#i swear this is the last dumb poll

[headcanonenthusiast]

König NSFW headcanons

It was certainly a close call on the last poll, but König won! So, as promised, here are some NSFW headcanons of this absolute behemoth of a man 😎

I also like König, personally, but it will never not be hilarious to me that this dude doesn't have nearly as much screentime, development, and well, almost everything compared to other characters like Price or Ghost yet SKYROCKETED to popularity while the other members of KorTac are ignored 😭 Ppl like what they like ig.

(I completely understand that this type of content is not everyone's cup of tea, and that's ok! But, please scroll and ignore if this type of content isn't your thing as opposed to leaving any sort of negative comments.)

NSFW under the cut.

-He's quite obviously noticed by now that he's tall as fuck.

-And the cocky bastard 100% uses that to his advantage.

-Will back you up against anything and trap you there. The wall, a countertop, a corner, anywhere and everywhere he can trap you with his body.

-Now, how him trapping you plays out depends on how you act.

-If you're more playful and disobedient? He's a lot more rough, more demanding, more determined to pin you down and take what he wants.

-"Are you going to do what I say? Or are you going to keep acting like a fucking slut?"

-But if you're more inclined to submit to him, he's the exact opposite. He treats you so delicately, as if you were an expensive vase he doesn't want to break.

-"Oh, I'm sorry, meine liebe. Did I startle you? I didn't mean to."

-Then he's gently pulling you into his chest as his giant hands roam your body.

-Major size kink. The shorter you are compared to him = the gentler he is. Just feel like he doesn't have the heart to be too harsh on you if the height difference is more drastic.

-"No, no, no. I'm not doing that to you, meine liebe."

-His hands run all over your body in a gentle manner, practically cooing and begging at you to change your request. He's too anxious about hurting you if you're much shorter.

-"I don't think you could take it, schatz. You're so much smaller than me, there's no way it won't hurt for you."

-Does love hearing you beg, though. So if you ask really nicely, and repeat your chosen safeword like 50 times, and give him more time to prep you, he might give in.

-"Fine, fine. But, you tell me the moment it hurts, ja? Ja, good. Good girl/boy."

-The way he acts is honestly so dependant on how his partner acts, although he almost always insists on being dominate. That's set in stone.

-But as much as he insists on being on top, he won't be too rough unless you have consented beforehand and act like more of a brat.

-So focused on your eyes at all times, not just when he's pounding you.

-"What? Why are you eyeing me like that?"

-And then when you beg for sex, he'll chuckle with his arms crossed, an amused smirk on his face.

-"Oh, that's why. Alright, fine. I'll give you what you want."

-Does make you beg no matter how you act, though.

-"If, and only if, you ask nicely."

-And if you refuse? May God have mercy on you, because König certainly won't.

-"And just who the hell are you to speak to me that way, huh? When did you become such a brat?"

-Narrows his eyes and is absolutely appaled when you swear at him. Like, hand to his chest, overly dramatic ass expression on his face as if you've actually hurt his feelings and this isn't all consensual.

-"Fine, then I'll just find a better use for that filthy little mouth of yours."

-A huge sucker (no pun intended) for blowjobs.

-If you're someone who likes it rougher and prefers being a brat, he's gonna go a bit harsher on your throat. He gives you a long af lecture for no reason, ranting while his giant fingers dig into your hair.

-"Why do you make things so difficult, liebling? Why?"

-Big fan of fucking you dumb. Prays that he's able to basically turn your mind to mush everytime. And when he does, his ego skyrockets.

-"It must be because you're such a little slut for me. Is that right? Habe ich damit recht, liebling? Was für eine Schlampe du für mich bist."

-But, if you give him a blowjob and are listening to him, it'd go something more like this.

-"You don't have to take it all at once, schatz. It's too much for you."

-"Careful, darling. Don't choke on my cock, now. Don't make your throat sore."

-And he's gently rubbing the back of your head, content hums and moans falling from his lips as he admires you sucking his cock.

-5 inches soft, 7 inches hard and you already know it's fat asf (lord have MERCY 😶)

-Carries you around a lot. Will gladly fuck you with you in his arms if you let him.

-Always grabbing onto your hips, thighs, and even your belly if you're chubbier. He just needs a partner he can grab onto while having sex.

-Really likes to tap the tip of his cock against your clit/dick/ass. Smiles if it makes you twitch a little.

-Praises your pussy/ass constantly for how tight it is.

-"Fuck, this pussy/ass is so tight. Feels so good.."

-And it's either he's cumming super deep inside of you, or he's pulling out at the last minute to paint your pussy lips/ass cheeks with his cum.

-Always enjoys seeing the finished product afterwards, whether it's inside or on you.

-And if you're chubbier? He wants to cum on that belly. In fact, he will. There's barely anything to stop him (besides you using your safeword, ofc) from cumming on your belly.

-"There we go, my perfect little liebling. You look so pretty/handsome painted in my cum."

-He also seems to count eating you out/sucking you off as aftercare. He'll gladly, and very gently, use his mouth on you so you can cum again.

-Then for the actual aftercare, it's fairly simple. He doesn't talk much, just wanting to pass out, but he'll put your head on his chest, a hand on your back with light kisses pressed to your scalp. He allows himself to become your bed as you both drift off.

-And don't worry if you'd prefer more talking for doing so well for him, he'll be sure to properly praise you tomorrow. The entire morning after sex, he's doting upon your every whim, ensuring that he didn't hurt you at all.

Translations: mein/meine = my

Liebling = darling

Schatz = treasure/sweetheart

Liebe = love

Habe ich damit recht, liebling? Was für eine Schlampe du für mich bist. = Am I right about that, darling? What a slut you are for me.

Yall I wrote this while half asleep, I'm so sorry if there's any spelling mistakes 😭

I also had fun with this. I love König just as much as the next basic König lover who's only ever heard of him from tiktok, but I cannot take him 100% seriously, as terrifying as he is 😭 its probably bc of his voice ngl.

Anyways, Ghost is up next! Hope you enjoyed.

[weirdly-specific-but-ok]

hi it's the good omens mascot here's some shit about me that might be relevant

I appear to have accidentally caused chaos so I figured you might as well know about me since I'm responsible for it. And also so that you know who you broke, thanks ineffable fandom.

I have been called the prophet by some of you all. This is not entirely untrue, but I would like to add as I did in one post, that Apollo also gave me the curses of art, (very emotional) music, (sometimes good mostly dreadful) poetry, (same parentheses apply, except that the dreadful is on purpose) writing and (used to be good now dreadful) medical knowledge, and so yes, you did accidently adopt a messenger of an ancient Greek god.

Yes, this entire entry into your cult happened from start to now happened in 48 hours.

This will seem less bizarre when I give you context about me and fandoms. I changed career paths (after three years of intense study that cost me my sanity) from science to the arts because I was inspired by drarry fanfiction of them leaving their ministry jobs and following their dreams. Yes I tossed three years and my loss of sanity away in one week of decisions. I'm now a designer. Thanks Draco.

I read so much drarry fanfiction that my mum had to take me to the hospital for injured wrists. I wore wrist and elbow supports and was in constant pain for a few months. I was only later introduced to autoscroll. Yes, I am a fool. Yes, I am unaware of how to human.

I'm broke and cheap enough that I feel guilty buying bottled water, but for Christmas I spent the equivalent of around 150 bottles of water getting a Bakewell tart custom made (they don't sell them where I live). Why? Because in one single fanfiction, it is Draco's favourite food. I would never spend that kind of money on a dessert for any real human being.

That is to say, you all are not ready for when I REALLY fall for Crowley. I don't saunter vaguely downwards for people. I bypass earth and crash into hell, leaving a smoking pit in its infernal ground.

I swear I'm not as dumb as I seem, I just have ZERO general knowledge, and am terrible with faces. I can tell you what the graffiti on the walls of Pompeii from before 70 AD said but I don't know who my previous president was, and personally I think that's very classy of me.

Some of you seem concerned about my sleep schedule. Worry not, I sleep in four installments, night, morning nap, afternoon nap, evening nap. I sleep more than you all, that I can promise. I sleep more than my doggy sister.

About the streams and the timezones, I have no idea how to make it so people can watch, because I frequently mix up east and west and last morning I mixed up the Pacific and Atlantic ocean. I don't know at what point the Eastern hemisphere becomes the Western or how any of it works. I also thought Wakanda was a real place.

But hey fun fact, in 2020 diclofenac sales were dropping in Iceland. I know this because I wanted to make sure to use the correct painkiller in one sentence of a story I was writing. It was completely irrelevant. But hey any of you writers here probably feel my pain. I don't write fanfiction, but I am an author and I write original stories. And honestly what is more useful, Icelandic diclofenac sales from three years ago or timezones?

A career test once told me to be a standup comedian.

Yes that's me Asmi, just your regular dumbass lad who is slightly unhinged, serving himbo twink energy, hello hi nice to meet you all. PS: the poll results are out and Doctor Who won, so tremble, DW fandom.

[kimingyuslover]

Photographs

synopsis : wonwoo's heartbreaks.

word count : 1,123

pairing : wonwoo x fem!reader.

genre : angst.

warnings : TEARS, TEARS & TEARS hehehe, wonwoo's kind of an asshole(???), mingyu makes appearances, Seojun & Junseo are twins (your sons), mom!reader.

a.n : ik the poll says fluff, but i can't ignore this idea t__t

“If you don't want this, you can just tell me, but i'm not going to give up on them” said you as you hold your tears from falling to your lap, you know there's consequence for your doing and you're okay with that, you're ready to handle the responsibility.

Although you're still at fault for this, so does wonwoo. this wouldn't happen if both of you were in your right state of mind that night.

You're willing to give anything for this, whereas wonwoo not. Having kids, especially before the marriage, was never on his luck calendar, so you announcing this to him was such a surprise.

“I think,” there's a pregnant pause in his words, but you already promised yourself that what happens today will determine your future.

“I think we should break things up” he finally finishes his line.

You felt like there's a sharp knife running through your chest, your breath felt heavy, and your eyes started to get more wet.

“Okay then, i'll be gone in the morning”

You got up from the couch, heading towards your shared bedroom to take your personal belongings. You packed half of your things yesterday, just in case your nightmare comes true, and tonight, it does.

[ఇ ◝‿◜ ఇ]

Wonwoo woke up from his deep slumber, unaware of anything. The only difference he felt was he's not sleeping in your bedroom, he's sleeping on the couch, which caused his back to be in pain.

His heart dropped to his stomach when he saw the bedroom empty.

The only thing he saw on your bed was the little note, a note that you wrote days prior.

To my dearest, wonwoo

hi, wonwoo

you'll probably see this when i'm gone. I wrote this long before you knew about them. I don't mind if you don't want them, but I want to keep the babies.

I've already imagined your rejection in my head, and every time it comes, my heart hurts.

I really thought we're endgame, but that's only in my mind, isn't it? When I first saw them, I almost didn't believe it.

Me, too, am scared to be a parent, but we have to pay the price for our happiness, right?

I love you, Jeon wonwoo.

When this note passes to you (i'm hoping it's not) i'll just hope you'll find someone better, who fits into your categories of women, and is not dumb enough to be pregnant with your babies.

sincerely & with love,

your (ex?)girlfriend, y/n

A single tear drops from his right eyes, and the argument from the night before comes to his mind.

His sharp intonation, sarcasm, hurtful words that we swear he would never throw at you, and the b word that he never wants to say to you.

Suddenly, everything became as clear as the sky yesterday.

[ఇ ◝‿◜ ఇ]

“Junseo, Seojun! Next time, wait for Mommy if you want to cross, okay? I'm so worried for both of you!” you said to your sons as they looked at the ground beneath their feet.

Guilty start building up their body, and tears start gathering on their eyes.

“Mommy sorry, I'm sorry, let's go walking again, okay?” you said to them as you put your hand on Seojun's left cheek and the other on Junseo's right cheek.

They nod at you before telling you that they're sorry and won't let it happen again, which caused you to hug them tightly.

The three of you want to go to a museum near your hotel.

There's a new museum that will be opened for the first time for the public to see, and it's a photography museum, there'll be the owner of the museum there too, considering that this is their grand opening.

You circled around the photos with a glass of champagne being served by the waiter there with junseo on your left and seojun on your right.

You feel your knees are stuck on the floor below you. There's a photograph of your last vacation photo with wonwoo, before the announcement, before the night gets messy.

You read the description.

Kim

my greatest, painful love, first and last love

06-06-26 There were 11 days left until my birthday, but I made my greatest mistake and regret.

“Mommy? Why are you looking so sad?” One of the five years old asks you. He can see the way your eyes start to widen in disbelief.

Him and his twins are concerned about you, so Junseo decided to ask you.

Realising you're still with your sons, you wipe your tears that threaten to spill anytime soon.

You smile at them and give them a peck on each forehead, then tell them that you're okay.

Your eyes dart to the next photograph, a silhouette of a woman.

Seojun and Junseo make a silent discussion. You're taken aback when Seojun said

“Isn't this you, Mommy?”

You read the description again.

Kim II

I've found the love of my life in you, my greatest desire.

It's the same.

You remember it, this has been wonwoo's homepage wallpaper on his computer since he took it a month before the incident.

Your breaths are now shallow, and when you start to feel dizzy, someone catches you, just on time.

“my love! Are you okay? Do you want to go home?” You heard a familiar voice behind you.

Mingyu's voice sounds so concerned. This does not happen often to you. Mingyu's now asking about a doctor who maybe could help you.

A middle-aged woman came forward and started to help you breathe.

Wonwoo gets confused when he sees a lot of people surrounding a spot in his museum, so he wants to check it.

Wonwoo halts his action when he sees you, well and alive, with a man beside you, and there's two little boys around you.

He feels his eyes getting soaked. You really didn't give up on them 5 years ago. They're here, on his exhibit.

His heart breaks when he sees you and them. The guilt is still there even after all these years.

Wonwoo knows what's behind you. It's a photograph of memory of you before the breakdown.

This whole exhibit was presented to you, his muse.

Wonwoo didn't even get to tell his messages that he kept for you to hear because when you get back up on your feet, you start to walk out.

“Honey, do you want to go to the hospital nearby?” The man beside you asks, a little bit loud because wonwoo still can hear it.

“No need, love, let's just go back to our hotel room, come on babies” you ushered Mingyu, Junseo, and Seojun.

Yes, wonwoo breaks his heart again.

All those heartbreaks were all his fault.

[notsoattractivearenti]

It's Time to Leave (Mason Mount x Reader)

Song Inspo: Stay - Why Don't We (Listening to the song while reading this fic is highly recommended 😊)

WC: 1.5K

Warnings: Curse words, angst

A/N: Made a poll about who to write this fic for and Mason got the most votes! Should've finished 2 weeks ago but I didn't have the time lol but here it is 😉 Special thanks to @ariddletobesolved for proofreading! This fic is an one-shot, so there's not gonna be a 2nd part. Please enjoy and I'd love to hear your thoughts through replies/reblogs/asks 💗 Feedbacks are highly appreciated!

