#he’d just wake up in the pitch and never know if anything was in there with him

[whatswrongwithblue]

Alastor x Reader

"The Morning After"

This started out as an idea for just a quick funny incorrect quotes and turned into a full-on one shot of fluffy nonesense. G/N reader, though they do wear make-up. No use of Y/N.

Still half asleep, you shifted from laying on your back to your side, facing the edge of the bed. The change in position suddenly made you more awake for two reasons; the pressure on your bladder and the odd green light burning through your eyelids.

You blinked your eyes, squinting for several seconds as your eyes adjusted to the light, and you realized you were looking at the pocket dimension bayou in Alastor’s room.

Alastor’s room.

ALASTOR’S ROOM.

Oh fuck.

You look over at the other side of the bed and see the unmistakable red and black hair, the two long fluffy ears, and little antlers. Markers of his identity that you had grown accustomed to in the years you had known him. What you weren’t used to was the ashen skin of his bare back and the gentle rise and fall of his shoulder as he slept soundly beside you, facing the opposite direction.

He was as naked under the sheets as you were.

Halfway between panicked and giddy with excitement, you recalled the wild night you two had indulged in the night before. The culmination of years of pining on your end – and recently acknowledged and understood feelings on his end – had led you to his bedroom for the very first time last night.

You just hoped it wasn’t something he would wake to regret.

That worry had to come later because right now your poor bladder was going to burst.

Slipping out from under the sheets, you tiptoed as quietly as you could across the floor and into the bathroom, making sure to not turn on the light until the door was softly closed behind you.

Ugghh, you hadn’t even cleaned yourself up before falling asleep. You and Alastor had gone so hot and heavy that once it was over, you both had just passed out, wrapped up in each other’s arms, so exhausted that not even the mess between your legs and the wet spots on the sheets could bother you.

Quickly and quietly, you relieved yourself and then wiped yourself clean, praying to Roo herself that you would get the chance to shower before any more intimate acts were shared between you and Alastor.

And then you flushed the toilet and winced at the insulting and loud noise it made. You forgot the plumbing in this piece of shit building let you know exactly who was showering or taking a piss from two stories above.

Two more things happened simultaneously that got your panic spiking again.

The light in the bedroom flipped on and you caught your reflection in the mirror.

You’re make up was a disaster.

You weren’t so vain as to have never let Alastor see you without it before. Honestly, he’d seen you with a natural and clean face more often than not but of course you had put on a near full face the night before and not cleaned it up before . . . before . . .

Fuck, you probably left lipstick and mascara all over those nice silk sheets he had summoned just before he’d laid you down on them.

There was a soft knock on the door.

“Darling?” Alastor’s voice called for you and he sounded almost insecure and you would think about that later, later, how sweet that little hint of worry in his questioning was and how it meant he was hoping you weren’t regretting anything either and for fuck’s sakes you had patiently waited years to get that man’s dick inside you just for you to forget basic hygiene afterwards and now you had water proof raccoon eyes and lipstick smeared across your face like you were trying out to play the next Joker and what was left of your eyeshadow was in clumps that did nothing but accentuate every little wrinkle around your eyelids . . .

“I’m fine!” you say with a voice that was far too high pitched to be believable and you began searching through the bathroom drawers for a washrag or something to clean up your face. “Just cleaning up a little is all.”

He’d heard the toilet flush, heard the running of the bathroom sink, he had to have heard you rummaging through the drawers, frankly those beautiful ears of his could probably pick up on the sound of your heart racing like fucking Secretariat. And it was Alastor. He had zero sense of personal space and was likely going to barge in any second now-

You heard his soft chuckle as he opened the door and caught you desperately wiping at your face with a washrag and cold water, doing less to remove the makeup and more to just make an even more pathetic mess of colors across your stricken expression.

It didn’t help that you were still completely naked.

“My dearest, there are better ways to go about that.”

Frozen with embarrassment, you watched his reflection in the mirror as he walked behind you, though you wouldn’t meet his eyes. Instead, yours were glued to his equally nude body that he so confidently kept on display for you as he reached around you and opened a drawer, revealing a packet of make-up remover wipes.

He held one up for you and that’s when you finally looked up at him.

His ever-present smile was there, a touch sweeter and affectionate than usual, but the rest of his face looked as bad as yours. Red eyeshadow and black eyeliner had gotten everywhere and with the rather attractive sex hair he had going on, he looked more like a member of an 80’s rock band than he did The Radio Demon.

You couldn’t help the relieved laugh that escaped your lips.

“What, you thought all this was natural? Please,” he gave a dismissive wave of his hand and wrist and began cleaning up his own face.

The tension and nervousness melted away as you followed his lead and after getting yesterday’s make-up properly cleaned up, Alastor even summoned your toothbrush from your room for you to use. And none of it was awkward or weird, doing these normal, domestic things . . . in his bathroom . . . in the nude . . . with him there.

It should have been weird but instead it was unremarkably comfortable. Like it had been this way all along. A normal, mundane morning, in the best way possible.

“Join me for a shower?” he asked, with his hand held out.

There was a plethora of other questions left unsaid in his gaze.

Did you really not regret the night before?

Did you really want him? With all his violent inclinations and strange, often conflicting mannerisms and behaviors?

Were you really ready to commit yourself to the unpredictable life of The Radio Demon?

Offering him your best smile and your hand, you followed him into the steamiest, most invigorating shower of your life.

[themultifanshipper]

🟢 for Jenson button x reader? during his brawn days

It was a well-known fact that Jenson Button was a whore.

Which is something that infuriated you to no end as his PR manager.

Warnings: smut, PinMultipleVs sex, oral (jenson knows how to use his mouth, it's canon trust me bro), forced voyeurism (hear me out), sex tape, Jenson has a thing for begging, a lot of dirty talk, it's kind of cringe maybe? Idk you be the judge

2.9k words, and about ⅓ of that is fuck/fucking lmao

Requested from my prompt list

You'd never caught him really doing anything, which was a blessing.

Usually you'd let yourself into his hotel room in the morning because he was late (you always had a spare key for this exact reason) and find him in bed with someone (the number and gender of the persons will remain redacted).

You'd have to politely wake them up and tell them to leave, then give Jenson an earful about how he couldn't afford a bad rep now that he was leading a championship.

It was a familiar routine, he’d run around his room trying to gather his stuff, sometimes having slipped some underwear on, sometimes not, and winking at you cheekily the whole time.

He was hot, there was no denying that. His body was lean but toned from the hours he would put in at the gym, and doing… other activities. And that fucking smile would have swept you off your feet had you not been his PR manager.

But you were his PR manager, so anything happening between you two was a big no no.

However that didn’t stop your mind wandering. Sometimes you wondered what it would be like to be with him.

You’d heard stories and rumours about how good he was. And you’d heard proof of it too, whenever you had a room next to his in the hotel, or when you’d stop outside his driver’s room door listening to the high pitched moans of whichever paddock pass-gifted model was there that week.

And they weren’t fake. You could tell the difference.

Which is why today, you’d strolled into his driver’s room without knocking, because you’d listened in and heard only silence.

You only realised your mistake once your eyes landed on him, on his single bed with a model on all fours, taking his hard thrusts with a makeshift gag that looked suspiciously like one of his shirts.

It was completely muffling the poor girl’s moans, tears running down her cheeks as Jenson pounded into her.

“Jenson!” you hissed, quickly shutting the door behind you. “Anyone could have walked in!”

He wasn’t deterred in the slightest and he just kept going while he replied.

“Well I’m glad it was you, then, because you can’t get me fired”

The fact that he was still balls deep in the woman, who’s arms had buckled and was now face down on the small bed, was rendering you almost speechless.

You’d never actually caught him in the act before, and it was quite a sight to behold. His muscles bulged with his rough movements and there was a deep blush on his neck and chest.

You refused to look at his dick, you feared that if you did, you might never look away.

“Jenson, stop this! I’m serious, we need to talk about that disaster of a practice session!”

He just chuckled and carried on.

“Jenson!”

“Okay fine! Just give me a minute to make her come, I never let a girl leave unsatisfied…”

Your jaw dropped at his audacity. What the fuck.

He leaned over her, mouthing at her neck while one of his hands went down to circle her clit roughly.

“You going to come for me sweetheart? Going to come so that this lovely woman can kick you out and yell at me for fucking you where anyone could see us?”

You saw red and the woman saw white, you clenching your fists as you held back from swinging at the man, her cunt clenching around Jenson as she wailed into the gag.

Needless to say the girl didn’t stay very long after that…

And Jenson had the decency to look slightly afraid as you screamed at him for the next half an hour.

He’d never seen you this angry, rage seeping through your every pore at the fact that he was careless and reckless, and quite frankly irredeemable in terms of PR. And you told him that you wished that you’d been hired by any other driver. Yes, even Sebastian fucking Vettel, because at least he hides the fact that he’s a complete whore!

You didn’t speak to him much over the next few days.

The truth is you were angry. So angry, at him for being a dickhead, but most importantly at your brain for replaying the whole thing over and over again.

The image of his strong body pounding into that woman… you shuddered. You didn’t even know her name, and you were fairly sure Jenson didn’t either, the sexy bastard.

You knew you had been a bit harsh with him, but part of you hoped he would take your words as a kick in the arse and change his ways.

Well… you were sadly mistaken.

A few days later he knocked on the door of your office with the kind of news that no PR manager ever wants to hear.

“You fucking what?!” you shouted angrily.

He flinched and ducked as you threw a book that was lying on your desk at him.

“A fucking sex tape?! You twat!” you paced around your office as he cowered on the couch.

“Could you be any more of a fucking idiot? What were you thinking?”

He picked at the skin of his nails. “I wasn’t thinking…”

You halted in front of him. “You can fucking say that again!”

You paced some more while he explained the whole situation.

A few months ago he’d filmed himself fucking his ex and now she was hungry for money and was blackmailing him. Unfortunately he had ignored all previous threats, and the video was now trending on Pornhub.

You sat at your desk with your head in your hands as you tried not to cry.

“Show me” you said dejectedly after a few minutes of silent thinking.

“What?”

You sighed. “Show me” you got up and motioned to your seat. “Find it and show me. I need to know what I’m dealing with here. Maybe there’s a way of pretending it isn’t you or something”

He looked almost sheepish as he shuffled over and hovered in front of the seat.

“Are you sure? I uhm….”

“Oh I’m sorry” you snarled sarcastically, “would you rather I didn’t see it? Are you shy now? You weren’t shy when you fucked that other woman in front of me, now sit the fuck down and find me the fucking tape, Jenson!”

He sat down and did as he was told, for once, and the thumbnail was enough to make you groan.

“Really Jenson? In your race suit? For fuck’s sake!”

You clicked on it angrily, barely registering the title “F1 driver makes me beg for his cock before bending me over his car”

The first part wasn’t too bad. And by not too bad, I mean his face wasn’t in it, but he was yapping non-stop dirty talk at the woman rubbing herself over his suit-clad thigh.

Voices can be manipulated, you thought. Voices can be imitated.

Voices can also be low and husky and make you want to drop to your knees when they say “Beg for it baby. Show me how bad you want it. You’re not getting my cock until you beg for it…”

Right. Whatever. There was still hope blooming in your chest (and other things blooming elsewhere).

The hopes were quashed however when he finally took the suit off.

His tattoos. His fucking tattoos. They were obvious to anyone who’ ever seen Jenson shirtless, which was anyone from fans, to every single f1 employee, to his mother, to his thousands of hookups. (You were barely exaggerating for effect, but the point still stood).

And then your eyes drifted down into dangerous territory.

Territory as yet undiscovered by your hungry gaze.

His cock. You’d seen it soft, sure, that was nothing to write home about. But for the first time you were seeing it hard and leaking onto his stomach.

Then the scene cut and another problem came up as it changed to something else.

He was now holding the camera, filming himself splitting open the woman’s cunt while she was indeed, bent over the hood of his car.

His very fucking recognisable car, a bright yellow fucking Ferrari.

Your brain only spent about a second on the car however because the angle of the camera quickly changed again.

He’d propped it up against the windshield and now his full fucking upper body was in in view, tattoos and all, and his full stupid fucking face.

His face that was a quite a sight at that moment. He was biting his lip, frowning in concentration as he pounded into the woman who was all but drooling onto the hood, trying and failing to find purchase on the smooth surface as she begged for release.

Fuck he looked good, letting out little whiny sounds every time he buried himself to the hilt.

It was enough to make a grown woman wet.

You realised a beat too late that you’d been staring at Jenson way too long when you felt the real Jenson turn towards you in your peripheral vision.

“Is this fucking turning you on?” he asked, half in awe, half mocking.

You scoffed and straightened up. “Of course not, don’t be ridiculous”

You turned away pretending to be busy with something on the desk.

“You were rubbing your thighs together and basically drooling over the video” he was so fucking  smug.

A smug, hot fucking prick of a man.

“No I wasn’t” you denied it but in your heart you knew it was probably true.

“Prove it, then” he stood up from the chair and stalked towards you, eyes full of challenge.

You crossed your arms in defiance, “and how on earth am I supposed to do that?”

You were backed up against your own desk, feeling caged in and small next to his impressive build.

His hand landed on your thigh as he smirked at you, only inches separating your bodies.

“Only one sure way to find out…” his hand trailed up the inside of your thigh, under your skirt and ghosted over your underwear.

“Jenson… we can’t be doing this” you looked up at him, eyes wide as his fingers dipped under your waistband.

“No one has to know… It’ll be our little secret” he whispered, body coming closer and forcing you to lean back and spread your legs to accommodate him.

Your body trembled as his fingers inched towards where you needed him most, briefly making contact with your clit before sliding through your folds.

“Just as I thought…” he growled in your ear. “Fucking soaked.”

His fingers retracted and he pulled them out of your underwear to tap them against your bottom lip.

“Open your mouth, taste how much you want me”

You did as you were told and the taste of yourself on his fingers was enough to fry your brain completely as you sucked them clean.

 “Good girl” he said, and sank down to his knees between your legs, looking up at you with that devilish smirk.

“Now let's try this again. Did it turn you on seeing me bend that woman over and stuff her full until she cried?”

You were too desperate to argue. You could have agreed to absolutely anything in that moment, with your bare drooling cunt inches away from Jenson's hungry gaze.

“Yes Jenson. It did turn me on”

He smiled, genuinely surprised that you were giving in so easily.

“And are you going to be a good girl and beg me to do the same to you?”

Your thighs tensed as butterflies erupted in your stomach at his words, his hands keeping you in place and spread open for him.

You let out a huffed whine.

“Yes, Jenson”

“Then I'd better get to work...”

And with that he slid your underwear to the side and dived into your wetness, tongue first.

It was so messy, but so good as he basically made out with your cunt, his tongue exploring every inch of your skin while he slurped up your juices noisily.

He sucked on your clit and you let out a shudder, hands coming to tangle in his hair as you guided him.

He slid a couple of fingers inside you and hummed against your clit, the vibration making you whine as you got closer to an orgasm.

“Jenson, I’m so close-“

“Beg for it” he mumbled into your skin. “Beg for it or I'll leave you here dripping all over your desk”

“Please Jenson, fuck- Please let me cum. I'll do anything please, please, please!”

The closer you got the higher pitched your pleas became, desperation too great to be embarrassed.

But just as you got to the brink of ecstasy, your release was snatched away as he retreated and stood up, cupping your jaw to tilt your head upwards.

“The only way you're coming is on my cock, darling” he patted your cheek sympathetically “And you’re going to have to do better than that if you want it”

He took a step back and looked at you, waiting to see what you would do.

You looked at his pants where an impressive bulge had formed, and your mind went back to the video.

You gulped, turned around slowly and bent over, elbows making contact with the surface and your fingers gripped the edge as your body shook with need.

“Please, please fuck me Jenson. I need your cock inside me. Fuck me until I can't remember my name, please.”

How could he refuse when you were asking so politely.

You felt the heat of his hands on your back before they slid lower to cup the flesh of your ass and squeeze.

“I'm gonna fuck you so good, baby” he pulled up your skirt and peeled off your now dripping underwear before removing his own layers to free his cock. “And you're going to come on my cock like a good girl aren't you?”

You nodded desperately as he rubbed himself through your folds to spread the wetness, head catching on your hole every now and then.

“Please, I need you” you spread your legs wider and he bit his lip at your submissiveness.

He pushed just an inch in to start, then slid in more on every shallow thrust until he was fully inside you and you both let out a breath.

“Fuck” “Fuck”

He was more affected than he thought he'd be and he had to hold your hips down to stop you squirming and potentially ending this far too early for his liking.

You were feeling fuller than you'd ever felt before, fluttering around his length as you walls got adjusted to his girth.

He took a breath and gave an experimental thrust, knocking into your cervix and rendering you utterly boneless under him.

He repeated the action and you whined pitifully, his cock was hitting every spot perfectly at this angle and you knew you weren't going to last long.

After only a minute you were already drooling onto the desk and begging for him to go faster.

“Jesus Christ” he groaned, his hips slapping against your ass, “You're so fucking perfect for me, my perfect little slut”

You were already so close you could taste it.

“M'gonna come Jenson. Please make me come, I'll be a good girl for you, anything, just- please, fuck!”

He didn't stop this time, instead driving into you harder to chase his own release as you rode the waves of your high, made more intense by his unrelenting pace.

