circles into his knee. “They’re both perfectly healthy, the pediatrician will tell you that, too.”

You were right - then again, when weren’t you? Gabe was a healthy nine and a half pounds, strong heart and lungs, and good reflexes. Javier was hooked on the pediatrician’s every word, nodding along and giving you a relieved smile with each positive statement. And of course, Ellie’s rambunctiousness had the pediatrician and nurses completely captivated as she told them all about her preschool and the antics she got up to while they checked her over.

The pride on Javier’s face with every positive comment and reassurance that both of his kids were on track developmentally made your heart flip. You felt so beyond lucky to have this little family of yours, with two beautiful children and the man you always loved. It felt too good to be true sometimes, especially when Javi pulled you close for a tight hug and a kiss to the side of your head before he worked to get one wiggly Gabe back into his onesie.

One impromptu trip to the park later and you and Javier had two very tired kids on your hands. Ellie was already passed out by the time Javier pulled into the driveway but Gabe was quickly venturing into ‘overtired’ territory. He was grumpy, wriggling around in your arms like he couldn’t get comfortable, all the while giving little whines and grunts that threatened to turn into full on wailing. He didn’t want milk, he didn’t need a diaper change, he just wanted to sleep but was too frustrated to let a nap take him.

“Give ‘em here.” Javier offered and you freely handed him over. The postpartum fatigue was no joke, and even though it was lessening with each passing day, you were damn tired so you had no issue with letting your husband put the baby down for a nap. You curled up on the couch, not quite going to sleep but still letting your mind and body rest as you listened to Javi try to negotiate with Gabriel as if he were some sicario and not just a particularly stubborn baby.

“C’mon, little man. Just go to sleep. All of your problems if you went to sleep right now? Solved. Completely solved. Instead of crying you could just… go to sleep.” Javier whispered over the cooing and grunting of his son. “Oh, don’t give me that face, mister.”

You snorted a laugh - you knew exactly what face Gabe was pulling. His nose and eyebrows would scrunch up, lips pursed as he huffed angry breaths like a little baby bull. It was an exaggerated copy of the face Javier pulled anytime he was frustrated, which you found ridiculously adorable. Slowly, the grumpy grunts became more and more quiet until they disappeared completely, and a few moments later, Javier flopped down on the couch next to you with a sigh.

“Got him down.” Javi said as he pressed close to you, burying himself between the back of the couch and your body to press his face into your neck. A blanket of drowsiness must have settled over the entire house as both kids napped peacefully in their beds and you cuddled up to your husband in the living room. The both of you would doze until the sound of little feet on the hardwood or the sounds of a hungry baby woke you, and then it would be back on the grind of parenthood, but you knew… with Javier by your side, you could do it.

{Taglist}

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[pynkhues]

What are your head canons about Gerri?

Anon, I literally have so many headcanons about Gerri, you would not believe it, haha, but hopefully you like these little ones:

Thing is, college? Law school? She did that on her own.

(Graduating Class of ’78.)

It wasn’t an Ivy or anything, although she knows she could’ve had her pick. Could’ve cut through the grease of Harvard or elbowed her way into Yale, but life was different back then.

She was never naked ambition, not when she was applying at least, her ambition? It came with baggage, a coat, a hat.

God, as far back as undergrad, her ambition came with a sick mom and a dad with a mistress, a brother doing his second tour of Vietnam, another in med school, a sister who’d skip school to disappear for days on end, protesting the dying days of the war.

Gerri was used to picking up the pieces. Smoothing things over, getting things right, and back then, college needed to be local. Needed to be in Kentucky, needed to mean that she’d be close, stay close – the obligations of a middle child but an eldest daughter. Obligations she’d wear for as long as they held her.

So she studied and she worked hard and she declined offers for dates or for parties, missed chances to make friends, to go home to her mother, to write to her brother (and pray to a god she didn’t believe in he’d make it back alive), to wait for a father she knew wouldn’t come home that night or the next (maybe on a Tuesday, a Thursday, every now and then, smelling like someone else’s perfume, and talking about things she didn’t care for).

But that was the hand life had dealt her, so she swallowed it up.

Did, at least, until she met Baird.

Baird was older, handsome, established. He wasn’t in law like her, but rather worked in finance, had studied a field she’d never heard of (forensic accountant), but was in a job she had heard of (CFO of the rising media corporation, Royco) and was delivering a guest lecture on the University of Kentucky campus for the finance school.

They didn’t meet in class.

They met in the parking lot.

Funnily enough, her car might’ve been the one that needed scrapping, but it was his that wouldn’t start. That he twisted the keys in only to have smoke blow out the exhaust pipe of, and it was Gerri who rapped her knuckles on his window, told him he’d need a mechanic to fix it.

She showed him where the payphones were on campus, and it felt rude to leave him there, so she stuck around, and it was strange.

To have a man like this, treat her casually, and kindly, but also just - - talk to her.

He didn’t leer or talk down, but asked her what she studied, how close she was to graduating, where she wanted to end up.

And the conversation flowed as they walked back to his car, as they waited for the mechanic, and he told her about his work, then his family (he was divorced, no kids, but he thought maybe one day), and she told him about hers.

And he hummed.

Said not to sound callous, but why are you sticking around?

She had an obligation. To see this through.

To what? If you’re waiting for your future to start when your mother dies, it won’t. There’ll always be more. What happens when your brother comes back? Your sister? What if your dad has more kids with this new woman of his? You gonna become their live-in nanny? You let people lean on you long enough, let them bend you, your body will stick that way.

Gerri remembers staring at him. Remembers the way he’d shrugged, not apologetic, but still somehow sympathetic. Remembers the way the mechanic showed up and Baird had just given her his card, told her if she ever found herself standing up straight, to give him a call, and the way she’d driven home, almost unblinking.

Remembers that night the sound of her mother’s respirator wheezing and the thought of her siblings each away and her father out to dinner with a girl her age, and she remembers thinking - -

No.

This wouldn’t be her life.

Wouldn’t be her future.

She wasn’t somebody prone to abandoning though, she wasn’t like her father, her sister, and so she made her plans as she straightened her spine. Found a nurse for her mother and a maid for the house. Took her father’s checkbook to pay for both, and at his surprise, she told him she could run his house, but not work it anymore.

She wasn’t staff.

Not to him.

She re-commit to her studies, graduated a year later, top of her class, then the bar, then got a clerk job in Cincinnati, and she felt it. The rub of an industry that didn’t want women in it, but she also felt Baird’s words always, turning over in her head, felt the weight of his card, wedged in the back of her day planner, a reminder, always, to stand a little taller.

And maybe it felt like fate when they ran into each other a year or two later at a mutual friend’s wedding in Vermont (Gerri had worked with her a while in Cincinnati, Baird had gone to Yale with the husband). She hadn’t expected him to recognise her – had held onto the card as a reminder more than anything else – had figured, mostly, that he gave them out to every wide-eyed 20-year-old he met, but it wasn’t what he opened with.

I don’t think I ever said thank you for helping me with my car.

You didn’t, Gerri replied, a little haughty, and Baird had laughed, apologized, said well then, let me thank you now.

And they talked, easy into the night, and he was still CFO at Royco, and still handsome, still charming, still divorced, but Gerri felt like someone new, someone brighter, taller, and it’s like he saw that too, like he felt it, and yes, they went to bed together, and yes, he told her to move to New York, told her he could get her in on the groundfloor at Royco, and she moved to New York and let him sweep her off her feet, but she didn’t take the job.

At least, not yet.