---

“I just wish things could be like they used to

But they never will, now I see right through you

Wish you could tell me all the ways that I miss you

Baby, I'd be lying if I didn't say I wish you'd

Stay”

---

“Y/N, I don’t think I can do this anymore.”

“Huh? What do you mean?”

“I can’t be the only one who’s invested in our relationship. It’s supposed to work both ways, you know? Well it used to be like that. But now-“

“Excuse me!? Why the fuck would you even think that way, Mason? I’m not invested in us? Why do you think I stayed for all these years?”

“You’ve changed, Y/N! You’ve fucking changed! Don’t you realise that? Do you think I’m too dumb to notice that?? I’m tired of being the one who cares so much when you don’t give a shit about me anymore!” He yelled, and you could see he was already tearing up.

From the first time you met him, he had never yelled at you. He has always been a calm, gentle, and loving person. No matter how upset he could be, he always handled things in a peaceful manner. You loved that about him, because he was different from the other guys you’ve previously dated. You felt like he was the one you can always count on, who will never let you down. He has a very positive attitude and big, warm personality, the moment you laid your eyes on Mason you were instantly drawn to him.

But today he showed you the side of him you have never seen before. You could clearly see he was filled with disappointment, resentment, anger, and sadness. You just came to a realisation that you have hurt him deeply. You were aware that your feelings toward him have changed, but you were in denial and tried to ignore that because you didn’t know how to tell him. You were afraid that if you broke up with him, you would make the biggest mistake in your life. But what you didn’t notice is that your behaviour had changed as well, you thought he would never notice – but knowing how in love with you he was, and that he’d known you all too well, of course he did.

“I was always there when you needed me, and I know for sure you fucking knew. I put a lot of effort into making our relationship last because I thought you were my forever.” He scoffed, pausing for a bit, shaking his head in something like disbelief. “Back then, we were so in love, we had so much fun together. But lately you seem like you have given up on us… What could possibly go wrong with us, Y/N?” His bloodshot eyes were now on you. Gone was the warmth that he used to reserve for you. “Have I done something to make you feel like I’m not worthy of your love anymore?” His voice was shaky as he tried to control himself from exploding, but his overflowing emotions were difficult to hide. 

You froze for a minute, unable to think of anything to say. It’s like your brain suddenly couldn’t function. There was a pang in your chest that felt so heavy, and your hands started shaking. You were trying to gather yourself to find the right words to express how you feel about him. 

“Mason… I-” This will hurt, you thought before continuing, “I’m sorry. The truth is… My feelings have not been the same. I don’t know why, how or when, but it is what it is.” You sighed, “I… I don’t love you anymore.”

He bit his lip and started breathing heavily, seemingly not ready to hear you say those last five words.

“I’ve been wanting to tell you that, but I just didn’t know how. I swear, it’s not you. But I feel like there’s something lacking within our relationship. I ju-”

“I gave you everything I could give you, Y/N. Everything. I poured my heart and soul into you, us. Wasn’t that enough for you?” 

Your eyes widened, your jaw just dropped. You couldn’t believe what you just heard. 

Mason took a deep breath, “I loved that you had shown me how much you needed me, but now it feels like you don't anymore. I mean, not long ago I just got injured and had to miss training and matches for a few weeks! You knew how much I needed you by my side, but instead you left me alone while you were out doing God-knows-what. You lied to me, and you kept making excuses after excuses, it’s like you just want to get away from me.”

Tears started streaming down your face. Fuck, you thought, what have I done?

“Wha- Mase, I… I have no idea you feel that way. I’m sorry… Fuck, I’m sorry I have been treating you like shit, I just…” you caught your breath from crying, “I don’t know what’s happening with me. What I did was wrong, I should’ve been there for you. I should’ve… I should’ve been honest to you. I… I don’t… I didn’t mean to break your heart…”

“Well it’s a little too late isn’t it?” he let out a scoff as he furiously wiped his tears, “I think it’s time for me to leave, Y/N. There’s no point of me staying in a dead-end relationship. You’ve fallen out of love with me, and I’m not going to convince you to love me the way you used to. I’ve tried my hardest to keep this ship floating, now I’m done.”

Overwhelmed, he paused for a second. “I just… I just don’t know you anymore, Y/N. You are not who you used to be. Now you don’t seem to care about me, about us. Now everything is always about you.”

You could feel your heart begin to shatter. You knew a break-up was coming eventually, but to hear him speak his truth hurt you deeper than you thought it would. You have done such awful things to him just because you were afraid to tell him how you feel. You wouldn’t blame him if he hates you now – in fact, you knew you deserved it.

“I’m tired of feeling down. I deserve better than whatever bullshit you’re giving me.”

 He would be lying if he said he didn’t wish for you to stay, to give your relationship another try. But he knew you two would never work anymore. He wanted everything to be the way it used to be, he wanted to be loved by you and you only. But if you stayed, it would cause you both nothing but pain. At the moment he just knew that going separate ways was the only right thing to do.

You tried to hold back your tears, you were filled with instant regret. You knew you’ve fucked up and taken the greatest love of your life for granted. You hated that your relationship had to go down this way, but you knew you deserved it.

“Mase, I wish I could’ve done better… You and I both know even a million sorries will never be enough. You should know I’ve never meant to hurt you… And yet, at the end, I still did. Thank you for telling me everything I needed to know, I hate myself for treating you unfairly. You deserve better than a bitch like m-”

“No, Y/N, don’t say that,” he cut you off, “you’re not a bitch. You never were.”

“I am, Mase. I know for sure I am. You’ve always been so sweet and loving to me but I fucking hurt you in the worst way possible.”

You both then sat in silence for a while, trying to process the break-up. There was nothing easy about it, especially since you weren’t exactly prepared for what just happened.

“Well,” you broke the silence, “I guess it’s time for me to go.” This is it. “Goodbye Mase, and I’m sorry we had to end like this.”

You went in and tried to give him a hug, but he refused. “I can’t do that, Y/N. I’m sorry.”

“I- I understand.” You pressed your lips into a tight line, taking it as your cue to leave.

As you stood up and grabbed your things, he said to you: “Goodbye, Y/N.”

---

Two weeks had passed. His heart ached from missing you, he was questioning his decision to let you go but he knew it had to be done. He tried to delete your pictures and your number from his phone, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it, knowing that he still needed some time.

Putting his phone away, he then grabbed a pen and a little notebook he had. Since he couldn’t tell you how he was feeling, he wrote them down instead:

“Y/N, I wish I could tell you just how much I miss you… You are just too hard to forget. But I deserve better… After everything, I need to heal. We both do. Nonetheless, I hope you will find someone who can love you better than I did…”

---

“Gave you all I can give you

Now all that's left is "I still miss you"”

---

taglist: @pulisicsgirl @neverinadream @masonspulisic @swimmingismywholelife @chelseagirl98 @bracedes @lovelynikol16 @thoseboysinblue @lizzypotter14 @mortirolo @masonsrem

[dangerous-disposition]

Gerry's WIP Wedneseekend!

This was hugely helpful for me last week in just getting Words Down for the strap!verse which has now become an actual fic rather than a series of smutty one-shots oops so now I'm gonna do this to focus on my fics for Lex's Summer Challenge!

DISCLAIMER: I am only calling it WIP Wedneseekend because it stresses me out to "limit" myself to one day and I think it's fun!! Please do not feel like you also have to do a whole thing too if you're tagged or see this.

The Rules

I post the two prompts I claimed as a poll

Y'all vote in the poll and send me asks requesting a snippet of the fic of your choice

For every vote a fic receives, I will commit to writing 100 words on that fic. For every ask I receive, I will commit to writing an additional 100 words. (So if one gets 10 votes, and 5 asks, that's 1500 words)

At the end of the weekend, I will have completed fics to prepare for posting by the end of the month!

I will post a snippet of what I wrote and tag everyone who requested a snippet!

The Snippet - "Can I braid your hair?"

“Can I braid your hair?” Eddie blinked over at Steve, eyebrows high on his sweaty forehead while he held his hair up off the back of his neck. He could swear he felt heat pouring out of his head. Summer had descended on Hawkins with a vengeance, as if in retaliation for the brief handful of weeks in the Spring when the portals to a frigid hell dimension opened up and attempted to take over their world. Granted, summers in Hawkins tended to be hotter than Satan’s taint, especially around Independence Day, but Eddie figured he was allowed to be noisy and bitchy about it if he wanted. He almost died—first at the hands of a town full of angry, scared hicks, then by a swarm of demobats—and this was his first summer officially free of Hawkins High, the other frigid hell dimension in that shitty town. If Eddie had to spend the summer in the sweaty armpit of America because of dumb bullshit like “recovery” and “physical therapy” and “being under observation,” he was going to bitch and moan and throw all the tantrums he wanted. It helped that all the stupid bullshit (like recovery, and physical therapy, and being under observation) meant that Eddie got to spend a lot of time with Steve outside of the apocalypse. They were both lucky enough to be Under Observation together, courtesy of both of them being the favoured chew toys for the demobats. From there, Steve just started staying close to Eddie, taking him to and from physical therapy, helping him with his exercises at home, coming over when Eddie was in too much pain to get up to use the bathroom, let alone get up and locate painkillers and take them. It had been a while since Steve had to help him on a particularly bad pain day, at least one that extreme, but Steve still came over almost daily. Usually, they would just hang out and eat junk food, smoke a bit of pot sometimes, usually watch whatever movie Steve brought over from work. Sometimes, Steve would suggest they go for a drive and they would just do that, make like they would leave completely. “We could get out of here, never look back.” Worded like a comment, spoken like an oath. “You wanna run away with me, Stevie?” Tone teasing but lined with a hollow desperation. The air in the Beemer would change the moment that question fell from Eddie’s lips, the way Steve’s arms flexed as he squeezed the steering wheel captivating. Most of the time, Eddie doesn’t hear an answer from Steve, other times he hears a quiet but teasing, “Of course, Eds.”

The (no pressure) Tags

These are mostly just so people can vote if they want ;p

@scarcrossdlvrs @patchworkgargoyle @stobinesque @inairbinad @legitcookie @thefreakandthehair @sidekick-hero @yournowheregirl @judasofsuburbia @wynnyfryd @steddieas-shegoes @pizzaqueen @starryeyedjanai @starrystevie @scoops-stevie @lets-try-to-be-normal-otakus @xenon-demon

[stop-spreading-this-poll]

Active Polls

Upcoming polls:

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Spoiled: FNaF vs Warrior Cats

Not Deliberately/Willingly: Warrior Cats vs Mo Dao Zu Shi

Canon Ship: Supernatural vs Vanitas no Carte

This Design was the Original/Fake Leak: Death Note vs Suite PreCure

Quote: Sherlock Holmes vs Fullmetal Alchemist

Mom: Teen Wolf vs Invader Zim

This Character exists: Keeper of the Lost Cities vs Undertale

Teenager: Chainsaw Man vs Pokémon

Dead/Killed: Rhythm Games vs Plants vs Zombies

Women am I right: Red Dead Redemption 2 vs Ninjago

Promo Misconception: Twisted Wonderland vs Free!

****philia Accusation: Cookie Run vs Mobile Suit Gundam

So much over a mistranslation: One Piece vs Ace Attorney

Identity: Shin Megami Tensei vs Sailor Moon

Bad: Phineas and Ferb vs Teen Wolf

True Self: Miraculous Ladybug vs Danganronpa

Dumb: Touhou vs Don't Hug Me I'm Scared

Connected: Yugioh 5d's vs Undertale

Swearing: Homestuck vs Bungo Stray Dogs

Lesbian: Enola Holmes vs Mob Psycho 100

ADHD: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles vs The Owl House

Stats: Pokémon SGC vs Undertale

Portrayed by Fans: Dimension 20 Fantasy High vs Miraculous Ladybug

The Creator said... : Ace Attorney vs One Piece

Same/Different Universe: Star Trek Discovery vs Jojo's Bizarre Adventure

My poor misunderstood baby: Disco Elysium vs Helluva Boss

Just A Joke: Animaniacs vs Sesame Street

Ages Pt.2: Tangled the Series vs Sonic the Hedgehog

Relationships: Naruto vs Marvel's Avengers

Making Things Up?: Persona 5 vs Project Sekai

Worked on it: Monster Allergy vs Sonic the Hedgehog

Intelligence/Grades: DC vs H*rry P*tt*r

I decide their gender :): Bungo Stray Dogs vs Undertale/Deltarune

Doesn't Happen Because... : Total Drama vs Avatar the Last Airbender

Not in the Bible: Bible vs Pokémon

Cut Content: Persona 5 vs Portal

Not at Face Value: Persona vs Persona

Evil Pt. 2 Deltarune vs Undertale

Reading Too Much Into It: Haikyu vs Star Fox

He knows: Star Wars vs Undertale

Naming schemes: Super Robot Monkey Team Hyperforce Go vs Splatoon

Good/Enjoyable: Scott the Woz vs Homestuck

Abusive/Horrible Person: Epithet Erased vs Resident Evil 8

Literally: Supernatural vs Persona

Debunked. Multiple Times: Monster Hunter vs Five Nights at Freddy's

Credit: Vocal Synths vs Lilo and Stitch

Canon character misinterpretation?: Green Arrow vs DC

Something Something: Final Fantasy 14 vs Homestuck

Game Myths: Team Fortress 2 vs Geneforge

Headcanon not canon: Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles vs My Hero Academia

Canonically gay: Pirates of the Caribbean vs Mob Psycho 100

Relationships Pt 2: Danganronpa vs Fairy Tail

They were the reason they went: Total Drama vs Danganronpa

What's canon: Gravity Falls vs The Henry Stickmin Collection

It's not that deep: Jojo's Bizarre Adventure vs Half Life

Intelligence: Resident Evil vs Bungo Stray Dogs

This is an assumption: Silent Hill vs Undertale

Either one or the other: Durarara!! vs Warrior Cats

One/Two dimensional: God of War vs Gravity Falls

Lesbian: Worm/Parahumans vs Portal

Relationship stuff: The Addams Family vs Gravity Falls

Family: DSMP vs Sonic

Void: Kirby vs Hermitcraft

Backstory: Pokémon vs Resident Evil

Crimes: The Band Ghost vs Scum Villain's Self-Saving System

Shooting and Taking: Person of Interest vs Star Wars

Stop saying this: Ghost Stories vs Madoka Magica

[total-drama-takes-takes-2]

tti episode 20

“Last time on Total Takes Island: the campers set foot on the most wild parts of the island to practice the ancient pastime of trapping animals using whatever they could find. Ass-slash-Natalie conned McLovin into helping them when Julia was too busy trying to get Staci out of a sticky situation after she discovered Patrick had been working with the long-eliminated Kitty. Michael and Bonnie bonded over missing their friends, and Michael cinched the win. Ultimately, Patrick’s scheming got Staci eliminated, leaving only six campers left. Who will be mauled by bears today? And who will form another shaky alliance? Find out now, on Total! Takes! Island!”

Ass and Julia sit on the girls’ and such cabin steps early in the morning, the former filing their nails again and the latter reading War and Peace out loud. 