He finally came inside you as you'd just started to feel the ache of overstimulation and you twitched around him, feeling his cum leak out of you when he turned soft and pulled out gently.

The clean up was quick and awkward.

He sat down on the couch and you sat at your desk.

No one said anything for several minutes, gazes wandering around the room but never crossing...

You decided to brake the silence, being the only real adult in the room.

“I'll see what I can do for the tape” you sighed.

“Thank you” he bit his lip shyly.

“However...” you said, pausing to make him look at you. “I can't be your PR manager anymore”

He honestly looked like he was about to cry.

“But-“

You cut him off. “I will find you a replacement don't worry. But I'm almost going grey with how much stress you put me under, not to mention what we just did is entirely unprofessional, so I need to stop.”

“But-”

“However!” you cut him off again. “For the sake of the next person who's going to have to deal with you, and for my own personal needs. I'd be willing to make your sex life less public, and less... chaotic by becoming your girlfriend”

His jaw dropped. He definitely wasn't expecting that.

A small smile crept onto his his face that slowly grew until he was full on grinning at you.

You couldn't help smiling back.

“Don't think I hadn't noticed that all the shit you pulled was just to get my attention, I'm not that blind.”

He laughed and looked at the floor in embarrassment.

“So if you'll have me...” you got up and walked over to him, hooking a finger under his chin, “I’d love for you to bend me over every piece of furniture in your house”

He gulped and licked his lips as his pupils grew a fraction.

“Yes please”

[weirdgenetic-fuckup]

No Nut November - Slash

A/n: This is my personal favourite but that might just be because Slash is my favourite, him and duff... might have to write something with the both of them...

Warnings: Smut, no nut November, oral sex(f receiving), fingering(f receiving), cum eating, slight breeding kink??, if you think I missed anything please let me know otherwise enjoy the final part to this short series :3

Intro

To be honest, he had no idea what the bet was. He tuned everything out and didn’t think twice about it. Axl called him later and told him no fucking before Steven. That made no sense to him and he just went home to go about his time.

When he got home he tried to explain it to you over dinner. Which was hard when he didn’t know what he was talking about in the first place. He managed to get the point across about not having sex for the month of November, you were upset but given the circumstances let it pass. You didn’t want to be missing out on a whole month of sex, however something you hadn’t thought about until the next.

You were downstairs making breakfast, as per usual because your manchild doesn’t know how to cook. Frankly you don’t want him to try, you like your house nice and not burn down. You were getting the plates set up when you remembered you had to go out of town for a family thing.

You rushed upstairs to your shared bedroom and found Slash stretched out over the bed. You gently shook him awake and told him about it. “So even if we wanted to do something we couldn’t!” You exclaimed. Slash stared at you blankly, clearly not awake.

“Alright.” He mumbled and face planted into his pillow. You smiled at him, brushing his hair out of the way and giving him a kiss on his forehead.

“Breakfast is ready, by the way.” He groaned.

You went about your day as you usually did, taking some time to pack your bags. You crawled into bed with Slash and he curled up nice and tight to you for a last night together before you left in the morning, likely before he’d wake up for breakfast.

Since you weren’t home for the majority of the month this challenge was easy for you. Slash called whining about it to you more than once but nothing ever actually happened, more often than not one of you would end up talking the other to sleep which was more than welcomed.

When you got back it was between him and Izzy but that was quick to end. Slash came home tired and hugged you from behind while you were cooking. “Izzy’s out.” He mumbled into the crook of your neck.

“Oh, yeah?” You responded. “That means you’re the only one left, right?” Slash was silent for a moment as he thought about it. In the end he never did give you an answer.

Slash dropped to his knees behind you and pulled your pants down. “When the fuck did you get these?” You looked down at him, cheeks red and brows raised in confusion. Slash shook his head and tore your panties off of you before forcefully spreading your legs and licking your flushed cunt.

You abandoned your cooking, turning the stove off while you could as Slash’s tongue worked tirelessly between your folds. You gasped at the feeling, holding onto the counter as he held you down on his face. He sucked your clit and dipped his tongue into you, eating you up so deliciously you could’ve cum right then and there.

Slash pulled back and stood up behind you, harshly bringing you to the island behind you so he could bend you over it. He pulled himself out of his jeans and gave his cock a few strokes as he stared down at your ass. “Been waiting too long for this.” He gleamed in that soft, raspy voice of his before pushing himself all the way into you.

He groaned loudly behind you while you let out a high pitched whine against the cold marble under you. He didn’t waste a single moment before pounding into you, gripping your hips with a bruising hold.

Oftentimes Slash wasn’t quiet, especially when he was needy or pent up and right now he was both. The house filled with echoed sounds of skin slapping on slick skin, your whines and Slash’s grunts and moans.

Your body bounced up and down the island surface with every thrust. Slash couldn’t take his eyes off of where your bodies met, where he disappeared into you before pulling out and pushing back in. He watched in pure amazement as you took him all in with ease.

“Slash! Slash, ‘m gonna-gonna cum!” You whined, hands twitching as your body quickly lost control of itself.

“Fuck, me too, ‘m gonna cum inside.” He said and with a few more thrusts he sent you over the edge. Your body quivered as you squirt on his dick. Slash followed you over and came inside you, coating your gummy walls in a thick layer of his seed just as he said he would.

Of course he didn’t even think to give you a moment to recuperate. He pulled you up and spun you around to face him, crashing his plump lips against yours. You could still taste yourself on his tongue as it danced with yours, saliva mixing together and dribbling down your chin in his haste to feel good.

He groped your body, ass, chest, whatever he could reach. He pulled you tight to him and tugged on your skin, slapping your ass and shoving a finger or two into you just to make you squirm. He hoisted you up onto the counter, lined himself up and slid into you, getting into a rhythm and hitting that spot in you that had you seeing stars.

Fuck, you loved the way he made you feel. His mouth never left you as he rut into you like a dog, desperate for release once more. He was a whining mess as he got closer, in turn bringing you closer as well.

You moaned loudly in his ear while he sucked on the sensitive skin of your neck. One of his hands was buried in your hair, tugging on it gently, while the other went to rub your clit, overstimulating you a bit.

You gripped his shoulders. Your nails dug into his back and without warning he came in you again. He paused for a moment, cock still stuffed deep inside of you as he processed what just happened. Once he had, at least mostly, he continued fucking you. He’d lost any sense of rhythm and you were sure he was overstimulating himself at this point so you gently pushed him back.

“‘M ok, Slash, don’t have to keep going.” You assured, though you weren’t thrilled with the idea. Slash stopped again and pulled out and went back on his knees. His lips suctioned to yours as he ate you once more, though now he was licking his own cum out of you. He didn’t seem to care, all his mind was set on was making you cum and when his lips latched onto your clit and sucked, his tongue swirling around it while he looked up at you with the sweetest puppy eyes you couldn’t help it.

You squirted on his face, your cum mixing with his as it hit his chin, getting in his mouth. He didn’t pull away until he was sure you were done.

He stood up and wrapped his arms around you, burying his sticky face in the crook of your neck. He pulled you off the counter but your legs were shaking so bad you couldn’t hold yourself up. Slash wasn’t in much better condition and slowly lowered the both of you to the ground so he could hold you properly.

[justauthoring]

Hii, can i ask for a little comfort drabble with Sanemi, where his s/o has nightmares and she wakes up crying, so he comforts her

a/n: we gonna be rocking with the drabbles for a hot second until my knee is healed lol

also, implied spoilers for the final battle but nothing is explicitly stated!

despite the tremble of your body, you’re being held tightly the second your eyes flutter open.

it’s dark which tells you it’s some time in the middle of the night and it’s quiet, nothing but the sound of the wind rustling outside sanemi’s estate which provide a light lull.

you can feel sanemi’s firm chest pressed against your back and the weight of his arm over your waist, the palm of his hand pressed against your bare stomach where it slips underneath your yukata. he’s warm and present and reassuring in all the ways he normally is, and usually that’s enough but the nightmares seem to be a little tougher that night because you’re still shaking and you know you’re crying.

a shaky exhale leaves your lips, staring out into the pitch black as your mind recalls the nightmare that had plagued you seconds before. dark and isolating and blood—there was always blood—as the demons raged and you lost everything you loved right in front of you.

defenceless to do anything.

“a nightmare?”

you hadn’t known sanemi was awake so his voice startles you, a gasp leaves your lips as he shifts and gives you room to turn and face him. his arm remains around you, unrelenting in his grip but you don’t mind.

even in the dark you can see the frown on his face when he sees your tears.

“you’re shaking,” he whispers into the night—soft and so unlike who sanemi used to be. the truth was, neither of you were the people you were before that fateful battle and there’s not much of a reason for sanemi’s anger when at a result of it, he’d lost one of the most important things. “was it bad?”

you nod small. “it was that night. all over again.” you take in a shaky breath, chest stuttering, and raise your hands to your face. “there was blood everywhere.”

sanemi let’s go of your waist, trading it for grabbing your hands into his own and gently coaxing them back down to your sides. then, he uses that hand to brush away the tears relentlessly streaming down your cheeks.

“it’s okay,” he whispers. “that nights over and you’re here. with me.”

and with broken eyes, you meet his equally the same ones. “all the people we lost—”

“shh, shh,” he cuts in, shaking his head. “don’t think about it. at the very least, we have each other. that’s enough for me.”

you nod, eyes still tearing and blurry, but nod all the same. because it is enough for you too—it’s just hard to accept the loss even all these months later.

sanemi watches you for a moment longer, brushing your tears and then he shifts so he’s on his back. he guides you as you move, pressing yourself against his side, head resting on his chest as you wrap your arms around him. sanemi’s firm arm locks around you again, elating you with that feeling of security once more, and uses his free hand to lace his fingers with yours.

“i’m not going anywhere,” he whispers into the following silence. “i promise.”

and the loss remains, the blood too—that night will never leave you and you don’t think there’ll ever be a time where you aren’t plagued by the nightmares as a result. but sanemi’s words leave you with a instant flood of relief all the same because even if you lost everyone, you found him as a result so you aren’t truly alone.

that’s enough for you.

[aemondsbabe]

Daybreak

summary: sunrise/sunset & orgasm control || aemond is eager to give you your first christmas gift, so long as you're willing to wait for it

pairing: modern!aemond x f!reader

warnings: mature/explicit, 18+ (minors dni!), no use of y/n, afab reader, oral sex (f receiving), aemond being a tease, dirty talk, fingering, mentions of public sex but it’s in a dream lmao, nipple/breast play, edging/orgasm denial, piv sex, unprotected sex, slight breeding kink at the end, let me know if i missed anything!

word count: 2k

a/n: happy day nine of 12 days of smuff!! aemond is a menace but what else is new!!!!! hope y'all enjoy!!

12 days of smuff masterlist!

gif creds to @bbygirl-aemond

likes, comments, & reblogs are very appreciated but never required!

🌟add yourself to my taglist to be notified when i post new fics!

“Aemond, please,” your voice sounds so far away as you speak, like you’re listening to yourself underwater, “We can’t, not here!” Your voice is so high-pitched in your ears, so whiny and desperate despite yourself. 

Your boyfriend merely chuckles, hands not stopping as they eagerly shove your dress up your hips, one that was already short enough to be damn near scandalous. You hear yourself gasp as his fingers tear into your fishnet stockings, ripping them right where he needs to before he’s pushing you up onto the vanity. A shiver climbs up your spine when your back hits the cool glass of the mirror, soap dispenser clattering into the sink as your hands search desperately for something to hold onto. 

“Shhh,” Aemond coos, leaning in to press a comforting to kiss to your lips before trailing downward, lips and tongue working against your soft skin as he travels down your neck and chest, where he pauses briefly to nip at the tops of your breasts before continuing down, “No one can hear, princess. S’just you and me.” You know he’s right, you can practically feel the music outside the door thumping through your bones, the raucous laughter and yelling from the party only further driving his point home. 

Your head tilts back as he softly kisses up one leg, starting at your ankle and working his way up. A hand tangles in his hair, and something between a gasp and moan claws its way out of your throat as he bites at your inner thigh while his hands twine themselves around your hips. 

Your brows furrow together in confusion, even as he presses his lips against your clit, hot tongue sneaking out just a second later to swirl against the sensitive flesh. You’re so close already, h–

“How?” You croak out, breathlessly voicing your thoughts as your hands tug at his hair, trying to pull him away as your cunt clenches, already feeling overstimulated and taught, even though he’d only been touching you for a few seconds, “Aemond?” 

Your voice seems to echo all around you and the sounds of the party outside become distorted as well, though the desperation in your core quickly drowns all of that out as you feel yourself winding tighter and tighter and –

You wake with a gasp, all but bolting off the bed, arms and legs scrambling as your eyes scan the shadowy room. You try to close your thighs, only to be met with resistance, and it’s only then you calm down, eyes finally adjusted enough to make out Aemond’s familiar shape in the dark. 

“Shh, shh, shh,” he soothes, your thighs twitch in his grasp as he presses soft kisses to your sopping core, “S’only me, princess.” His voice is low and reassuring as he speaks, though you don’t miss the slight rasp in it, a gruffness to it that only happens during intimate moments. 

“What–?” You start to ask, only to be cut off by a loud moan as he swirls his tongue against your clit, practically setting fire to the small bud as it twitches helplessly. He simply pulls back with a laugh, relishing the way you squirm in his hold. 

“Just giving you your first present, baby,” he rasps, blowing against your center just to watch you writhe, his eye glued on your center, watching closely as it twitches feebly around nothing, “Sounded like you were dreaming about me, hm? Woke up to you whimpering my name.”

You hardly have the wherewithal to nod, though you bob your head dutifully, the knot in your belly already wound impossibly tight. Swallowing thickly, you glance over at the clock on your bedside table. 

7:28AM

Groaning, you bite your lower lip, brows knitting together as you thread your fingers through Aemond’s hair. You open your mouth to ask a question, though that dies on your lips when he ever so gently sucks your clit into his mouth. A sob heaves from your throat as your pussy clenches desperately again, the knot in your belly so, so close, you’re almost–

And he stops, pulling away from you with a wicked grin. 

“What the fuck!” You whine, nearly petulant as you buck your hips, frantically seeking any stimulation you could get your hands on as your high fades away once more. 

“Language,” he admonishes, biting at the inside of your thigh, just enough to hear you whine, “Wouldn’t want to end up on the naughty list right at the finish line, would you?”

“But I was so close!” 

“You’ll get it, princess,” he promises, pausing to lick one last slow, savoring lick up your center before he begins kissing his way up your body, “But good girls wait until Christmas morning to open their presents, don’t they?” 

“It’s seven thirty!” You whine, arching into his touch despite your annoyance as he kisses up your stomach, “Doesn’t that count?!”

He snickers, stopping to press wet, warm kisses to the fat of your breasts before he swirls his tongue around a nipple, groaning as he does. “Sunrise isn’t until seven fifty,” he teases, teeth nipping at your sensitive peak as his fingers tease the other, “Looked it up last night.”

You groan, knowing fighting is useless. If Aemond is determined to tease you, he usually gets his way, and something tells you begging won’t get you anywhere this time. As if sensing your submission, your boyfriend sighs happily and smiles as he kisses his way up to your lips; you whimper into his mouth as his tongue licks against yours – you can still taste yourself on his tongue. 

“Gonna be a good girl and wait for your present then?” He asks, shuffling closer to you until you could feel his length, hard and ready, bobbing against your center as he kneels between your spread legs. 

You nod and whisper a breathless yes, arching up into him yet again with a loud groan as one of his thumbs skirts over your clit, instantly driving you nearly to the edge. He huffs out a soft laugh above you and keeps rubbing the small bud until he sees your eyes flutter and roll back, a tell tale sign you’re almost there, and he pulls away again. 

“You know what I want, baby?” He asks, ghosting his thumb over your twitching clit again as soon as he sees you relax, smirking softly at the way your body instantly tenses up, on edge yet again. He doesn’t give you the chance to answer as he draws you up and up and up before stopping once more, “I wanna feel this pretty little pussy fall apart on my cock as soon as I slide into you.” 

The casual way he says it makes your head spin, like he’s telling you about some mundane thing that happened at work. You let out a broken sob as you look toward the clock once more, eyes taking a second to focus through the cloud of pleasure that’s so thickly blanketed your brain. 

7:40AM

You feel like crying, how were you meant to last ten more minutes when the past twelve had felt like an eternity?

“Aemond, please,” you chance, squirming beneath him yet again, trying to wiggle your hips against his hand or something, “P-Please, I can’t.” Your voice is hoarse as you shake your head up at him. Even in your state, even as he tortures you, you can’t help but admire him taking in the way his pale skin practically glows in the soft, barely there light of the growing dawn. 

His chest is heaving too and it occurs to you then that this must be a test for him as well, and that much is confirmed when your eyes trace slowly down the planes of his body to his cock, gasping when you see how flushed it is as it rests against your folds, the leaking head already positioned at your entrance. 

“Tapping out in the last couple minutes?” He teases, using his thumb to build you back up yet again before smirking as he watches you writhe and sob when he pulls it away yet again, “I don’t think quitters are on Santa’s nice list, princess.”

You don’t have it within yourself to argue anymore, your brain too scrambled as he brings you to the edge again, each time quicker than the last. 

