#i just had nowhere else to say this and needed to babble

[gummydummy19]

No one else

Summary: You see Price again for the first time after he went on mission…and after you slept with him months ago

Content Warning: mentions of smut, angst, age gap

Pairing: John Price x reader (NO GENDER/LOOKS SPECIFIED)

A/N: short, sweet and angsty, folks! this has been in my drafts for a looooong time, enjoy <3

Word Count: 1100+

“I…I haven’t...been...with anyone else, you know?”

“What?”, He looked down at you, your head resting on his sticky chest, listening to his heartbeat.

“Since you left…I uhm….I haven’t slept with anyone else.”

It had been months since you last saw him.

You and John had been friends for years. Sure, he was a little older than you, but you never cared. He was handsome and smart and kind and he always knew what to do.

He was the one you called when your car broke down on the side of the road. The one who took you for a drink after a long day at work.

And last summer, he suddenly became the one who made you cum so many times you forgot your own name.

It was a one-time thing. A moment of heated passion between two friends. The fact that you'd had a crush on him for over a year played no part in the matter.

Besides, you didn't have much time to dwell, because the next morning when he got called into work, he was told that he was needed for another mission.

Well it turns out, that did actually leave you lots of time to dwell. Six months of it.

It had gone by incredibly fast and agonizingly slow at the same time, but there he was, back home, taking sips of his beer on your couch while you cooked him his first decent meal in half a year.

You'd been eyeing each other all night. Small talk paired with small touches. After dessert, when there were no more dishes to be washed, no more stupid questions to be asked, nowhere left to hide, he kissed you.

And that left you here, in your bedroom. Tangled in the forest green sheets, sweaty and satisfied. His rough hands drew gentle shapes on your shoulder until you opened your stupid mouth.

“I havent been with anyone else…”

Price was quiet, with an expression on his face that gave little away.

The silence grew thicker by the second. An uncomfortable feeling settled in your stomach and you started to regret even saying anything.

You were about to mumble out an excuse, apologize, tell him never mind, and that it was silly. Your mouth opened but before the first sound could fly out of your throat, he broke the silence.

“Neither have I.”, he stated dryly.

“You haven’t?”, you sat up a little, getting a better look at his face.

“You thought I had?” He raised his brow a little, you could tell it was a reflex. He almost looked…annoyed.

"Yeah, I mean...no....I don't know", you babbled.

"Well, I didn't."

"You could have."

"I didn't want to." he replied with just a twinge of irritation, “Did you want me to?”

“No I just…I wouldn’t have been mad…if you had.”

His brows twisted in what can only be described as a dumbfounded frown.

“What the…” he grumbled, sitting up fully too. “So if I would have fucked some other lass, you would’a been totally fine with that?”

Your eyes darted around nervously as you tried to figure out how to answer that question.

“I just…you can do what you want. You don’t have any responsibilities towards me. I would have understood if you had…if…if you’d…”

The thought of him with another woman made you sick to your stomach, but you knew you couldn't have expected that of him. That he'd stayed loyal to someone he'd slept with once.

Well...twice now.

"Alright then, good to know how you feel," he said as he got out of bed, quickly grabbing his boxers off the floor and pulling them on.

"W-, Price, where are you going?"

"I clearly got this all wrong, that's on me."

"No wait, please! I...I'm sorry I just...I..." you babbled. Your chest felt tight, that familiar feeling of panic settled in the pit of your stomach as you watched him grab his stuff off the floor.

“Can you please just hold on a minute? Please?”, you pleaded, “John!”

That got his attention. His eyes locked with yours as he stood there brooding like an angry bear.

“I thought…” he started, you could tell he was trying to keep himself composed, “I thought we had something. I thought we were something. A thing. The pair of us.”

You sat there on the bed, with your thin sheet wrapped flimsily around yourself, staring up at him.

“John…I”

“I know we didn’t exactly have a conversation about it…but after what happened I just sort of assumed…and I shouldn’t have.”

“No! God, I’m such an idiot…I'm just expressing myself all wrong…", you tried explaining, “I wanted you to know I hadn’t been with anyone else…because I don’t want anyone else…but I also know we didn’t talk about it so I would have no right to be mad if you…if you had…”

“Screwed someone else?”, he damn near barked.

“Yeah…", you visibly flinched at the thought this time. "Can you please sit back down? Please?"

He obliged. The mattress dipped a little as he sat down on the edge of the bed, his back toward you. The room was quiet again. You didn't really know what to say or do...you had missed him so much...all you wanted was to be close to him, that was all you had wanted for months.

You were staring at the freckles on his back and you couldn't help but lean closer, your lips carefully brushing against the skin and pressing a loving kiss there. You felt him tense up, yet he remained quiet.

"The thought alone makes me sick..." you started, hoping he would get what you were referring to, "but I would have understood, you were gone for a long time and you didn’t make any promises to me”

You felt him tense up again when you said that last part.

“M'not angry at you sweetheart, I'm just angry at myself ", he turned around, his sweet, blue eyes gazing at you with nothing but love and affection.

"I promised my heart to you a long time ago, I was just too dense to tell you about it..."

"Oh, John..", was all you could muster, you reached out and gently put your hand against his bearded cheek. He leaned into your touch, placing his own hand over yours.

"I should have at least made it clear how I felt, sweetheart, instead of leaving you wondering if I was fucking someone else for six months. Because I wasn’t. All I wanted was to be with you. There’s no one else I want, love.”

You were at a loss for words, so you settled for a kiss. Not that he was complaining, because he immediately maneuvered you onto his lap, mumbling praises and apologies.

Taglist;

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[storiesforallfandoms]

too far ~ jschlatt

word count: 2231

request?: no

description: in which he takes his dickishness a little too far

pairing: jschlatt x female!reader

warnings: swearing, rpf, angst, use of y/n, schlatt being a dick, insecurities and self...issues (?),

masterlist (one, two, three)

*i read a fic with this premise like a week or two ago but i cannot for the life of me find it anymore and i needed some mean schlatt angst turned fluff so i am writing my own version. if you are the original author this one goes out to you i will tag you if i can find you*

Everyone who knew Schlatt knew that he was sometimes "mean". It was never serious, it was all just meant to be teasing. For the most part, the worst of it went to Minx who was able to match his energy without it ever affecting her. Everyone else just got a few comments every now and then, but never anything incredibly rude.

Until it suddenly got directed all on you.

You had known Schlatt for some time, having met him through his online friend group while gaming one night. You had become acquainted quickly and you found yourself being excited whenever you knew you'd be playing or recording with him. It seemed like he felt the same way, or at least he was friendly and civil. That was until one recording when you were excitedly talking about something, he suddenly piped up to say, "Jesus, do you ever shut the fuck up?"

Everyone was laughing, so you figured it was just a joke, but it took you by surprise. You knew Schlatt was blunt, but it seemed completely out of nowhere when no one else seemed to mind your babble. You chuckled along with everyone, but you found yourself falling silent for the rest of the recording. Some of the others would include you in the conversation, but you only gave short answers.

After that, it seemed like Schlatt would be picking on you more and more. He rarely had anything nice to say to or about you. It became harder and harder to want to do recordings or streams when he was acting like that, and your mutual friends were starting to notice his continued bullying. It made everyone feel uncomfortable, even if he kept insisting it was just jokes.

It all came to a head when you were asked to do one of those "dating shows" on YouTube. It was you, Minx, Emma, and Jaiden, and Schlatt, Ted, Tanner, and Connor, with Jack hosting it. You weren't sure what the rules were or how the game was supposed to go down, but you loved watching the hilarity of other online "dating shows", and couldn't wait to be a part of it. You were a little weary of Schlatt's presence, but there were so many people involved that you figured you wouldn't get the brunt of his insults today.

Jack sent you the link for the Zoom call. You were one of the last people to join the call, so you were immediately met with a cacophony of overlapping voices. You chuckled to yourself at the familiar chaos. You adjusted your volume settings and positioned your webcam before turning it on.

A high pitched scream brought the conversations to a halt.

"What the fuck was that?" Jack said with a laugh.

"I think it was Schlatt," Ted said.

"Yeah it was me. Sorry, I just saw a jumpscare," Schlatt responded.

"What the fuck are you on about?" Minx asked.

"I saw (Y/N)'s ugly mug suddenly join the call and it scared me."

Everyone was silent. Your face burned and tears started to form in your eyes. Your body moved before your brain could register, your hand moving your mouse to click the "End Call" button. The moment everyone's faces disappeared, you allowed yourself to cry.

For all the hurtful stuff Schlatt had said, he had never gone after your appearance. It was one of your biggest insecurities because you felt like you didn't measure up to other female streamers. Sure, that was a cliche insecurity, but it was your truth. You marveled at how pretty all your friends were and would often mentally compare yourself to them. It wasn't something you had spoken publicly about, so obviously Schlatt didn't know he would touch a nerve, but it still felt like an extremely low blow. Especially for it to be the first thing you heard when you turned your camera on.

You sent Jack a message to apologize for leaving, but you told him you didn't feel up to doing the show anymore. He responded almost immediately to let you know that it was okay and he didn't blame you for your decision. You were shutting down your set up when your Discord started ringing; a voice call from Ted.

"Aren't you supposed to be recording?" you asked, trying to keep your voice even.

"We're taking a quick break while Jack decides if he wants Schlatt to compete anymore," Ted explained.

"Don't kick him off just because of me," you said.

"We don't really want him to play after what he said. It was incredibly fucked up and uncalled for."

"He's said worse to Minx."

"Yeah, but he and Minx have an understanding. We've all noticed that he makes fun of you, but you don't respond the way Minx does. I don't know what his problem is recently, but you don't deserve those insults. You're an incredibly kind person, unlike us assholes."

You chuckled through your tears. "You're not an asshole, Ted."

"I am sometimes, don't lie."

"Only a little bit." You wiped the fresh tears from your eyes and let out a shaky sigh. "I don't want to record with Schlatt anymore."

"I understand," Ted said. "I'll let everyone know, too."

"Thank you."

When you and Ted hung up, you sat back in your chair and took a deep breath. The sting from Schlatt's words was still strong, but you also felt some relief in having talking to Ted about it and him assuring you that you wouldn't have to record with Schlatt anymore. It still upset you that Schlatt made such a 180 when it seemed like you were both getting along so well, but you weren't going to wast anymore brain space on him.