Finally, Julia sighs, slamming the heavy book shut. “Am I done yet? This is boring,”

“No, this is educational. Not everything can be solved through software and the internet or whatever it is you do,” Ass rolls their eyes. “I swear, this generation!”

Patrick walks by, smiling merrily and waving on his way to the mess hall for a late breakfast. Ass glares. 

---

ASS: “Okay, so Julia’s idea of using Patrick was dumb, obviously. I’m not making that mistake again. But I still need her on my side, seeing as how Bonnie and Michael are all buddy-buddy now. One slip up and Julia’s dead, which means I’m next,”

---

A helicopter flies over the cabin area, Chris hovering in the control seat. He pulls out a megaphone and grins. Ass and Julia brace themselves in anticipation, covering their ears. Patrick raises an eyebrow as Chris’ voice blares at an insane decibel. 

“GOOOOOD MORNING, CAMPERS!” 

Patrick squeals and falls backwards, ears immediately ringing and hearing fading out. 

“Over the past six weeks, 16 campers have tried- and failed- to get to where you are right now! Fren, Joner, Peter, Patrick, Kitty, Mal, O, Sha-Mod, Frollo, Caesar, Ass, Austin, Scruffy, Kelly, Courtney, Scary, Max, and Staci! Only six campers remain, but only one will be winning the million!” He pauses to land the helicopter between the two cabins, nearly blowing Ass and Julia away. 

Michael and Bonnie poke their heads out of the cabin to witness the commotion, and McLovin follows from the bathrooms shortly, dragging a roll of toilet paper stuck to the heel of his shoe behind him. “Today, we’re going to test everyone’s patience to the extreme, juuuuust to see who breaks first,” Chris chuckles. “Your challenge is a camp favorite: a triathlon!”

“And?” Ass says. 

“And, you’ll be attached with some of these,” Chris grins, pulling out a pair of handcuffs. “You’ll be sorted into three teams of two- now, our marketing team thought it’d be fun if we paired you up based on what province you’re from, but seeing as how most of our remaining campers are international grifters, I thought each player could represent which province they’re currently most popular in instead.”

“You took a poll?” Julia asks as Chef walks out from the mess hall holding a few buttons with province flags on them. 

“Yes indeed. Winning team members will both get invincibility from today’s elimination, by the by, so cheer up!” Chris smiles. “Alright- let’s see- Bonnie, you’ll be representing Manitoba,”

Chef walks over and adorns Bonnie with a red button. They stare at it for a moment. “The things I do for this show,”

“Michael- Quebec!”

Michael accepts her pin without a word.

---

MICHAEL: “I’m… not totally surprised. Both of my parents speak French… albeit, different dialects, and my name is pretty French-sounding. I don’t know the first thing about Quebec, though, so who knows,”

---

“Julia- Ontario,” Chris says as another button is attached to her lapel. “McLovin- the Yukon!”

“What?” McLovin asks as Chef approaches with a green, blue and white button. “There’s nothing up there!”

“You were actually most popular in Ontario, but we let Julia have this one,” Chris chuckles. “And finally, Natalie and Patrick scored a perfect tie in British Columbia. Not surprised, considering how full of themselves everyone is over there.”

Patrick and Ass look between each other and then to Chris. “Okay, what now?”

“Now you get your assignments,” he smiles, holding up three pairs of handcuffs. “We’ve designated your pairings based on your provinces- Ass and Patrick,” he walks over, pulling the two together and handcuffing Ass’ left wrist to Patrick’s right. “You stuck-up BC faves will be forced to work with each other. And since no one likes Ontario or Quebec, we decided to place you two over there with boring Manitoba and non-offensive Yukon,”

“Oh, no,” Michael says. “Does that mean-?”

“Yep!” Chris says, dragging her over to McLovin and cuffing the two together. Both glance at each other in terror. 

“No way,” Bonnie says, backing up into Chef as Chris approaches, trapping them. Julia glares and crosses her arms as soon as they’re cuffed, yanking Bonnie forward to the ground. 

“Alright, now that that’s settled- to the mess hall for your first challenge!”

---

Chris stands in front of the pairs as they line the remaining table. Bonnie and Julia have been yanking each other’s arms around for the past few minutes, McLovin and Michael are standing as far as physically possible away from each other, and Ass and Patrick have already begun pinching and shoving each other. 

“This is the competitive chow down!” Chris paces in front of them. “Each team will choose a feeder and an eater- the eater must put their hands behind them as the feeder gives them a delicious meal. And one last thing- this here is the wimp key,” he holds up a key with a skull emblem. “Once you’re ready to cry chicken and forfeit, this key will release you from your binds.”

Chef emerges from the kitchen, holding platters of furry food. Everyone winces. 

“Um. Ew! Okay, I’m feeding!” Julia says, turning to Bonnie. 

Bonnie glares. “Says who?”

“Says me!”

The two begin yanking each other to the floor again, growling and shouting. Ass rolls their eyes at the display and turns to Patrick. 

“I’m being the feeder. I don’t trust you for a second,”

“But-”

Ass turns their head in the other direction, ignoring his pleads. Patrick sighs in defeat, then shrugs- “Our loss,”

The two take a seat at the table as Bonnie and Julia stand from the floor, hair tangled and each covered in tiny scratches. Bonnie gives their teammate one last shove before they sit down. 

Michael watches the two pairs, then turns to McLovin. “Okay. Which do you want to be?”

He blinks. “I dunno, whatever you want,”

“Well, I don’t have a preference, so can you just choose?”

“Why can’t you choose?!” 

“Because- fine! I’ll be the eater,”

“Okay!”

Michael squints. “No- you be the eater,”

“That’s good too!”

"Actually, I'll be the eater,"

"Sounds good to me!"

Michael groans and sits, pulling McLovin a little too hard. He falls backwards with a yelp. 

“On your marks- get set- eat!” Chris flags the teams as Chef blows on a whistle. The designated eaters- Julia, Patrick, and Michael- put their hands behind their backs. 

“Could you slow down?!” Julia sputters as Bonnie shoves spoonful after spoonful of watery mac n cheese down her throat. Bonnie goes faster. 

McLovin’s hand seems to become uncontrollably shaky every time he lifts the utensil. They’re far behind the other teams, and after the sixth spoonful of dropped chicken, Michael gives up. “McLovin, you need to get a hold of yourself,” 

“W-what do you mean?” he asks, smiling nervously. 

“I mean we’re wasting food and we’re about to lose if you don’t pick things up,” she says, having to scooch close to him to lean forward and bite off the spoon. 

“I’m- I’m trying!”

She narrows her eyes at him. “Sometimes intent isn’t good enough. Sometimes you actually have to act,”

He swallows a lump in his throat as her double-entendre sinks in. Meanwhile, Ass is forcefully shoving straight handfuls of cheesecake into Patrick’s mouth, overstuffing it and causing him to cough. He manages to swallow one last mouthful of furry cream before the plate is clean. 

“Okay, we just need to get through the chicken next,” Ass says. “This’ll be a cinch!”

Patrick coughs dryly. “Is it spicy?" he asks, looking at the green bird. "You might want to-”

Ass forces another spoonful of food to the back of his throat and he coughs before leaning forward and throwing up on their shoes. They scream. 

“OKAY, I’VE HAD IT!” 

Ass stands, dragging Patrick along behind them before snatching the key from Chris’ hands and unlocking them. 

“I hate all of you!” They yell, fists clenched and eyes narrowed as they storm out to the showers. Patrick groans on the floor. 

“Oookay,” Chris says. “Early, but not unexpected.”

Julia finishes the meal and groans, glaring at Bonnie once she regains her balance and stops feeling too nauseous to speak. 

“And that makes Julia and Bonnie the winners of the first leg!” Chris says, walking over to the two. Michael sighs. 

---

The remaining duos stand at the beach before two canoes. Julia is a sickly shade of green and looks close to passing out, though Bonnie is determined. Michael and McLovin just look sad. 

---

MICHAEL: “Yeah, there’s no way we’re winning this one. But on the bright side, I could get Bonnie and Patrick to help me vote McLovin off. That would make all this worth it,”

---

MCLOVIN: “I just hope no one’s mad at me,”

---

“For this leg of the challenge, you’ll be paddling your canoes- handcuffed- to Boney Island, in which you’ll find a package waiting for each pair,” Chris says, gesturing to the boats. “Whenever you’re ready!”

The pairs rush down to their respective canoes, with Bonnie and Julia setting off first. 

---

BONNIE: “I’ve seen Julia’s style- she wants an easy ride to the finale. I’m just giving her what she wants,” they grin. 

---

“Paddle faster!” Bonnie yells, yanking Julia around as they row to the island. 

“I’m- trying!” She gasps, barely able to hold onto the oar in the back of the canoe. 

A few minutes behind are McLovin and Michael, who are attempting the “slow and steady” approach. 

“One- two- one- two!” Michael shouts, methodically directing the paddling as they work one handed. 

McLovin’s weak noodle arms are shaking as he strains between trying to row and trying to keep a safe distance from Michael. He wheezes. She, on the other hand, is completely focused on the game, trying her best to ignore him as he goes between glaring and grumbling to himself and whimpering pathetically. 

Despite their lead, Bonnie and Julia make it to the island at the same time as Michael and McLovin, where two backpacks are waiting for them. 

“Please be some antacids,” Julia mutters, opening the bag. Instead, inside is a piece of a tiki doll, a banana, a map, and one measly bottle of water. 

“What is this?” Bonnie asks, holding up the rounded charm. 

“That is a tiki doll!” Chris says, helicopter hovering overhead. “While no one this season cursed their team, it’s a bit of a callback to-” he pauses as the campers stare, confused. “Ugh, nevermind! I miss Scruffy. Anyway, The pieces in your packs must be returned to the cave of treacherous terror, ASAP! Oh, yeah- and they're bad luck to hold onto, so you better piggyback fast!”

“Piggyback?” Julia asks. 

“You heard me!” he chuckles, helicopter flying off. 

Michael sighs and crouches down, allowing McLovin on her back. Julia waits for Bonnie to follow suit, and when they don’t, she frowns. “Well? What’re you waiting for?”

“Who said I’m carrying you?” Bonnie says, shrugging. McLovin and Michael are already gone. “You could use some endurance training, four-eyes.”

Julia glares at the name. 

---

BONNIE: “I actually use contacts, and I have a pair of glasses in my bag. I just like getting on her nerves,”

---

Bonnie sits comfortably on Julia's back as they haul through the woods, in close pursuit of McLovin and Michael. 

---

Ass steps out of the communal showers, grumbling about not being able to get the smell of cheesecake off of them as they walk back to the cabins. The camp is now empty, Chris and Chef both occupied with the campers on Boney Island, and Patrick is nowhere to be seen. 

The cabins finally have some peace to them, and Ass takes their sweet time getting dried and dressed, savoring every moment of quiet. They already have most of their afternoon planned out- heading to the kitchen to grab an edible snack (and maybe then some for later), looking through their cabinmate’s belongings, and then relaxing by the beach with a good book until the losers returned. 

They snatch up their copy of War and Peace and step outside, stretching in the sunlight. 

---

ASS: “Am I worried about getting eliminated? Why would I be? I have Julia on my side, and as long as Patrick isn’t holding any grudges today, McLovin should be an easy ally. I already told Julia to go for Bonnie next. They’re flying a little too close to the finale for comfort,”

---

Ass walks along the path to a shady sitting area on the far corner of the island they do most of their reading at when they don’t feel like being around Julia (which is most of the time). 

The breeze is warm today, the sun shining but not too hot- Ass chuckles, thinking about those poor losers running around all sweaty on the other island right now. 

The further they walk inland, the warmer it gets. As they’re enjoying their quiet walk, a faint giggling catches their attention. 

Ass stops, scanning the treeline, but sees nothing. 

“Just the wind,” they assure themselves- not quite nervous but not entirely dismissive, either. 

The giggling returns, accompanied by the sound of a louder laugh. 

“Okay, not the wind,” they lower their voice to a whisper, and follow the sounds into the woods. 

The closer they get, the more they can make out- chattering, rustling, the crunching of leaves and sticks underfoot. But who’d be out here now?

Ass crouches to the ground and peers through a blueberry bush at the source of the commotion. As their eyes adjust to the light, they can make out Patrick sitting on a boulder (atop a towel from the kitchen to avoid dirtying his suit). 

Another figure emerges, scampering over with a stick in its mouth. Ass squints. “A dog? Where’d Patrick find a dog on the island?”

But it’s not a dog. 

Their eyes widen. 

---

“Just a few more steps, if you can handle it,” Bonnie taunts, the cave rapidly approaching. Julia is walking slowly, steps shaky and uncoordinated. She stumbles to the mouth of the cave, but is promptly stopped by a faint growling. 

“Don’t throw up now, we’re almost there!” Bonnie says. 

Julia shakes her head, backing away slowly. “That wasn’t me,”

A few giant wooly beavers emerge from the depths of the cave, baring their teeth. Bonnie and Julia scream and start off in the opposite direction, the beavers close behind. 

As they vanish, McLovin and Michael appear, stepping up to the mouth of the cave. 

“So, do you think this curse thing is real, or…?” McLovin asks nervously, watching Michael pull the tiki piece out of the bag and set it inside the cave. 

She sighs. “Probably not, but what do I know? Oh- and next time, I'm not carrying you through the challenge," Michael says as she begins to walk back to the beach. "Why don't you do something for once?"

---

“Our two remaining teams both have a point each,” Chris explains, walking between two picnic tables back at camp. “In order to break the tie, one of you will have to win this leg of the challenge- the pole of shame! Your task is to assemble these heads of your past fellow campers in the order they were eliminated.” 

Bonnie looks around. “What heads?”

Chris grins, walking over to the lumpy messes covered in tarps on either picnic table, and then dramatically pulls the covers away with flair. Underneath are 16 wooden heads of each eliminated contestant. McLovin screams in terror and falls backwards, much to Michael’s annoyance. 

---

MICHAEL: “Is it just me, or did McLovin get significantly lamer since this summer started?”

---

“Final call for the wimp key!” Chris says, waving it around. No one steps up but Julia, who is promptly sat back down by Bonnie. 

Michael gets to work assembling the pole while McLovin recalls who goes in which order. “Fren, Joner- rest in peace- Peter, um… Patrick- no, wait he’s still here,”

“Okay, who was after that, then?” Michael asks. 

“Kitty! Mal, O…”

---

MICHAEL: “But… credit where credit is due. McLovin is really good at remembering people’s names,”

---

Julia sighs dramatically, holding up the wooden replica of Scruffy. “Poor Scruff. You’d know what to do here,”

Bonnie rolls their eyes at the display, but is clearly more gentle with Caesar’s head than the others. 

Across the space, Michael sighs while she attaches Joner’s head to Fren’s. “Poor Joner. Probably watching us fail miserably right now,”

“Technically, the season hasn’t aired yet,” McLovin says, sorting through the pile. Michael rolls her eyes as he breaks the brief conversation to stare longingly at Sha-Mod. 