He teases you for the last few minutes, though they feel like years as his fingers ghost across your aching bud. You nearly feel faint, your heart hammering in your chest as you come down from yet another almost-high. 

“Think we have time for one more, baby,” he whispers, smirking viciously as you go rigid beneath him the second the pad of his thumb comes into contact with your clit, “Ohh, there you go, I think you’re ready, huh?” He muses, jerking his thumb away almost as quickly as he touches you, violet eye sparkling as he watches your drooling core twitch in the warm orange light that’s just barely filtering in through the window. 

You nod your head frantically, fingers aching from how tightly you’ve been gripping the sheets. You can’t help but whine and squirm as you feel him rub his cock along the length of your center, gathering your wetness before he slots the tip at your entrance. You feel like dying when he pauses yet again, although you nearly cry with relief as he speaks.

“You’ve done so good for me, baby. So perfect, doing everything I say just like a good, good girl,” he praises, ever so slightly pushing into you with a groan, marveling at how tight you already are as you just barely hang onto the edge, “Come for me, princess.” He says before pushing into you quickly, his entire length sliding in all at once.

You feel like you’re on fire as pleasure courses through you, wilder and hotter than it ever has before. Your back arches off the bed as a loud moan, more akin to a scream, is ripped from your chest the second he fills you, pressing into every bit of you. You hardly hear him groaning above you, growling lowly in his chest at the way your walls clench and pulse against his length, tighter than he ever thought possible. 

You feel like your high never ends as shiver after shiver of pleasure rolls over you, your entire body tensing and relaxing with each contraction of your walls around his thick length. You sob with it, chest heaving as you call his name over and over like it’s the only word you know. 

After what feels like an eternity, you finally feel yourself calming down and you whimper as your muscles finally relax. 

“You did so fucking good,” he says reverently, his pale hair fanning out like a curtain around your head as he leans down to press gentle, soothing kisses to your forehead while his big hands cup your flushed cheeks, “So good, so perfect. Merry Christmas, my good girl” You giggle, nearly delirious as you finally settle down, and blush at his praises.

It’s only when you squirm again that you remember his length is still buried inside you and you moan softly, brows furrowed together as you gaze up at him, “You didn’t cum?” You ask, your voice a breathy whisper. 

He chuckles again, lowly, like he was waiting for you to ask, “Oh, sweet girl,” he whispers and slowly starts rocking his hips, smirking when you moan under him and clench at his shoulders, “That was your present, baby, but it wasn’t mine.” 

You shiver as he speaks, eyes fluttering at the cocky, taunting tone with which he speaks before they focus on his violet one yet again, “W-What’s your present?” You ask, already breathless as his hips speed up against you.

“The baby I’m gonna to put in your belly,” he groans, clenching his teeth as you tighten around him, “Seeing you all round and swollen with me, fuck – Making you a pretty little mommy is my present, princess.” 

tagged lovelies: @helloworldiamnotarobot @drakonflames @marysucks-blog @watercolorskyy @valeskafics @iamaegontargaryenwife0 @aemshaircare @1997babyyyy @lovellies @little-moonbeam-666 @blackswxnn @alerisc @fan-goddess @wickedfrsgrl @moonriseoverkyoto @echos-muses @schniiipsel @avidreader73 @marvelescvpe @imawhorecrux @grsveeth0m

(tags are based on your answers to my google form; if you were mistakenly tagged, please contact me & update your answers on the form! thank you!)

[eternal-kosmo-ghoul]

“even i’m not into that shit”

❤︎ synopsis — the sleep token members being fucking morons and fucking around

pairing: sleep token members x gn!reader (can be platonic or romantic)

theme: crack ✦

a/n: I’M BACK !!!! hopefully i don’t disappear for like a good fifty years after this. this is my third set of stupid ass headcanons. i pulled my shitty humor out of my ass for this one, enjoy !!! (the original ask got swallowed by my dumbass because i accidentally posted the unfinished fic 💀 this is dedicated to my bestie @dead-end-fanfiction)

cw: i think the title speaks for itself

▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆

➵ vessel

i just know this man is the most unhygienic motherfucker to ever exist

more specifically with his teeth. he cannot brush his teeth to save his life

like ??? this all powerful, dark deity, has the most stinky ass breath that if anyone dares to even breath it in, they’d disintegrate on the spot

like what the fuck vessel, you’re better than this

i love vessel but he just does weird shit sometimes

he sleeps butt ass naked

and one time you accidentally walked in on him while he was literally stripping to get ready for bed

he stood there like an npc while you were freaking out

“…. what’s wrong—“ “what’s wrong is that YOU’RE BUTT ASS NAKED IN FRONT OF ME—“

vessel is easily fascinated by human things. i mean - he was once human, so he likes to keep in touch every now and then.

however, out of all of the human things he had to have an obsession with.

… it was rubber ducks

this isn’t even explainable— how do you explain this all-powerful sleep entity to be obsessed with rubber ducks

he literally has a whole room dedicated to his collection of anything rubber duck related. give him a gift that has something to do with ducks and he’s making out with you on the spot

that’s not a joke, he did that with you before

➵ ii

this motherfucker is on his last limb and he’s being held together by paper clips

ii’s not even the leader but he cannot catch a break to save his life

he’s the only one that knows how to cook

one time he left ivy and the vesselettes in the kitchen by themselves. came back to house fires and high pitched screaming that definitely was not from the ladies

ii makes bomb ass banana cream pie though

ik for a fact this man does NOT keep his room clean

you once walked into his room to ask him a favor and there were like - a million drumsticks everywhere on the floor while he sat in the center of it

how does one possess that many drumsticks???

“dude what the f— clean your room!” “it gives me inner peace, y/n. go away.”

ii’s scared of the jollibee mascot

he once went out with his buddies to get some of that fast food. that giant red and yellow fuckass bee then came out of nowhere and spooked the shit out of ii

he then socked the guy in the face so hard the dude wearing the costume had a bloody nose

ii quickly fled the scene to not get arrested

after that he’s had a fear of fast food mascots in general, it’s kinda funny.

don’t bring ii near the jack in the box mascot though, he’s got some trauma from what he’s seen on twitter

➵ iii

zesty ahh mf

plays his bass like he’s fingering someone’s asshole like 🤨 whatcha doin’ iii ??

the type of man to set like fifty million alarms but never wakes up to any of them

however he wakes up everyone else in the process

it gets annoying hearing the “by the seaside” ringtone every morning at 6am. so one day you came into his room and poured ice cold water on him to wake him up

iii didn’t wake up from that btw, you thought it was dead

“…. bro wtf wake up—“

thankfully he wasn’t

biggest kpop stan

he’s a boy group stan and his favorite group is ateez

constantly blasting guerilla too

also i feel like iii owns a tumblr blog too

he’d be out here posting some shih like “pov you’re locked in a room w him for twenty four hours and you have to tickle his balls wyd” 💀

he probably posts also moodboards or some shi and tags them like an actual tumblr blogger

#it took my ahh fifty hours to make this plz repost it

stalks his fans on twitter

gets scared by said fans on twitter

“wdym they wanna get me pregnant”

breaks his bass every four hours during practice and vessel chews his ahh out every time

but it’s funny because you’re always there to help him

➵ ivy

he likes to act like he’s tough shit but ivy is a huge nerd

literally the definition of “magical in bed” except the magic is him explaining the gaming system of magic the gathering

hot asf but has no bitches frfr

also the definition of loser trapped in a hottie’s body

i’d like to believe that ivy has a crunchy ipad kid cough

and i mean CRUNCHY. bro will start choking on his saliva and start coughing like a dying seal

it’s quite hilarious, but also concerning at the same time

the first time you heard him cough like that, you were like 😟

“AEUGH- HEUGH— BEUHSHAK-“ “ivy—“

that pretty sums up the entire interaction

this bitch looks like he ate glue as a kid

more specifically glitter glue. the pink kind.

idk that sounds like ivy

he gets literal death coffee in the morning too btw

no ice. no sugar. straight shots of espresso.

eight shots, btw.

the coffee looks blacker than the black hole.

iii tried some of his coffee one time and spat it all in your face. ivy watched with his hell coffee in hand as you beat the shit out of iii

yeah, safe to say ivy was banned from having that kind of coffee for a while

so yeah. that pretty much sums up the kind of person ivy is

[johnwickb1tsch]

The Girl Next Door ~ 2

A Constantine x Reader fic based on this imagine. Part 1

Summary: John Constantine has a crush on you. He wasn’t going to do anything about it though, until you strong arm him into coming over for dinner. Little do you know, this paints a target on your back for the local vampire coven… Rating: Explicit, NSFW, but no dead doves...😮 Note: I got Constantine on my brain, y'all! 😆 I write about vampire hunters all the time, but never from the vampire perspective. This was new. I hope you enjoy!🧡

2. whoever drinks my blood has eternal life

In the end, he was too late.

Oh, he killed them all, wiping out the entire coven with his magical holy shotgun, and a handy spell that basically burned the remaining undead to a crisp around you.

But you were already half dead, drained and forced to drink their blood in kind.

You were well on your way to becoming one of the Damned.

John knew this, as he cradled your cold body in his arms, carrying you like a bride to the cab outside the warehouse. He knew it as he held you close in the backseat, reciting ancient prayers over your fevered brow, hoping just this once God might grant him a good miracle, and not forsake one of his children just because of an unlucky twist of fate.

Your only crime, as far as he knew, had been extending the mercy of your kindness towards him, and that should not have earned you this.

He barely thanked Chas for a job well done, carrying you bridal style up the stairs of your apartment building. Rather than return you to your bed, he brings you to his. He doesn’t know if the vampire who you must have inadvertently invited into your home died that night, and all his holy weapons are at hand in his own space.

He lays you down in his bed, wishing he’d washed his sheets more recently for you. He wishes a lot of things, in the interim hours that follow.

He can tell that his incantations are not touching the dark magic that is taking hold of you, and he knows that he should just put an end to it here and now. You are damned, and there’s no going back, and who knows what chaos you will reap with your new thirst when you wake?

He can’t bring himself to do it.

Looking down at you, huddled in a ball, trembling as your body is dying and remaking itself anew—he falls to his knees to talk to God, though his words aren’t exactly a prayer. “Our father, who art in heaven…fuck you. I hope you're happy, asshole. Another innocent who you should have protected, fucked over by your stupid games. Why? Why is it always the good ones? I hate you. Amen.”

He takes your hand in his, and only because you are practically unconscious in the fever-pitch of your transformation, does he let his eyes fill with silent tears.

One more soul he was too late to save.

One more weight upon his conscience.

He cries for you. For himself. For the impossible odds God and the Devil pit against humans, then punish them when they're just not up to the task. Flesh is weak, but They made you this way. None of it is fair.

Constantine has never actually been present at a Turning. He doesn’t know how long it will take, or how you’ll act when you come out of it. He has crosses and holy water to keep you in line if he has to…or maybe you’ll rip out his throat, and he will absolutely deserve it after what he let happen to you.

He wonders how the vampires knew about you. Did they watch through the window from some impossible perch, as you made love? Maybe he would never admit it out loud, but that was what that merciful night together had felt like, with you.

This was a hell of a reminder, as to why he couldn’t ever let anyone get close.

It never ended well.

Fully clothed, shoes and all, he spoons your smaller body with his arm around your waist, and waits.

***

When at last you wake, the first thing you are aware of is a heartbeat, right next to you. Behind you. Pressed against you. You hear it like a drum, thundering in your ears. There is a grinding pain in your belly. You are so hungry.

You do not recognize your surroundings, or the bed you lay in. A heavy arm is draped over your waist. You study the large hand upon the sheets, long fingered, veiny. Maybe you know that hand.

Slowly you turn, to find John Constantine beside you. He looks up at your through hooded dark eyes. He was dozing, but no longer.

“Y/n?”

You take a deep breath, and the smells that hit you: his aftershave, sweat, deodorant, dirty sheets, scotch whisky in the kitchen. Old Chinese food. But most of all, you can smell his blood, and it is the sweetest thing you’ve ever smelled.

You lean towards him, mouth open, hands reaching.

You don’t know that your incisors have lengthened to deadly little points.

Casually, John holds up a little crucifix between you. You feel it like a hand pressing back against you, and instinctively you flinch.

What is going on with you?

“John?”

You feel something long brush your lip, and you reach up to touch your teeth, finding the sharp points. Your eyes go half-dollar round as you nearly cut yourself with the tip of one.

“What happened to me?”

He sighs, and there is so much weight and sorrow in that one exhalation of air.

“I’m sorry, y/n.”

“John?” The panic in your voice starts to rise.

“Shh. Don’t get excited. It won’t be good.”

A rampaging new vampire was the last thing he needed on his hands.

“Those things took me,” you whisper, your hand covering your mouth. You start to remember what happened, those creeps who snatched you from your apartment, the impossible things you saw. They were monsters. Vampires. Things you only thought existed in folklore, books, bad B movies. And they’d told you a little about John Constantine too. That he was some sort of demon hunter, crazy as that fucking sounded, who clearly they wished to do harm to.

“Yeah.” 

“They took me,” you repeat with emphasis, still trying to understand.  

A longer pause, pregnant with lots of words you sense he doesn’t quite know how to say.

Again, he settles for, “Yeah.” 

“Why?” 

“I guess…they thought that you mean something to me.” 

After everything that happened, this hits you like a knife between the ribs, a long sharp blade aimed right for your heart.

“Do I not?” 

“Come on, I didn't mean it like that.” 

Yes he did, and you realize... that maybe he's just like all the others. 

At least he'd warned you. 

You just...had hoped, anyway, like the stupid little romantic you are. 

You look down, unable to meet his eyes. 

You kind of want to cry, but you're not even sure you can anymore. 

“I came for you as soon as I knew,” he says quietly, not liking this at all.

You nod, your lip quivering.

“What's going to happen to me?” 

The haunted way he looks at you rends your heart in two.

“We'll…figure it out.” 

“I'm hungry...I think.”

He nods gravely. 

“I was afraid of that.”

“What am I going to do?” 

“I'll...try to help you.”

Your eyes go to his throat again. The thought should be gross, but...you just feel hunger pangs, instead—and a confusing wave of desire.

He notices the focus of your attention, and looks uneasy about it. Your eyes have started to glow.

“Why don't we start with the wrist?” he deadpans, not enthused about your untried razor-sharp fangs in his throat.

You nod shakily, tears in your eyes. “I'm sorry,” you say. 

There's a flicker in John's soulful brown eyes, and though he says nothing, you feel his guilt as though it's your own. You feel it crawling over your skin, and it scares you. 

What is happening to you? 

“Come on,” he says gruffly. “Let's get this over with.” 

You've seen the movies, and you’re not a total idiot. But the thought of actually...biting him? And drinking his blood? It freaks you out, ok, even if every cell in your body is singing out for you to swallow him down. The smell of him. You'd thought it was intoxicating before. Aftershave, spice, and cigarette smoke. The smoke was good only because it ticked some deep buried memory box in your subconscious. But now...it’s like you can sense the strength of his very soul, in the smell of his blood, and you know he will nourish you. 

These thoughts come to you unbidden, and you don't even really know what they mean. Just... that they are unequivocally true.

You take his wrist, the blue veins there seeming to dance for your new improved vampire vision, as though you can see the blood pumping within them.

This is so fucking weird.

“You’re going to be really strong now,” he cautions you. Then, the corner of his mouth ticks. “So be gentle with me.”

Your eyebrows raise at the thought that you could actually hurt him. This big, strong man who threw you around not so long ago like you were just a doll. You’d loved that, truth be told. The memory is so sweet that it almost makes you want to cry again.

“I don’t know if I can do this.”

“You should do it now,” he says. “Because you’re just going to get hungrier, and young vampires when they’re hungry are at their most dangerous. I’d hate to have to—”

He cuts himself off before finishing that thought. Your eyes drift to his nightstand, the holy water, crucifixes, and a broom handle piece that has been sharpened into a nice neat stake. Just in case he has to shove it through your heart.

“Could you do that to me?” you ask quietly before you can stop yourself, still staring at the stake.

“I don’t want to find out,” he deflects. “So come on. Pull up your big girl panties.”

You glare at him, taking his wrist again. “I think I have a right to be freaked out about this.”

“Sure, but it is what it is,” he fires back unkindly. “You’re a vampire now. You have to drink blood to survive, and you’re Damned. Welcome to the club.”

You frown at him, your eyes flashing dangerously. You notice him tense, his attention flicking over to the stake on the bedside.

“You’re afraid of me now,” you marvel. 

“A little, yeah.”

“And I should be afraid of you? They told me what you are.”

“Let’s agree to have a healthy respect of one another, alright?”

You sit quietly, contemplating him. With his wrist in your grasp you can feel the thump thump of his pulse through your entire body, like bumping bass out of a speaker. It is distracting, and as you think about what you must do a warmth rises in you, a tingling rush of power that spreads from your fingers into his arm. It makes him shudder, his pupils suddenly blown wide with desire.

This feels good. Better than the fear, although you’re ashamed to admit, that had been delicious too.

You don’t know how you’re doing any of this. It’s just happening, and you let your new instinct take you, straddling his narrow hips to find his burgeoning erection straining against his slacks. You are still wearing the sundress those creatures took you in, and nothing but the thin cotton of your panties barricades the space between you and him.