Your phone buzzed from a Discord notification. You looked down at the screen to see Schlatt was trying to send you a message. Instead of reading it, you went to his Discord profile and blocked him.

~~~~~~

It was easier than you thought to forget about Schlatt and his insults. All your friends did as you asked didn't invite you to recordings if Schlatt was a part of them, or vice versa with him. You went on to block him on all social media, and even muting his channels on YouTube so you wouldn't risk seeing him in your recommended. It was like he never existed, and you didn't even care.

You were in the middle of editing a video when a knock came at your door. You assumed it was the Uber Eats you had ordered, so you saved your progress and got up to answer. Instead of finding a delivery guy, you came face to face with the man you had been avoiding for weeks.

"What are you doing here?" you asked. "Wait, better question, how do you know where I live?"

"I bothered Ted until he told me," Schlatt responded.

You rolled your eyes. "Ted's dead to me."

You went to close the door, but Schlatt's hand shot out to block the door. You scowled at him. "Take the hint, Schlatt. I don't want to see you."

"I know you don't, and I get why, but please let me explain and apologize."

"I don't want to hear what you have to say. Honestly, you don't even deserve to take up my time to try and give some shitty explanation for your shitty behavior."

"I know - "

"You really hurt me," you cut him off. "I took the insults in silence because I knew you poked fun at everyone, but they really hurt me. It got to a point where I was dreading having to interact with you every time someone invited to a Discord call and I saw that you were in there too."

"(Y/N) - "

"And then you called me ugly in a call in front of everyone and that hurt the most. I know it shouldn't have given how much else you've said to me, but my looks are one of my biggest insecurities, and I know you probably didn't know that but still, going after how I look was such a low blow. And it hurts so much because I thought we were friends, but suddenly you're insulting me and bullying me at every chance you get, and it almost felt worse than the way you act with Minx so how am I supposed to take it as anything other than you not liking me and - "

Your rambling was finally cut off by Schlatt taking hold of your face and pulling you into him. You were shocked when you felt his lips against yours. Your initial reaction was to pull away and to start yelling at him again, but suddenly your brain switched to tell you lean into it. So you did. You pressed into Schlatt as much as you could; your body against his, your hands on his hoodie, standing on your toes so you could reach him.

Also to your surprise, Schlatt was the one to pull away first. He rested his forehead against yours, keeping his face inches apart from yours.

"That was one way to get me to stop talking," you joked.

He smiled. "Seemed to be the most effective way."

"So, are you about to tell me the reason you were being mean to me is because you liked me? Because if so, that is a very elementary school explanation."

"Unfortunately, that is the reason."

You pulled away from Schlatt and finally gestured for him to come in. You realized you had been standing in the doorway this whole time, and now that you had somewhat calmed down, you figured you'd listen to his explanation. You were much more intrigued now after your kiss, although you were far from completely forgiving him for what had happened.

You led Schlatt to your living room and you both sat down on the couch. You were very much aware of how close you two were sat. His body was inches away from yours. You could be touching him again if you wanted to.

"I was trying to push you away," he said, bringing you back to the topic at hand. "I was afraid you wouldn't like me back, and it felt easier to make you hate me than to risk that rejection."

"No offense, but that's a really stupid idea."

He chuckled. "Yeah, no offense taken because you're right. I should've just talked to you about it like an adult instead of assuming you would've rejected me. I thought the easier route would be to make you hate me, but then that succeeded and I realized how much I missed getting to talk to you. Not to sound too corny or anything, but everything felt empty when you weren't around. I knew I fucked up majorly, and I tried to apologize that night after what happened, but you blocked me on everything and I realized just how far I had actually gone."

You thought back to the call you had with Ted that day when everything had come to a head with Schlatt. "Did you not tell Ted how you felt?"

"Not until I begged him for your address. Listen, I love Ted and all, but the dude has a big fuckin' mouth. He would've let it slip one way or another how I feel about you, and I didn't want that. Actually, no one knew. I kept it to myself completely."

"You're an idiot. You know that, right?"

He nodded. "I'm more than well aware, yes."

"And you know it's going to take more than just kissing me and apologizing to completely redeem yourself? I understand why you acted the way you did, as stupid as it was, but it still really hurt me. I'm not going to forget everything just because you were being stupid."

"I don't expect you to. All I wanted was to explain myself and hope that you'd give me a second chance. I'm serious, (Y/N), I don't think I can just not have you in my life. If you don't want to date, that's fine. I'm okay with something platonic, as long as I have you."

You smiled and finally dared to reach out and touch him. You took his hand in yours, running your thumb over his knuckles. You then dared to lean forward and capture his mouth with yours in a quick, gentle kiss. When you pulled away, Schlatt had a smile on his face. You mirrored it with a smile of your own.

"You'll have to work for forgiveness," you told him. "You can start by taking me out on a date."

"Done," he said. "Right now?"

You giggled. "Maybe tomorrow. I was actually in the middle of editing a video when you came, and I have Uber Eats on the way."

As if on cue, there was a knock at your door.

"That would be it."

"Can I stay and hang out while you edit?" Schlatt asked.

"Of course. But I'm not sharing my food with you."

"Oh, you have no choice. You invited me in and let me stay, therefore you're sharing your food."

"You know what? Go fuck yourself, I take back everything I said."

You exclaimed and giggled as he suddenly grabbed you and pulled you to him. "Too late! No take backs! You're stuck with me for a very long time, toots."

[marigold-hills]

Coming here to humbly request my beloved wolfstar at prompt 41?

of course! I was so happy to see you request. It’s turned out a little longer than I expected, hope you enjoy!

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

“I’m not drunk enough for this,” Remus says because the truth - that he’s altogether too drunk for this - would make it stop.

They’re playing truth or dare, Marauders edition. To their left, little shot glasses spiked with Veritaserum James has been brewing in a hidden alcove behind his bed. To their right glasses full of their chosen alcohol. Remus has a cheap muggle whiskey he’d learnt to enjoy over the summer, nowhere as smooth as what they sometimes get in the Three Broomsticks but he’s fond of how it burns when he swallows.

He prefers not to examine this.

“Come on, Moonshine, truth of dare,” Sirius cajols from his spot, sprawled out as he is across the rug at Remus’ feet. Hair a tangled mess on the floor, silly little grin stretching his lips and eyes just that side of glassy from the posh gin he has swirling like golden freckles in his glass. He’s a mess. He’s beautiful.

“Truth,” Remus sighs, faux-put out. His last dare involved standing and hopping and he doesn’t think he’s got the coordination left for any more.

Peter’s asleep in the corner of the floor, head wedged underneath his four-poster. Now and then, he snores and tries to roll over. Each time the bed leg gets in his way and he bounces away, disgruntled sleepy little sounds not unlike Wormtail’s.

James had gone to get supplies from the kitchen. Ostensibly. By the way he eyed the door as Evan’s laugh rose from downstairs, Remus doesn’t think he’s really coming back.

He rather likes having Sirius’ attention all to himself, is the thing. A bad thing. Another thing he prefers not to examine.

Sirius nudges the shot of potion and Remus, still pretending to be so very against the idea, drinks.

It’s James’ very own take on Veritaserum. Not enough to make them babble away all their secrets, not enough to force them to answer against their will. Just that whatever they do say, should they choose to, can be absolutely verified as truth.

Just one way of many that James, an absolute lovesick fool he is, is actually remarkably clever.

Remus drinks the agreed upon dose (three sips) and closes his eyes against the sudden rush of floaty giddiness. It goes as fast as it came.

Sirius sits up from his sprawl, and he looks so much like Padfoot for a moment Remus has to fight himself from stroking his head. It’s an ok thing to do to a dog. Not to a man.

“You’ve been reading poetry,” Sirius says with that self satisfied little lilt he gets in his voice when he’s a few steps ahead of everyone else.

“That’s not a question,” Remus tells him.

“You’ve been reading love poetry,” and there he is, leaning forward so his chin rests on Remus’ bed, those eyes of his looking up through those lashes and even without the potion Remus would tell him anything he asked.

“You didn’t need to give me Veritaserum to discuss literature, Padfoot.”

The smile stretches. “You’re not reading your dreary sad poetry, or your creepy gothic poetry, or your too-much-description-of-the-mountains poetry. Not anymore. You’re reading about love.”

Remus freezes. Because of course Sirius would notice. He notices everything, always, without fail. “And your question?”

Sirius doesn’t look like he’s asking, his eyes have something in them like he already knows. “Who is it?”

A redundancy of words. Remus sighs. Drinks his drink - for courage, not for forfeit. “You already know, Sirius,” he says, trying to keep his voice still. “Don’t be cruel.”

Sirius pushes off the floor and climbs up onto the bed and into Remus’ lap, and that? He didn’t expect that. His hands are full of Sirius, keeping him steady so he doesn’t go toppling off.

They really are drunk. The both of them, bad as one another.

“Tell me anyway,” Sirius asks. It’s nothing like begging, maybe more like a command, but really it sounds like Sirius knows he would never be denied. There is no point in asking when the answer is already given. (With every breath and every shared cup of tea, every glance across a room.)

“You know it’s you, Sirius,” Remus tells him through the Veritaserum’s pushing, without really knowing he does.

Sirius pounces. They topple backward onto the bed, Remus spread out on the mattress and Sirius on him, across him, above him. A grin so wide his teeth show, pretty and white and perfect. He smells like the overly expensive gin he’s been drinking.

“If you kiss me because you’re drunk, I don’t think I’ll forgive you,” Remus tells him.

“How about I kiss you because I love you?”

And that? “That you should absolutely do,” Remus falters, “do you?”

Sirius grabs the nearest wand (it’s Remus’) and has his own shot glass float up to where he’s clearly unwilling to get off Remus even for a moment. He drinks the three sips. “I do,” he says, once he’s given the potion enough time to work.

It’s Remus, that kisses him first.  (List of prompts: here!)

[rafeysvenicebitch]

Wherever You Are, That’s Home˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

summary: Churchbunny!Reader and Rafe welcome their baby girl and return to life on the road — this time, not running, but rebuilding. A tiny RV, a trailer park, and the kind of love that makes any place holy.

cw: fluffier than a marshmallow, domestic!rafe, u will cry

She came into the world pink and screaming, a little miracle with her daddy’s eyes and your soft cheeks, and Rafe cried harder than you’d ever seen him.

“She’s perfect,” he kept whispering. “She’s so fuckin’ perfect, baby.”

Now she was a few weeks old, and your little family was back on the road.

Not because you were running this time, but because you wanted peace. A fresh start. The kind of quiet life no one else could touch.

The trailer park wasn’t much, just gravel, wild weeds, and tired neighbors, but the spot you picked had a sliver of shade and enough room for your little RV and the makeshift yard Rafe fenced in with salvaged wood.

You tried to make it feel like a home.

You sewed up baby blankets in soft pastels and stitched her name into the corner. You painted the cabinets a faded blue and taped family polaroids to the fridge. Rafe built the crib by hand. Every nail crooked, every board stained with care, and painted tiny stars across the headboard just to make you smile.