---

MCLOVIN: “Okay, I’ll admit it. Not having any friends on the island is really wearing me down. But that’s not even my fault! Humans are social creatures, and we have strength in numbers! Everyone left on the island are more like bears…”

---

"What's this?" Chris asks, spinning Max's head around on the tabletop. There's a tiny heart painted on his cheek in mud.

McLovin winces as Michael goes red. "NOTHING!"

“Was it Austin or Kelly first? I keep getting them mixed up!” Bonnie says, holding the two heads in either hand. 

“Austin. Kelly got voted after Scruffy,” Julia informs her partner, taking the heads from their hands. 

“Okay, what about Frollo?”

Julia picks up the wooden carving. “Frollo was five players before Scruffy,” 

Bonnie raises an eyebrow. 

---

BONNIE: “In a way, it’s comforting to know that I’m not the only person on the island who’s been counting days since their friend got voted off. But having that other person be Julia is… concerning,”

---

They smile sympathetically. "You really miss Scruffy, huh?"

"Whatever. I don't," Julia looks at the ground, avoiding eye contact. "I was just using them to get ahead! It was strategy!"

"Sure. Listen- losing friends is never easy, but you just gotta keep on going, though, right? There'll always be someone around to support you," they place a hand on Julia's shoulder. "Just, you know- stop taking the good people in your life for granted, 'kay?"

"Whatever," she snaps, though as Bonnie leaves she looks up.

The two continue working, making their way up the line of losers. Bonnie tosses Julia Staci's head, but they’re not quite fast enough. 

“And we have our winners!” Chris says, looking up the pole of heads on McLovin and Michael’s sides. The two sigh in relief. “The rest of you are up for elimination, though- and I’ll be seeing you tonight!”

---

“Final six, huh?” Chris chuckles. “Not for long! Let’s see- since Michael and McLovin got immunity, they’re exempt from today’s ceremony. But they’ll still get their marshmallows,”

He tosses the two their treats, which McLovin eats and Michael just smiles down at. 

“The following are safe- Ass,” 

“Julia.”

“Bonnie- Patrick- you’ve both been here a long time,” Chris says, nodding solemnly. “And while the votes call for Bonnie’s elimination, a certain… incident has come to my attention that forfeits that.”

Julia raises an eyebrow. Ass smirks. 

“Patrick- my man- we have a pretty strict no-cheating-off-camera policy, and from the looks of it, you’ve been doing that for quite some time. I mean, come on! Using an eliminated contestant to get ahead?” Everyone turns to Patrick with confused expressions. “But I could forgive even that, if you were at least honest about it. And on camera. Unfortunately, Chef and I have made the very hard decision to disqualify you from the race.”

“What?” Patrick asks, standing. “You can’t-!”

“Oh, but I can! And Chef?”

Chef walks out in a hazmat suit, carrying Kitty with him in a solid lead cage. They gnaw at the bars of their enclosure. 

“Your little pet has a Geiger count of 190 CPM. We’re actually not sure how they’re still alive, dude,” Chris says. “So you two are getting medical evac-ed off the island.”

Everyone turns pale as Chef walks over and grabs Patrick by the scruff of his neck. He kicks his legs around for a moment before being tossed inside the cage with Kitty and hauled away. 

“The rest of you should be safe, unless you were close to Patrick recently,” everyone turns to Ass, who suddenly doesn’t look so smug anymore. “Yeah… I’d spend the night in the quarantine section of the medical tent if I were you.”

Chris chuckles as Ass stands and runs away. Bonnie smiles slightly. 

“Who will be poisoned with mold? And who will be poisoned with radiation? Find out next time, on Total! Takes! Island!”

[bivampir]

hello, i want to do some clarifications: i made that last reply, and immediately logged out, and only checked the rest of reactions now. i did not send anyone anons. there's no way to verify that and i understand this might not be believable to some people, but i swear i didn't. the criticism to that dumb poll was right: no matter my intent, it was racist, insensitive, judgementall as hell, ignorant and uninformed, and for that i apologize. to the person who sent all those anons, since there's a non-zero chance they follow me: please just like. stop. idk why you're doing this but stop

[ronearoundblindly]

Ro's Bi-Weekly Edit

May 7th - May 20th, 2023

In case you missed it, here are the fics and ficlets posted within the last two weeks!

Below the cut are links and snippets of an ask game compilation and 2 one-shots:

List of Comfort Drabble Asks

a challenge of nine completed asks from a prompt list which includes: Steve Rogers Ransom Drysdale Ari Levinson Lloyd Hansen and Curtis Everett (first fic I've written of him, too!)

Hit By Fate, one-shot life lesson Steve Rogers x reader

Steve Rogers buries his hands in his jean pockets, folding himself more into the cover of his hoodie and leather jacket. “You wanted to help me?” you croak. He ticks his head in confusion, respectfully indicating that you’ve asked the one and only dumb question known to mankind. “Why?” You don’t even know what you’re asking about now. Why me? Why today? Why now? Why not? You don’t notice your hands are shaking until he grips them gently. “I can take you to the hospital,” he offers. “I’m fine.” The repeat earns you another frown. “I’m not…hurting,” you clarify. “That’s called shock, sweetheart.”

Rerouted, one-shot fight and makeup Jake Jensen x reader

“Please don’t say stuff like that. I’m trying.” “I am, too.” You square your shoulders to his and rip the drink out of his hand. “But isn’t trying and trying and not succeeding just failing in slow motion? Because that’s what it feels like to me every time you choose a fucking machine over me.” “That’s not fair.” Your glare stops that line cold. “What I mean is—ok, this is too…” Jake puts on the dark sunglasses. “Imagine my very sincere, partially-blind eyes when I say this is the best I’ve got. You know I don’t know how to be—“ “I swear to god if you say ‘lovah,’ Jake Jensen.” Little shit is always making a joke out of everything. Since that is exactly what he was about to say, Jake cocks his hip and scratches his goatee. “Fine. Boyfriend. I’ve never gotten this far with someone, but I want it. I want this. I want it with you. I can’t be better until—ya know—try shit to do the best I can and maybe, actually, get better.” You bitterly sip your sweet treat, saying flatly, “Charming.”

Be sure to vote in my poll regarding your preferred update style!

[Main Masterlist; Light Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

[voreinthehouse]

Februpony 2024 D28 - Draw Whatever

Twilight laid down restlessly on her bed, wishing she could find a more comfortable position but fully unable to move - some ponies would say there was a much easier way to deal with her first Friendship Mission than to eat a whole cultist village on her own with assistance of her newfound alicorn body resistance and magical prowess, but those ponies have never found themselves in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by brainwashed extremists and a charismatic but impatient leader ready to take away all your magic with a dumb stick. Twilight panicked! She couldn’t let her first Friendship Mission be a failure! What kind of princess of friendship would she be if she failed?

To be fair though, she wasn’t sure what kind of princess of friendship she was now. She’d succeeded in defeating Starlight Glimmer before she could take her magic away, swallowing her whole down her alicorn gullet before proceeding to do the exact same to all the other ponies in the village, filling her mighty gut until she found herself grounded with a belly that was 5 times her size.

Somehow she managed to get back to her castle in Ponyville and notify the princesses of the developments.

In time, and with a few magical spells to ease the process, the incessant squirming died down inside Twilight’s belly, the cultists lulled to an endless slumber - well, most of them. Crushed under the weight of her own actions, Starlight Glimmer still remained alive and awake, protected against the strength of the alicorn’s digestive track by her own powerful protective spells. She cursed and yelled and kicked around, swearing up and down to enact the most torturous vengeance upon the princess of friendship.

Celestia, who’d been quick to visit her bed-ridden student, reassured Twilight on her actions, proud to see her blossom into such a proactive and efficient problem solver; as soon as ponies and villains-in-the-making heard of her new bad-guy-disposing method, she was sure there’d be a massive decrease in problematic activity within the kingdom. After all, who would want to be eaten by an alicorn princess?

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

ALRIGHTY PARTY PEOPLEEEEEE

TECHNICALLY THIS ISNT THE LAST PIECE OF 2024'S FEBRUPONY, HOWEVER STRICTLY WE ARE DONE!!! HOPE YALL LOOK FORWARD TO THE BONUS 29TH DAY WHICH WILL BE PATREON EXCLUSIVE

LOVE YALL SO MUCH I HOPE U ENJOYED THIS FEBRUPONY AS MUCH AS I DID AND I'LL SEE YALL FOR MERMAY THANK U

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

COMMISSIONS ARE OPEN! FIVERR COMMISSIONS! SEE MY SUBSCRIBESTAR! IMAGE IN PATREON! BUY ME A MONSTER ENERGY DRINK :3!

PLEASE SUPPORT ME ON PATREON! YOU'LL GET EARLY ACCESS TO MY ARTWORK! AS WELL AS: - Sketches and doodles! - WIPs! - Early notification for commission! - Stories! - Polls! AND LIKELY MORE CONTENT OPTIONS IN THE FUTURE!!!!

www.patreon.com/granloma37 !!!!

[existslikepristin]

Activated My Trap Card

This one is VERY old. Even from before What A Bummer.

Tags: TheLounge?, CLC, Seungyeon, Yeeun, Eunbin, male reader insert, scary ladies, the most uncomfortable threesome with an audience of one, vote story

~~~~~

You stand in front of the door to Cube Entertainment's offices. You got a strange call a few days ago telling you to come to this address in order to "make a lot of money." You were worried that it might be something illegal, or a scam, but after you looked the address up you got a little excited.

And it seems like you were right to be! After a minute or two, the door opens and you see Seungyeon standing there, looking straight into your eyes. She's wearing a super low cut black tank top, a pair of jean shorts that look like they've been cut extra high for optimal showing off, and the most basic pair of black flip flops ever. She doesn't look surprised to see you.

"Yeah, there you are," she says in her deep, beautiful voice, putting her hands on her hips, "I knew you would be perfect. Come on in. I've got a job for you."

She stands aside to let you through the doorway and closes the door behind you.

Unsure of where to go, you wait for her to make the next move. She does exactly that, walking past you and letting her hand graze past your thigh on the way. That had to be an accident right?

With her back turned to you, you look down and she that her tank top is mostly backless, and her shorts reveal about half of her butt cheeks. There is so much skin on display to you right now. You make an effort not to look, but it's damn hard.

You're about to take another look when Seungyeon spins around gives you a deadly look in the eye. "So tell me... who's your CLC bias?"

Holy shit, why is she putting you on the spot all of a sudden?! She looks like she wants an answer, and fast! This really was a trap! Fuck!

Options: 1. (Picked:) Seungyeon 2. Seunghee 3. Yujin 4. Sorn 5. Yeeun 6. Elkie 7. Eunbin

~~~~~

"Y-y..." you stutter, trying to think about how fast you can turn around and open the door to run.

"Yeeun?" Seungyeon takes a step toward you. She's very, very close.

You stumble back and bump up against the door. Seungyeon follows.

"Y-you," you manage to say.

A mischievous half grin grows on her face. "Yu...jin?" She punctuates the "jin" part by pressing herself up against you. You're still nervous, but you suddenly think you know what this is about (that isn't some shit like assassinating you). She's soft but firm, like you can definitely feel the dancer muscles under her tender skin. Except for her tits, pressed against your ribs. Those are totally soft, other than two tiny points of hardness.

"Nah... you."

You feel Seungyeon's body shiver from top to bottom, and she slides one of her legs up yours, trapping you against the door just a little more. Her hands are suddenly on your shoulders.

"That's what I was hoping. I saw you a while ago. You didn't see me, but I saw a picture of me on your phone," She squeezes your shoulders a little, like she's getting needy, "Do you touch yourself when you see me?"

You gulp. You're really not sure if telling the truth about that will help your case here.

Then it's your turn to shiver, as Seungyeon licks your neck, then buries her face in it. "Tell me which one of my holes you fantasize about being inside the most."

Well, what do you say?

Options: 1. (Picked:) "I've always wanted your pussy wrapped around me." 2. "Do you think your throat can take all of me?" 3. "Spread your ass and I'll show you." 4. "Hole? But what about your tits?"

~~~~~

"I've always wanted your pussy wrapped around me."

...

Holy shit, you've never seen clothes come off a person so fast. You barely catch a glimpse of Seungyeon's nipples before they're smashed against your chest again.

"Well I want to wrap my pussy around your cock," she says, already lowering your pants, "Help me make that happen, okay?"

You're not sure how you're supposed to help, since you're pinned between the door and her paralyzing, hot body. You feel your pants dropping to the floor, taking your underwear with them. Your dick springs up and slaps Seungyeon's pussy. Of course you're already hard.

Seungyeon isn't waiting for anything. She lifts herself onto her toes, and your dick gets just enough room to be able point fully up. Your tip rests somewhere in her folds. She reaches around her back and you feel her fingers adjust you very slightly, and suddenly you feel your entire dick being engulfed by her as she drops back down.

She groans. Loud. You're very aware all of a sudden that you're having sex in the front hallway of an entertainment company's office and look around. Seungyeon grabs your chin and forces you to look into her eyes though. You see stars dancing around them, but that's probably because you're feeling light headed from the pleasure being forced onto you right now.

The look she gives you is... intense. The whole time she's moving her body just right to keep your dick inside her, despite the fact that she's so soaking wet and slippery and at such an awkward angle. She manages it well though.

"Do you like this? Hm?" She asks. You open your mouth to answer but all you get out is a moan as she squeezes your dick with her pussy. Against your stomach, you feel her abs working to make that happen. What a fucking talent!

She smiles and pulls your head down to her open mouth. You open yours too and it gets assaulted by her tongue, dancing just as wildly as her body does.

When she finally breaks away from the thing you could call a kiss, she moves her chest off of yours to let you get a really good view of her jiggling tits, shining with sweat. If you're honest, you've already seen most of them thanks to the clothes she wears, but with nothing to cover them at all they're absolutely amazing.

"I need you to... cum, alright?"

Woah, that's sudden. Does she mean inside?

"The first cum... happens fast," she pants between every couple of words. No wonder, since she's still fucking you while just on the tips of her toes, "but that's what... we need... You need to last... longer for the next round."

You definitely already feel your orgasm coming, she doesn't need to tell you that. But wait. Next round? What is she talking about?

Simple poll this time:

Choices: 1. Take charge and cum the way you want to! She didn't specifically say she needed you to cum inside her, but that's a risk you're willing to take. 2. (Picked:) Are you joking? She knows what she's doing and has a plan for MORE? Don't take charge, she'll make you cum the way she wants to!

~~~~~

No way you're risking doing something she doesn't want you to right now. Not after she mentioned a "next round."

"It's happening now!" you say through your half gritted teeth. You really hope she knows what you meant, but you're having a little trouble forming full, meaningful sentences right now.

Seungyeon gets both of her arms around you and squeezes. Her eyes lock on yours again and you're captivated. You can't look away. "Do it... then."

Her hips grind against yours, and your orgasm hits you like a runaway train. You're dizzy, but you can still notice that she's squeezing down on you. As your cum fills her up, her eyes roll up, she bites her lip, and a grin spreads across her face.