He is so handsome, and strong. His blood smells so strong, and it fills you with an aching desire, wetness flooding between your legs. Suddenly the desire to bite him while he is inside you grips you like an iron fist, some ancient knowledge of arcane pleasure pulsing through your veins. You blink, the urge receding only slightly, and you do not know it but your eyes glow like coals. It’s strange, how your body feels cold, except where your skin is touching his. Your points of contact are almost searing, in comparison.

“Y/n…”

“What?” you taunt him. “You don’t want me now that I’m a monster?”

You can still hardly believe this is really happening to you.

“I think you can feel that’s not the case.”

Again, you sense his fear, cloyingly sweet upon your tongue. You like it, and that is the thing that brings you back to yourself. Wanting anyone to be afraid of you is so opposite your true nature that it shocks you.

“Fuck. I’m sorry,” you apologize again, squeezing your eyes closed.

“It’s alright,” he says in that deep voice of his.

It’s not. It’s really not.

“Just…can we get this over with, please?”

“Jesus Christ.”

“He’s not going to help you now, believe me. Just…go slow, ok? Don’t bite me too hard. I need use of my hand still, if you don’t mind.”

You let out a shuddering breath. It feels weird, and you realize…you don’t need to breathe? Taking in air is a reflex, but there’s no effect of your body processing oxygen.

Jesus fucking Christ.

“Okay. I’m going to do it.”

“Any day now.”

“Shut up.”

This is the thing that actually makes him smile, that slight curl of lips that is like a full-on grin for most people. Maybe it’s stupid—but it gives you courage.

You graze his skin with your new sharp teeth, and like a beachcomber searching for treasure with a metal detector, you just sense the sweet spot. You move as carefully as you can, pressing down into his flesh to make two neat little holes.

The spill of blood is divine, and you don’t have time to think that it’s gross. It fills your mouth and it is good, and you are so hungry, and you can’t get enough. The magic in this bloodletting rises like a tide, desire crashing over the both of you in a tingling, intoxicating rush. You feel everything, and there is no extricating the sexual pleasure from the gustatory. They are one and the same with this man, his delicious, powerful blood filling your mouth, his strapping body beneath yours, his hips bucking against you.

You feel his hand slide up your thigh, his thumb seeking the molten center of you. When he makes himself stop just short of your panty line you whine in protest, straining for his touch, but he resists your goading, his fingertips digging into your soft flesh. Perhaps you should be grateful, that he is strong enough to resist the pull of this magic between you, trying not to debauch you while you feed for the first time and everything is new and you have no idea what is happening. And yet, you can hardly think past how wonderful it would be to have his teeming erection buried inside you to the hilt while you drink him down.

You would tell him all this, but you can’t bring yourself to separate your mouth from the font of his delectable lifeblood. In fact, you don’t know how you’re going to stop, period.

It’s just so good.

John watches you through heavy lidded eyes, seemingly enjoying this as much as you are. Yet he has more sense of the situation as well, and when he tells you, “That’s enough, y/n,” an inhuman keening of protest escapes from deep in your throat.

“Y/n…” he warns again, his words thick with desire. “You have to stop.”

You close your eyes, telling yourself just one last mouthful.

That was two long sucking draughts ago.

Suddenly you feel a searing heat very near your face. Startled, your eyes fly open to find the crucifix there before you, and you hiss in answer, scrabbling back on the bed away from the holy item. With John Constantine’s blood on your lips you cower, shielding your eyes with a hand.

With a shuddering sigh he lowers the cross, sitting back against the headboard of his bed. He presses a tissue against his wrist, and your eyes are drawn to the crimson stains flowering on the wad of paper beneath his fingers.

What a waste, you think, before shaking the thought away.

Then the horror of what could have happened dawns on you.

You could have drank him dry, and in the heat of the moment you would have done it gladly.

Oh God. What have you become?

“I’m sorry,” you apologize again. “Are you ok?”

He actually has the gall to smirk at you, as though any of this could be funny. “Yeah. Not the first time I’ve lost a little blood.”

There’s some inside joke in that statement you don’t understand, though you sense the darkness of self-deprecation in it.

Somehow, you feel simultaneously sated, and horrible. With a whimper you curl up at the foot of his bed, closing your eyes against the world. You can feel everything. You sense the people in the building, the fragile sound of their juicy little hearts beating. Even outside, the life on the street, men and women going about their lives with no idea what lurks in the shadows, wanting to eat them up…

But most distracting of all, the sheets beneath you smell like John, and the lust in your blood has yet to abate, even if the feeding is over. You feel it marching across your skin like red-hot ants. The desire to crawl up the bed and press your bloody lips to his is real, and you fight it with everything you have, because you don’t imagine he’d appreciate that very much after what he’s done for you. The sour expression on his face did not match the size of the tent in his pants, that is for sure.  

You wonder, is it going to be like this every time you eat from now on? The thought does not thrill you.

“Hey,” he goads softly, and your eyes fly open to regard him. Again, your irises shine like lanterns, fueled by the roil of emotions warring in your heart. “Come here.” He holds out one of those beautiful hands to you. Hands that you had so relished upon your body, on your flesh, in your hair…hands with such thick, beautiful blue veins…

You’re not sure how he knows that you want to be held, but now you fear it too. You fear what you are, and your ability to control yourself around him. Because the truth is you still want him very much, and he’d basically told you point blank that you mean nothing to him. The thought weighs on your heart now like a thousand stinging needles, and you feel your eyes fill with moisture of some kind.

So, vampires can cry after all.

You touch a finger to the corner of your eye, and see it comes away tinted red.

You kind of want to throw up.

“Maybe…I should go,” you say sadly, sitting up. You’re certain you look as disheveled as you feel. Your hair is a bird’s nest. Your once pretty floral sundress is dirty and torn. No wonder he doesn’t want you.

“If…you want.” Why does he sound sad about it? Shouldn’t he be glad to see the backside of you? Constantine the Demon Hunter? If you’d been nothing but a one-night fuck as a human, he certainly didn’t want to spend time with you now.

 “You know you’re going to need a dark place to rest for the day?”

Is he actually worried about where you’re going to sleep?

“Okay.” You think you can manage that, in your apartment next door. Or maybe…you’ll see what happens, if you watch the sun rise. Maybe it would just be better that way. Are vampire suicides double damned? You’ve never really been a religious person, but he’d said it like it was A Thing.

It reminds you of what John had said earlier. “What did you mean before? When you said join the club?”

He sighs, reaching for a pack of cigarettes on the night stand. “I’ll tell you some other time.”

Feeling like you’ve now been dismissed, you slide from the bed, standing on bare feet. You should be sore, but your movements are lithe, liquid as a cat’s.

Something else to get used to.

You can feel Constantine’s eyes glued to you, and you dare to take one last look back, waiting to turn to a pillar of salt. He’s so handsome it hurts, even in his rumpled state, his cuffs rolled up his forearms and his tie loose around his neck. How do his soulful dark eyes seem to hold all the sorrow of the world right now?

“Bye, John.”

He just nods, and you let yourself out.

***

Much to your surprise, ten minutes before dawn, you hear a knock on your door. You know it's John. You can tell by the sound of his breathing, the sound of his heart beat. You can smell him, and it is a heady thing in your nostrils. When you do not answer he just lets himself in, the cheeky bastard. 

He finds you sitting in one of your thrift store chairs by the window, one of the only ones not broken in the mess the vampires who took you left behind. He does not like this, you can tell, by his hairline frown. 

“Hey.” 

“Hi.”

“Hate to tell you, but you're going to have to find a new way to get your vitamin D.”

“Ha ha,” you say, turning back to the window. A few people are out and about below. This city never really sleeps. 

“Hey,” he says again, crouching down by your chair. “I know this is a lot...”

The look you pay him is not exactly kind. He plows forward anyway.

“But take it from someone who's been there. Hell isn't a place you should be in a hurry to go.” 

You blink at that. He says it like it's so black and white, not a hint of uncertainty. Not faith. Fact. Once upon a time, you might have questioned his sanity. Not anymore. 

“Sounds like you've been.” 

“For about two minutes. It was enough.” 

“What was it like?” you whisper. 

“Pure agony.” 

Your eyes go wide at hearing that. 

“So...want to show me your bolt hole?” he asks.

Once upon a time you would have capitalized on the opportunity for inuendo with such comedic gold just handed to you for free, but you’re not in the mood. You just stare at him.

“John...You're a demon hunter. Why do you care?”

He tries to meet your eyes, but in the end can only look away. “Come on, y/n. Just…don’t give up yet, ok?”

He just feels guilty, you tell yourself, and you pry yourself from your chair with a sigh. You’re not sure what the point of anything will be, anymore. But maybe you’ll make an effort to go on, because he asked you to.

Sometimes, that’s all it takes.

“Fine.”

You figure the closet will be the darkest place in the apartment for you to hide.

[warping-realities]

Wolf Scent

Part 1 - Blood Calls

"Welcome to Igniteriders..." Xander mumbled, stifling a yawn. He had a rough night with barely any sleep because of his double shift and barely managed to roll into the motorcycle repair shop after snagging a two-hour nap right after leaving the damn Drive-Thru where he worked on alternating nights. “How can I help you?” He continued, totally zonked, barely seeing the customer in front of him. Even though the job was chill, he was on the edge of crashing.

“Xander, why don’t you take a break and grab some coffee? You look like you’re about to pass out,” Gabe, his boss, chuckled, giving him a light slap on the back that nearly knocked him over.

After pouring himself some coffee and slumping onto the break room couch, he found himself trying to figure out how to escape the mess he was in, which quickly turned into a doze that was interrupted by Gabe’s entrance. “Wake up, sleepyhead, you can’t keep dragging like this, dude. I’m sure if you put that brain of yours to work, you’ll figure something out,” he said, plopping down in the chair across from him while Xander just grumbled again and took a sip of the brown liquid.

“You would know the feeling if you worked as hard as I do, Gabe,” Xander said, stretching out, finally starting to wake up with the caffeine kicking in.

“Wanna swap places and get your hands dirty with some grease, punk?” Gabe laughed, pouring himself some black coffee while Xander jumped off the couch. Gabe was just a few years older and practically the opposite of Xander; Xander was small and looked fragile, barely holding it together, while Gabe, though even shorter, was built like a brick wall and could easily crush Xander with an arm lock— not that the mechanic would ever try that with the younger guy.

After waking up a bit, thanks to the miracle of coffee, Xander returned to his spot at the reception desk. He still had a few hours to go, so he focused on the fact that he could finally crash when he got home.

For hours he served customers on autopilot feeling like a zombie until someone approached his counter. He was taken aback by the dude walking up to the register. The guy’s hair was pitch black, and he was rocking aviator shades—something Xander never understood, why people wore sunglasses indoors? But working at the shop he kinda got used to it. Not that he’d ever say anything about a customer’s getup, especially not this one. The guy was massive, both tall and wide, and none of it looked like fat; Xander would bet his paycheck that under that leather jacket was pure muscle. “Hey, bro,” he said, stepping up to the counter as Xander stammered.

“W-welcome to... uh... greetings... er... how can I help you, sir?” he finished, dazed, while the giant man looked at him with a sly grin spreading across his bearded face.

Extending his hand over the counter for the kid to shake he read the name on his badge. “Xander... interesting,” he said cryptically, his voice deep and mysterious. “Well, Xander, I didn’t come here to buy spare parts, you see, I’m after something else.” He said, and Xander raised an eyebrow.

“Some kind of repair?” he asked, feeling a bit dumb as the man shook his head and leaned closer to the counter, making Xander lean in too. A smell invaded Xander’s senses; it was a musky animalistic scent mixed with a strong whiff of the outdoors, and he found himself thinking about wild animals running through ravines as they got closer to each other. They got so close that Xander blushed when the when the guy repositioned the aviators, and he saw momentarily deep yellow irises like an animal staring at him.

“You,” he said, and Xander's eyes widened in shock, thinking the guy was about to hit him. But he just burst out laughing, then stepped back a couple of paces and pulled out a flyer for a roommate that Xander had handed out around the neighborhood when his roommate split, leaving him to bear the whole rent burden. Xander sighed with relief upon hearing that; he thought the guy was going to clock him for who knows what reason—he was used to life throwing punches at him.

“Uh... sure... my shift ends in an hour... you can catch me there.” He really just wanted to sleep a bit, but having a roommate would take a load off, meaning at least a few shifts less at the drive-thru. The guy gave off a weird vibe, but he wasn’t in a position to be picky.

“Sure thing, see you later, little bro.” The guy replied with that mysterious smile before walking out of the shop.

“OK, that was definitely the weirdest thing to happen around here. Who the hell was that guy, Xander?!”, Gabe asked stunned, as he watched the man walk over to a Harley Davidson parked down the street.

“I don’t know... just someone interested in Jack’s old room.”

“Did you at least ask the guy’s name?”

Feeling dazed, Xander just muttered that he forgot to do that while a warm sensation spread from the hand the man shook while his scent clung to him stubbornly. Leaving work the feeling began to spread throughout his body; it felt like at any moment he might burst into flames. Did that strange guy pass some disease to him?” Xander wondered while pedaling furiously on his bike, only thinking about taking a cold shower.

But as he got closer to home, he didn’t feel tired anymore; in fact, he felt like he could pedal for miles, so much that he decided to take a few more laps. He kept a steady pace while circling the small square in front of his building, but it wasn’t enough; his body felt like a furnace, his heart seemed to pump fire through his veins, pushing him to go faster and faster. He craved the wind on his face and the relief it could bring, so he started pedaling hard, hoping the fatigue would kick in, but it never did. He kept pedaling and pedaling, going around the block until a biker started to keep pace with him.

“Unless you’re gearing up for Race Cross America, it’d be more interesting to ride something beefier; those tires won’t hold up much longer.” The mysterious guy grinned while taking off his helmet and parking his Harley, while Xander blushed as he dismounted his bike and headed home.

“Um... they’re old, probably worn out...” Xander replied. “I’ll just stash the bike and show you the apartment in a sec,” he said, noticing that even after all that exercise he hadn’t broken a sweat; his clothes felt a bit tight, but it must have been the pump or something.

After getting home, Xander kicked off his shoes and only then realized how tight his feet felt, like he’d accidentally put on a smaller size, which made no damn sense. To make matters worse, a strong, pungent odor wafted from his bare feet, something he’d never dealt with before. Mortified, he turned to the older guy.

“Sorry, this has never happened to me before, must be from the ride.”

“It’s just a bit of man musk, little bro; it’s all good.”

Thinking about what kind of odor that dude must put out if that was all good, Xander wondered if he really wanted to share an apartment with him. Then, before he could chicken out, he started showing the small space to the other guy.

“It’s not much; I get the master suite but pay a bit more for rent, but the shared bathroom has hot water, the couch is... comfy... and the location is pretty sweet, Mr. …?”

“No Mr., little bro, just call me Velkan,” said the man, whose bulk seemed to take up most of what was the living/dining/kitchen area while looking at Xander with scrutinizing bright hazel eyes, like he was waiting for some reaction. The only response he got was a “nice to meet you” before being led to the empty room by a confused Xander, who swore he’d seen big yellow eyes behind those sunglasses Velkan had the decency to take off upon entering his apartment.

“Um... maybe you’ll feel a bit cramped in here.” He commented, half-laughing, seeing the giant squeeze himself into the room.

“I’m used to living on the road, little bro, with the grass for a pillow and the starry sky for a roof, but right now, there’s no place better for me than this, trust me. So, when can I move in?” Velkan boomed, this time with a big grin on his face.

After getting everything sorted out with Velkan, who surprisingly asked to move into the room that very night, Xander hurried to take a shower to get rid of that smell, but no matter how much he scrubbed with that lemon and herb soap, the odor refused to leave his feet, and he could swear it was getting stronger. “I must be going nuts.” But if the bathroom walls had something to say about it, they chose to stay silent. While he aggressively scrubbed his pits, he didn’t notice that the brown hair he had there was turning black and starting to spread, becoming a new source of odor. Luckily, the cold water wiped out the burning sensation that had taken over him, and he managed to sleep, although the pungent smell intensified even more, dominating the room as he snored.

The next morning, Xander had no work but also no set plans. Upon waking, he felt that musk dominating the space again and was shocked to see that the source of the odor was his pits, but the bigger shock was seeing the bushy hair they had turned into, with long, wild black strands. What the hell was that? With no explanation for it, he decided he’d just take another shower to cool his head and see if he could finally get rid of that smell. He was pretty freaked out when he walked into the bathroom and found his hair jet black and longer, topped off by the fact that his skinny body was being replaced by surprisingly developed muscles. “What... what?!” he barked, touching the reflection as if that could undo some kind of illusion.

“What the hell is happening to me?” he asked again out loud. He could go to a hospital... and say what? “Hey doc, I’m living out the Tobey Maguire Spider-Man movie!” He’d be lucky if he wasn’t kicked out of the place, or worse, ended up in the psych ward! Still clueless about what to do with all this, he left his room intending to grab a strong cup of coffee.

As he walked into his living room, Xander jumped seeing someone sitting on his couch, only to scream as he bumped his head on the door frame.

“Now you’re training for the high jump, little bro? With your height, maybe it’s better to do it somewhere the ceiling isn’t so low,” Xander just let out a groan of indignation as Velkan stood up, picked him up like a rag doll, and plopped him down on the couch. His nostrils were invaded by the characteristic odor he’d sensed the day before, a smell that oddly resembled the one he was exuding, but which he had forgotten to acknowledge in the heat of the strange events that morning, or had he just gotten used to it? Preferring not to think about that he turned to his new roommate.