“I want her to look up at the same stars we did,” he said one night, arms wrapped around you on the tiny couch.

But what really made it home was him.

Rafe, with a baby strapped to his chest in a sling he swore he hated but never took off. Rafe, carrying her around the trailer like she was royalty, narrating everything he did in that soft drawl just for her.

“Alright, now we put in the drywall anchor, yeah? You gotta learn early, princess.”

She’d giggle and wave her tiny fists and he’d kiss her head and beam like she was the smartest baby alive.

He held her while you cooked. Pressed kisses to the top of her head while she gnawed on a measuring spoon and clung to his shirt.

“She’s learnin’,” he’d say with a wink, rocking her gently as the stove hissed. “She’s gonna make eggs better than you by the time she’s two.”

“She’s five weeks old.”

“She’s advanced.”

Sometimes you’d catch them outside, Rafe hammering something into the side of the RV, baby girl sitting in a laundry basket full of pillows next to him like his little apprentice. He talked to her like she was grown, and she babbled back like she understood every word.

And at night, when the cicadas hummed and the only light came from the cheap string lights above the bed, you’d find Rafe shirtless and half-asleep, your daughter curled on his chest, his big hands splayed protectively around her tiny back.

“This is it,” he whispered once, barely awake, eyes on you across the dark. “This is all I ever fuckin’ needed.”

And you believed him. Because no one could call you ruined now. You weren’t fallen. You weren’t shamed.

You were found. In the middle of nowhere. In a run-down trailer with paint peeling and a crib made from love. You had a man who worshipped your daughter like she was holy and kissed you like you were the altar.

And no matter what the world said?

This was home.

Tagging Moots: @memoirofasparklemuff1n @rafesbabygirlx @ilovefiction4lmen @strawberries-and-lots-of-kisses @rafeyscumangel @rafeyscumangel-recs @mqyra

[adhdwriterfr3ak]

pairing. shauna shipman x reader summary. you confront shauna about her being pregnant word count. 506 info. they/them reader, fluff, S1 shauna, 2nd pov, no use of y/n, could be platonic or romantic, worrying reader series. part 1 to this!! engagement will make me have more motivation to wrte pt. 2

For everything that happened, today wasn't so bad. It was as normal as you could get living in the middle of fucking nowhere. The group had a stable supply of food, a solid water source, shelter... Hell, you could go as far as to say they were all thriving in their conditions.

The only thing bothering you was the lingering thought of Shauna and her baby. Well, what you assumed was her baby. You hadn't gotten any confirmation yet; you just assumed. Morning sickness, faking her period—even eating more. They were all surefire ways to tell if someone was pregnant, right? Even so, you could tell she was wearing baggier clothing, most likely to hide her growing bump.

You notice Shauna walking away from Jackie, and you stand up. It'd be a good place to catch her and talk, so you follow her quickly.

"Hey, Shauna." You cheer, jogging up to her until you're by her side. She looks at you slightly confused—after all, you two weren't close by miles. Team members were all you were.

"Uh, hey, did you need something?" She questioned, eyebrows a little furrowed as she asked. Her pace had slowed down a bit as she was walking to match yours.

"No, I'm good. I just, uh, needed to ask you a question." You said in return, feeling a bundle of nerves in your stomach. You didn't want to come off as intruding, but you were restless just thinking about the prospect of her being pregnant. It'd be so dangerous out here, especially for the baby.

"Shoot." She smiled softly, slowing down in her tracks till you were both standing still, just a little away from camp. Far enough that nobody could see either of you.

"You're pregnant." You blurted out, gasping and covering your mouth with your hand once you realised what you said. You meant it to come out way more nicely than that.

"Oh, my God—oh, my God, did Tai tell you?" She gasped, doe eyes blown wide as she looked at you. Her hands instinctively went to her stomach, holding it there as she looked at you.

"What? No, I saw you faking your period. Oh wait, you are pregnant!" You gasped loudly, removing your hand from your mouth. She looked at you in alarm, waving her hands around to stop you in your tracks before you started panicking.

"Shush! Nobody else knows." She hissed, grabbing your arms and shaking you, snapping you out of your shock.

"Oh, my God—you're going to freaking die. We're all going to freaking die out here, oh my Go-" You babbled, panicking as you looked at Shauna.

"No! Stop, just—just calm down, okay?" Shauna comforted, loosening her grip on your arms. It was quite ironic—you'd have thought the pregnant woman would be much more panicked than her teammate.

"Look, come with me for a walk, yeah?" She questioned softly, dropping her hands to her sides. If she was nervous, she was masking it well. Shauna looked more concerned over you freaking out.

[moongreenlight]

Need more secret wife please 😭😭🙏🙏🙏

WIP Wednesday? WIP Wednesday.

Secret Wife p3 SMALL UPDATE that I have been hoarding like a dragon with treasure lol (I am riddled with guilt)

It takes Johnny upwards of two hours sat alone in his car in silence to fully process what just happened. He’d tried to ask a thousand follow up questions in some rapid-fire babble, but he was met with a wall of stony silence. Goes on stupidly for well over two minutes until Ghost knocks him with a cupped palm on his temple. Little rougher than could be considered friendly, but nowhere near harmful. Served to bring him back to earth.

“Take a breath, sergeant.”

The low rumble of Simon’s voice barely rises over the dull roar of the cars around them.

“Fuck off.”

Johnny looks less gobsmacked than he feels.

“Mind your manners.”

A bite. He must’ve quit smoking around you for the time being. Made him more waspish than usual.

“Cannae believe you, bastard. Kept a secret tha’ big from us all this time?”

Simon took a labored breath in. A sigh like the stiffness of his muscles was creating a vice around his lungs. He threw a sideways glance back toward your car a few aisles over. Like he was making sure you were still there and situated. Pursed his lips and rubbed the bridge of his nose while saying something about how Soap was to under no circumstance take you up on the dinner offer. Turned on his heel and made his way back over to you without a goodbye.

Johnny had half a mind to disobey out of sheer bull-headedness but decided against it just before he sent you a message on his last day of leave. Deleted the text he’d drafted and resigned to trying to press Simon more about things when they got back on base.

He tried, persistent bugger that he is, to pester his L.T. to give up more information. When the two of you’d gotten married. Why he hadn’t said anything. Why wasn’t he invited to the wedding? Was there a wedding? Does anyone else know? All fruitless. Snubbed each time.

He would have been offended if he hadn’t come to know Ghost so well over the years. He’s cagey at his warmest, so it’s no real surprise that he’s kept this under lock and key. The real shock came from the understanding that it happened at all in the first place. Johnny had a hard time wrapping his mind around someone as kind and welcoming as you somehow getting tangled with someone as stoic and brutish as Ghost. He tried to conjure up infinitely many situations where the two of you met and the coupling made sense, but he never stumbled on one that felt right.

Your went into labor over a month early. Just a few weeks after the boys had returned to base. Four hours before the boys were due to board a flight that would deploy them for three weeks. It was the only time Simon had ever been late to call. Johnny was sent to go track him down by an extraordinarily eggy Price.

He found him ready to leave, rifle slung over his back like a soldier. Pacing the hall outside your room in the bay. Down a short corridor in the back that usually hosted surgeries. He was whale-eyed and hostile toward the sound of Johnny’s boots echoing across the brick. It was jarring to see him so agitated. His hulking frame tangibly vibrating through the pounds of gear he was sporting. He truly considered just walking away. Spinning some tale about desertion because that seemed entirely less daunting than trying to corner an animal like Ghost.

Johnny eventually got him to leave. It was a non-option at this point, just a matter of getting the big bastard into the chopper. Tugging him away was like leashing a feral dog. He was fanatical, tugging at the lead and choking himself the entire way across the landing pad. Didn’t stop snarling until he was pushed down into his seat by Price and made to shut up.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Hello! Can I request Dad! Stanley?

Stanley had his ups and downs, much like life itself but everything he did he did with reason…some of the time.

He’s an okay dad but you wouldn’t want him any other way as Stan has shown you time and time again that he’d put you first 100% no matter what.

He’s gives you a plethora of nicknames;

Pipsqueak

Kiddo/kid

Short stack

Pain in my ass-

You probably don’t know much about Ford because Stan was still bitter about how things were left of between them.

That and the fact that he didn’t want you involved with the paranormal that resides within Gravity Falls and potentially getting hurt in the process.

Though this would all changed when Mabel and Dipper came for the summer and a mysterious journal was found hidden within the woods, which inevitably lead to you, Dipper and Mabel growing addicted to discovering the secrets that lie beneath the seemingly sleepy town of Gravity Falls.

Stan probably has a fuck ton of photos of you from when you are a baby and would reminisce on the the days where you’d only babble and grab ahold his thumb after staring at it in deep thought for a good five minutes.

Stan isn’t the best at comforting others but that don’t mean he doesn’t try, so if he ever were to see you sad he’d probably make up a obligatory time for you both called: Stan time. Time where you spend with your beloved pops on the deck chairs on the roof of the shack and let out your grievances.

Or take you out for a drive at night with nowhere in mind. It’s perfect bonding time and makes for great memories as Stan can offer solid advice when it falls under his line of expertise.

He probably taught you a thing or two about conning people and getting away with it when your above a certain age, so that if you were to get into any legal trouble you’d know what to do in the need for a smooth escape.

Also he probably teaches you boxing alongside Mabel so that you’d both kick all the ass possible, he may or may not lend you his brass knuckles just so you could give anyone an added bonus of pain when getting socked in the jaw.

He’s very protective over you, you’re his kid after all! So needless to say that anyone who breaks your heart one way or another was in for a rude awakening. Still to this day he debates whether or not it’s morally acceptable for a man of his grown age to punch a kid on his own kid’s behalf.

While he might be a shitty person to others but in your eyes, he was your favourite person and you were his little partner in crime.

Stan was glad when you entered his life and made it just that little bit more brighter and hopefully being a better influence to others then him, while still maintaining parts of him in the process towards people who obviously had quite a bit of money to fall back on based on the brand of clothing they wore, or how many shopping bags they’d carry in each hand.

Kinda like Robin Hood but not and a tad scummier.

Who ever you grow up to be as a person, Stan would always be proud of you as he’s your personal hype man in anything you do.

He’d definitely keep you in the dark about the portals, again out of a need to protect you, Mabel and dipper. However much like everything else in gravity falls, nothing stays hidden for long.

[dickgraysonisnothereforthis]

Yeah, I’ll Let You Cut Me Open (jason todd x vampire!reader)

Jason’s always twitchy after a fight. Good thing you show up.

Another installment of the jason x vampire!reader series. You know the drill, foul language and suggestive content.

The rest of the series is on my masterlist

Humor, fluff. Ain’t nothing else going on, boys.

No use of y/n

I have no idea how long this is.

—————

Jason sighs, looping the end of the zip tie and tightening it against the unconscious perp’s wrists. Panting heavily, fight barely over, he methodically checks the man for injuries. Other than a few broken teeth courtesy of Jason’s fists, the man seems fine. Almost ildly, Jason brings a finger to his own neck, hunting for his pulse. Way the fuck too fast. Jason’s fingers twitch.