You barely register that you slump to the floor, with Seungyeon's clamping pussy bringing her down with you.

"You dumb fucking hooker."

Suddenly, your senses all come back to you. That wasn't your voice. Or Seungyeon's. Oh shit. You can't see where it came from. But you recognize it. You start to imagine yourself getting beat up by body guards, or thrown in jail, or... fuck, maybe exiled from South Korea? Is that a thing that could happen?

So, whose voice was it?

Options: 1. Seunghee 2. Yujin 3. Sorn 4. Yeeun 5. Elkie 6. (Picked:) Eunbin

~~~~~

With a semi-exhausted sigh, Seungyeon leans to the side and looks over her shoulder. You feel a sense of impending doom as you see that the voice came from the daddy long le-- er, you mean, "maknae" of CLC, Eunbin.

Eunbin is only about fifteen feet away down the hall, wearing shorts (not as short as Seungyeon's, but still revealing her full legs), a blue sweatshirt, and tennis shoes. She looks... well she looks stone-faced as normal, but you bet she's super angry, based on the tone of her voice.

"Beannie, it's all good, okay?" Seungyeon sounds annoyed. She stands up, a wet plop nearly echoing as she comes off your dick. She faces away from you. If you weren't terrified, you would be admiring the bottom view of her bare ass and pussy dripping with your cum. Actually, you just came inside her. You're suddenly even more terrified, thinking about the entertainment company lawyers that are about to sue you into oblivion.

There's a dead silence for a solid ten seconds as the leader and the maknae stare each other down. You barely have the self consciousness to cover your dick with your hands.

"Don't you want to try him out?"

You stare up at Seungyeon's back. Could she make this situation worse? Don't mock the witness!

Eunbin's deadpan glare lowers down and locks with your eyes. ShiiiiIIIIT. Her look goes a little further down, right at your hands. And she licKS HER LIPS, WHAT?

"I'm busy, ass whore. Besides, the bitch is waiting with her cunt wide open," she swears evenly, like she's discussing the mild weather. You would question what she's saying if you weren't so confused, and still light headed.

Seungyeon groans, this time with annoyance rather than with pleasure like earlier. She turns around and bends over to grab your arms and starts pulling. You have to assume she wants you to stand, so you try, but it's awkward, trying to stand without revealing your mostly softened cock. Once you're up, she yanks on your hands, flashing Eunbin. Yet, she only looks for half a second, then turns and walks through a doorway. The same one Seungyeon starts dragging you toward, all the while with your cum slowly dripping out of her onto the floor.

What the fuck is happening here?

And who's the "bitch" Eunbin is talking about?!

Options: 1. Seunghee 2. Yujin 3. Sorn 4. (Picked:) Yeeun 5. Elkie

~~~~~

As you make your way through the door, dragged by Seungyeon, Eunbin is nowhere to be seen, but there is definitely another person. You're not sure you recognize her though.

She's tied down with some soft looking rope to a cushioned table. And the ropes are all she's wearing, with the exception of a blindfold. The ropes are holding her down and holding her legs wide open, but her arms are completely free. Doesn't seem like effective bonda--

The door slams shut behind you, making you just about jump out of your skin. Eunbin was hiding behind it! She has on exactly the same expression as before, too. She must be determined to creep you the hell out.

Before you can do or say anything about that, Seungyeon grabs your chin and turns you to look at the tied up girl on the table again. "See there? That's Yeeun. She's been a very good girl until today. She's only had sex a couple times before, but last month she told us that she wants to be a little slut, so that's why you're here."

You see Yeeun biting her lower lip. Seungyeon reaches down and starts stroking your dick back to life.

"You can fuck her any way you want to, as long as it's hard, and as long as you can do it for a really, really long time. And if you can do that..."

Seungyeon drops to her knees and takes your mostly hard dick in her mouth, diving all the way to the base and quickly sucking off whatever was left from the first round. She pops back off and licks it from the bottom to the top.

"If you do that for her, I'll definitely be calling you back."

You look back and forth from the leader of CLC below you and the rapper in front of you. Should you really? This seems crazy.

"What will it be? You can take her sweet pussy all the way to the moon and back, but she's not on the same prodigious birth control I am,"

You mentally breathe a sigh of relief at that, but also wonder what the hell qualifies a birth control as "prodigious."

"If you're afraid of putting a baby in her though, we already pre-lubed her pretty little ass. It hasn't been used before, but you should glide righ-"

DEAR LORD, Eunbin's ever-expressionless face appears right in front of yours, out of nowhere, "Or you can face fuck her. I've been dildoing this stupid thot's dumb mouth for days to get her ready for your fatass penis, if you have the balls," she says, nearly monotone. You're seriously confused by her rude behavior here and suspect she might be hiding a torture room somewhere in this building.

From the table, you hear Yeeun. You may not be at a good angle to see her, but it's definitely her. You'd recognize that sweet, meek voice anywhere, "I'm ready... please fuck me?"

Holy damn. This is really happening isn't it?

Options: 1. (Picked:) Take that risk! Pussy time! 2. Well, if her ass is already lubed... 3. Don't risk Eunbin crushing your skull. Throat fuck Yeeun. 4. Why is titfucking still not an option?! Lol, jk, we all love her boobs, but she's not big enough for that. 5. Run the fuck away! These bitches are actually insane!

~~~~~

You take a deep breath. This is just plain insanity that you are witnessing before your eyes.

Insanity is contagious, apparently.

You step around Seungyeon, and stand over Yeeun. She's at just the right height, and your dick rests on her pelvis, between her legs. You hear a short gasp of excitement from her... and two more behind you, which is definitely still weird.

You back up a few inches, bend your knees just a bit, and move forward again. Yeeun is a bit small, so it takes some pushing, but you can see the anticipation building on her face (what isn't covered by the blindfold). With a thrust, you're in.

Yeeun sighs and a smile crosses her face. Seems you made a good choice. She's going to like this.

"Woohoo! Now make her a slut!"

Again, you nearly forgot about your audience. Seungyeon moves to stand right next to you, one hand on Yeeun's inner thigh and the other one squeezing your ass cheek. Yay, fun...

For hours, you pound Yeeun into the table. Seungyeon stays with you the whole time, climbing on top of Yeeun, sliding herself all over you, and licking... pretty much everywhere.

A couple of times you have to change things up, untying Yeeun and flipping her onto her stomach, re-angling her so you can hold yourself up mostly by your arms, and eventually scooting her to where her head hangs off the table while you kneel over her.

You cum at least four times, but it's hard to be sure, since you think you went basically numb after the first three hours.

Yeeun seems to have lost her mind around that same time. Her blindfold fell off at some point while you were fucking her from behind and now you can see that her eyes have become unfocused. Every time you pull out to adjust after the second hour, she whined and tried to get you back in. But anything coming out of her mouth eventually turned into needy moans.

You kind of wonder to yourself how realistic it is to have lasted so long, for Yeeun to have actually gone half comatose, or for this process to have "turned her into a slut," but hey, it was bliss for you.

Seungyeon gets on her knees between you and cleans off your exhausted cock (and the area around it) with her tongue. It's a little sore actually, but you're not about to complain.

She stands back up and wraps her arms under yours, pulling you in. "I think you were successful, baby. Yeeun is going to want so much more from now on. Let's hope the baby you definitely put in her doesn't slow her down."

Oh. Right.

"So, what's next? Want any kind of... reward before you go?"

With her hips slowly rubbing side to side against yours, it's pretty obvious what she means, but hey, she asked, so...

Options: 1. (Picked:) You're drained, but you'll try for Seungyeon! Even if it results in embarrassment! 2. You want more, but you don't think you can get it up anymore. Be smooth and give her your contact info. 3. Uh, yeah. The call you got said you were going to get paid money for this. That's a reward. 4. Maybe just something to drink? You're fucking exhausted! (Warning, this option is mad kink territory.)

~~~~~

With your cock just about ready to fall off, you aren't sure how well this will work, but you're willing to try for Seungyeon. You grab her by the hips. A smirk crosses her face, and she doubles down on grinding against you.

You lift her chin up for a kiss. It's your turn to take charge with her now. She coos into your mouth. Her fingernails lightly scrape either side of your spine, sending tingles all up and down your body. Her entire behavior just changed! Sheesh, and all you had to do was take the initiative in grabbing her? This girl changes her mind as fast as she takes her clothes off.

The sweetness continues for the better part of ten minutes. You could swear the room's temperature is evening back out, from the sun-like heat earlier to being very pleasantly warm.

Seungyeon slowly breaks away from the kiss, looking into your eyes with less intensity and more... care. She leans her head back, and you take the hint, diving in and sucking carefully at her neck. Her silent shuddering is only interrupted by a moan coming from behind you.

You can guess what it is, but curiosity gets you to turn enough to look. And of course, it's Eunbin. She's still staring, which is still creepy. But she's also got both hands moving inside her shorts. She's probably been there all along, so you guess she can stay and keep watching. You doubt she'd leave even if you asked...

Trying not to think too much about your audience, you get back to work on Seungyeon, kissing her tanned skin from her chin, to her chest, to her toned as hell stomach, to her clit. Once there, her knees shake, so you decide to set her down somewhere she won't fall. It's time to pay her back for all the oral service she's been giving you!

Seungyeon backs up at your touch, until she leans back against the table in the middle of the room, and onto Yeeun's half conscious body. The skinny girl groans as she's suddenly used as a back rest, but Seungyeon doesn't seem to have any interest in fixing the problem.

This is your moment. You're going to make Seungyeon squirm on top of her rapper. You'll make her explode! You start leaning down, tongue halfway hanging out of your mouth...

"Damn, you're still not hard?"

She's holding you back by the forehead, looking between your bodies down at your lifeless dick.

"W-well, yeah, I mean, I just..." you gesture down at Yeeun. That's where your hardness went, and it's still dripping out of her at a moderate pace!

Eunbin's hands are on your shoulders, pulling you away from Seungyeon. It's a bit of a shock, to say the least.

"I'll call you later! Buh-bye!"

The next thirty seconds are a blur. You're dragged, stunned, out of the room, through to the opposite end of the hallway you came in from, and shoved out a door into an alley.

"See ya, fuckface," is the last thing you hear from Eunbin before the door slams behind you.

What the hell...

The door reopens, and you spin around just in time to get a face full of your pants.

"Don't forget your stupid clothes, you degenerate," Eunbin throws you one last insult before the door closes again.

It's a little chilly out here.

[GAME OVER]

[comfyswitcherblanketfort]

please please a part 2 of that gamer!geralt au, them doing something like Q&A

Nonie, I hope you know what you signed up for. This got out of hand lmao. like 2.4k of Q&A kind of out of hand. 

Warnings: swearing, talk of drinking to excess, kinda spicy questions, lil kisses, idk how but I meant for this to be goofy and horny and it got kinda soft? what’s new?

____________

“Holy shit,” Geralt sat staring at his phone as he mindlessly stirred pasta.

“I swear to god, if you found a way to burn noodles-” Jaskier turned away from the blender to wave a wooden spoon covered in pesto puree.

Geralt shook his head and held his phone up to him, scrolling through the replies to a tweet as he did, going on for ages as Jaskier’s jaw slowly got closer to the floor.

“What are those for?!”

“I put up a poll for a boyfriend Q&A or a game review and not a single person has voted for the game review.” Geralt was still scrolling through questions people wanted answered as he watched Jaskier’s face go from shock to confusion to a smug grin. 

“They love me,” he sang, kicking his heel up as he turned back to the pasta sauce.

Geralt rolled his eyes and started screenshotting some of the less invasive questions, shaking his head and muttering, “Course they do.”

-

Geralt pressed record, waited a moment, and heaved a dramatic, long-suffering sigh, “You guys literally didn’t even give me a choice on this one,” he reached off frame and scruffed Jaskier, plopping him down on the couch with him. 

Jaskier didn’t stay where he was put for even a moment, using his momentum to bounce up onto Geralt’s lap with a shit-eating grin, “Oh? Are we rolling?”

Geralt dropped his forehead to Jaskier’s shoulder, stifling a laugh, “This is gonna be a long one.”

“Yeah, it is,” Jask agreed, then turned to the camera, stroking Geralt’s hair, “My fans want more!”

“OH-kay,” Geralt manhandled Jaskier to sit next to him which earned him a pout and a leg draped over his lap as he continued his intro, “I’ve got a bunch of questions from twitter. I didn’t even have to confirm which video we would do, you guys just went straight for the kill. I picked a few, Jask picked a few, neither of us knows which ones the other picked.” he turned to see Jaskier wiggle his eyebrows at the camera, “Why am I thinking you picked the raunchy ones?”

The brunet pretended to be offended before he smirked, “Only a few.”

Geralt rolled his eyes. “Of course,” he nudged Jask with his shoulder and opened up his phone to his screenshots, “Okay! First up is AdamSandlersBitch, nice name. They asked what Jaskier’s favorite gaming console and game to play is.” he turned to Jaksier with raised eyebrows.

His boyfriend cringed, “My.. my phone? I don’t know? I play a lot of Candy Crush while I listen to podcasts?”

Geralt smiled sweetly, “Wait what about Stardew Valley? I thought you started that?”

“I did!” Jaskier brightened up for a moment before he deflated again, “But I got confused and then the ADHD made me bake cookies.”

“Those were good cookies. I’ll play with you if you want?” Geralt’s normal ‘streamer dude’ persona melted away while he played with the rips on Jaskier’s jeans. 

Jask leaned forward and kissed his temple, “I’d love that.” 

Geralt blushed, even after years, Jaskier’s affection still caught him off guard. 

“Mkay! My turn!” Jaskier flashed his devilish grin and read, in his most obnoxious voice, “Dwn2Clwn said ‘do you two live together? Have you said ‘i love you’? And who tops?’”

Geralt’s mouth twisted into an upside-down U as he stared at Jaskier in muted surprise, “Honestly, not as bad as I expected.”

Jaskier looped his arm around Geralt’s, “I’m starting off easy.”

Geralt let his mock-disapproving gaze linger just a bit before he answered, “The living together is kind of new-like a few months. This one said ‘I love you’ on, what? The fourth date? Fifth?”

“Fourth.”

“No, it was the fifth, Eskel locked himself out on the fourth. Remember?”

“Shit you’re right,” Jaskier gave the camera a stern look, “In my defense, we’d been friends for a good four years before this. I wasn’t just confessing my love to a tinder date - though I have done that before.”

Geralt nodded, “That was very amusing.”

Jaskier tapped his nose, “Don’t avoid the last part, darling.”

Geralt huffed and stared down the camera, and, in the most matter of fact tone possible, said, “We switch. Compromise, folks. Can’t have one person doing all the work all the time.”

Jaskier nodded sagely, patting Geralt's chest, “We got a pow-”

Geralt clamped his hand over Jaskier’s mouth, 100% sure he was going to say ‘power bottom pillow princess’, “Nope. I’ll get demonetized for that.”

“But not who tops?” Jaskier asked through Geralt’s fingers.

He just shrugged, “I don’t make the rules.”