“Hey! Not cool, dude, I’m not a kid; I can get up by myself!”

“Chill, little bro; though I could just call you big guy now, right?” Velkan commented with that annoying grin that made Xander want to punch those perfectly white, pointy… canine… teeth… He felt a shiver run down his spine at the memory of those bright yellow eyes. Somehow, Velkan... and what kind of name was that, anyway? It didn’t matter; somehow, the other guy had done something to him! How could he have been stupid enough to let a stranger into his house? It was almost like he had been guided to accept it, like he was forced to go along with it...

“W-who are you? What... what are you? And what did you do to me?! Who the hell are you?!” he asked, jumping up and glaring at the bigger man.

“Calm down, little bro; you’re asking too many questions, and I need time to answer them. Why don’t you sit down and let me explain everything at a chill pace? Sit down, please... damn it... I said sit down, kid,” Velkan barked with authority while slapping his hand on the empty space next to him on the couch, and inexplicably Xander found himself compelled to sit, making the spot tight due to the other man’s massive size and the bulk he’d gained overnight.

“Good boy. Let me introduce myself properly first; my name is Velkan Stoian, and I’ve been looking for you for a long time, little bro.”

“I... looking... for me? I... don’t get any of this. What did you do to me? These changes... how... how is this possible? And what’s with the ‘little bro’ thing?”

Relaxing on the couch, Velkan grinned. “Well, it’s because that’s what you are.” And then, with a serious expression: “Did you ever wonder what happened to your family? Never thought about looking for them?”

“I... how do you...?”

“Just answer the question.”

“I was told they were all dead, that there was no one left... that I... I... have always been alone.”

“Bastards.”

“I don’t get it!”

Xander thought that might be his new mantra instead of the usual “how can I help you.”

“No, you don’t get it... Sandu.”

“What?”

“Your nickname, given by me when you could fit in the palm of these hands.”

With a sad, distant look, Velkan opened his massive hands, which could easily hold a baby rhino.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Alexandru Alupei Barbaneagra is your real name, kid, son of Dragos and Mihaela and... younger brother of… Velkan.”

“What?”

“Can you say something other than a variation of “I don’t understand’ just to mix it up a bit?” Velkan grinned, but at that moment, Xander realized there was sadness along with the teasing and maybe... affection?

“Sorry... I... don’t know what...”

“Stop talking like a weakling! Sorry, bro it’s not your fault. It was an atrocity what they did to you, to us, Sandu. But I’m here to fix it all, to hand over the inheritance you’re entitled to.”

Xander finally lost his voice at that absurd idea. Surely, if he had family, the social services would have said something, and he wouldn’t have been shuffled from one foster home to another like a stray dog until he hit eighteen and was tossed out on the street, lucky enough to land a decent job and an apartment that wasn’t a total dump. And even if he did have family, it surely wouldn’t be some huge muscle-bound dude like Velkan; they didn’t even look alike, for god’s sake... except that... he thought, except that both their hairs had the same color now, and his arms and legs were almost as hairy as Velkan’s... no, that was absurd...

“Now’s the time for you to say something,” Velkan barked.

“Velkan... if I had any inheritance to get, surely one of the bastards I lived with would’ve found a way to snag it a long time ago.”

“The inheritance I’m talking about, little bro isn’t any material good but rather your story, your past, and your future. You’re just a fragile pup and have been like that for way too long. I wish I had found you sooner to hand over what’s yours at the right age like our father did for me, but I lived my own hell. You need to understand one thing, kid: we are Romani, and just for that, we’re already hated. But you and I are more than that; we are children of the night, we run under the moonlight and that makes us even more hated, even among our own people. Your birth should have marked a peace treaty between us and the human men. Alexandru, the defender of men, what a joke. The men took advantage of your baptism to commit a massacre. Only you and I survived. And it probably should’ve just been you. I believe there was still enough humanity in them not to kill a baby in arms who was still far from transitioning. There’s a reason we look fragile and delicate until we’re ready to take our place, but after the process is complete... if I hadn’t managed to escape, I would’ve been executed without mercy. By eleven years old, I was already a pack man, bigger than you were yesterday when I found you.”

“Pack?”

“Come on, dude, how many hints do you need to realize this?”

“You’re saying you’re some kind of werewolf?” Xander asked, still trying to piece his thoughts together.

“Sandu, we’re both wolves. Though you still don’t pass for a pup who took too long to mature. Though this started to get sorted out the moment we met, bro. If things had gone the way they should have, there would’ve been a ceremony when you turned ten, but the way it was, I figured it’d be better to give you a welcome present; after all, the ceremony was just a formality. All it takes is for the pup to catch the scent of the alpha for the process to begin.”

“You’re completely insane! I want you out of my house now!”

“No, you don’t want that. You know what’s happening tonight, Sandu? It’s a full moon night, and you don’t want to go through that alone. The Wolf is hard to control even for the most experienced; I shudder just imagining what one that’s been trapped for so long will be capable of. If after tonight you don’t want to know about me, that’s cool; I’ll help you through your first transformation, and I’ll be out by morning. But I want you to know that during the years I spent as a wolf wandering through the woods, I could only think about what might’ve happened to my little brother, and as soon as I finally managed to deal with my pain and get back on track, I started searching for you. I was just a fifteen-year-old kid at the time, scraping by, stealing when I needed to eat, and when things got too tough, I’d shift back to being a wolf. But still, I never stopped hoping and looking for you.”

Xander stayed quiet as he looked at his bare feet; they were even bigger than before, with black fur covering the tops of his toes, even thicker and denser fur covering his legs and thighs, and a slightly darker skin tone seemed to spread right before his eyes. Not knowing what to say, he stood up and, with Velkan’s eyes following him, positioned himself in front of a mirror in the living room. What he saw scared him; his face was different, with an aquiline nose, a wider chin, and a more square jaw, covered in stubble, skin a shade of olive, and Velkan’s hazel eyes. Suddenly, the idea of being Velkan’s younger brother didn’t seem so absurd. And if something like that transformation was possible, why not the rest?

“Stay. That doesn’t mean I believe you, it’s all so extraordinary that... just stay,” he said, only to be nearly knocked over by the giant’s weight on him. Velkan remained silent as he embraced him, and Xander wasn’t sure what to say as he felt the weight of the other man’s emotion and that scent violently invading his nostrils, so he let himself get lost in the strength of that hug. They stayed like that for a while until Velkan pulled away and flashed that grin. “Where do you keep the booze in this place?” he asked, and Xander sighed as his eyes sparkled with amusement.

…..

Velkan introduced himself a bit more to Xander, telling the story of their family and talking about what their parents were like, the traditions, the travels, and the inevitable disaster that followed the death of both and the rest of the tribe. To Xander’s surprise, the tribe was made up of all kinds of people and not just what they still called gypsies today.

“Not every guy has a wolf inside him, bro. But it’s the Alpha’s job to identify those who do and bring them into the Tribe, and our dad was especially good at that. It took me a long time and training, and I haven’t reached a fraction of what he was, which is why it took me so long to find you. It’s a matter of scent, you see: the scent of the Alpha, his touch is what frees the wolf. But all of us, with the right training, can sense the scent of other wolves, even those not born yet, and in my search for you, I found a good number of wolves trapped in human flesh. There were many times I thought about giving up the search and starting my own pack, but I knew I couldn’t do that; I couldn’t leave my little brother trapped in a pup’s body for life. Those other trapped wolves will still have a chance to be freed, even if it means changing the flesh prison. We’ve arrived.” The trail in the woods ended in a large clearing, and Xander wondered if he had completely lost it while following the other man. This was all just insane. But with each step he took, as night fell, that torrent of heat began to surge within him again.

“How much longer?” Xander asked, looking up at the night sky where the moon hadn’t yet risen. Without warning, his skin began to burn as a sharp pain shot through his spine, causing him to groan and drop to the ground; his bones cracked as they seemed to stretch longer.

“I think it’s now, bro,” Velkan said, and Xander groaned as black fur began to spread across his skin like thousands of bugs crawling on him, making him want to scratch like crazy, but his body refused to obey his commands.

His clothes started to rip as a mix of muscles and fur expanded, tearing the already tight clothing to shreds. “Oh... I should’ve warned you; this happens,” Velkan laughed, and Xander growled aggressively. The pain was excruciating. His feet, which had already grown quite a bit, swelled even larger, stretching and widening, his thighs like corded steel, striated and wide, and his calves like footballs. In his abdomen, four, then six, and finally eight small blocks of muscle appeared, and his pecs broadened and pushed forward while his hands doubled in size, as his biceps formed into cannonballs and his triceps shaped like perfect horseshoes. His back widened, with lats so broad that he wouldn’t fit through some doors; finally, his neck grew to the point where no collar would ever fit. At this moment, Xander let out another growl that quickly turned into a howl. His eyes turned that deep yellow shade that had scared him, his hair grew, cascading down over his eyes in black curls. Suddenly, along with the pain, an orgasmic pleasure surged in his cock, which slowly grew to its usual 5 inches hard, but it didn’t stop there; it went to 6 and his muscles surged again, to 7 and his skin hit the same olive tone as his brother's, to 8 and his bones stretched once more, putting him just one inch taller than his big brother at an impressive 6’7”even though Velkan's broadness had no competition, at 9 and finally his cock thickened, nearing the size of a beer can. Unable to handle that mix of pleasure and pain any longer, he finally came, shooting a torrent of cum, and with the release, the pain ceased, leaving him sprawled on the ground, naked and drenched in sweat, trying to catch his breath.

“Wow... that was... intense,” he commented to Velkan while trying to reposition himself to get up.

“And who said it’s over, little bro? That was just you reaching all the potential you should’ve hit a long time ago. You’re no longer a pup, but you’re still not an adult wolf.” Velkan stood beside him, completely naked, and for the first time Xander... Sandu... could see the sheer glory of his older brother’s body, a gigantic mountain of defined muscles covered in black fur, with a cock hanging down between his legs that, when hard, must have been even bigger than his. And that damn... pungent... wonderful smell permeated everything. It was his own scent, but also the scent of the alpha, of his leader, of his brother, from whom he realized at that moment he would obey all orders and do anything to protect and... love, yes... now he understood everything, the reason for his brother’s years of searching; if what he felt in that moment was close to what Velkan felt for him...

“Brother... thanks,” he said, standing up and facing the other man without needing to look up for the first time, and he hugged him, their naked bodies meeting, sweat mixing, and their scents enveloping everything; it was too much for him.

“Shh, calm down, little bro; the best part is coming now,” Velkan said, bathed in the silver light of the full moon. As if he felt no pain at all, Velkan’s body transformed, his bones reshaping and fur growing as a snout formed and his teeth sharpened, and he dropped to all fours on the ground, his hands and feet becoming giant paws. In no time, where there had once been a man, there was now a massive black wolf howling at the moon, soon followed by another slightly smaller but equally shining-coated wolf. Then both took off running through the woods, howling and playfully knocking each other down like two pups, not two huge beasts.

At dawn, in the clearing where the wolves had snuggled up to sleep there now lay two young men with thick black hair and beards, lying naked on a bed of dry leaves, their skin glistening with dew under the first rays of morning sun filtering through the treetops, the smaller one resting his head on the bigger one chest, who at that moment was waking up with a vague smile of satisfaction on his face.

“Wake up, little bro, we’ve got a lot to do.” As he felt the giant hand of his brother run through his hair, Sandu stirred awake.

“Wow, that was fantastic, Velkan.”

“That was just the beginning, brother. Now let’s get up and hit the road, there’s still a lot to do, and I’ll explain on the way.”

“But my clothes…”

“You think a kid’s clothes would fit a man like you, Sandu? I brought an extra set knowing you’d need it.” Velkan said, tossing at his brother’s feet a set of clothes that consisted of Levi’s jeans, a tank top, thick knee-high socks, a leather jacket, and combat boots.

“The boots might be a bit loose, but we can swing by the city to grab you some new ones,” he concluded, reaching for a metal chain with a dog tag that had the name Alexandru Stoian engraved on it, along with a pair of aviator sunglasses identical to his. “We’ll need to swing by there anyway to grab your ride.”

“You want me to bike in that thing? It wouldn’t even hold up with all this new weight.”

“Don’t be an idiot, little bro; I’ve got a brand new Harley waiting for you!”

“I... wow... but I thought we were broke.”

“I never said that; The tribe left money stashed all over the damn country, not to mention bank accounts I had to hustle to get access to. We’re good, brother. Now get dressed and let’s roll;”

“If possible, I’d like to stop somewhere first.”

….

“Welcome to Igniteriders, I’m Gabriel, how can I help you, sir?” The attendant seemed a bit flustered, like he wasn’t used to doing that job.

“I just wanted to say thanks for your help; you had my back when no one else would.” The guy was young, absolutely tall, and super muscular, even if he wasn’t as wide as Gabriel, no those are a predator muscles, firm, agile, perfect to hunting. Wearing a leather jacket and rocking aviator shades, he looked a lot like that fella who had been in the shop on Saturday wanting to rent Xander’s extra room. Xander who still hadn’t shown up that morning, leaving him pretty worried.

“No problem, sir, but sorry to ask, how exactly did I help you?”

“I’m sure if you put your brain to work, you’ll figure it out.” The man replied, almost leaning in close to Gabe, bringing with him a scent of musk and the outdoors, before leaving the shop and jumping on the back of a Harley Davidson, taking off at full speed.

“X-Xander...?” he asked, shocked at the empty store.

….

“How did it go?”

“I left my new number on the counter, and he took a good whiff of my musk. If it’s his fate to unleash the wolf he’ll come to us.”

“A mechanic in the pack would make a huge difference. But now it’s up to him.”

“And us?”

“Us? First we take your ride, then we will recruit in ways you can’t even imagine, little bro.”

[hellodaydream1111111111111111]

Some yummy HxH headcanons that are mostly Hisoillu

Hisoka is a pretty good cook and cooks for Illumi whenever he comes over however, when he’s alone the kitchen isn’t even touched and he just orders takeout.

Illumi is no longer allowed in the kitchen because he will burn water.

Hisoka is not getting his deposit back as he has painted all his walls pink, replaced all the doorknobs with heart shaped ones, stained the bathroom red with hair dye and most definitely messed up the ceiling above his bed by throwing cards at it when he’s bored.

Hisoka is a maximalist so his apartment is very cluttered it’s clean but there’s stuff everywhere, Illumi was appalled the first time he came over.

Illumi barely has anything in his room other than books but he does have a rather large collection of moths and beetles that he pinned.

Hisoka buys most of Illumi’s clothes, terrifying Kikyo.

Illumi has to set aside 20 percent of his assassin money to bribe Milluki and Kalluto, unfortunately when mother’s precious baby Kalluto is involved there’s only so much threatening he can do.

Silva has forbidden any of the Zoldycks from smoking however that doesn’t prevent Kikyo for running off into the forest, only to be caught by one of her children.

Kalluto is a clean freak and everything in his room has a place.

Milluki didn’t mind watching Kalluto when he was a toddler because he was quiet and didn’t pitch fits however he found it amusing that Illumi looked like a tried mom most of the time with Killua and Alluka both running about.

The Zoldyck children never really interact during the daytime however like normal siblings they find each other in the kitchen at 3 am making cereal and eventually end up in Milluki’s room playing Mario cart.

Illumi never told Kalluto and Milluki that he was married to Hisoka but Kalluto found to from the phantom troupe in ways he definitely didn’t want to, he swiftly told Milluki and they got enough pizza to send a horse into a coma.

Illumi wakes up really early but if he could he’d sleep all day.

During summer Illumi avoids the sun like the plague and Hisoka doesn’t put on nearly enough clothes.

Hisoka has a pile of magazines just on the floor next to his couch.

Illumi gets cat called a lot and Hisoka finds it hilarious.

Machi and Illumi dislike each other and Kalluto is stuck in the middle of their feud.

Killua and Gon like to sit in fields together and listen to music.

After Killua and Gon separated, Killua and Alluka met up with Bisky so Alluka could learn the basics of nen. Bisky yelled at Killua because he didn’t know how to do Alluka’s hair and she showed him how to braid it.

Since Kalluto is around the phantom troupe so much he’s started talking like them and Illumi constantly has to remind him not to use foul language.

Everyone talks to Kalluto about their problems because they think he won’t tell.

Illumi doesn’t know slang and so he is constantly confused when speaking to Milluki, he has to text Hisoka for answers who will gladly jump at the chance of causing drama.

Kurapika constantly gets emails from Hisoka about random stuff.

When Killua found out Hisoka and Illumi were married he was eating dinner with Gon and he immediately curled up into a ball and kept repeating “Im related to a clown…”

Gon gets grasshoppers and collects them in jars, he gets very sad when Mito tells him they are not allowed in the house.

Leorio makes a lot of gay jokes.

Hisoka really dislikes Kikyo.

When Gon and Killua have sleep overs, they usually get tangled in blankets and fall off the bed.

Whenever Gon does something stupid Killua tells him he’s “Engaging in fatherless behavior”

Chrollo stole an ambulance and named it the spider-mobile.