He’s always struggled with the comedown. The raid was a huge success, Red Hood had worked with Nightwing and Red Robin to track down and dismantle one of Bane’s drug warehouses. They’d gotten to the docks at one am and had the last goon out cold by two thirty. It was the kind of fight Jason loved, fast and dirty, with opponents well trained enough to make it interesting, to make him work for it. It wasn’t a good fight unless Jason got knocked around a little, that’s what he always said.

But now the fun’s over. Jason’s blood is still thrumming, heartbeat loud in his ears, and he has to catalogue evidence and search the premises and drag these stupid henchmen into a neat pile for the GCPD. Resigned, he reaches for another lifeless body, hauling him over to the growing lump of men.

“Lift with your legs, Hood,” Dick offers from the ground as he binds hands and ankles. Jason grunts. Man, this sucks. All this damn adrenaline with nowhere to put it. Maybe he should take up meditation to calm down, or some shit.

“Hey, isn’t that your boy-toy?”

“Oh my gosh, it is!”

Or maybe not.

Maybe his adrenaline can stay right where it is, because that’s definitely you, running barefoot across the warehouse in a barely-there minidress, your friend Crystal trailing behind you.

“Well, looky here,” Dick says with a grin. “Your girl’s a-coming.”

“Jason Jason Jason,” you chant happily, “Jason, Jason. I’m so glad you’re here!” You run eagerly into his arms, and Jason catches you, glowing at your affection. He doesn’t think he’ll get used to it.

“Cute,” Tim comments, walking over from where he’d been bagging evidence.

Jason ignores him. “What’re you doin’ wandering round the docks, princess?”

You shrug unsteadily. “Got bored at the club. Was lame. Went for a walk.”

“She drunk?” he asks Crystal.

“Oh, yeah,” she confirms with a smirk, holding up your discarded heels she’s got hooked around her finger.

You wriggle in his grip. “Jason, Jason,” you babble, sliding your hands up his chest to go for his helmet. “Hey, wait, take this off.” He obliges, and you stretch out on your tiptoes, planting your hands on your shoulders and vaulting yourself up to reach his face. His arms come up to support you, and you rub your face against his neck. “Jason,” you whisper conspiratorially. He hears Tim cough, and flushes awkwardly. “Jason.” You kiss a line up his neck. “I’m hungry.”

He drops you immediately. “No.”

“Ahh!” you shriek as you hit the floor. “No?!” You beat your fists against the concrete.

“Hood,” Dick says reproachfully, but Jason waves him off. A little bump on the floor won’t do any damage, and he’s not about to let you sink your teeth in him on a moments’ notice.

Sure enough, you push yourself to your feet, pouting at him. “What the fuck. Jason, give me some.”

“I told you, no. I got beat up on enough already, I don’t need you biting just ‘cause you’re drunk and you want a snack.” All true. Bonus: he doesn’t want Dick and Tim to see you drink from him. That feels private. Especially since he’ll probably pop a boner.

“Oh,” Tim hums thoughtfully. “She wants to have some of your blood.” He thinks for a moment. “You guys do that?”

Crystal saves him from answering. “You good?” she calls to you. “Can I go?”

“Yeah, fine,” you answer over your shoulder. “Whatever. See you later.” Crystal tosses your shoes to the floor and makes her way out of the warehouse.

“Jason.” You put your hands on your hips. “Come on. I’m starving. You can spare a little.”

“No-o,” he enunciates. “Get your damn hospital blood at home.”

“I don’t want to,” you stamp your foot. “It’s too far!”

“That ain’t my problem, sweetheart,” he says, turning around. He’s half expecting it when you run over and launch yourself onto his back, wrapping your arm around his neck in a chokehold. “Please?” you wheedle. He grins, reaching for your arm and using it to chuck you across the room. Tim gasps as you crash into a table, but you’re up in moments, pushing the table out of your way and sprinting back to him. Jason smiles wider. He loves, he loves having a partner to roughhouse with. He dodges you as you lunge clumsily at him, and you hiss in frustration.

“Come on!” you howl.

“Damn,” Dick murmurs as Jason pushes you away again. “They’re really that indestructible?”

Jason nods, opening his mouth to answer, but then you tackle him, wrestling him to the floor.

“Here, wait, just let me—no! Stop!” you cry furiously as Jason fights you from below. “Just—just leave your fucking hand here—” you pin his wrist to the ground, and Jason’s stuck, he can’t win against your strength. Doesn’t stop him from trying.

“Whoa. Strong,” Tim notes.

“Get off,” Jason commands breathlessly, using his hips and legs to try and leverage you off of him.

“No, not until I have a little.” Your knee hits his crotch, and Jason smirks in satisfaction as you spit angrily. “What the fuck? Are you wearing a cup? No fair!”

He uses your confusion to haul you off of him and scramble to his feet. He crouches, waiting for your next attack, but you remain on the floor, picking your face up to glare at him.

“Ja-son! Please please please please—”

He ignores you again, wiping the sweat from his brow. “Hood, your cut,” Tim warns, and Jason presses a hand to his temple, realizing he’d started bleeding again.

Instantly, you’re up on your feet. “You’re bleeding? Oh no…” You sidle towards him carefully, eyes locked on the blood sluggishly dripping from his head. “Jay, that’s terrible.”

“Knock it off, doll.” Jason catches the roll of gauze Dick throws his way. “You’re not gettin’ any.”

“You fucking bastard,” you mutter. “I don’t know why I keep you around at all.” Looking around, your eyes rest on the unconscious men on the ground. “Can I take some from them?” you ask, eyes lighting up.

Dick opens his mouth to protest, but Jason beats him to it. “Nuh-uh.”

“Oh my god,” you seethe. “Fuck you, you never let me do anything!”

“Didn’t realize you were looking after a cat, Jay,” Dick says wryly.

You totally ignore him. “If you won’t give me any, I’ll just go out and kill someone.” Tim gasps, and Dick shifts into a fighting stance. You cross your arms over your chest, as if to say, “so there.”

Jason’s heard this one from you before. “No you won’t.”

You throw up your hands. “‘No you won’t!’ ‘No you won’t!’” you mimic him furiously. “I swear to god you’re making me into a fucking loser.”

Jason turns to Dick as you pace the room, muttering to yourself. “Think you can handle the rest?”

“What?” Tim asks, affronted. “You serious? There’s like, piles of work still to do!”

“Yeah, Timmy and I will take care of it,” Dick says easily. “Come on, Tim,” he slugs an arm over his shoulder. “Red Hood’s gotta deal with his vampire.”

Jason rolls his eyes but stalks over to you nonetheless. “Come on, doll.” He herds you toward the exit. “I’ll take you home.”

You dig in your heels. “You gonna let me have some?” you challenge.

“Christ, yes,” he mumbles out of earshot of Dick and Tim. “At home.”

“Fine.” Smiling in satisfaction, you turn and skip out of the warehouse.

Jason follows you outside. You’re already straddling his motorbike, grinning happily. Jamming his helmet on, he gets on behind you, giving you his bloody fingers to suck on. You lick them eagerly.

His stomach swoops, and he revs the bike as he lets out a growl. You giggle around his fingers and press yourself against his back, directing his other hand to fall on your thigh, right at the hem of your short short short dress. He gropes you eagerly.

Yeah, he can think of another way to get the adrenaline out.

[penkura]

Another part to this request and the this piece I did for it, but focusing more on Law and Noa this time. :)

~~

Noa quickly realizes he and Luna could lose you and Law, the safety they’ve come to enjoy, at any moment. It hits him before Luna could ever be aware of it, she’s still too young to understand what happened to their parents and grandfather, but she knows something is wrong after your crew is attacked by an enemy Pirates crew, and you’re injured while running the two to safety on the Polar Tang. It’s not bad, just a few scratches, but after you’ve locked them safely in your room you go back to help your crewmates and end up with more injuries, worse than before to the point that after everything is settled, Law keeps Noa and Luna away from the infirmary for the rest of the day so they don’t get scared or anything. You suffered decent blood loss, dizzy and out of it rest of the day, if you were conscious enough you’d likely say to keep them out for the evening.

While Luna is okay for the night, being entertained by Ikkaku doing her hair, Noa is nervous to not see you or Law, it makes him remember how the two lost their parents but didn’t know at first, their grandfather kept them home and told them only when everything had been settled. Luna didn’t understand but Noa did and it tore him up. When their grandfather passed and they were sent to the orphanage, Noa put on a brave face for Luna during the day, but at night he struggled to keep himself together.

But of course he would, he’s only six now, he’s still a child. He’s scared of losing more people, especially you, Law, or Luna.

Dinner comes around and while Luna is set at the table eating, Noa is nowhere to be seen and it starts to concern Law as he looks around the room.

“Where’s Noa-ya?”

Everyone looks around and between themselves, Luna babbling and grinning at Law, but none of them have an answer.

“I haven’t seen him for a while,” Clione scratches the back of his, “but last I saw, he was going to your office. I thought he was going to sit with you.”

“I haven’t been there for a few hours. I’ll go see if he’s there still, thanks.”

Those around nod, Law stops long enough to ruffle Luna’s hair which makes her laugh. Anyone else he walks by he asks if they’ve seen Noa, but not one of them has. He figures the six-year-old must be hiding somewhere, maybe out of fear of what happened earlier that day or he could be having a meltdown over something else and chose to remove himself from the group for a bit. He’s a smart kid, but still learning how to handle his emotions, which Law understands.

“Noa-ya.” When he gets to his office, Law doesn’t see the child anywhere, not even hearing about peep from him at first, even when he closes the door for privacy. “Noa-ya, Clione-ya said he saw you come in here earlier. Are you all right?”

There’s no sound for a bit, until Law hears a tiny sob from the small closet in his office, and he sighs to himself. Something happened for sure, it’s the only reason Noa would be hiding there, he’s done it before when he’s done something wrong and not wanted to be scolded by you or him. Walking over, Law doesn’t open the door at first, instead crouching down to what he believes will be eye level when he gets Noa to open the door, he wants to talk to him first.

“Noa-ya, what’s wrong?”

There are a few more little sobs, before Noa finally speaks up just loud enough for Law to hear him.

“[Y/N]…got hurt…is she o-okay?”

“She’s fine, she’s sleeping right now.”

“C-Can I…can I see her…?”

“In the morning, she needs to rest tonight.”

A nearly inaudible ‘okay’ is what he hears, making Law sigh lightly. Noa must’ve been so worried about you, he must think it’s because of him you’re hurt, even though that’s not true. You’d done your job as a Heart Pirate, protecting your crewmates and fighting for your captain. It only went awry when you got jumped by two enemies, who did enough to you that Law had to Shambles you away for safety, even then it was a bit late because of the injuries you’d suffered. Your biggest concern after was that Noa and Luna were safe, asking them not to be told even as you passed out from blood loss. It took a while before Law knew you were stable enough that he could let you sleep the rest of the day, he’d been so busy making sure you were all right that he hadn’t been able to check on the children, to make sure they were okay too.

And it looks like Noa isn’t, not mentally anyway. It reminds Law of himself too much, but Noa is much younger than he was at the time of his own suffering, he doesn’t deserve to worry about anything. All he should be concerned with is what to play with Luna and what the next meal is going to be, not if you might die from being attacked.

“You know, [Y/N]-ya was worried about you and your sister. Before she fell asleep she wanted to know you were both okay, she was so relieved to know neither of you had been hurt,” he swears he hears the door start to open, but doesn’t see Noa at first and keeps going to try and get him out, “I know you’re scared, but everything is fine. No one is going to die, we’re going to make sure of that. You and Luna-ya are safe here.”

When the door opens, it just enough for Law to see Noa there, eyes red and puffy from crying, tear stains down his cheeks, as he sniffles a little.