Jaskier tapped his phone and raised his eyebrows, telling him to move to the next question. 

“Mis- Mischanication? Shit I hope I said that right, Mischanication asked, ‘would you ever get a pet together?’ We did! Her name is Roach and she’s a little shit! I told Jaskier not to feed her, but he did, now we have the snuggliest, crankiest cat I’ve ever met!” 

Jaskier had gotten up to pluck Roach from her perch on the windowsill when Geralt had read the question and plopped down with her as Geralt finished his proud speech, “She’s not a little shit! She’s just delicate! Isn’t that right, darling?”

Geralt scratched under her chin and cooed, “You are a nasty little dragon baby, aren't you?! Just a little garbage child! Yes, you are. We love the tiny demon beast.”

“Geralt!”

He snickered and kissed Jaskier’s hair, “Next question, love.”

Jaskier grumbled something about positive reinforcement as Roach scampered back to her cat tree and he unlocked his phone for his next tweet, “This darling wants to remain anonymous,” Geralt gave him some serious side-eye at that, “they said ‘I think I’m in love with the flower twink, where can I find one of my own?’”

Geralt frowned at the camera and pulled Jaskier onto his lap, holding him close and snuggling into his chest, almost growling, “Hands off.”

Jaskier giggled, brushing Geralt’s hair out of his face as he talked to the camera, “You heard the man. Unfortunately, I was not mass-produced and I’ve been spoken for.”

Geralt looked up at him with what could only be called suspicious puppy eyes, “You picked that one just to sit in my lap didn’t you?”

“Yes. And because I want to change my socials to ‘flower twink’.” 

“Do it,” Geralt kept Jaskier on his lap as he swiped to his next question, “Eggsfuckingsuck - heh, my dad hates eggs- Eggsfuckingsuck says, ‘what is the most embarrassing thing you’ve caught each other doing/saying?’ Oh boy, do I have a story for you!”

"Oh I couldn't say the thing but you can tell this story!?" 

"...you have a point... Check my insta stories. I'll put it there after I post this." 

Jaskier nodded, ever so pleased, and turned to the camera, "Our dear Yennefer of sorceryglammour once beat Geralt at trivia night when the theme was 'video games'." 

“We did shots before we went to the bar and she goaded me and Lambert into a chugging competition before the round started. I’m telling you, she planned this. Yen is ruthless.” Geralt desperately tried to justify his defeat but Jaskier was having none of it. 

“She’s mostly harmless, plus I have video evidence from that night. You weren’t that far gone.”

“Pull it up! Let’s settle it.”

Jaskier patted Geralt’s head like one would a toddler, “I’d have to get my old laptop out. Later, darling.”

Geralt had a smug look on his face, “That means he doesn’t have it anymore.”

“Next question!” Jaskier squeaked, not at all changing the subject. 

Geralt shrugged, “If you admit I won that one.”

“It’s not a competition!” Jaskier laughed, looking down at him with that stupidly smitten look on his face.

“Hmmm…” Geralt tilted his chin up defiantly, “if you say so.”

Jaskier kissed him, lingering a little bit more than could be considered chaste, “I do.” 

Geralt looked up at him, batting his eyelashes, “Fine then, next question.”

Jaskier handed him his phone and he read it off leaning his head on Jaskier’s shoulder, “CountryBumpkin42 asked if we play any instruments. I play the recorder very poorly, but Jask plays everything.”

“Not everything, but yes, I could cover a Trans Siberian Orchestra song if I had a pedalboard with enough loop settings.” Jaskier preened. 

“And more,” Geralt added, counting on his fingers as he spoke, “In this house alone he has two pianos, three different types of guitars, a drumset, a violin and fiddle, a flute and piccilo, an oboe, a mandolin, a lute, bongos, saxophone, clarinet, tambourine, trumpet, and xylophone. Did I get them all?”

Jaskier glanced from side to side with a guilty look, “Ah… no, I bought a bass sax that showed up last night.”

“Oh, did Thursday at 3 decide they wanted to switch after all?”

“Yeah! She got the third chair as a freshman on a loaner instrument! I’m very proud!”

Geralt seemed to remember they were recording and turned back to the camera, “J teaches music at the university and does private lessons.” 

“It’s how I can afford such a pretty trophy boyfriend,” Jaskier teased, ruffling Geralt’s hair and earning a little chuckle.

“Mkay, what do you have next?”

Jaskier smoothed Gearalt’s hair back down as he read the next question, “3R4108F6!J asks if we have any cute nicknames for each other.”

Geralt’s eyebrows nearly flew past his hairline, “J has a new one for me almost every day.”

“Its true,” Jaskier nodded, “I am a slut for cute nicknames. This morning was Ger Bear, one of my faves. I called him Thumbs for a bit, I lovingly call him Dumb Fuck rather often.”

“And he is Dip Shit, it’s balanced. I usually just shorten names? Jask or J is usually it, right?” Geralt asked, shifting so Jaskier was sitting on the couch between his legs and they were both turned out toward the camera but very much still cuddling. 

“And when I’m being childish I get Alfie. But Geralt is much more deliberate and specific with his nicknames. It’s a bit of a friendship level up when he uses nicknames.”

Geralt frowned at him, “I do that?”

Jaskier giggled, “You never noticed?”

He tilted his head, giving Jaskier a quizzical look, “Not at all.”

Jaskier cupped Geralt’s cheek, “You’re so cute.”

Geralt blushed again, leaning into the touch just a tad, “Who’s turn is it?”

“Yours,” Jaskier hummed, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. 

“Okay,” Geralt blushed even more, “I had this one as an alternate, but uh, Yen asked what we’d name our first kid?” 

Jaskier leaned into Geralt’s shoulder and hummed as he thought for a moment, “I always like Blake or Spencer, but I seem to remember you saying something about old world traditional names?”

Geralt nodded, absentmindedly running his fingers up and down Jaskier’s arm, “My grandma was hoping each of us boys would be a girl and wanted mum to name us Cirilla every time. I quite like it, but I’m rather open as long as I don’t know someone with the name. I really like Eric?” 

“Oo, I like Eric.”

“But you like the neutral names.”

“I do, but it’s your hypothetical kiddo too.”

Geralt gave him a little squeeze, “There’s time for that later. What’s your next one?”

Jaskier snorted when he looked at his phone, “What are your guys’ love languages?”

Geralt just looked down at Jask, completely entangled in his arms, then up to the camera, “I’m gonna hazard a guess at physical touch.” 

“Yeah, I think that’s a safe bet,” Jaskier giggled, “I haven’t taken the quiz in years, but I was that and gifts.”

“Oh, yeah. Physical touch and words of affirmation. I got like a 0 on acts of service and gifts, but I really like giving gifts.” 

“Mhm, yes you do,” Jaksier wiggled his eyebrows, then turned to the camera, “I also had no idea you could have different giving and receiving languages till I met this one.”

Geralt nodded then turned to him with a slight frown, “you know I really thought your questions were going to be more graphic.”

“Oh, honey I saved the best for last,” Jaskier winked. 

“Fuck me,” Geralt grumbled before reading off his last question, “Cali852 asked what we did for Pride.”

Jaskier’s eyes lit up, “Oh Pride was fun. We watched the parade, of course, then Yen did our makeup and… and where did we go after that?”

Geralt looked like he’d been waiting for this, “We went to a club, where you ordered three kamakazis, knocked them all back, danced for twenty minutes, then I took you home.”

“N-no… we went to the beach, didn’t we?”

“That was the year before. We were going to go to the drag show at our regular bar too, but someone had just finished grading finals and went a little too hard.” 

Jaskier grinned, “Speaking of finals, time for the last question. I had a different one in mind but if the thing I cant say from earlier would get this demonetized then that defintitelyi would. So we’re going with ‘what is the wackest placy y’all banged?’”

Geralt snorted, “Shit who knows anymore?”

“Well there was the boat?”

“Or the train?”

“Nah, too standard. What about the cabin?”

“Heh, no I think your o-”

“I don’t have tenure darling,” It was Jaskier’s turn to slap his hands over Geralt’s mouth, “The answer is a dilapidated structure my parents still try to call a cabin out in the foothills.”

Geralt laughed and pulled his hand away, “Okay, that can be the answer.”

“Is that it? Now we just say bye?” Jaskier looked between Geralt and the camera.

Geralt shrugged, “Yeah. You wanna say the thing?”

Jaskier wiggled with a little pride and excitement, “Don’t forget to like and subscribe! Bye Fuckers!”

They both waved for a couple seconds before Geralt got up and turned the camera off. He popped out the memory card and was going to immediately start loading it onto his computer but Jask hooked his finger through a belt loop as he walked past and tugged him back down. 

“I’m tired. Snuggle with me.” 

Geralt hummed, “We just snuggled that whole time.”

Jaskier heaved a dramatic sigh, “I know and this is exhausting. I don’t know how you talk to a camera all day.”

Geralt stretched to set the chip on top of his laptop before collapsing back on top of Jaskier who had stretched the length of the couch, “Are you making fun of me?” he teased. 

Jaskier cupped his face between his hands and pulled him up for a deep kiss, “Oh never.” 

[dameronology]

love in the time of p.t.a meetings {marcus moreno} - 2/5

summary: your kid has taken a liking to marcus moreno - and frankly, so have you {series masterlist}

warnings: swearing, mentions of divorce & very brief mentions of his wife’s death 

i don’t normally update series this quickly but this was originally one imagine that reached about 11k words lmao so it’s all written, just being split up. i’ve also decided it’s gonna be 5 parts instead of 3, cos i reread the ending and realised i was not done by a longshot. enjoy!

- jazz

Mondays. You hated ‘em.

Everything just seemed so...amplified. The peace and relaxation of the weekend was over and everyone had to go back on the grind. The traffic always seemed worst, the clock seemed to tick backwards and you just wanted to be at home, in bed. After an incident involving the dog, a toaster and a small pan fire, you were already running twenty minutes late and you knew in your soul that your child’s shoes weren’t on the right feet. That, and also he was wearing a Chewbacca onesie to school. It had been a compromise. As in, he was refusing to go to school unless you let him wear the damn thing. It was a compromise. You’d lost. 

On the bright side, the past weekend had been the best you’d had in a long time. Jack had spent all of Saturday afternoon at the Heroics headquarters and he was so worn out, he’d slept through all of Sunday. Marcus Moreno must have a been a fucking wizard, because you’d been trying to tire the kid out for five years. You made a mental note to do something in return, though you sensed there was nothing on God’s green earth that could possibly amount to babysitting the world’s most exhausting child for six hours. You were allowed to say that, because Jack was your world’s most exhausting child and you wouldn’t have changed him for anything. 

‘New week, huh buddy?’ You glanced at Jack in your rear view mirror. He was sat on his booster seat, legs dangling back and forth and a power ranger action figure in his hand. ‘A fresh start.’

‘Can we listen to the song from Cars?’ Jack ignored your comment.

‘You gotta try and behave yourself this week. You’ve seen what happens to people who do follow the rules, right? They get to go work at the Heroics-’

‘- I wanna listen to the song from Cars!’

You wanted to have a deep conversation. Jack wanted to listen to Life Is A Highway. That was...actually, it was exactly how you’d expected that to go. It wasn’t that off of the time you were trying to explain your divorce to him and he’d interrupted you to demand that you put Toy Story on. 

‘Sure thing, kid.’ You rolled your eyes, reaching across to hand him on your phone. ‘D’you know how to spell it-’

Your sentence was cut off by the sound of guitars blaring from the speakers. At least he could work out Spotify.

By some miracle, you managed to make it the school with a few minutes to spare. Because most people had dropped their kids off earlier (see: on time), the lot was pretty empty. That meant you could once again dump your car without regard for the painted white lines -- who had time to park properly on a Monday morning? That was for people who had their shit together.

Leaping out the car, you almost cursed when you tripped over your heels. You didn’t have to wear them, but since you’d started working in a managerial role at your office, you figured it made you look a little more professional. And what was the harm in being a few inches taller? It made you feel powerful.

‘C’mon, J.’ You pulled open the back door, helping Jack leap out the car. 

‘You know, I’m starting to think you can’t park your car at all.’

‘Marcus!’ Jack practically flew out the car, his tiny body suddenly jolting with excitement. 

‘Morning, buddy.’ He replied; he then moved his brown eyes to gaze at you, offering a smile. ‘Hey.’

‘Hey, how you doing?’ You greeted him. ‘I don’t normally see you here in the mornings.’

‘Yeah, I normally drop Missy off at the front but it was one of those mornings, you know? She was taking a little more convincing than usual to go in.’

‘My kid is in a Wookiee onesie and backwards Thomas the Tank Engine shoes and you have the audacity to ask me if I know those mornings? I am those mornings.’ You replied.

Marcus chuckled. ‘I think it’s a look. I especially like the Lightning McQueen sunglasses.’

‘Do you have a super suit?’ Jack asked. ‘Can I try it on?’

‘C’mon, Jack. You’ve already managed to get a tour of the HQ.’ You ruffled his hair. ‘And we gotta get going to school.’

‘But I wanna ask more questions.’ He muttered. ‘I have over a hundred.’

‘Don’t I know it.’ You murmured under your breath. ‘But school is more important.’

‘I don’t wanna go anymore.’

‘I let you wear the onesie. That was our agreement, remember?’

‘All good superheroes have to get an education.’ Marcus reasoned. ‘And if you go in, maybe I can show you my suit at some point?’

'Okay!’ Jack grinned. He wrapped his arms around your waist in a quick hug, before peering up at you with a toothy smile. ‘See ya later!’

He turned on his heel and ripped his backpack from your hand, suddenly speeding up the path and towards school. Had...had that just happened? For once in your life, had you not had to wrench him from the car and wrestle him through the school gates? Move aside, Harry Potter, because Marcus Moreno was the new wizard in town. You might have been a little jealous that he was so good with your son but at the same time, it made you like him even more. He was the first parent at the school that had leant into Jack’s wild tendencies. And, whilst you tried not to think too much about it, even his own dad had struggled to do that. It made your heart warm a little. 

‘You are seriously my favourite person.’ You chimed, leaning back against your car. 

‘Kids with character are way more fun than kids who are well-behaved.’ Marcus replied.

‘I spent forty-five minutes scraping string cheese out the USB port of my computer yesterday, but sure.’ 

He chuckled. ‘No, I’m serious. I don’t encourage Missy to misbehave but she does get herself into some situations. I choose to see it as a testament to her intelligence rather than disobedience.’

‘I refuse to believe for a second that Missy ever misbehaves.’ You shot back back. ‘She seems so well-behaved.’

‘What you see in the parking lot is not a reflection of our whole lives.’ He reminded you.

‘Right, because despite appearances, I’m actually a very put together parent.’ You snorted. ‘But I get what you mean.’

‘I gotta get to work now, but it was good to see you.’ Marcus pulled his car keys out his pocket. ‘I was serious about that suit thing, by the way. He saw my katanas on Saturday.’

‘Katanas?’ You spluttered. ‘My kid managed to start a fire last week out of nothing and you want to give him katanas?!’