Chrollo drives the spider-mobile and every time they see one of those crosses for people who’ve gotten into an accident on the road he pulls over and prays for them.

Phinks bet Kalluto that he couldn’t eat a spoon of hot sauce with a straight face and lost 50 Jenny and his dignity.

[kiddbegins]

Elections • A. Hotchner

A/n: this is self indulgent and heavily politically charged. I need to get how I’m feeling out in one way or another. So. …

There was only one thing you didn’t want to wake up to today. Weeks of going out and spreading the word. Hours of pacing, worry, anxiety, fear, filling you from the tips of your toes to the halo a top your head.

Election Day had never been this difficult. Usually you could see a light at the end of the tunnel but not this time. This time it felt like you were going to wake up drowning if the wrong side won.

Aaron was working. He had to be. You were home alone, everything spotless thanks to the anxious cleaning you did.

He’d been keeping tabs, knowing how much this was getting to you. You’d cried into his arms a few times already so it was no wonder that he was trying to get home to you now.

Because the first thing you and all Americans did the second they woke up was check the polls. 209 - 277.

He won.

Again.

Bile immediately grew in your throat, barely making it to the bathroom before it came out of your mouth. Retching with fear, anger and anxiety.

This meant horrible things. That you, a woman, were going to be the target of negativity for at least the next four years.

Your phone was ringing but it wasn’t audible over the higher pitch in your ear. The news wasn’t on and you were so glad it wasn’t because what exactly would that pull from you?

More tears? Screams?

It felt like hours you’d sat there on the tile floor, eyes starting to burn and thoughts running back and forth.

Leaving was always an option. But maybe not when your husband worked for the government.

Sterilization, except you were 34 and have no biological kids.

Abstaining, the most likely option at the moment but you’d miss the way Aaron held you before, during and after.

You didn’t hear the key in the door downstairs or the footsteps cracking the wood of the steps. The only sign someone was home was the bathroom light flicking on and the LED lights replacing the small bit of natural sunlight to hit your eyes.

“Oh sweetheart…” Aaron’s voice was so soft and warm it immediately brought another strong wave of tears out.

For you, for any possible child you’d have, your friends. Everything.

“I know…” he held you to his chest, knowing… knowing there was little he could do now. That anyone could do.

It took a small while before you got a calm spot. Eyes too tired to create anymore.

“Let’s get you up.” His voice gentle as he flushed the puke that still sat in the toilet and helped you up. Your body was numb.

Both from your emotions and position.

“We’ll figure something out.” He tried to make you feel better but how could he? How? You felt like someone shot you dead without ever pulling an actual trigger.

“You can’t.” Your voice raspy and full of congestion.

“Like hell I can’t. We are going to figure this out. As a couple. As a family, a country. We. Will fix this. And I would burn anything down that tried to get to you.” His voice was so firm, so full of his own fear for you that it made your heart lurch.

“This is just day one of a fight. I have no right to tell you this, but today you mourn, and tomorrow, if you can, you get back out there and you fight as hard as you have to. And i will have your back.”

“We all will.”

“Don’t do that. I am SO angry Aaron. I want to fight NOW.”

You take a breath.

“I want to scream and cry and get into a fight with everyone that voted the way they did. It’s like I have a huge bag of flames in my stomach that I want to spit out at anyone I talk to…”

“Everyone. I’m angry.”

I’m not even gonna promo down here or tag anyone. I’m just so devastated and wish I had this.

[lunajay33]

Help🍂

Request by @ravenrose18

Summary: Reader tries to have a normal life away from hunting but when her boyfriend becomes abusive and demonic she finds herself needing Deans help, maybe rekindling old love

Pairing: Dean Winchester x f!reader

•Masterlist•

“Hey y/n what’re you doing? Why’re you packing?” Dean asked from behind me in the motel room just coming back with Sam from getting lunch

“I have to go” I sighed zipping up my bag

“Go where we can help” Sam stated

“No I have to leave……I can’t do this anymore, the hunting it’s…..it’s draining me I’ve lost my will to do anything” finally turning to them

“Maybe we can just take a break for a while just…don’t go” deans expression broke my heart, we always had an on and off situation going on

“I don’t want to, I love you both it pains me to go I just need some time” I said standing in the open doorway now as Dean approached holding my face in the palms of his hands so tenderly

“Please……” I’ve never seen Dean so vulnerable

“I’ll call all the time I just need to find my hope again”

It’s been 4 months now and trying to get over Dean was so hard, not being on the road with the guys all the time was hard to forget, now I live in a little apartment with what money I still had left over and had a boyfriend, he was nice, charming at first and it reminded me of Dean so I said yes to dating him to try and be normal maybe distract myself

But soon he turned cold, like everything I did was wrong and never good enough, always criticizing me and putting me down, it wasn’t until today that he truly put the fear of god into me

“Y/n where the hell are you!” He screamed through the apartment as I hid in the closet, he came home livid and full of hate

I pulled out my phone dialing deans number praying he’d be working on a case near by, as the phone rang I heard his steps get nearer

“Hey sweetchecks how’s things” Dean answered

“Dean please I need your help, he’s gonna get me” I whispered hearing the waver in my voice as the bedroom door swung open

“Y/n what’s going on where are you” his voice now panicked

“I’m home, my boyfriend he’s gonna kill me”

“I’m on my way” the closet swung open shocking me as I dropped the phone screaming in terror

“Found you, time to have some fun”

Deans POV

Zooming down the highway just a town over from where she lived, my veins pumping with fear and adrenaline, how could this happen, why didn’t she tell me about this before

“We’ll get her Dean” Sam tried consoling me from the passenger seat

“I’ll kill him”

Pulling up to the apartment complex we got our weapons and ran to her place, smashing down the door seeing her in the living room floor bloodied and bruised

“Sam and Dean we’ve been looking for you” I turn seeing the bastard his eyes pitch black, a demon

“What do you want” Sam stated

“Oh we want you, Lilith is just so eager for you both, was having a hard time but when I found this one it was the perfect opportunity”

“I’ll kill you” I groaned approaching him with my knife about to stab before he escaped out this guys mouth like a coward, Sam helped the guy as I went straight to the girl I love

“Y/n! Can you hear me” I pull her up into my lap brushing her hair back

“Dean you came…….it hurts Dean” she weaved before she passed out in my arms

Normal pov

Waking up to a blinding light, adjusting I notice Dean is asleep in the chair right next to my bed his head resting on my hand, as Sam was slouched on the chair across the room

“Dean” he groaned before he shot up frantic to check on me

“Angel oh god how’re you feeling, I’m sorry I couldn’t get to you sooner”

“You saved me Dean, you always do……I missed you a lot” his expression softened as he held my hand

“Missed you too Angel, please come back with us I hate not knowing if you’re safe”

“Okay but only if I get to pick where we eat sometimes, I can’t live off burgers and beer all the time”

“Fine I’ll do whatever you want…..I love you”

“I love you too Dean”

[thetarttfuldickhead]

Roy wakes, fully hard and – two seconds later, when the details of the dream return to him – fully panicked.

Fuck.

---

It’s not like he’s never had sex dreams before. Come on. But none of them had featured men (except that weird one about Lee Pace in a banana costume and that hadn’t left him so much turned on as thoroughly confused) and abso-fucking-lutely not a single one of them had starred Jamie Tartt.

Jamie Tartt, who is now standing right in front of him in the dressing room, saying something about football something something, right Coach, something free kicks, and all Roy can think about is how he now has a very vivid idea of what those lips would look like when wrapped around his cock.

Jamie pushes a strand of hair of out of his eyes. They look grey now; in Roy’s dream they were green-tinting-towards-brown and heavy-lidded with lust as Roy had pushed him back on the bed— 

Roy can’t stand it. Except one very specific part of him apparently can and no, no, fuck no, he’s not doing this. Without a word he turns on his heel and walks away, ignoring Jamie’s surprised objection.

Fuck.

---

Training is a nightmare.

The only way Roy can get through it at all is by not sparing Jamie a single glance. (Jamie running, dribbling, shooting; Jamie turning and twisting, as graceful as water; Jamie with hair damp with sweat and calling out to the others with that eager voice that had called out Roy’s name last night.) It’s really fucking difficult, though, because he’s used to always keeping at least half an eye on Jamie these days, no matter what else is going on. Besides, the prick’s everywhere, rushing around the pitch like the fucking Duracell Bunny on speed. Roy clearly made a huge mistake ever pushing him towards the heights of endurance because the little shit just. won’t. stop. 

Roy’s attempts at avoidance don’t go unnoticed, either. He can feel the eyes of Beard and Nate on him; can see the way the other players look from him to Jamie and mutter among themselves. 

He makes them run suicides until they collapse just to shut them up and when Jamie is the only one still on his feet Roy tells Beard that oh fuck, he has a really important meeting he needs to go to right now, he fucking forgot about it and now he’s running late, could Beard and Nate finish this up please, and of course Roy doesn’t flee from the pitch because Roy Kent doesn’t fucking flee from anything. He walks off rather hurriedly, sure, but that’s just to properly sell the lie of the meeting he’s in a rush to. 

“Yeah, something is definitively up with him and Jamie,” he hears Beard mutter to Nate as he walks off.

Fuck.

---

He withdraws to the supply cupboard where he’s not likely to be disturbed, or found. He’s not hiding, obviously; he just needs a few moments to himself, to gather his wits. He’d drive home, except he actually does have a meeting with Rebecca in a couple of hours, and she is the one person he daren’t piss off. Not because she’s terrifying – although she can be, a fact that Roy respects immensely – but because she’ll know that something is off if he doesn’t show and unlike everyone else she has both the guts and the capacity to force it out of him.

In a farcical turn of events, which he entirely blames on Dr. Sharon (and maybe also on Keeley and Jamie a little, for their absurd and sometimes infectious tendency towards emotional honesty), Roy thinks that maybe he wouldn’t mind talking to someone about this. Maybe it would… help? Give him some perspective on things? 

Problems is, there’s no one he can talk to, is there? Jamie is right out, for obvious reasons, and while this would probably be right up the Diamond Dogs’ alley, there’s no fucking way Roy is telling his fellow coaches and the club’s director of football operations about having a wet dream about the team’s star player. Apart from the utter mortification of it, it’s hardly fair on Jamie, having almost all his bosses discuss him like that. Even if it’s not the real Jamie they’d be discussing, really, just the very bendable and delightfully masochistic Jamie that’s taken shameless residence in Roy’s battered mind. 

He can’t talk to Rebecca, for the same reason, even though he’s pretty sure she’d be able to say something clever enough and cutting enough that he’d snap right out of whatever the hell this is. Maybe she’d declare him clinically insane and unfit for duty and have him carted off to an asylum or some shit, and as much as that would suck it’d be a bit of a relief, honestly. At least he wouldn’t near twist his neck off his shoulders trying to avoid looking at Jamie. 

Jamie would probably come and visit him, the fucking arsehole.

And Roy can’t talk to Keeley, either, because even though she’s probably the best person to bring this to and the person he’d most like to talk to, she’s been clear about having no interest in sorting Roy and Jamie’s shit out for them. Besides, he doesn’t want to somehow give her the idea that he’s over her. He’s not. He had a pretty wild dream about her just the other week, and—

For a brief moment, he’s assailed by the image of Keeley and Jamie tangled on Roy’s mattress, looking up at him with twin smiles and—

In spite of the cupboard being rather chilly, Roy starts to sweat. Desperately, he crosses his legs and forces his mind back to the time when he took a chug of orange juice only for it to be egg yolk and he nearly threw up. 

It doesn’t really help. He’s still turned on, only now he’s feeling sick too. 

He could talk to Dr. Sharon, he guesses, but Dr. Sharon is travelling southern France for the rest of the week.

Roy won’t last that long.

Fuck. 

--- 

The door to the cupboard is pulled open with enough force to almost startle Roy off of the bucket he’s sat on. 

“All right, what the fuck’s going on, man?” Jamie demands, without even having the decency to look surprised at finding Roy hiding hanging out among the mops and micro fibre cloths. “Did you hit your head and forget the last two years or something?”

“Of course not,” Roy mutters, determinedly not looking up from the computer precariously balanced on his lap.

“Then why the fuck are you ignoring me? The lads all think I did something really bad!” There’s a plaintive note in Jamie’s voice, reminding Roy of the noises dream-Jamie had made when Roy— 

Roy closes his eyes. He can’t go on like this. He’s pretty sure that if he could just get a day or two – three or four tops, absolutely no more than five – away from Jamie, away from these constant reminders, the details of the dream would fade away, and his desire with it – but they have a game the day after tomorrow, so that’s not going to happen, and he can’t keep avoiding Jamie until then. It’d be bad for the team – not to mention that he can’t really stomach the hurt he hears in Jamie’s voice.

Nothing for it, then. Fuck it all to hell.

“I had a sex dream,” he grits out, carefully looking to the doorframe right next to Jamie’s face, so that he can catch Jamie’s reactions without having to look him in the eye.

Jamie doesn’t react much, just cocks his head to the side. “You had a sex dream about me?”

“Did I say it was about you, you muppet?!” Conceited prick.

“Uh, no, but it was? You wouldn’t be all weird about it if wasn’t.” Trust Jamie to always choose the worst moments to be insightful and reasonable. He’s doing it just to be contrary, Roy’s sure of it. 

Jamie’s watching him expectantly, as if believing Roy will elaborate or explain further. Roy doesn’t say a word. Roy is busy stonily inspecting a small speck of dirt on the wall next to Jamie’s face.

Eventually, Jamie lets out a long sigh and rolls his eyes. “Fine. What’s the big deal then?” 

Now Roy’s eyes snap to Jamie’s face, because what the hell? “What do you mean, what’s the big deal? You don’t think it’s a little weird and really fucking uncomfortable that I, Roy Kent, had a sex dream about you, Jamie Tartt? I’m your fucking coach! We’re friends!”

Jamie makes a face, like Roy’s being the insane one. “Roy, mate, you’ve seen the wall in my old bedroom. Bunch of half-naked girls and you, right? You never did the math on that?” 

Roy has, in fact, never done the math on that. Hasn’t realize there as math to do. “You were impressed by my prowess as a football player,” he tries feebly.

Jamie rolls his eyes. “Um, yeah. Which is hot.”

“… oh.”

Roy doesn’t know what else to say to that. Doesn’t know how to feel about that. Hasn’t the faintest idea about how to even begin to process it.

Jamie is watching him with a small frown. He looks concerned, pitying almost, which makes Roy want to go throw himself in the Thames more than anything else in this discussion has.

“So,” Jamie says eventually, speaking slowly, like he’s trying very hard to find the right words, “all these years and you never once figured that this whole thing we’ve got going, all this fucking tension, that it was… you know… just a little bit sexual?”

“No.”

“What, never?”

“No.” 

“That’s fucking mental, man.” Jamie looks like he doesn’t know whether to be incredulous or impressed. Then his eyes widen. “Ooh, is this because men getting with other men was illegal when you were a kid back in the dark ages? They burned people alive and shit, so you’re, like, repressed and stuff?”

Roy is about to bite his head off for pulling out fucking stupid ha ha you’re so old jokes now, except there’s something in Jamie’s eyes giving him the distinct impression that maybe Jamie is deliberatedly being a prick, doing it for Roy’s sake, trying to offer him a sense of normalcy or something, and that’s actually quite sweet, isn’t it? Only that thought has Roy’s heart doing something weird and stupid, so actually no, back to Jamie just being a prick.

“We’re in love with Keeley,” he says, and he means for it to be gruff, but it comes out pleading more than anything else.

“Yeah, I know.” Jamie sounds exasperated. “None of this means we ain’t. Fucking hell, mate, tension’s just tension, yeah, no need to fucking act on it if you don’t want to. And dreams are just dreams. I’m mad fit, you see me running around doing impressive shit all day, course you’re gonna dream about me, be weirder if you didn’t. Bet half the team do the same, anyway. It doesn’t have to mean anything.” Jamie crosses his arms, and looks as serious and decisive as Jamie ever does. “Listen, Coach, we’re playing West Ham this Saturday, and you need to stop being weird about this and start coaching me and not freak everyone out.”

Roy doesn’t ask him what Jamie think he’s been trying to do all day. Not his fault Jamie’s been right there, all pretty eyes and strong thighs and distracting lips and shit. But he doesn’t say that; instead, he sighs, because Jamie, infuriatingly, has a point. “Yeah. Okay. But… just give me a fucking minute. Go get changed and I’ll be there in fifteen, all professional and shit.”

“Great. See you then, Coach.”

Jamie turns and as he walks away Roy can’t help his gaze sliding down to Jamie’s arse, noticing the way the blue shorts cling to the round buttocks, leaving little enough to the imagination, only Roy is imagining what they’d look like sans shorts and red from Roy’s fingers and palm, wondering if the reality would match the dream.

Fuck. 

---

Dreams are just dreams. Roy tells Dr. Sharon as much during their next appointment, because even though talking to Jamie helped him pull himself together just enough to muddle through the rest of the week with his sanity mostly intact, he’s still feeling rather rattled by the whole mess. Untethered. 

Jamie’s been brilliant, carrying on as if nothing’s changed between them. Somehow, that hasn’t helped as much as Roy would’ve thought it would. 

Dr. Sharon listens carefully and without judgement, as she always does. “You’ve had dreams before,” she notes once Roy’s fallen silent. “I’m sure some of them have been strange or unsettling. Has any of them ever affected you like this?” 