“You…you promise?”

“I promise,” Law nods as Noa finally comes out and wraps his arms around his neck in a hug that Law returns before picking him up, “We’re not going to let anything happen to either of you, all right? We’ll keep you both safe.”

Noa nods, refusing to let go of Law for the rest of the day. None of the other Heart Pirates say anything when they see Law still carrying Noa around for most of the evening, even when Luna joins in wanting to carried around. It just makes him look like a dad helping his kids, it’s not too far off from the truth. Neither of them let Law go even as he takes them to get ready for bed, they only release him long enough to take baths and brush their teeth, then they’re holding onto him again as he reads to them to help them sleep. He knew taking care of kids would be a lot, he just never expected to have a moment like this where neither wanted to let him go.

The next morning, once you’re awake and doing well, Law brings Noa and Luna to the infirmary to see you, Noa is quick to climb onto your bed and hug you tight, before you’re really able to greet him. Luna joins in once Law sets her on the bed, the two repeating the night before but without letting go of you instead. Even once Luna is content and back to playing on her own or getting someone else to play with her, Noa still holds onto you and doesn’t leave you for most of the day. After Luna falls asleep for a nap and Law takes her back to your room, he comes back to get Noa but has to stop when he hears you comforting him through around bit of crying.

“It’s okay, I know. I’m sorry you were scared, but I’m so happy you’re not hurt.”

He can’t hear what Noa says back to you, but it doesn’t really matter in the end.

“We all love you and Luna, Noa. We’re going to keep you safe and not let anything happen to you two, all right?”

Law decides the only thing you all can do now is to give Noa and Luna the love and protection they need in the same way Corazon did for him. You’ll give them hope for the future and the family life they deserve to live.

[ollieofthebeholder]

Haply I May Remember: a TMA fanfic

Written for @jonmartinweek 2025, Day 9: Free//AU Day. A side story to And If Thou Wilt, Forget, but you don't have to read that to read this one. Also on AO3 and my personal website.

Martin shut the door behind Tim and stood perfectly still, staring at it, for just a moment. He felt rather as though someone had taken him to a carnival, spun him around twelve times, then let him loose and told him to have fun—disorientated, dizzy, like he was about to throw up, and with absolutely no idea where to start. It had been a shitty few months, frankly, and he had no idea where he stood with anybody. He’d been pushing Tim away because it was easier than dealing with what was bothering him, ignoring Melanie because it was better than accepting she was Sasha’s replacement, and forgetting Basira because she just sat there reading and ignoring all of them anyway. Jon—

Well, Jon had been nowhere, on the run or busy or…or wherever he had been for the last week or so. But right now he was in Martin’s flat and Martin was going to have to deal with that.

He took a deep breath and turned around. Jon stood a couple of feet away, huddled on himself and looking—honestly about as miserable as Martin had been feeling these last few weeks. He was too thin, although that might have just been the oversized boiler suit he was wearing, and his face looked almost sunken in. He was compulsively pulling at the sleeve of the boiler suit, tugging the bunched fabric back down over his hand, the one that had been wrapped in a bandage just—had it only been two weeks previously?—again and again.

The kettle whistled from the other room, and Jon flinched at the sound, and Martin reoriented. This he could do.

“Come on,” he said, as gently as he could. “Tea’s in the kitchen.”

Jon followed him, looking around as he did. Martin’s cheeks burned with embarrassment, and he did what he usually did when embarrassed—he babbled. “It’s not much, I know. I, uh, I kind of moved after the whole thing with Prentiss? I-I mean, I could have stayed there, probably should have, honestly. But I just, I couldn’t face it, you know? There wasn’t any real difference in the rent, moving up here, so once my lease was up I made the switch. Haven’t really bothered decorating or anything. No point, really.”

He took the kettle off the stove, pulled two mugs out of his cupboard, and reached for the tea bags, then paused. The fancy tin of looseleaf tea Tim had given him the previous day sat on the counter, unopened so far. It was far nicer than anything Martin usually bought for himself, so he’d told himself he would need to save it for special occasions. Well…this felt like a pretty special occasion. He grabbed the little glass teapot with the built in strainer that had been a gift who knew how many Christmases ago, and that he’d never used, and measured out the tea, then poured in the water.

“We’ll let that steep for a bit,” he said to Jon, feeling a little foolish but not knowing what else to say. “Um, do you want…something to eat while we wait? I’ve got…n-not a lot, actually. I really need to go shopping, but, um, there’s—I could make toast.”

Jon shook his head. He reached for one of the two chairs, hesitantly, like he wasn’t sure he’d be allowed to sit. Martin’s cheeks flamed again. “Oh! Um, yeah, s-sorry, I—go ahead and have a seat. This won’t be long.”

Christ, it was early. Martin slept like shit these days, between the stress of the statements and the worry about Jon, so he’d kind of got used to keeping odd hours. Still, for Tim to turn up at his door at—he glanced at the small analog clock he’d bought after the incident with Prentiss—twenty minutes past three in the morning was unexpected, and for him to then present him with an obviously sick and traumatized Jonathan Sims was just surreal. He was burning with questions and he wasn’t sure he wanted the answer to any of them.

He busied himself preparing the tea, fussing over it a bit more than was strictly necessary, then set a cup down in front of Jon. “Here. Drink up. You look like you could use it.”

“Thank you, Martin.” Jon’s voice was hoarse and raw, as if he hadn’t had much opportunity to use it in a while, or maybe as if he’d been doing a lot of screaming. He reached out with shaking hands and wrapped them around the mug like it was the only thing holding him anchored to the earth.

Martin felt his cheeks turn pink, and he mumbled what he hoped was acknowledgment of the thanks before settling down and picking up his own mug. For several long moments, they sat there with their mugs, not talking. Martin let the steam curl into his nose, then took the tiniest of sips. Okay, that was really good quality, it was good of Tim to give it to him. One hell of an apology. He wasn’t even sure what they’d actually been fighting about, come to think of it. Yeah, he was mad at Tim for leaving, but…

Finally, more for something to say than anything else, he asked, “How’s, um, how’s your hand?”

“B-better.” Jon didn’t sound particularly certain, but he set the mug down and turned his right hand over, palm up. Martin’s heart stuttered at the sight of the mottled pink ridges of flesh that outlined the healing scar.

Without thinking about it, Martin reached over and took his hand, lightly tracing the outline. “This isn’t…Jesus, I thought at first you put it down on the stove or something, but this looks like…a hand print? What did you do, shake hands with a flaming mannequin?”

Jon made a sound that might have been a laugh and might have been a choked sob and might have just been a huff of air. “Something like that, actually.”

“How?” Martin looked up at Jon, unable to conceal his concern. “When? You were…what happened?”

Jon took a slow, deep breath, his eyes fixed on his hand. “I was…looking into a statement. A, a woman named Jude Perry who…I thought she might have something useful. She didn’t, not really, but she…offered me a trade. Another name in exchange for a handshake.”

“Did she put on iron gloves and heat them up first?”

“No—no, she’s part of, um, the Cult of the Lightless Flame. You remember Agnes Montague, she—Jude knew her.” Jon hesitated, still staring at his hand. “How—how much do you know about what’s going on? Has Tim told you anything?”

“No, but it’s not for lack of trying,” Martin replied immediately. “He was going to tell me a whole bunch of stuff after we found Leitner’s body, after Daisy was done interrogating us, but I wasn’t up to hearing it then and I just…I kept putting him off. It felt like I wasn’t allowed to know before you did, you know?”

“Oh, God.” Jon’s voice came out as a low, choked gasp. Martin was about to apologize for…whatever he’d done…when Jon pressed his free hand to his lips and closed his eyes. “I—I didn’t—I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do that.”

“Do what? Oh.” Martin suddenly recognized the slight prickle of static he’d come to associate with Tim right before he got all growly and forceful. “It’s okay, Jon, I would have told you anyway.”

“It’s not. I shouldn’t…it’s not fair to take that choice away from you.” Jon swallowed hard. “And I shouldn’t have…I shouldn’t have done that. Not after…i-it’s been too long since I had a statement and—”

“Okay. Okay.” Martin tried to keep his voice calm and gentle, the way Tim did when he talked Martin down from a spiral, but he was uncomfortably aware that he wasn’t that good at it. He made a decent peacemaker, but he wasn’t…he didn’t have whatever Tim had. Still, he gave it his best effort. “It’s okay, Jon. Just breathe, okay? You—you need some rest.”

“No. No, I can’t—I can’t go there, not now, I—” Jon visibly trembled, then took several shaky breaths. “I’m…sorry. You didn’t…ask for this.”

“Jon. I want to help you. Tell me what to do,” Martin begged. “I am literally asking, okay? What do you want? A bed, a meal, a change of—um, I don’t know that my clothes will fit you, but—” He stopped and swallowed, then tried again. “Come on. First thing that pops into your head. What do you need from me?”

“A hug?” Jon asked with a small, almost crazed laugh. He shook his head almost immediately. “No. No, that’s overstepping, I’m sorry—”

In that moment, Martin realized he was still cradling Jon’s hand in both of his, and Jon hadn’t pulled away. Okay, maybe…maybe Jon just desperately needed contact. Maybe he was so desperate he would take anything. Martin could handle that. It might break him completely, but he could hold it together if that was what Jon needed.

“It’s not overstepping, Jon,” he said softly. “We’re not at work, we’re—it’s okay.”

He got up from his seat, carefully, trying not to break the connection they already had, and scooted around his small table to the chair next to Jon’s. Slowly, hesitantly, he slid one arm around Jon’s shoulders and squeezed lightly.

Jon…melted. There was no other word for it. The stiff way he’d been sitting shattered like the crust on a crème brûlée and he crumpled, leaning into Martin’s shoulder and coiling in on himself. The hand came up again, hesitantly, like it had at the door—like he wanted to reach out and touch Martin, but didn’t think he would be permitted to—and then withdrew into his chest. He made that soft, almost broken noise again.

It was too much for Martin, who made his own soft noise of pain and sympathy and pulled Jon fully into his arms, off of his chair and onto his lap, secure against his chest. God, he was so thin, it was like hugging a bag of twigs. A bag of twigs that was on fire, he amended; he could feel the heat radiating off Jon’s body even through the cotton of the shirt he’d thrown on when Tim called and the scratchy fabric of Jon’s clearly borrowed outfit. Did Jon always run hot, or was he running a fever? Shit, did Martin have any paracetamol in his medicine cabinet? He was prone to migraines, so he usually had something, but it was likely to be aspirin more than paracetamol since it didn’t work as well for him…

Jon curled up tightly against him, his fingers curling into Martin’s shirt and clinging as he buried his face in his shoulder. Martin felt something hot and wet begin to soak into his shirt and realized, with a slight amount of panic, that Jon was crying.

“Shh. Shh. I’ve got you. I’m here.” Martin rocked back and forth slightly. He started to run his fingers through Jon’s hair, but stopped when he encountered the knots and snarls—he didn’t want to hurt him—and instead settled for stroking it gently. “I’m here, Jon. It’s—it’s going to be okay. I’ve got you. You’re safe.”