‘Maybe I can show you how to use them.’ He flashed you a smile. ‘And then you can pass on the knowledge.’ 

‘That’s probably an even worse idea.’ You shook your head with a laugh, pulling open your car door. ‘I’ll see you around.’

‘You as well. Have a good day, pretty lady.’

--

Did you stop thinking about your exchange at any point during the day? Absolutely not. In fact, you’d already written an email to the local deed poll office to change your legal name to Pretty Lady. 

No, but in all seriousness, you’d been a little giddy about it. Had he been flirting? That didn’t seem like a long shot. You got on well, you’d hung out a bit over the weekend and not to toot your own horn, but you were by no means bad looking. Tired and a little frazzled, sometimes? Yeah. But anyone would have been lucky to have you and you were doing a better job at recognising that, especially since your divorce. 

You were almost ecstatic when it got to 4PM and you hadn’t received a single call from Jack’s teachers. That meant that he had behaved, and what Marcus had said had worked. Because you worked past his finishing time, he usually went to the after-school club till you could come to collect him - it had been a lifesaver, especially since you couldn’t always leave early. He usually came home with some kind of weird arts and crafts. Last week, it had been an unidentifiable item made of dried macaroni and glitter. He’d placed it pridefully on the old fireplace in your lounge. 

After saying goodbye to your co-workers, you headed out the building. Your office was right in the city centre and not too far out from the school. It was a nice place to be; your lunch hour, when you could head out to a street cart and eat your food in the local park, was usually the highlight of your day. It was when you could exist just as you. When you were at work, you were in charge on your entire department. When you were home, you were a parent 24/7. That time to yourself was vital.

As you were heading to your car, your phone began to ring. Your heart almost jumped out your chest when you saw Marcus’ name - he hadn’t called you before, only texted to sort out the previous weekend’s plans with Jack. You quickly organised yourself (he couldn’t see you, dumb ass) and cleared your throat.

‘Hey, everything alright?’ You brightly greeted him.

‘Hey! Are you out of work now?’

‘Yeah, I’m literally just leaving. What’s up?’

‘Look, I hate to do this but I’ve had an emergency at work - superhero related, you don’t wanna know - and I’m not gonna be out for hours.’ Marcus sounded stressed. Yeah, I feel that you thought. ‘Would you be able to pick up Missy and possibly have her for a few hours? If not, that’s totally-’

‘- I’d be glad too!’ You interrupted him. ‘I owe you one anyways for the weekend. And this morning, actually.’

‘You don’t owe me anything.’ He sounded surprised that you’d even imply it. ‘But I will definitely owe you for having Missy.’

‘Hey, it’s cool!’ You insisted. ‘Do you want me to drop her off at yours later?’

‘I can come and collect her if you text me your address?’

‘Perfect.’ You smiled. ‘I’ll see you later then?’

‘You’re a lifesaver.’ Marcus said. ‘I’ll text Missy to let her know to find your car instead of mine. I would ask for your plate number, but your car is...’

‘...bright red, covered in dents and hard to miss?’ You finished his sentence.

‘Exactly.’

You’d been in the same situation before; pulled between work and parenting, with Jack stuck at school and an important meeting that felt like it was never ending. It was hard to get a sitter on such short notice - or afford one, sometimes - and it was just another one of the million, stressful situations that single parenting could get you into. If you could help Marcus even a little bit, of course you were going to. You knew he’d do the same for you. Heck, he had done the same for you.

Jack and Missy were both chatty on the way home. Given that she was a little older than him, her conversational skills were strikingly better. It was nice to ask someone about their day and not get where are my Cheetos? as an answer. From what you gathered, she hated science class, enjoyed gym, and her favourite subject was lunch. That didn’t come as a surprise to you - her dad was a literal superhero and probably encouraged physical activity.

(You’d seen his arms, okay? They were more than enough to go on. I digress).

The only thing that made you wish you’d had a little more notice on having her for the evening was the state of your apartment. The place wasn’t bad; you’d lived there for the better part of eight years, and it was crammed with soft furniture and millions of blankets, as well as photos of you and Jack and his questionable art projects. It was just that you hadn’t done the dishes that morning, there was a mountain of shoes by the door and the pancakes from the previous night were still stuck on the roof.

Missy barely blinked an eye; the minute she saw your dog, she’d abandoned her bag and was playing with him. 

‘Hey buddy!’ She grinned. ‘What’s he called?’

‘That’s Oppy.’ You replied, hanging your jacket up. She didn’t need to know that it was short for Optimus Prime. No guesses on whose idea that had been. 

‘He’s so cute!’ Missy continued. ‘I’ve been asking dad for a dog for ages but he won’t budge.’

For some reason, that surprised you a little. Marcus might have been the leader of a super-hero team and a public figure, but you could tell he would do anything for his daughter. You knew because it was the same for you with Jack. He might have ruled your whole life but you would have hung the damn stars in the sky for him if he asked 

‘They’re a lot of work.’ You reasoned. ‘I have to wake up every morning at 6AM to make sure he gets a walk. Then there’s the matter of-’

‘- mum! Optimus Prime pooped in the bathroom!’

‘The matter of that.’ You murmured under your breath.

The rest of the evening went pretty smoothly. You fed the kids some leftover takeaway and between the dog and Netflix, they were easily entertained. Jack seemed to take a liking to Missy, which was good because it meant he wanted to sit with her the entire time instead of bouncing off the walls. She had the same patience as her dad, especially when he asked her a million questions about superheroes. It took her twenty minutes to convince him that Batman wasn’t her uncle, and a further fifteen to make him believe that she hadn’t met Captain America. 

Jack had asked you a few times about whether or not he would get siblings. Of course, it would be different to any interactions with Missy because he would have been the oldest, but it did get you thinking. You were finally in a place where you were moving past your former relationship and healing from the wounds. Time wasn’t much of an issue either - you’d had Jack when you were young and barely out of college. You couldn’t possibly imagine having any more kids right now, not when it was just the two of you, but in the future? You’d never rule out meeting somebody new. If anything, you were hopeful. Your first relationship had been your only one, and it had ended badly. You wanted to experience love for what it actually was, and not what you thought it was supposed to be. 

Not long after 7PM, there was a knock on your door. By that point, both Missy and Jack had passed out on the sofa with Star Wars playing quietly in the background. It had been her idea to watch it - she had good taste. Marcus had clearly done a good job.

‘Hey!’ You greeted him as you pulled open the front door. ‘Come in quick, it’s fucking freezing out there.’

‘Thank you.’ Marcus came inside, dusting a few snow flakes out his hair. ‘Seriously, I can’t say it enough-’

‘- it’s fine!’ You shook your head, offering him a smile. ‘Missy’s been great. She’s really chatty and it was nice to have a coherent conversation with someone that isn’t about Paw Patrol. But was everything at the office okay?’

He was quiet for a minute. ‘Yeah. We uh, we lost someone. A hero.’

‘Shit, man. I’m sorry.’ Your voice fell quiet. ‘You wanna come in? You look like you could probably take a moment.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Of course! Missy and Jack are both asleep on the couch anyways.’ You pointed through to the living room. Marcus leant over to have a look, smiling slightly at the sight. 

‘Thank you. I’d appreciate that.’

He took a seat at the kitchen counter. Your old bar stools were a little old and wobbly, but Marcus didn’t seem to notice. If anything, he admired the place. It was cluttered as hell and filled with useless, old items - cook books you didn’t use, random magnets, assorted toys - but it was nice. His house always felt a little cold and clinical. He’d moved a lot over the course of Missy’s life and now that he was retired from the field, he’d sworn to her that their current house was going to be permanent. Whether or not it felt like home was another question entirely. 

‘I would offer you a drink but all I have is..’ you paused, opening the fridge. ‘Nesquik, vodka or apple juice.’

‘You know what? A Nesquik doesn’t sound too bad.’

‘I like your thinking, Moreno.’

After quickly fixing up the two drinks, you slid into the seat beside him and handed him one. You had never in a million years imagined a situation where Marcus Moreno would be in your kitchen drinking chocolate milk, but here we were. It had clearly been a long day for him and you had enough of those to last a lifetime, so you knew how it felt. Coming home after a day that had beat your ass into the ground and having to put on a brave face for your kids was difficult at best. 

‘Are you sure you’re okay?’ You gently asked.

‘Yeah, I’ll be okay - it just always fucks me up a bit.’ Marcus murmured quietly. ‘Hits a little too close to home.’

He wasn’t an idiot. He knew that you knew what had happened to his wife. You knew why he’d retired, and why he and Missy had moved away from their original city six years ago.

‘Sorry, that was too deep-’

‘- it wasn’t!’ You quickly cut him off. ‘I’ve had random women come up to me at pick up time and say they’re sorry to hear about my divorce. People I don’t even know. So really, after that, nothing is too much.’ 

He smiled slightly. ‘They always say they’re sorry but why would you bring up a subject if you have to apologise for it?’

‘Exactly!’ You replied. ‘Especially when I’ve moved on. It’s been a year.’

‘It’s the same with me. Missy and I miss her everyday but we don’t mope about it. We just...we look back with fondness on the good memories we have. You can’t move forward if you’re stuck in the past, no matter how much it sucks.’

‘That’s...that’s wise.’ You blinked in surprise. ‘S’pose that means I should take down the dartboard I have with my ex’s face on.’

‘From what I’ve heard, he seems like he should have more than a dart board.’ Marcus snorted - then he froze. ‘Wait, not that I’ve heard stuff, I mean...I don’t listen-’

‘- Marcus!’ You whacked his arm. ‘It’s fine. One of the other kid’s mums started telling me about the terrible divorce someone was going through but she realised she was gossiping to the one who was going through it.’

‘I don’t know how much of what I’ve been told is true, but it sounds like it was bad.’ His hand hovered over where yours was rested on the counter. 

‘The rumours pretty much get the gist of it.’ You replied. ‘But we were talking about your thing, so I don’t wanna take away from that.’

‘Hey, it’s okay.’ He finally moved his hand, fingers gently curling underneath yours to intertwine them. ‘If even half of the whispers are true, he sounds like an asshole. You and Jack both deserve better than that.’

Whatever people had said, it had sort of covered the gist of it. You’d married too young and had a kid too young - your ex had been a terrible husband and an even worst husband. He’d chastised Jack for being...well, being Jack. He’d stay out late with his friends, spend money on things neither of you needed and tried to make you take the blame for it all. After giving him a few too many chances, you’d finally reached breaking point and kicked him out. Filing for divorce and taking on being a single parent was single-handedly the hardest and bravest thing you’d ever had to do. In a way, you were glad you’d done it when Jack was still so young - he didn’t really understand any of it, even when you’d try to explain it in child friendly terms.

‘I think people judge me for it a little sometimes.’ You confessed. ‘They see me struggling but they know I made the choice to separate from him, like I brought it all on myself.’

‘That’s bullshit.’ Marcus plainly stated. ‘Parenthood isn’t a dependent thing based on whether or not you’re still married to the other parent. It’s unconditional and permanent.’

‘I should tell him that, but I also don’t want him back in our lives.’

‘I know it’s none of my business, but he doesn’t deserve Jack. He’s one of the best and brightest kids I’ve ever met.’

‘Thank you. I’m glad he doesn’t seem like a complete lunatic.’

‘He doesn’t deserve you either.’ Marcus continued. ‘Again, I might be out of place saying this but you are...you’re amazing. I was a wreck when I was suddenly on my own and you’re still holding everything together and working your ass off.’ 

‘You’ve noticed?’ You quirked an eyebrow.

‘Yeah, in passing.’ He admitted. ‘I remember I once saw you carrying three separate science projects at once and then Carol made a passing comment that you were on your own and...I just kinda admired you from afar.’

‘You, Marcus Moreno, admired me?’ You blinked at him in disbelief. ‘I find that hard to believe.’

‘I wish I’d had my shit together half as much as you did when I lost Missy’s mum.’ 

‘But the difference is you didn’t have a choice in your situation. I chose to boot his dad out-’

‘- you gotta stop discrediting yourself.’ He shook his head. ‘And stop blaming yourself. You did what was right for your kid and that is the most admirable thing of all.’

‘You really think so?’

‘I know so.’

The conversation slowly drizzled away, leaving you two to just look at each other. It was hard to tear yourself away from his brown eyes - there was a lot going on behind them. Fear, pain, anguish, admiration. He was one of the most mind-blowingly impressive people you’d ever met; single dad, superhero, electric car owner. He probably didn’t have a mortgage too and that was kinda hot. You were none of those things and yet, here he was, with you, managing to connect on a level that you never had with anyone. Both of your situations were tough, but they’d brought you together. 

Marcus Moreno was pretty fucking fearless (came with the job, you figured), and he wasn’t afraid to make the first move. He slowly inched his head forward and in return, you gravitated towards him. Your lips met halfway in a soft kiss, his hands moving to firmly hold your waist as he pulled you closer.

You almost stumbled out your chair with the movement, but his grip on your hips meant you didn’t slip. Instead, he placed you up on the counter, standing up as he did. It took you a moment to adjust to the position, but with your legs resting on either side of his, you could reach forward and lean on him. You had one hand tangled in his hair and the other on the back of his neck -  you’d surprised yourself with that. It had been months since you’d kissed anyone, but you weren’t as rusty as you thought. 

‘Oh my god, is the superhero gonna be my new dad?!’

Marcus suddenly jumped backwards at the sound of Jack’s voice. He was stood in the doorway, post-nap hair covered by a lopsided Chewbacca hood. His eyes were like dinner plates, even though he was grinning from ear to ear. 

‘Uh...’ you glanced between him and Marcus. ‘We were just...we were...’

‘I had something in my eye.’

‘He had something in his eye.’ You quickly agreed. ‘But now it’s out, so Marcus is gonna go home.’

He knew you didn’t mean it rudely - it was more of a desperation thing. The longer he stayed, the more questions Jack would come out with. Missy could have overheard too and that would have been twice as much to explain. So really, the sooner he got out, the better.

‘Yeah. I’ll uh, I’ll grab Missy.’ Marcus said, scratching the back of his head. ‘Thank you again for looking after her.’

‘You don’t need to keep thanking me.’ You shot back. 

He disappeared into the living room for a moment, reemerging with a sleeping Missy in his arms a moment later. Your eyes met again, and he gave you a soft smile.

‘I’ll call you.’

‘Yeah, sure.’  You nodded. ‘See you, Marcus.’

--

True to character, the next hour was spent being pelted with questions from your over-curious son. He didn’t shut up once when you were bathing him and he got even louder when you were reading him his best time story. On the bright side, you’d managed to get him to change out of his slightly manky Wookiee onesie and into a clean Buzz Lightyear one. Normally, you would have argued that he couldn’t live in pyjamas, but if it kept him quiet? It was a price you were willing to pay. 

‘Night, kiddo.’ You pressed a kiss to his forehead, switching on his nightlight. ‘Remember our deal, yeah? If I buy you a Happy Meal tomorrow, you won’t mention what you saw to any of your friends?’

‘You said library was bad.’

‘No, it’s bribery.’ You corrected him. ‘And do as I say, not as I do.’