“No. Like I said, it’s just dreams, right? It’s not real. Shouldn’t affect me. Never fucking does, not even the sexy ones, usually.”

“Right. So why do you think this one was different?”

Roy stares at her. She returns his stare calmly, patiently. Waits, watching him, until he can’t help but catch the shape of it reflected back at him in her kind eyes.

Fuck. 

---

“What if I don’t want it to be just a dream?” 

“Eh?” 

Jamie’s peering at him through the open door, looking like he’s wondering what Roy is doing showing up unannounced and spouting nonsense on his doorstep at half past three on a rest day. 

Which, okay, fair enough. 

“What if I don’t want it to be just a dream?” Roy repeats, a little slower this time. 

For another moment, Jamie just stares at him. Then his eyes widen, lightening up with delight. “Oh! You mean… ?” He gestures between them.

“Yeah,” Roy says and then he’s being pulled into the hallway by his jacket and he has time to think that that they really need to figure out how Keeley fits into all of this and then he has his arms around a body that is firm and solid and there and Jamie Tartt is kissing him and it’s not a dream at all. 

Fuck. Oh, fuck… !

[jasntodds]

Too Heavy | J.T.

Pairing: Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

Request: @just-lost-inbetween-worlds​ : Can I get Jason Todd (doesn’t matter which version) with the prompts: bloodied knuckles, wiping the others tears away, as well as crying into their chest. Maybe bloodied knuckles bcs of punching something in a mental breakdown and then the rest happens.  Bad Things Happen Bingo Prompts

Summary: Sometimes things get a little too heavy for Jason

Warnings: Angst, blood, mentions of death, mental breakdown, hurt/comfort

Words: 2,802

A/n: I was listening to a lot of Too Heavy by The Plot In You while I wrote this so here we are lol If you wanna be added to my tag list, click the link below, send me an ask, or comment!! You can also follow my library blog @peteprkerlibrary​ !! If you like this, please reblog it and/or talk to me about it!!

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Everyone has bad days. They come and they go. It gets better. It always gets better. But for Jason, his bad days are sometimes so rough and harsh, the world collapses from under him. He falls through the cracks into a black abyss, surrounded by every failure he’s ever had. He falls and falls and falls until he finally hits the bottom and the wind is sucked from his lungs in a hard smack. Leaving him alone in the pitch black coldness. Today is one of those days.

He’s just gotten back from patrol and he was quiet not to wake you. He walks steadily to the bathroom but his thoughts are circling the drain. Every step he takes is like twenty pounds added to his ankles and another thought joins the damned ride. Jason’s chest grows heavy as he finally reaches the bathroom, quietly shutting the door behind him.

The worst nights of patrol involve kids and tonight did. It’s always the most innocent of people that get to him. Most nights, he can handle it because it’s part of the job. It’s one of the reasons he puts the helmet on every night. But tonight is different. Tonight is different because it didn’t have the hopeful ending it should have and it’s not fucking fair.

Jason’s hands grip the bathroom counter so hard he thinks he might shatter it in his palms. He almost hopes he does. He looks at himself in the mirror, his back slightly hunched over and he looks hollow. A discarded shell of who he should have been. And he can’t stand it. His head spins while his eyes slam shut and his grip tightens harder against the cool stone.

His chest starts to heave as his breathing quickens. His chest grows heavy and he wants to start ripping out every single one of his organs in hopes it’ll lift some of the weight. The heaviness is suffocating and if he didn’t know any better, he’d think this would be his end.

But he knows better.

And this is the never-ending hell he’s trapped in while the inability to save the kids tonight triggers memories to flood back like overflowing rivers in a flash flood.

There’s the echo of metal on concrete seeping into his blood stream and that menacing laugh that never should be called a laugh beats against his eardrum. The feeling of the panic he felt that day wraps him in a cruel and painful hug as if to be living off of his inability to breathe properly. Images of the Joker and the look on his mom’s face flash across his eyes and he can’t take the heaviness of it all anymore.

The grief he suffers with is nearly paralyzing and it is agonizing. They say grief gets better but when is it that supposed to happen? Because it’s been years and he can’t breathe and he wants to rip his lungs out of his chest just to feel anything other than this. He was just a kid.

Jason was a just a kid.

Tears burn his eyes, one slipping by and sliding down his cheek and he grits his teeth so hard they nearly shatter under the pressure. All he wants is for it all to stop for even a second. He wants one damn second of relief.

He looks up at his own reflection once more and he can see some bruising from last week and he hates it. The white streak in his hair almost seems whiter in the light of the bathroom and he hates it. He hates it. He hates it and he can’t do it. He punches the mirror in a quick motion, just once and it shatters into the sink and over the counter.

“Fuck.” Jason groans because he knows it was loud and he can’t stop the tears now. They’re drenching his face and his breathing is racing, quivering.

Blood spills into the sink as Jason hovers his shaking hand over it. Not a single part of him even cares or pays the stinging any mind. All he can do is try his best to breathe and shake his thoughts away but nothing works. They’re still there. Flashing across his eyes like lightning in the middle of a raging storm.

His legs start to feel weak as if he’s just gotten done running for miles on end. It’s getting harder to stand the more he tries to fight his own breath and thoughts. His head spins and he his stomach turns and twists into gnawing nausea. And he can’t even be bothered to stand anymore because that is just getting too damn hard too. His own body is growing too heavy with every passing thought and he swears that’s some sort of cruel joke.

Jason sits on the floor against the counter, hanging his head and pulling his knees up to his chest. Tears fall down his cheeks and he tries to fight them off with every thought he has but nothing works. They fall anyway, staining his cheeks in a wet mess.

“Jason?” You call from outside the door. 

The shattering of glass woke you up and for a few seconds, you thought someone had actually broken in. And you were nearly frozen, stuck thinking if you had a weapon of any sort in the bedroom you could use. But then those seconds faded and you didn’t hear footsteps or shuffling through the apartment. You didn’t hear anything and when you checked the time to see it was after three, you knew.

“Jay?” You call again, knocking on the door gently when he doesn’t answer.

Your groggy voice breaks his heart. He never meant to wake you up.

Jason slides his hands over his face and clears his throat. “Go back to bed, sweetheart.” Jason tries to stabilize his voice but you can hear the weakness and quiver. He’s mastered the art of hiding pain but not disguising the pain of crying.

Taking the knob in your hand, you twist it slowly, gently pushing the door open. You spot Jason still in his Red Hood gear, minus the helmet, sitting on the floor with drops of blood on the floor. He keeps his head hung and his forearms on his knees. You spot blood on his knuckle with open wounds before you see the broken mirror and your heart just breaks for him.

You step in slowly and cautiously as if moving too quickly will make him dissolve right into the floor. “Hey,” You crouch down beside him, tilting your head to try and get a look at his face that’s covered by his messy hair. “What happened, Jay?”

“I’m fine.” Jason forces the words from the back of his throat and he hates how weak they sound. 

You don’t like the answer because anyone who’s fine doesn’t break a mirror. Anyone who’s fine doesn’t sit on the bathroom floor at three in the morning with bloody knuckles crying. He’s not fine but Jason has never been very good at admitting to anyone when he’s not. He’d rather drown than ask for a life preserver.

You move in front of him, sitting on your knees. You reach out cautiously, putting your hands on his wet cheeks. Jason’s eyes shut down hard with your touch and you’re so gentle with him. Why? What’s he done to deserve it?

You pick his head up softly and Jason lets you. His eyes are bloodshot as he looks at you. His pretty blue eyes are now a haunting shade of navy, like the sky over the ocean in the middle of hurricane. Why does the world treat him with such cruelty?

“Please, go back to bed.” He nearly begs you because you shouldn’t have to deal with all of his trauma.

It’s not fair for you to lose sleep over him. He swears you shouldn’t and you don’t deserve it. All he wants is to be alone with his grief. If anyone has to suffer what he went through, it has to be him. It can’t involve you. Not you.

But you’re stubborn and that thing in your chest beats endlessly for him.

You can see his chest moving harshly with every breath and he might be Red Hood but he was Jason Todd first. A kid trying to survive the best he could. A kid who just wanted to learn and be a kid. Smart mouth and relentless as hell. But a kid no one looked out for. Red Hood looks out for so many people, but who’s supposed to look out for Jason Todd?

“Please, I’m fine.” Jason voice finally cracks as a tear escapes his bottom lid. “Just go to bed. I’ll be there a minute.”

You move your hands from his cheeks and he thinks, for a second that for once, you might actually listen to him. And he’d be lying if that didn’t hurt, too. But, it’s you and you were never very good at following his instructions even on good days so you move closer to him and stretch out your arms.

“Come here, Jay.” Your voice is soft, etched in worry and love.

He’s reluctant at first because he knows if he does, he’ll lose it entirely. Every piece of him that’s been able to hold in a sob will finally crack and that’ll be it. But he sees the worry in every tired line of your face and you always look so inviting.

“I’m worried about you. Please.” You plead with him, your voice cracking with a mix of tiredness and sadness. And Jason can’t hold it in anymore because you’re worried about him.

Jason moves his legs and moves closer to you, resting his head against your chest because at his point, it’s all too heavy for him to even try for a proper hug. And folding into you seems a hell of a lot easier for everyone. You wrap one arm around his side and rest your other hand in his hair. And just like he breaks.

A sob rips through his throat, echoing through the bathroom and you have to swallow the lump that forms in your throat. He shakes against you, sliding his hands to your back and holding onto your shirt. His grip is tight as if he’s stuck between thinking you’ll disappear if he lets go or that he’ll disappear if he does. Your hand runs through his hair and you try to console him, knowing there isn’t much that can help at this point. But you try by playing with his hair and whispering softly to him despite your own heart aching and breaking for him.

Tears brim your own eyes as you hold him against you. If you could, you would claw out your own heart and replace his with yours. Maybe that would help some of his agony. Maybe that would make his pain a little more tolerable. Maybe if you could swap out your hearts, you could take some of his pain away. You’d do it if it meant he wouldn’t suffer so much.

Minutes tick by and his breathing is still harsh against you but the sobs have slowed. His grip is still iron-tight on your shirt and all Jason wants is for the world to stop spinning. He wants the aching in his chest to stop and he wants everything around him to stop feeling so damn heavy.

You pick his head up, cupping his cheeks in both hands again. His cheeks are tear stained and you swear you’ve never seen him look so broken before. Your thumb awipe over his cheeks, brushing the tears away gently.

Jason nearly shudders with the action.

“It’s okay, Jay.” You assure him and your voice is strained as if begging him to believe you.

“It’s fucking not.” He sputters, his brows pulling together and you can see him clench his jaw. “It’s all shit and those kids deserved fucking better.” His breath is hot, boiling on your skin as he seethes. And you know what lead him here tonight.

He told you. Right to your face he told you he died. He left out the gory details of it all for your own sake but you know he was just a kid. And you know why he was there and about the Joker. He was just a kid.

“Kids?” You questions and you know Jason always has a bad night when it involves kids.

“Forget it.” He lets out a scoff because he doesn’t want to talk about it. You don’t need to know the details.

“Hey, no.” You shake your head, eyes scanning over his face as your brows pull together. “I’ll listen all night, okay? I won’t ask anything if you don’t want me to, okay? You can talk or not. But, you’re gonna be okay.” Your eyes lock with his and he wants to believe you.

But he also knows he’ll back here again. He always comes back here. Haunted. The ghost of who he was then and the ghost of who he should have been follow him. He doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to shake them as much as he wants to.

He places his hands over yours and you can’t help but notice how big his hands are whenever he does this. “Just so damn sick of it.” His voice is rough and exhausted.

“I know.” You nod with understanding.

You’ll never be able to understand how he feels or what he goes through but you try. And you see it across his face. You see it in the way he turns in his sleep, when he actually gets sleep. You see it in the way he’s always observing everything around him, always on guard. And you can see it in the way he is with his weapons, there’s always at least two weapons on him at any given moment. As much as you want to understand exactly what goes on inside of his head, you won’t but you can see it. So, you try your best to help and just be there in capacity he’ll let you.

“Why don’t we get you in the shower? I’ll wash your hair, clean up your hand, and we can get into bed? I’ll rub your back and you can tell me what happened if you want. Or I can read to you until you fall asleep.”

He’s almost always reluctant when it’s been bad. He never thinks he deserves the kindness and care you offer to him. On good days, he can accept it. It’s something he struggles with still because no one ever been so kind and careful with him before. So, it’s hard but on good days, he finds it easier to accept. But on bad days, like these, he’s reluctant because if he can’t see the good himself, why should anyone else? But he looks at your eyes that glossy with worry and you give him this look that makes him feel like he’s been put under a microscope. And you would do anything for him.

“Thanks.” He mutters, taking your hands away from his face. “I got it.”

“I know.” You nod your head. “I want to.” You smile gently at him, tilting your head slightly to the right. “You’re not alone, ya know?” You assure him because you think it must be lonely dealing with everything he goes through. “I got you.” 

He knows. As hard as it is for him to accept the care and kindness you offer him, he knows because he notices everything. He notices how he always wakes up with a blanket on him when he falls asleep on the couch and the way you always have his favorite protein bars on hand even though you don’t like them. You’re the one missing sleep when you have work in the morning to sit on the bathroom floor with him. It’s hard to accept sometimes and he gets in his own head about it sometimes, but at the end of the night, he has you.

And you’ve always had a way of lifting some of that weight for him, maybe without even trying.

“Okay.” Jason finally agrees, still a hint of reluctance in his voice.

You get to your feet and offer him your hand.

He almost chuckles because you can’t actually help him from the floor. But he takes your hand in his anyway, getting to his feet. You look up to him with gentle eyes before closing the distance between the two of you and wrapping your arms around him as tight as you can.

It takes a few seconds before you feel Jason relax under your hug and his arms come around your waist. His chin lays on the top of your head and he feels like he can breathe a little better now. 

When things get a little too heavy, at least he has you to help lift some of the weight.

Tag list: @jasontoddsmentaldisorders // @purplerose291 // @lovelessamai  // @makaelaseresin // @lenidaslenchen // @mayfieldss // @ghostkingblake // @dgraysonss // @im-done-with-this-im-out // @velvetskies // @vivian-555 // @kebonita // @deyja-the-duck // @jasontoddslover // @captainmarvels-blog​

[antisocialties]

Late Night Calls.

Matt Sturniolo x Reader

Summary: in which you call matt late at night when things aren’t going so well.

Warnings: mentions of mental health issues, angst, and etc.

To say today had sucked would’ve been an understatement to say the least.

Today was just one of those days where the second you woke up you felt like shit and wished you simply wouldn’t have waken up in the first place.

You looked up at the plain white ceiling with a blank and stoic look on your face. It was almost pitch black in your room, the tv wasn’t even turned on.

You couldn’t help but hate being alone right now with every aching bone in your body, thoughts racing through your head at a mile a minute. At this point you were quite convinced your head would never quiet down enough to sleep before the sun came up.

You rolled over from your back, reaching for the sheets beside you which your phone laid upon.

3:46 am. You let out an exhausted groan after seeing the time on your lockscreen. There was only one thing you could think to do right now that would actually get you to calm down and sleep.

You instantly clicked on your messages, clicking on Matt’s contact info and clicking the call button before sitting up with the sheets still covering your cold legs.

It rang a quite few times before being answered, you felt bad; assuming you’d waken him up from his slumber since you’d previously facetimed him a few hours ago before he’d said he was going to lay down after filming a car video with his brothers.

“Everything okay, babe?” He asked with a groggy and concerned voice.

“Not really, I still just can’t shake the low feeling i’ve had all day. I don’t even know why i’ve been feeling this shitty all day, I just know it won’t go away and I can’t sleep.” You confessed while holding back tears.

“You wanna talk about it some more?”

“Yes please. I’m really sorry for waking you up, I love you baby.” You quickly let out before interrupting your words with a sob.

You felt an immense amount of guilt for putting something this heavy on him, especially just after you’d woken him up so late.

“Y/n stop, you’re okay honey. I love you, the last thing I want is for you to be apologizing for coming to me when you need me most. We’ve already been over this countless times, you never need to apologize to me for things like this.” He spoke in a soothing but troubled tone.

Anytime you apologized for confiding in him with your issues, he couldn’t help but feel his heart break more and more each time. He never wanted you to feel like a burden to him, he’d never forgive himself if he couldn’t be there for you in your times of need.

“I love you.” you hiccuped, struggling to even get the words out as the pace of your sobs only got quicker and more violent.

You tried to force more words out to describe the heavy and dreadful feeling in your chest, but you couldn’t even form the proper words and were only met with heavy aching sobs.

“Alright i’m coming over, you don’t need to leave the door unlocked i’ll just bring my key.” He stated, no longer being able to hear your cries and not be able to do anything about them.

“Do you want me to bring anything?” He asked sincerely.

“I’m not gonna ask you for anything, I already feel awful enough waking you up and making you feel like you need to come over.” You sniffled.

“So yes. I’m getting food and ice cream. You can either eat it or save it for later, i’m getting it regardless.”

You sniffled and smiled to yourself, knowing how lucky you were to have a boyfriend like him.

“Alright babe, i’m leaving now so i’m gonna hang up.” he told you as you heard his keys jingling, before the sound of the call ending.