Under any other circumstances, this would absolutely have been sending him into a panic, or else he’d have wondered if he was hallucinating. He’d dreamed about having Jon in his arms probably a thousand times in the last year, if he was being honest with himself, in a variety of circumstances and often with exaggeratedly dramatic, soppy overtones to the whole thing. Jon clinging to him in his kitchen at four in the morning while sobbing like a lost child was too absurd for his imagination to come up with, and too far from his admittedly wild fantasies to be a dream come true, which meant it had to be real. It also wasn’t about him. Martin kept holding on to Jon as securely as he could and murmuring what he hoped was comforting and suspected was nonsense.

At last, the tears seemed to subside. Jon took a deep, shuddering breath and slumped against Martin. His grip on his shirt loosened, but otherwise he made no effort to pull away.

“Thank you,” he whispered, his voice raw. “I…I think I’ve been needing that for a long time.”

“Well, any time you want a hug, I’m happy to give you one,” Martin said without thinking, and then wanted to rip his own tongue out and strangle himself with it. “O-or, um, sorry, sorry, you meant the crying, right?”

“I wouldn’t have been able to cry if you hadn’t been holding me,” Jon admitted, and oh, God, he was leaning right against Martin’s heart, he could definitely hear the way it was suddenly racing. “I’m…I’m glad Tim brought me here.”

“I am, too,” Martin admitted. “I’ve been worried about you.” Honesty compelled him to add, “I missed you.”

Jon tensed, just a little. “How long has it been?”

“N-no, it’s okay, it’s only been like a week,” Martin said hastily. “You were in last Wednesday, but—I mean, we haven’t had much of a chance to…talk since before, um, the thing with Leitner.”

“It’s Saturday,” Jon murmured. “Tim said he’d see you Monday…”

Martin looked down at the top of Jon’s head. “It’s Friday, actually. Barely at that. I think Tim was telling me to take the day off and…well, look after you. You’re in no shape to go back to the Institute, you need…rest and food and a shower. Not necessarily in that order.”

“I need you.” For the first time since he’d stepped through Martin’s door, Jon looked up into Martin’s eyes, and his own were…well, they were haunted and blown out and wet with tears both shed and unshed, but they were also pleading and sincere. “I…I didn’t realize…Georgie said I needed anchors, she kept asking me if I’d talked to you in particular, and…as usual, she knows me better than I know myself. She was right. I need someone to keep me grounded, and that’s you. That’s always been you.” He closed his eyes and leaned against Martin again. “I missed you more than you know while I was on the run. More than even I knew. I even told Georgie about you before I knew I was going to be able to come back to the Institute. I’m glad you’re here.”

He was burning up. Martin tried to school his emotions. Either Jon was hallucinating and saying things he didn’t mean because he was delirious, or he was so feverish his filters had burned away. Either way, he couldn’t take advantage of that right now, no matter how badly he wanted to. Instead, he only said, “I’m glad I’m here, too. I think you need to lie down for now, though.”

“Don’t leave me.” Jon’s hands tightened in Martin’s shirt again.

“I won’t,” Martin promised, and the vow felt heavier than it should have…like maybe he wasn’t just talking about right then. Well, actually, he wasn’t. He would never leave Jon, not if he could help it. “I’ve got you, Jon. As long as you want me.”

“Forever.” The word slipped from Jon’s lips like it had caught hold of the tails of an exhale, like maybe Jon hadn’t meant to actually say it out loud, and the way he tensed said he was maybe thinking about either taking it back or praying Martin hadn’t heard.

Martin nodded. “If that’s what you need. For right now, though, come on. I’ve, um, I’ve got a spare sleep shirt you can borrow that’s probably more comfortable than this thing, and I’ll sit with you while you get some rest.”

“I’ll—I’ll try,” Jon said slowly. “Sleep isn’t always restful for me these days, and…I’m afraid of what I’ll see.”

“Well. I’ll be here whatever you see.” Martin eased to his feet and helped Jon to stand. “We should…probably talk, I guess, but it can wait until you’re rested.”

“Yes,” Jon agreed. He looked up again at Martin and—for the first time in what felt like months, the first time Martin could actually remember since he’d confessed about lying on his CV—he smiled, a real, genuine smile. “Thank you.”

Martin found some paracetamol and managed to coax Jon into taking it before he changed into the sleep shirt that was large on Martin and hung on Jon’s scrawny frame like a circus tent. The idea of his bed sent him into a mental panic spiral, so instead, he led Jon into the living room, sat on his battered, overstuffed couch, and got Jon to settle against him.

“Get some rest,” he said again. “I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

Jon sighed and nestled into the crook of Martin’s arm, resting his head on his chest, and closed his eyes. He murmured something almost too soft to hear, and then, surprisingly, his breathing evened out and he was asleep.

Martin expected he, himself, would be wide awake and probably tense for the next however long it was. To his surprise, however, he relaxed almost instantly, shifted his arm to keep Jon more secure, and closed his own eyes.

His last thought as he drifted off was that what Jon had said before falling asleep sounded an awful lot like I love you. Since Jon was asleep and wouldn’t know, he felt safe in knowing he wouldn’t be embarrassed if he was wrong, at least for now.

“I love you, too,” he whispered.

And with that, and the warmth and weight of Jon’s head on his shoulder, he fell into deep slumber.

[rooksunday]

fluffcember day twenty seven: family gathering

jaster rubbed his face, as if the action might somehow aid his comprehension. it didn’t. with a sigh, he levelled his best buir look at jango. he’d had a lot of practice with the look over the years, but jango had seemed to settle down lately, as he focused on leading his pack of grunts out in the galaxy. the story he’d just garbled out, however, indicated jaster was going to have to get back into practice with alacrity.

at jaster’s sigh, jango began to protest.

“buir—!“

“just… one more minute, jango.”

jaster settled back into his seat at the head of the dining table, where he’d been enjoying his caf and concord dawn’s early morning, before jango had tumbled in already babbling at hyperspace speeds as if finding the right words would forestall any pointed questions.

that had most assuredly not been the case. witness: jaster’s incipient headache.

jaster took a fortifying sip of caf. he was mand’alor. he was a buir. he could manage whatever this was.

his gaze slid from jango to their enraptured audience, who were clearly both fascinated and baffled by the byplay occurring in jaster’s kitchen, and he forced himself to be honest. he could probably manage whatever this was.

jaster returned his attention to jango. “tell me again, slowly this time, like i’m an old man who has dealt with several concussions in his life, who are these very familiar-looking young men?”

the group of incredibly familiar faces, arranged in loose formation behind jango, shuffled almost as one. jaster had counted ten visitors and then given up; the door that led outside remained open and he could see more young men—and possibly young women and young folk of various genders—milling about on his lawn like soldiers missing a battlefield. they all wore the same red and blue scrubs, and there were more than ten of them. many more than ten.

jango, at the head of the inside group, had an expression on his face that said he had picked his fight and would be fighting it whether an enemy appeared or not. alas, he had learnt that from jaster.

“they’ve got nowhere else to go, buir, and—“

“not the question i asked,” jaster said mildly.

“there was a-an explosion, sir,” said the young man at jango’s right shoulder, who had a fresh-looking scar hooked around his eye.

he’ll need bacta for that.

“force nonsense,” muttered one of his companions derisively, this one with grey peppered in their hair.

“it was still an explosion—“

“that answers the ‘how’, i suppose, but i did ask ‘who’,” jaster reminded them. he addressed his question to the scarred figure at jango’s right shoulder. “who are you?”

the grey-haired figure bristled but the scarred one came to smart attention and looked over jaster’s shoulder like a trained warrior twice his apparent age.

“i’m cc-2224, sir!”

before jaster’s stomach could finish twisting at the unit number, the grey-haired figure snapped, “he’s cody. i’m fox. that’s jango fett.”

jango started to say, “why’d you say my name like that—“

“fox, don’t—“

fox dodged cody’s swipe and prowled forward to frown down at jaster. “who are you?”

with carefully relaxed motions, jaster refilled his mug from the cafetière, not missing fox’s keen attention on the process, and took a sip. then he smiled, the way he did when someone was provably wrong about mandalorian history.

“i’m jaster mereel, and i’m not entirely sure how, but i do believe i’m your ba’buir.”

jaster lifted his comm to take a holo of fox’s poleaxed expression, framing cody’s laughing face and jango’s wide-eyed resignation in the background. yep, that would make the perfect cover image for the new family album.

[sarahghetti]

Could we get a mix of 27, 28, and 40 with the moonknight guys! Love your work! xx -V

ooooo had a lot of fun with this one!! request more kisses from this list!

pairing: marc spector x reader, steven grant x reader, jake lockley x reader

summary: you go to steven's work event with the boys. aka, the boys + a comforting kiss (#40), a sloppy kiss (#28), and a soft kiss (#27).

warnings: none! only fluff <3

word count: 1.3k

MOON KNIGHT MASTERLIST | ALL MASTERLISTS

Warm, low-hanging lights are strewn throughout the ballroom, and chatter fills the air. The band’s playing something jazzier than they were at the start of the evening, and you can see the effect it’s having on Steven’s coworkers with the increasing sway of their hips.

Well, that, and all free drinks are probably hitting them by now.

There’s no sign of Steven, though; his neatly styled curls and the sharp lines of his suit are nowhere to be found. You frown. He was only supposed to be away for a few moments while he grabbed some water.

“Excuse me,” you smile before slipping away from the group you were talking to. He’s been gone a little too long to have been in the washroom, and you’re awkwardly peering at the door when you feel your phone buzz.

I’m outside.

It’s quieter in the courtyard, a small gardenesque area with shrubs and park benches lining the edges of a lawn. You spot him instantly. His back is to you, arms crossed as he leans against lamplight. But there’s a stiffness in his shoulders that’s a bit much for your Stevie.

“Hey, Marc,” you greet and he startles, tension easing from his body as you rest your hands on his chest. Steven’s tie hangs loosely around his neck, and a curl falls onto his forehead from how much he must’ve been messing with his hair. “You okay? Didn’t think I’d see you tonight.”

“Neither did I,” he mutters, scowling over your shoulder towards Steven’s work event. The bright lights and busy crowds—it’s all precisely what Marc tends to avoid. You cup his cheek, worried, and his gaze finds yours again. “I’m fine. Just needed some air. Steven should be back soon.”

There’s an unsaid or else at the end of that last sentence and you snort, leaning forward to brush your nose against his. His arms come up to wrap around your waist; his hands clench into fists behind your back.

“I’ll wait out here with you, then,” you say. You feel Marc tense up underneath you as he readies himself to absolve you of the responsibility, to tell you to just go back inside and enjoy the party, but you’re faster.

You tug lightly at his neck, and he folds easily under your touch—always willing to do whatever you ask of him—until you’re able to press a gentle kiss against his forehead. He lets out a long breath, clutching at your back to keep you close as his eyes flutter shut.

“As long as you need.” You affirm, and Marc nods mutely. Through half-lidded eyes, he’s far more at ease than when you first found him, looking at you so softly like you hold his heart in your hands, like you’re the cure for all his ailments.

Like you give him peace.

-

Steven’s not one to get drunk very often, and you’re beginning to see why.

“C’mon, Stevie.” You tug lightly on his arm as he waves over his shoulder, still saying goodbye to his coworkers even as you’re trying to escort him home. An exasperated smile pulls on your lips. “Let’s get to you to bed.”

“Wasn’t that a blast, love? I can’t believe they got Dr. Ibrahim as the keynote speaker, oh, her work is incredible—” All the alcohol has loosened his lips, and no amount of stumbling over his words stops his thoughts from streaming out anyway. If Steven is enthusiastic while sober, then he’s positively beaming now.

He continues to babble into the night. You hum in affirmation as you eye the streets for a cab, cool air nipping at your skin. It’s colder than you thought it would be. You’d forgone a jacket in the name of fashion and look at you now, rubbing your arms in a lame attempt to generate some heat.

Steven acts immediately. One second, you’re yearning for the warmth of a car interior and the next, Steven’s suit jacket is draped onto your shoulders from behind. His hands, still gripping the lapels, wrap around your torso in a hug as he bundles you up like a cocoon and proceeds to not let go.

“Steven—” You laugh as his weight presses down on you, his breath warm against your ear. He pulls you impossibly closer so that you feel the entire length of him against your body, then cranes his neck to press sloppy kisses on your jaw, your cheek, the corner of your mouth—anywhere his lips can reach. You splutter. “We gotta get home!”

“In a bit,” he promises in between trailing his kisses down your skin, snickering at how you squirm, ticklish. “Have I told you how lovely you look tonight? Because you look gorgeous—radiant, darling.”

It’s like you can hear the moment when his focus switches from the event to you, and the air is promptly filled with his glowing praise in between the loud smacks of his lips. When he reaches the junction of your neck and shoulder, you think, surely, he’s done now. But all he does is switch to your other side and start his journey anew. “Just—one—more.”

Drunk Steven is a mushy liar, but in the warmth of his embrace, your cheeks straining against how widely you’re grinning—you can’t complain all that much.

-

Steven toes off his shoes as he makes his way through the living room, then promptly faceplants onto the couch.

You can’t help but laugh, prodding at his back in an attempt to stir him. “Steven—Stevie, you’re so close, just a few more steps to the bed, up you come.”

His response is garbled nonsense into the throw pillow, although there’s an intonation in his voice that makes you pause. He continues, words still too muffled to understand, but you can make out the accent more clearly now that you’re looking for it.

“Hang on—Jake? Is that you?”

An affirming groan.

Your hand languidly strokes his back, condoling. “Did Steven leave you to take care of the body?”

Finally, Jake turns his head, and the indignant pout on his face is truly something to behold. “Steven just passed out. Marc is probably mad that I accidentally put him in the driver’s seat earlier.”

“So that’s what happened.” You shake your head. Still, you lightly tug at his arm to try to get him up. “C’mon—it’s bedtime.”

His eyes flutter shut. “Just let me sleep here.”

You quickly do a once-over. Half his body is hanging off the couch, arm and leg resting on the floorboards. His neck is angled in a way that’ll kill whoever wakes up tomorrow morning, and that doesn’t even cover the hangover that’s surely waiting for them. You tug at him again. “Nuh-uh. Let’s go, Lockley.”

Reluctantly, he follows, feet dragging on the ground as you lead him to the bathroom. He complains the whole way through the shower and brushing his teeth, and you do feel a little bad even though it’s for his own good. Exhaustion seeps into his movements, and he nearly knocks over the cup of water on the nightstand as he gets into bed.

You slip in beside him, brushing damp curls away from his face. Already half-asleep, he leans into your touch.

“Can’t believe Steven left me here. ¿Qué te gusta decir? This is cruel and unusual punishment.”

Now it’s your turn to pout, feigning disappointment. “Aw, that hurts.”

You try to remove your hand in order to settle in, but his hand comes to cover yours, keeping you close. Without opening his eyes, he presses a lingering kiss to your palm. A sleepy sincerity has replaced his annoyance. “Cada momento a tu lado es una bendición. Sleep well, darling.”

You can't help but smile back. “Good night, Jake.”

[silvercap]

Number 15 from the drabbles list? (any character you'd like!) 🥰

You got it ;)

15. "Talk to me."

Hunnigan's eyes burn in the late night dark, the glow of her computer screen blurring and flaring briefly before she removes her glasses and rubs at her eyes. The monitor crackles slightly before Leon's voice filters through the speakers, her tired body immediately at rapt attention as she slides her glasses back in place.

"Hunnigan?" He sounds breathless, the connection gritty with static and interrupted at times by loud clatters of unidentifiable noise. Leon makes a short, sharp sound, his voice even more frantic when he speaks again. "Hunnigan, you still there?"

"I'm here. What's your status, Leon?"

"They---they hit me with something," he manages, Hunnigan's blood running cold in her veins. "I d'know what, but it's not---not good."

"What sort of something?"

"I think---" Leon cuts off his words to groan, the sound utterly agonized. "S-some kind of poison? I---I don't---"

"Did you get a look at the projectile?" Hunnigan asks, tapping at her keyboard to pull up the data report on the compound Leon had been tasked to investigate. "What are your symptoms?"

"Hurts," he gasps, "they're chasin' me."

"Symptoms?" Hunnigan repeats, but Leon's voice has gone hazy. Whether from the pain or whatever substance he's been shot up with, she isn't sure, but she can tell just from his tone that he's distracted. The comm line rustles for a long moment, before Leon's voice comes back in a whisper.

"They were ready for me," he gasps, strangely panicked. "They knew---they know---"

"Keep it together, Leon, I need you to work with me. Should I send evac to the rendezvous?"

"I'm---they're gonna---I can't---" Leon babbles, intercut with increasingly choked sounds of pain.

"Talk to me, Agent Kennedy," Hunnigan says, sitting up straight and putting as much stern reassurance into her tone as she can. "I need you to focus on my voice."

"Hunnigan," he whimpers, "I don't feel right."

"I know." Hunnigan's knuckles are white where they clutch at the mouse, gaze fixed on the pages of information scrolling past. "We're going to figure this out, okay?"

Leon gasps suddenly, the sound of shouting filtering into the background of the hissing radio line. "They found me. Hunnigan, I---I'm compromised."

"Is there anywhere else you can hide?" Hunnigan demands, but she's too late. The sound of gunshots fills the still-open line, Leon's ragged breaths audible only when his half-empty magazine runs out of ammo in a few shots. He makes a strangled sound.

"Get off me!" he growls, the sound of a scuffle interrupting Hunnigan's feed. It doesn't take long for him to cry out, coughing. He tries again to speak, but it's interrupted by statches of static. "Hun--gan! Ne---you to---"

The line goes dead and disconnects, leaving Hunnigan drenched in cool light from the computer, and Leon nowhere to be found.

[aswallowssong]

Sicktember 2024 #6: Dizziness/Vertigo

Welcome to my first installment (this season, iykyk) of "Aaron Hotchner, my sweet sweet baby, I'm so sorry to do this to you." I love playing in @themetaphorgirl's PSOLC sandbox (tysm my queen), and if it also means I can write soft things about Aaron, it's a two-for-one!!

“Shut up, or die!”

“You literally cannot threaten me with death over this! Hotch!”

Aaron looked up from his book and raised an eyebrow, tugging at his earlobe. He hadn’t been listening, but there were three other big kids in the room, and he had no idea why he’d been the chosen target of the whining.

“What?”

“Derek said he was gonna kill me!”

Derek rolled his eyes at JJ, crossing his arms over his chest. “I did not. I didn’t say how you were going to die, I just said that the options were shut up or die.”

Aaron’s eyebrow only raised further on his face. “Sounds like witchcraft to me, Jayje. I’d watch out.”

Derek spluttered for a moment, arms failing before he started babbling about how he couldn’t be doing witchcraft, because witchcraft is for girls and he was a man, but Aaron blocked them back out sometime around when Penelope started assuring Derek that, oh, no, men could definitely do witchcraft.

He had way too much to do to be worried about that. The english paper he’d forgotten to write and been mercifully granted an extension on was due at the end of the weekend, and he was still three chapters away from being able to outline the damn thing, let alone actually write it. Thankfully he was a good writer, and he knew that, but his spelling was awful, and he was going to need Alex to go over it with a fine tooth comb before he could submit it.

And he couldn’t have her look at it until it was written.

And he couldn’t write it until it was outlined.

And he couldn’t outline it until he’d read the chapters, which the little kids were going to make impossible to get through.

He’d considered moving to Alaska when Spencer wriggled under his arms and into his lap.

“Bug,” he said, an apology already in his mouth. “I really need to focus, can you go sit with–” He cut off, looking around.

Alex was at the library, working a long shift so she didn’t have to work on Sunday night, and could go over his paper with him.

Dave was writing something on his laptop with an expression that was giving ‘violent’ and ‘don’t come near me.’

Emily was nowhere to be seen. Probably out with that guy Ian that Aaron hadn’t met but definitely hated on principle.

Which left–

“James?”

James looked up at the same moment that Spencer deflated.

“Hmm?”

“I don’t wanna sit with James, I wanna sit with you.”

Aaron ran a hand down his face. His eyes were blurring, even with his contacts in, and the words had started swimming on the page. He hadn’t even been reading that long, but if eyes could ache, his sure were. That, and his ears hurt. But his ears always hurt, so, what else was new.

“I know, Bug, but I need to be able to focus on this.”

“I’ll be quiet!” Spencer pleaded, dropping into a whine immediately. “I won’t be distracting or wiggly, I promise!”

A pout settled on Spencer’s little face, and Aaron closed his eyes and took a breath before shaking his head.

“We can watch a movie or something when I’m done, but my eyes are already tired, so I just need, like, an hour of space.”

Spencer huffed, his shoulders slumping, and slid off Aaron’s lap to go sidle up to James. James, unphased, beamed at Spencer while ruffling his hair. 

“Do you wanna help me with this math problem, Bug? I know how much you love numbers.”

Aaron turned his eyes back to the book, and it felt like the page was swirling. He closed them for a second, a hand reaching up to press on his temple. When did the headache come on? Usually he could feel them starting, but it felt like it had gone from nothing to pounding.

“Fuck,” he mumbled, rubbing slow circles on his left side, and when he cracked his eyes back open, he’d managed to dislodge one of his contacts. “Fuck.”

Thankfully, it didn’t seem like anyone had noticed his slowly crumbling composure, and he stood up, setting his book down on the arm rest. The world moved in a dizzying spin, and he reached out to steady himself on the back of the armchair. It seemed that the only person that noticed was Dave.

“Where are you going, fagiolino?”

Aaron scowled, stomach swirling with how dizzy he suddenly was. “I knocked my contact weird. I’ll be right back.”

James and Spencer both looked up at his voice, and then back down as Spacer said something about matrices that James clearly didn’t understand. Dave, looking unimpressed, shrugged, and went back to glaring daggers at his computer. 

The others didn’t seem to even notice, still arguing about witchcraft.

He stalked out into the hallway, and when he was nearly to his room, everything tilted, and the pain he’d been feeling in his temples and his ears seemed to throb in sync, sending the world sideways. One of his shoulders hit the wall, and his knees buckled as the edge of his vision started to darken.

Aaron wasn’t a stranger to passing out. It happened relatively frequently, but usually when he was sick. He wasn’t sick.

Or, he hadn’t thought he was? He’d been tired, sure. Spencer had been having crazy nightmares as the weather shifted, something about tinfoil being a bad window insulator. He didn't know what that meant, but he hadn’t given it a huge amount of thought past calming him down, and promising that the windows were closed tightly, and that while Lincoln House was sort of shitty, it wasn’t bad enough to be drafty. 

He didn’t get to contemplate it, because he slid into a crumpled heap of limbs against the wall, the darkness almost overtaking him before he glimpsed someone come into view in the hallway. They might have shouted his name – his actual name, Aaron – before he slumped the rest of the way sideways to the ground, his consciousness left behind.

When he came to, not very many seconds later, he only knew two things. Someone was pulling on him, and he was definitely going to throw up. The latter, he was used to. That happened pretty much every time, and then the nausea abated. 