Your apartment was pretty close to their house so it only took him about 20 minutes to get to you, normally it would be less time but he stopped by McDonalds grabbing food and mcflurries for you both.

Your sobs had slowed and calmed down to where they had pretty much came to a complete halt, tears still occasionally dripping down your face.

You got up slowly and turned your led lights and tv on, also deciding to light a candle since you were trying to set a calm vibe for yourself and for him to walk into.

A few minutes later you heard the sound of a key entering the lock of the front door and the knob turning as he opened the door and walked inside quietly closing it behind him.

His calm footsteps approached your room from the living room of your apartment, his face peeking into your already open bedroom door with a soft comforting smile as he met your puffy eyes.

“Hi baby.” He greeted you while kicking his shoes off beside your door and walking toward your spot on your bed with a drink carrier and a large bag of food.

“Hi.” you croaked scooting over so he could sit down next to you.

He placed the drink carrier with the drinks and mcflurries on your bedside table closest to him, setting the bag on the floor beside the bed and scooting over to you to give you a peck on the cheek.

You didn’t even exchange anymore words before he wrapped his arms around you and coaxed you to lay your head in the crook of his neck as you two pressed your backs against the wall behind your bed.

You deeply inhaled, stifling back a sob as you took in his scent and the warmth of his body against your own.

“Thank you for coming all the way over here, I love you and I appreciate you so much. You’re the love of my life.” you babbled, hot tears streaming down your cheeks.

“Always, I love you more than you’ll ever know and i’m so glad I could be here with you tonight.” He told you in a soft voice before pressing a long kiss to the top of your head.

He grabbed your remote and clicked on the Disney icon on your tv, putting on Gravity Falls for you guys to binge all over again for the millionth time. This was a show you guys both really enjoyed, and found yourself watching late at night relatively often.

He grabbed the mcflurries out of the carrier on the small table beside him and offered you yours, assuming it would soothe your most likely burning throat from your aggressive crying.

You took it, softly thanking him before you put a small bite of the ice cream into your mouth.

You guys finished your ice cream and ate all of your food in silence, him getting up to throw all of your garbage away in your kitchen and quickly returning.

He climbed back into the bed with you, laying down so you could get close to him again.

You laid your head on his chest, feeling his soft cotton t shirt on the side of your face while his chest rose up and down at a calm and slow pace.

You breathed in his scent while hearing the steady beat of his heart as he watched the tv on your wall in front of the bed. You looked up at his face, noticing the slight look of concentration on his features.

Eventually he noticed you looking up at him and returned your gaze, his eyes meeting yours for a few seconds before he leaned down to press a kiss against your lips.

There was nothing better than being in his arms and exchanging affection with him when you were feeling so miserable. There was nothing better regardless of your mood in all honesty.

Your heart swelled remembering all of the times you guys had been in this position before, cherishing every single memory like this one your brain had filed away.

“You feeling tired yet?” he questioned.

“Yeah, I feel a lot better now too.” you nodded.

You snuggled into his chest while adjusting yourself again to get as comfortable as possible to sleep.

He noticed as you began to dose off, the show still playing at a decent volume in the background. He only knew you’d started to fall asleep because your breathing got deeper.

“I love you.” he voiced quietly as he rubbed your back, being cautious as not to wake you if you’d completely passed out.

“I love you too.” you mumbled into the fabric of his shirt.

He only smiled as he closed his eyes and continued to softly rub the small of your back.

He cherished you just as much as you did him, maybe even more.

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feel free to drop a comment if you’d like to be added to my tag list! i’m also still accepting requests for both matt and chris! feel free to send anything to my asks, just no NSFW! <3

ps i’m sorry to whoever sent this ask in first lol i accidentally posted it before i even wrote anything bc i pressed post instead of saving the draft to go pick a picture that fit the concept of the fic 😭

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

tag list: @im-a-matt-girl @sturniolomads @hii-multifandom-toomany @stxrniqlo @mettsturniolo

[forlorn-crows]

𝒎𝒖𝒔𝒉𝒚 𝒎𝒂𝒚 𝒅𝒂𝒚 14: 𝒔𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒚 𝒃𝒂𝒃𝒚 𝒕𝒂𝒍𝒌

pairing(s): mountain/cumulus words: 829

special shoutout to @belle--ofthebrawl for the original inspo for this prompt. cause we all want snackies from a big schweepy guy <3

✿

“Luluuu . . .” Mountain’s congested voice carries weakly down the hallway. The bed creaks as he no doubt flops over to the other side of the mattress where she once was, his whine of disappointment sounding soon after. The air ghoulette shakes her head, pushing the door open. 

“What’s wrong, sunflower?” she coos, placing the steaming mug of honey green tea onto the nightstand. 

Mountain’s face scrunches up into a frown, eyes squeezing shut. His cheeks bare imprints of his pillow, and when he lifts his head up she can see his upper lip is shiny with mucus, and the corner of his mouth coated in drool. His ear flicks at the disheveled hair falling over it.

“You lef’ me,” he mumbles. “Woke up and you weren’ cuddlin’ me.” Clearly, he’s still highly feverish, if his combination mumbling/whining is anything to go by.

Cumulus just smiles. She thinks it’s cute, Mountain complaining like a human man with a cold. He’d never be so whiny otherwise.

“I went to get you more tea, baby,” she soothes, whipping up a cool breeze to waft over his forehead. He hums and plops his chin down onto the pillows. Cumulus huffs a laugh and sits down beside him. “You were snoring up a storm, didn’t think you’d wake up before I got back.” 

“Hmpf.” Mountain tosses the blanket over his head and turns around dramatically, pretending to shut her off. 

“I bring you tea, and this is the thanks I get?” she says, mock offended. 

There’s a pause. The earth ghoul peeks his head around his shoulder, side-eyeing her and the mug. “ . . . wha’ kind?”

Cumulus smiles softly. Leans in a little like she’s telling a secret. “Green tea with honey. A lemon slice. Don’t tell anyone, but I also put a dash of honeysuckle syrup in it, because I know my baby loves it.”

Mountain trills, ears perking up. “Gimme,” he demands, shuffling to sit up against the approximately five different pillows he’d stashed for optimal sleeping. He holds his hands out and scrunches them in the air. Cumulus hands the mug to him carefully to make sure he doesn’t drop it.

“Aethe warmed the water for me, so if it’s too hot, I’m innocent,” she chirps.

Mountain’s mouth turns down and his eyebrows turn up in the middle. “Aww,” he says appreciatively. He smiles down at the steaming liquid. “Aef . . .” 

“You know he always has to help.” 

Mountain hums in agreement. He takes an experimental sip, groaning when the hot tea slides easily down his throat. He takes a big gulp and closes his eyes after, sighing heavily and smiling at the ceiling. “Yummy,” he compliments. “‘S nice. Warm.” 

“I’m glad, baby,” she lilts, running her nails through his hair. It earns her a happy rumble, Mountain’s tail pitching up the blankets where it’s buried under the many layers. They share a pleasant, quiet moment: Mountain sipping on his tea and Cumulus scritching in all his favorite places. 

The peace of it is nearly broken, however, when Mountain’s eyes start to droop, and he nearly tips the mug over into his lap when his grip starts to go as lax as his jaw. 

“Oh!—hun, you’re gonna—” the air ghoulette saves the mug just before it slips from his fingers, hardly spilling a drop. 

Mountain snorts and jolts his head upright. “Huh?” 

“Didn’t want you to spill,” she says, setting the mug back onto the nightstand. “Sleepy boy.”

He blinks slowly, eyes lingering shut for just long enough that Cumulus is momentarily convinced he’s fallen right back asleep sitting up. “You made me seepy,” he accuses. Leaving out the ‘l’ like a kit unable to pronounce it any other way. 

Cumulus cuddles up, tucking him back into the blankets and pulling him to her chest. “Maybe seepy pup needs his rest then,” she says softly, scritching around his horns this time. He grumbles, but goes down easily. “There you go, baby,” she smiles. The grumble turns into a purr soon enough anyway, so it’s safe to say it was all token protest. 

Mountain mumbles something, twisting his body so he faces her instead. He looks up at her expectantly, despite the fact he aimed all of his words directly into her belly. 

“Yeees?” 

There’s that pout again, fever-addled brain continuing to render him as hopelessly cute. “Kissy, Lus,” he says, as if she heard him perfectly clear the first time. He wriggles his face closer to hers. 

“You’re sick. Nooo kissy on the lips.” She boops him on the nose with her finger. “You may have an air kiss, and I’ll make it feel just like the real thing.”

Mountain grumbles again, squinting at her.

“Sicky equals no kissy. I promise you as many kisses as you want when you’re better, okay, baby?”

The earth ghoul flops onto his back with a sigh. The end of it catches in his throat, though, and he’s sent into a coughing fit, squashing any further complaints. 

𝒑𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒆 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒓𝒆𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒈𝒊𝒏𝒈 ✿

[the-bi-space-ace]

I’m Cold

I told you I was back on my Crosshair and Echo bullshit and you couldn’t stop me and I’m back again. This time with another headcanon and a short fic for EchoVember for everyone to enjoy 🩶

I think the phrase “I’m cold.” Became a sign for these two to let the other comfort them. To stop arguments about feeling coddled or not wanting to appear weak. “I’m cold” means move over. Let me take some of the burden. Don’t argue with me. It’s a way to make the other feel better about accepting comfort so they feel more willing to accept it, as if they're helping the other person instead.

How about a cute little fic about how that starts?

Have you ever wanted a fic like "Oh, Shut Up" but the roles reversed? Well, here ya go! Some Echo and Crosshair hurt/comfort for your enjoyment <3

Happy Echovember!

Echo woke to what sounded like the cross of a groan and a whine, high pitched but pained. Instinct threw him to his feet, touching down onto the metal floor of the Marauder, confronted only with the dim light of the bunk room and the subtle snores from his squad. All sleeping except for Wrecker up in the cockpit on watch. It was still deep in the night cycle, their next mission still a rotation out from their current position. There that noise was again. This time Echo could pinpoint where it was coming from. He turned towards it, spotting the restless lump on the bunk across from him. 

Crosshair was sleeping but it wasn’t restful, body tossing and turning underneath the covers. Every so often he let out a noise not unlike the first one. Short gasps and grumbles that could have been words but Echo couldn’t discern what he was trying to say. It wasn’t often that Crosshair got nightmares. There were always times bad dreams plagued them but Crosshair’s were few and far between. It was always possible that he just hid it better than the rest of them, too proud to show himself needing help in front of them. On the rare occasion he couldn’t hide it, usually Wrecker was at his side the second he made a noise, not even bothering to wake him up before climbing into the bunk. Crosshair always grumbled, bit back something snappy about how he’d been woken up, but he let Wrecker lay with him. Maybe that said more about Crosshair’s state in those moments than anything else. 

Another toss, face screwed up in pain, and Echo couldn’t wait any longer. He was careful not to let his feet make noise when he started to tip toe over to the other bunk. Noise behind him drew his eyes upward, meeting Hunter’s gaze as he was midway through tossing his own blanket off. Hunter tipped his head at Echo, eyes darting between him and their suffering squadmate. Was he the best person for this? That he didn’t quite know but he was already out of bed. No need to have someone else take over what he’d already determined he would do. 

Echo paused but flashed a quick hand signal to his sergeant. 

I’ll take point. 

Surprise flashed across Hunter’s expression for only a second then he flashed a quick OK before settling back down in his bunk. Echo could feel the eyes still on him but he’d committed to this course of action and he’d never been one to give up so soon. 

Approaching a squad mate had never felt so weighty before. The dominoes had been loud, excitable, but he’d never felt quite so out of his depth. Perhaps approaching from eye level was safer. Echo crouched by the side of the bunk so he could watch Crosshair’s face, screwed up as it was. Tear tracks ran down his face, unable to stop the emotion while still asleep, leaving a glistening target in the dark. Echo took a deep breath. 

“Crosshair.” Echo whispered. Nothing. Still tossing and turning uninhibited. With gentleness he’d not exhibited in a while he laid a hand on Crosshair’s shoulder, rocking him gently. “Hey, Cross.” The touch woke him almost instantly, breath sucked in through his nose and bleary eyes cracking open. As quick and observant as ever, Crosshair closed his eyes again and rubbed the back of his arm over his face, trying to disguise the telltale sign of tears. 

Echo’s heart squeezed a bit. He didn’t have to do that. Hide. Not from any of them. 

“What do you want, reg?” He bit out. Scratchiness from sleep mixed with a thickness that Echo hadn’t heard from Crosshair before. 

“You were making noise.” Echo said. His hand was pushed away as Crosshair rolled over onto his back, eyes studying the ceiling above him. 

Crosshair scoffed. “Sorry to disturb your sleep, didn’t realize regs needed such perfect conditions to pass out.” He sniffed, rubbing his arm over his eyes once more to confirm he’d gotten all of the tears off of his cheeks. Echo felt like he was trying to approach a scared tooka, one that was one step away from hissing and batting him away. 

“Are you okay?” He asked, ignoring the dig.

“Piss off.” Crosshair bit out, head turning to face the opposite wall. Wasn’t an answer to the question. 

“I get nightmares, too, ya know.” Echo sighed, resting his arm and scomp against each other on the edge of the bed. 

“I’m aware.” He grumbled, letting them fall into silence. The quiet only lasted until Crosshair huffed, turning back onto his side to stare menacingly at Echo. The red rimmed eyes undercut the curated mask. “Just go back to bed.” A dismissal. He wasn’t going to be thwarted that easily. Breaking down Crosshair’s walls took consistency. He was learning the longer he spent with Clone Force 99 that his bond with Crosshair would take work but once it was earned it would be difficult to break. 

Echo was planning on earning it.

“Already awake. No sense going all the way over there again.” Echo shrugged, gesturing behind him with his scomp. All it did was make Crosshair glare a bit harder as if it would scare Echo away from him. Most of the bite to him was to scare people off, not let them too close otherwise they might start to matter. That’s what freaked Crosshair out, Echo was sure of it, that someone new might matter to him and it would hurt if one day they were gone. Better to ruin it before it got to that point, frighten off Echo before he made up his mind and decided to stay for good. 

Not a chance he was letting that happen. 

Echo had twice Crosshair’s weight in stubbornness. Once his mind was made up he was sticking to it, even if he had to get knocked down a few times before he could stand on his own two feet. He met the glare with a raised eyebrow, tipping his head in challenge. 

A petulant eye roll accompanied a tired deflation. “I’m fine, reg. Use your pity on someone else.” 

“It’s not pity. You woke me, remember? This is your punishment for that.” The joke halfway landed, he saw it in Crosshair’s eyes, but it wasn’t quite enough to soften his mood, still grumbling and keeping his feelings too close to his chest. Echo reached his scomp out as an offering, one that Crosshair eyed but didn’t take. Not taking any of the bait. Must’ve been a pretty shitty dream. Echo deflated. His mind raced through options. Whatever he chose to do might get him slapped for his effort with the way his squadmate was reacting. He was at a loss until he shrugged, letting his head lay on his folded arm. 

“I’m cold.” Echo wasn’t sure how he had meant that to sound, how he’d like it to be taken, but waiting was the only way you got an answer out of their sniper. Crosshair watched his face for what felt like a full minute, thoughts racing behind steady eyes, brow pinching with that well earned skepticism. Temperature was almost always consistent on ships, especially theirs. Tech didn’t like it fluctuating too much. Bad for his ship as he’d say. The ‘cold’ was a poor excuse and they both knew it. Giving up was on the horizon, he’d fumbled this interaction enough it was about time to pack it in, but Crosshair surprised him as he often did. 

Crosshair shuffled backwards, making room on the tiny regulation bunk, then lifted the blanket as if offering an invitation. Hesitation would only make Crosshair skittish so Echo took the opportunity in stride and slid into the free space. The mattress was warm, heated by the body recently laying in that spot, and the blanket thrown over his shoulders added to the exchange of body heat. Echo turned onto his back and lifted his arm to let Crosshair scoot forward, tucking into the space to rest his head comfortably on his chest. Echo held him tightly, hand rubbing absentmindedly over the expanse of his back. A weary sigh left the other man’s body, finally melting into Echo’s side like it had brought at least some relief. 

Echo would like to believe that he could still give this kind of comfort. That he wasn’t so changed that his squad wouldn’t want to share such close space with him. He remembered holding Fives like this, carding fingers through his hair. Crosshair’s wasn’t quite as long but it was enough to run the tips of his fingers through, blunt nails scratching lightly over his scalp. 

“Echo?” The muffled voice brought Echo’s eyes downward. Crosshair wasn’t looking at him but he did squeeze tighter into the space, pressing his forehead to Echo’s neck, his arm stretching across Echo’s waist to keep the hold firm. No other words came but he got the message. Whether it was the way he squeezed back or the way his chest stuttered every so often Echo wouldn’t ever divulge. It was enough of an admission. Enough to know he was on the right track. Echo was as content to be the source of warmth for the night as Crosshair was to accept it now. 

Protectiveness swept through him, almost overwhelmingly so. Something in him wanted to chase away all of those sour thoughts. The ones that made pits grow in your stomach and your throat tighten. Make sure none of Clone Force 99 had to hurt, even if that hurt came in the form of nightmares or cold nights. Without thinking too hard about it Echo pressed a quick kiss to the top of Crosshair’s head. “I know, Cross, I know.”