He usually got a warning, though, when he was going to pass out, so he was either in a bathroom already, or in bed, if he could be, with his little desk trash can ready to be used for its secondary purpose, right after throwing away abysmally incorrect math assignments.

There had been no warning this time, so he was mildly surprised that after he gagged, there was a trash can (maybe the one that lived in the hallway?) being shoved under his chin. He was sick immediately, coughing and heaving several times before it let up, and he shuddered, wiping his mouth along the back of his hand and willing himself not to cry. The dizziness usually abated, but it was hanging on, and the throbbing in his head or the pulsing of pain in his ears hadn’t stopped, either.

“You’re okay,” he heard, finally registering that someone was holding him up. “Did you know your ears are leaking?”

Aaron didn’t know that his ears were leaking, but he wasn’t surprised. He wasn’t a stranger to ear infections by any means. He just didn’t know how it could have gotten so bad they were leaking, and he hadn’t realized.

It took another second for him to register the voice that was speaking to him, muffled as always. Everything was always muffled.

“James?” He mumbled, a little surprised, but not unhappy. He’d rather James find him like this than Dave, or one of the younger kids, or god forbid, Spencer.

“That’s me,” James said, pulling him the rest of the way upright. The world spun a little faster, and Aaron swallowed his stomach down. “You know, if you’d told Alex you were sick, she would have traded her shift.”

“I didn’t know,” he said, sounding far away to himself as he fought to shake off the fog. “Just had a headache.”

That’s a lie, he heard a voice, Alex’s probably, say simply in his head.

It wasn’t a lie. At least, it wasn’t until it was. 

“Snuck up on me,” he amended, to at least have a sliver of truth between them.

James sat with that for a second, moving so Aaron could push his back against the wall. He’d always thought that James had the sort of eyes that looked at you, but looked through you more, like he was analyzing you in a polite way. Alex talked all the time about James’ dream to be a doctor, and there were moments where Aaron could see how perfect of a match that would be.

“You probably have an ear infection, probably both of them,” he said, his tone void of emotion, save for sympathy. James didn’t do pity, and Aaron appreciated it. “Do you have a fever?”

“Dunno,” Aaron said, and James pressed a palm against his forehead.

His face pulled, just slightly, before he said, “I think so.”

“Okay.”

“Do you want to tell me what’s wrong?”

Aaron looked up at him with lidded eyes, trying to focus on his face as everything spun.

“Really dizzy.”

James raised an eyebrow. “Well, I– Yeah. Yeah I figured that, you passed out.”

Aaron felt himself flush, more than embarrassed that James had seen that, but the stubborn part of himself won out. “I didn’t mean to pass out, James. It’s not like I wanted to collapse in the hallway.”

“Well, your ears are definitely infected. They’re literally leaking, so your equilibrium was bound to be off. And you definitely have a fever.”

He stopped, pulling his phone out, and Aaron took half a second too long to figure out what he was doing before the phone was up to his ear.

“Jame–”

“Al? Yeah, hey sorry, I know you’re at work. Aaron’s sick, do you think you could call someone to come cover your shift?”

“James, stop–”

“Yeah, I think his ears are infected. He said he’s really dizzy, and he’s definitely got a fever.”

Aaron gave up, knowing he wasn’t going to get anywhere, but let himself be incredibly grateful James didn’t mention him passing out in the hallway. Alex would freak.

“Yeah, text me when you’re leaving. I’ll get him in bed. I’ve got it … Spencer? No, Spencer is helping Dave figure out the best synonym for ‘star,’ so I think that’ll take a while … Yeah. Okay. See you soon.”

He hung up, looking down at Aaron with half a grin. “She’s worried, but she’s coming when she can. Think you can get off the ground?”

Relief flooded through Aaron against his will. He didn’t want Alex to worry, but he did want Alex to come back.

“I think so,” he said, trying to get the world to stop spinning by sheer force of will. He didn’t want to ask James for help, but it turned out he didn’t have to. James was about as tall as he was, and broad, which helped when he offered Aaron his hand and was able to help pull him up to standing. 

The dizziness was bad, and it didn’t help the nausea either, but he kept a stable hand on Aaron’s arm as they started down the hallway.

[randomthefox]

Shadow and Gerald and Maria are on an overlook watching as a massive trolley car is chugging down the half completed train tracks into town. A massive battleship of a train cart locked onto the tracks, with a visible glass domed viewing platform on top where Eggman is sitting smoking a cigar and looking out on the town as it comes into the station. Maria is looking worried while Gerald is on the verge of a mental breakdown.

"No matter how far west we travel, he keeps following us. We have to uproot our lives and flee while my old company expands further and further across the country..." Gerald is muttering.

Maria gently takes Shadow by the shoulder. "What can we do? There's nowhere else we can go is there...?"

"Unless we want to swim across the ocean. But maybe... Maybe I'm tired of running anyway." Shadow scowls while pulling out his binoculars and getting a better view of the trolley car as it pulls into station and Eggman hops out and mingles with the Sheriff. "We're backed into a corner. Might as well lash out to the bitter end."

"We can't fight him... We can't." Gerald clutches his head while babbling. "What he's done with my company. What he's created. It can't be fought. It can't."

"I used to believe that was true too. But I've been shown how wrong we were." Shadow says while thinking back on the scene of Sonic shooting down steambots to save Tails in broad daylight in front of everyone and getting away with it. How he's been accosted by steambots out on the prairie and fought them off. If Sonic can do it then so can he!

"Shadow... Everything we've had to do to survive. All the innocent people you've had to rob just to get us through another day... Are you sure this is worth the risk?" Maria asks quietly, more concerned for Shadows safety than anything else.

Shadow sighs. "I'm not proud of a single thing I've done since we first went on the run. But. For the first time. I'm feeling something besides desperation." He doesn't want to admit it out loud. But for the first time he's feeling hope.

"One hedgehog....one little cap and ball pistol... Against an entire steam powered army." Gerald mutters while saying, Maria takes his arm to keep him stable.

"I'll need more substantial weapons, you're right professor. And I think I know where to find some real heavy artillery." Shadow says while looking through his binoculars directly at the massive boxcar on the tracks.

-

In the dead of night a pair of steam bots are standing guard at the train station. Shadow and Rouge's heads peek out around the corner of a building, and they scurry over as quietly as they can. Rouge steps out into view attracting their attention with an "oh boooys~" routine while Shadow sneaks around to the other side of the trolley car and climbs up and into it. While the steambots are pointing their weapons in Rouge's direction she does her best to try and stall and defuse the tense situation, until just as they're about to fire on her and be done with it Shadow pops out from the doorway and grapples onto the back of one bot ripping away it's engine to disable it, and as the other turns towards them Rouge runs up and kicks the engine off the back of that one.

"What took you so long!?" Rouge huffs while adjusting her hair while the steambots spew smoke. The pair mosey inside Eggmans mobile headquarters of a boxcar and start rummaging through it. Rouge stealing railroad bonds and other loot while Shadow is on the look out for weaponry to rustle. In the very rear of the car they find a huge steel vault of a door. With a wordless glance and eyebrow quirk Shadow looks to Rouge, who just smiles and steps forward to start cracking the lock on the door.

Viewing from the inside of the vault, the door spins and then creeks open to show Shadow and Rouge framed in the doorway cast in silhouette. They stride inside and peer around in the darkness. Then the POV is overlaid with a sepia tone filter and film grain as a steam engine starts chugging into an activate state making Shadow and Rouge snap to attention and brace while looking directly at the 'camera'. The POV raises up and angles to look down at the two, while a gramophone sounding voice rings out.

"Intruders detected. Intruders... Unregistered." Shifting the POV around to show it's a Steampunk esk E-123 Omega, chained up and slowly revving up to his feet but isn't able to move from the chains holding him down. Shadow and Rouge glance at each other while Shadow reaches for his gun, but Omega just tugs at the chains. "Intruders... Provide assistance."

Rouge balks with surprise and then relaxed while Shadow is still on edge. "Assistance? Oh, I see... Eggman locked you up in here, did he?" Rouge intuits while gesturing to the chains. "How wastrel of him."

"Eggman... Creator. Eggman... Destroyer. Must destroy Eggman." Omega says with his voice skipping and scratching like an old gramophone trying to play a record that is mangled and damaged. "Assist me. To destroy Eggman."

Shadow actually smirks and looks to the side, meeting Rouge's glance. He pulls his gun from the holster and starts shooting at the chains, making them fall to the ground and letting Omega step free from the wall. "This is the first robbery I actually feel good about."

"Funny how things have a way of working out don't they?" Rouge laughs while reaching a hand out for Omega who looks at hesitantly before reaching his own claw out, which she gently takes and starts ushering him along to escape with them before anyone comes around to investigate the gunshot sounds. "Come on big guy, I'm sure the professor can get you back into fighting shape. Then the three of us can really start having fun raising hell."

[kanene-yaaay]

Hi hi hi it's juno again I'm once again going insane I need to share the little thought I just had!

So like... Wangxian tickling each other to help each other let go, but going for opposite end results because letting go means something different for their partner than for them,,,,, Because of their opposing social temperaments!

Basically:

Lan Zhan tickling Wei Ying until he's too far gone to get any words out. No more nervous rambling or insincere protests, just unselfconcious laughter and no need to comment on anything or to carry the conversation because Lan Zhan's got him.

And on the other hand:

Wei Ying tickling Lan Zhan until he forgets all his propriety and self-restraint and the clan rules calling for concise and clear speech. Wei Ying tickling Lan Zhan until he can't help but start begging and babbling because he's too far gone to even really notice and much less to care. And there's no one else he'd be able to share that completely unrestrained side with but Wei Ying, because Wei Ying also has him.

Tldr: LZ tickling WY until he can't talk, WY tickling LZ until he can't help but talk (i love them so much)

JUNO DEAR HOW CAN YOU JUST DROP HERE WITH THE MOST MAGNIFICENT, THE MOST INCREDIBLE HC EVER AND AHAVYWVWJWVWUAVA GOSH!!!!! ARE YOU AWARE!!!! I AM ALMOST RUNNING ACROSS THE WALLS W THIS SCENARIO I AM AAAAA ♡♡♡

The way that both of them want to LET GO, to totally relax and become undone under each other's hands until there is nothing else in their mind but laughter and love ♡♡♡♡

Lan Zhan! Who usually is careful and mindful with his words, selecting them with attention and sparsely using them only to stumble and lose each and every restrain, laughing loudly and clear, words tumbling from his smiling lips almost as much as his own giggling, saying anything, babbling and rambling and having no idea what even is being said with how much he is laughing is just !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! So so soooooooo goooood so great I want to AAAAAAA

And don't even get me started!!!!!!!! About Wei Ying!!!!!!!!!!!! GOSH! The one who once has been so worried, fighting for every single ounce of control now giving it up deliberately because there is no one else he trusts more than his Lan Zhan. So he let's himself fall and be caught and laugh and laugh and let his mind, his words and teasing and jokes and fears and doubts be shut down at once by his caring, his stubborn and loving husband who is very set in making warmth and laughter blossom freely from his soul to his lips

And there is nowhere else any of them could ever want to be