‘Sounds bad, but okay.’ He sleepily murmured. ‘Night.’

‘Night.’ You stood up, flicking out his bedroom lights.

‘Wait, mum!’ Jack suddenly sat up, as though he’d remembered something. ‘You never said no.’

‘No to what, buddy?’

‘When I asked if the superhero was my new dad.’

Well, fuck. 

taglist: @naivara-duneimith @1-2-3-4-5metalfingers @likeshootingstarsinthenightsky @lyanna-the-giantsbane @phoenixhalliwell @crazycookiecrumbles​ @bitchin-beskar​ @comphersjost​ {message me to be added!}

[anika-ann]

Attached: The One Word

The Three Times Steve Didn’t Get to Hear the One Word He Wanted and the One Time He Did

Type: series, modern-college-professor Steve AU… aka the wrong attachment AU ;)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader   Word count: 7700 👀

Summary: In which Steve really, really wants to ask you the question, but the odds are always against him – absurdly so. Maybe it’s fate and he shouldn’t ask. Or maybe the universe just hates him and punishes him for tainting a girl like you and wanting you all for himself officially.

Warnings: lots of swearing, crack-ish, briefest smut so 18+ only please, sickness and fluff

A/N: I say this to you, my friends – I do not at all envy men in a heterosexual relationship for being expected to pop the question. I would chicken out every time, I’m sure of it. Enjoy!

Story masterlist

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

Steve liked to think important things through. He liked planning. He liked to have all the facts and view things from different angles before making a decision.

Therefore, wanting to marry you was something he was perfectly certain of and two months after he received your mother’s blessings – two months of slowly reducing costs, preparing to lower incomes, not that they had ever been glorious ever –, Steve had a feeling that the time was finally right and that he was ready to pop the question. He was.

The only problem was that the universe started plotting against him.

Big time.

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

1.

Palmeri was a relatively new restaurant, but quickly gaining reputation. Steve had heard Carol talking about taking her girlfriend there for the fun of trying a new spot and getting a taste of fancy Italian. Clearly that had a good time; the moment he learned, he started considering it. Two days later, he had to make a reservation for a week later, because the word of the delicious food travelled fast.

That was fine with him, even if he felt like he was about to jump out of his skin before the date finally arrived. Still, he advertised the fact to you that he would like to celebrate your early wrapped up exams already foreshadowing that you would obviously slayed the one you were supposed to have a day prior Friday.

When you heard the name of the restaurant, your eyes twinkled like fairy lights, a squeal of delight escaping your lips before they swiftly found his to kiss him crazy. Steve’s heart thundered in his chest as you ran off back to your books with newly-found motivation, his nerves mingling with the satisfaction that you appreciated his idea – even if you couldn’t have no clue about what he was about to do.

He could only hope that you’d be as delighted at him sinking to one knee.

But he would have to get out of this fucking interfaculty meeting FIRST!

“Seeing as the satisfaction of the students apparently took a nose dive according to the university poll last month…” Fury continued rambling, his serious and mildly snarky voice carrying through the conference room, as if mocking Steve who anxiously eyed the clock, again.

The reservation was for seven thirty.

It was five to seven.

Half an hour ago, Steve hated the idea of not taking a shower and looking his absolute best while proposing to you.

Now? Every option looked better than this. He would arrive to the restaurant all sweaty and catching his breath if he took off right this moment. And even that seemed impossible; president Fury, that son of a bitch, was nowhere close to ending the meeting.

51 weeks. 51 Fridays Fury could have called the meeting.

Nope, that bastard picked this one, the one Friday Steve was planning on sweeping you off your feet and asking you to be his for the rest of your lives.

Fucking asshole.

“Got anything to add, Professor Rogers?” a gruff voice asked him and Steve jumped in his chair and nearly dropped the phone he was pulling out of his pocket to text you with his deepest regrets – but he had to, otherwise you’d already be on your way.

Best if he saved you the embarrassment; best if you stayed home at least, all dolled up and pretty and smiling for him to show off.

Goddammit fuck.

Steve’s eyes snapped to Fury, meeting a glare that seemed even sterner with only one functioning eye.

Steve gritted his teeth and determinedly gripping his phone.

“No,” he shot back, biting his cheek when Fury’s eyebrow rose at his snappy tone. “I mean… I need to make a phone call. If you’d excuse me, it will be just a minute.”

Likely story. He would have to be apologizing for at least three minutes straight and then crawl on his knees when he finally got back home; not because you’d be so unforgiving and angry, but because it would be the right thing to do after disappointing your precious heart.

He was about to make you sad. He fucking hated making you sad.

“Make it three tops,” the president grumbled, but luckily didn’t pry what was so important for him to leave the room.

“Stevie!” your bright voice greeted him from the speaker and Steve’s heart seized in his chest, his fist automatically clenching in anger. He was about to crush you because of a dumb-ass useless meeting. He brought the fist to his mouth to stop himself from greeting you equally delighted way and fleeting the university grounds. “I’m just about to take off! I was getting worried you wouldn’t make it. Did Fury give you a hard time? … Steve?”

Steve, much to his horror, found his eyes prickling with tears of frustration as his name on your lips sounded suddenly unsure.

Fuck. This.

“Hey babygirl,” he said finally and the roughness of his voice must have been everything you needed to hear to understand.

“You can’t make it.”

Steve wanted to tear his hair out at the defeat in your voice. Talk about a nose dive of your mood.  He was gonna fucking scream.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered instead, the apology so pathetic in comparison to what he wanted to say.

But that was the irony – you couldn’t even begin to guess how much it sucked for the two of you to not being able to go to the damn Palmeri. You didn’t know the main tragedy, only a part of it. You didn’t know he had been about to propose.

Silence stretched between the two of you and Steve tilted his head back, blinking against the sting in his eyes, his stomach sinking to his feet.

“It’s not your fault,” you sighed eventually, sounding as if you were trying to convince him as much as yourself.

Steve could imagine precisely the disappointment on your face, the fall of your expression, pretty features no doubt having been accented by make-up just the right amount twisting. He could see clearly how your lips made for smiles turned downward, lower lip maybe even trembling a bit.

Steve was gonna murder Fury.

“But it is. I’m so sorry, I know how excited you were and so was I and— I’m just really sorry.”

“I know, Steve,” you breathed out weakly and he could hear the attempt of a smile in your next words. “Come home soon, yeah? I’ll wait for you.”

Steve’s heart grew in size so rapidly it actually hurt.

“I love you, sweetheart. I know--- I know you might not wanna hear it now and that it doesn’t mean much, but I really do,” he creaked.

“It does. Bye, Steve.”

Steve’s fingers clutched at the phone, eyes falling shut in defeat.

You were nice about it, sure, but the fact that you didn’t say I love you back didn’t escape him as didn’t the switch from Stevie to Steve; the subtle hints sat heavily in his gut as he returned to the room.

He met Bucky’s compassionate gaze – of course Buck knew about why Steve was distracted during the assembly – and quickly looked away, once again excusing himself for the interruption even if there was nothing sincere about his words.

His chest ached for the rest of the meeting – and would for the rest of the night.

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

He did not come home soon – in fact, it was nearing eleven when he finally opened the door, trying to make no sound when he found the apartment plunged into dark. He grimaced, jaw clenching; you were already asleep.

A fresh surge of anger shot into his veins; the university hated him, he was certain of it – and the other way around. He had missed his shot because of a meeting that was literally about nothing. Fuck his life.

He grumbled, the only sound he allowed himself to make when moving around the apartment, switching the dimmest light he could as not to wake you – because disappointing you was enough, the least he could do was not to disturb your sleep.

Frustrated, tired and hungry, he tiptoed to the kitchen to grab a bite. He was starving and even though he was exhausted and craved nothing but to wrap his arms around you and sink into the cushions, he knew hunger would wake him up a few hours later if he went to bed with an empty stomach.

Upon opening the fridge, a surprise welcomed him; a ham & cheese sandwich ready on a plate, a small Tupperware box with pieces of tomatoes and cucumber on side, a sticky note simply reading ‘Stevie’.

His breath got stuck in his throat, heart hammering in his ribcage – that was how moved he was by your gesture. He knew that you must have been as upset as you had been excited to have the fancy dinner with him, but here you were, pushing your sorrows and anger aside and preparing him food, a possible olive branch.

The sandwich was nothing fancy by any means; but God, Steve loved you just a little bit more at that moment for he didn’t have to move a finger to eat so late and you even took care to set his vegetables aside, because you knew how much he hated when the bread got squishy with the juice.  

Gratefully biting into his late-night meal, Steve swore to himself he would spend the rest of his life spoiling you rotten.

When he finally got to cautiously cuddle you from behind – eyeing the absolutely stunning dress you were supposed to wear hanging outside the closet as if there to mock him – you stirred at the dip of the mattress.

Lazily blinking your eyes open, you welcomed him with a raspy hey and he had a half mind to just take the ring from the safety of its velvet box and slip it on your finger right there.

“I’m sorry, babygirl. I’m so so sorry,” he whispered, tentatively wrapping his arm around your midsection, unsure if he wasn’t in disgrace after all. You just hummed and rolled over to face him, burying your face in his chest, heavy limbs wrapping around him as if you were an octopus – the most adorable, precious, beautiful and perfect octopus in the world. His octopus. “I love you so much. I promise to make it up to you.”

“Uh-huh. Looking forward to it. Now sleep,” you mumbled to Steve’s sleepshirt, half-grumpy half-sounding as if not caring for what he was saying at all, causing him to feel warm all over.

Oh he was so going to show you just how he could make it up to you. He would marry the shit out of you.

Just you wait.

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

2.

Because of a water incident, Palmeri closed three days after Steve’s first failed attempt – and assumptions were that it would remain so for a month, because they needed to redecorate.

That meant a new plan for Steve, because he could not wait that long. Out of question. He needed to hear you say yes as soon as possible. Yesterday had been too late.

So, he asked Sam for a recommendation – casually, he believed – and somehow ended up with the man looking at him for a few seconds before realization dawned on his face.

“Oooooh, I see how it is! Need something real nice, huh?” Sam whistled, a teasing grin on his face as he patted Steve’s shoulder for support. “Relax, I gotcha, man. All you need; cosy atmosphere, but classy, white table cloths and everything. The right place to take her to in order to butter her up and make her all putty.”

Steve didn’t manage to quite hide his embarrassment at being so obvious, but he knew that Sam was a friend and all his shit-talking was good-natured, always knowing where the boundaries were; he wasn’t a counsellor for nothing.

And Steve had to give it to him – the place he recommended was just what he promised it would be and exactly what Steve needed.

You were all smiles and some giggles, little tipsy on the second glass of the wine, eyes shining in the dim lights, somehow lighting up more whenever you caught him staring at you. It was the perfect display of all the good things you were, ones he adored about you, the light of his life and gazing at him as if he was yours too.

Downing some of the liquid courage himself and with you so gorgeously giddy, Steve felt his confidence building up during the night and was just about ready to get on one knee once you finished your shared dessert.

“This is good!” you gushed, digging the fork if into the cake to get another bite and Steve grinned, unable to help himself as he agreed.

“Uh-huh, sweet. But not as sweet as you.”

You stopped mid-chew, eyes meeting his and he felt his face burn hot with embarrassment at such cheesy comment.

You swallowed, gaze still fixed on him as he busied himself with the sweet treat, and then you chuckled, causing his face to turn entirely red.

“You, Steve Rogers, are so corny sometimes,” you mocked him lightly, but when he looked up, sheepish and with his confidence bruised, he found you all starry-eyed still, watching him adoringly as if he hung the moon – and he would, for you – and Steve felt himself settle again. “But I still love you. Maybe even more for that.”

It was a wonderful opening, things really going his way – but he hesitated a second too long, like an idiot, and the next thing he knew, a string quartet, a damn string quartet, walked straight to the elderly couple two tables over, one of the group congratulating them to their thirtieth anniversary and at that moment…

Well. At that moment, Steve really fucking hated them.

Who fucking cared they were a sweet elderly couple?! Steve could only dream about you two becoming them one day as of now, because they ruined just another of his fucking shots!

He couldn’t believe that he missed his window again.

And what more, you cooed under your breath, a silent aww falling from your lips and Steve knew that anything less than a string quartet accompanying a marriage proposal when delivered in a restaurant was a no-go.

So scratch that one off the list.

All guests clapped their hands, more of awws coming from different directions and you proceeded to take his hand, gentle fingers stroking over his knuckles and Steve knew one thing with absolute certainty; he needed to propose tonight otherwise he might burst.

At home then, he would ask you at home. Who even wanted something as cliché and public as he had planned? Lame. You were a private pair, some people still judged you upon seeing you together; a little intimate proposal in your home after a fancy sweet dinner would be just the thing.

Steve just had to figure how exactly and at what moment to ask. He’d be fine. You’d say yes. Right?

He was so preoccupied with his thoughts and plans that he barely noticed you growing skittish during the taxi ride, but he certainly noticed when you started practically jumping by his side as he was unlocking the door to your apartment, confused by your antics.

The second Steve opened it and stepped inside, he found himself being shoved back-first towards a wall, your hands on his chest, sliding up and down his coat and blindly undoing the buttons as your mouth assaulted his, a soft mewl vibrating against his lips, wandering hands appreciative when they slipped under the lapels of his coat and jacket.

Steve’s head spun at the display of desire, a sudden pleasant dizziness overtaking his body, all rational thoughts vaporizing as you rocked against his crotch, his cock twitching in excitement at the friction and at the way his tongue had to fight against yours. His brain grew foggy at the faint taste of wine and the cake you had shared, his hands automatically grabbing your waist to keep you close, fingers squeezing your hips and ass to urge you closer when he rolled his hips against yours, eliciting needy moans from your lips-

You withdrew for just a second to catch your breath, lips skimming over his jaw, revelling at the feel of his beard on your skin he knew you loved, hasty words whispered into his flesh.

“Dammit, Steve, you look so fucking hot in this suit--- oh Stevie,” you whimpered when his hands slipped under your backside to tease your clothed weeping core, the sensation setting his blood on fire, the delicious friction and your dirty mouth everything that mattered in the world. “Let me suck you off-“

Steve nearly choked on his own spit upon hearing that, almost losing his balance with his legs turning into jelly and all his blood rushing into his dick.

Yeah, Steve might be a professor but he was a simple guy.

When his girl, in those stunning hot as hell dress begged him to let her get on her knees to blow his dick and his mind, he really couldn’t find himself refusing, the coil in his belly searing hot by the time you looked up at him from under your eyelashes, so pretty, doe-eyed, lips kiss-swollen and willing and so fucking devilish as you freed his cock and licked the drop of precum already forming there.

“Fuck, babygirl, what’s gotten into you-“ was all he managed to ask before all he could think off was the velvety heat of your mouth, taking him all in and making him see stars, the jewellery box in the pocket of his coat long forgotten.

And fuck was also his first coherent thought in the morning, when he realized that once again, the proposal attempt ended up being an utter failure.

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

3.

Steve had established after his two and half failed proposals that he wouldn’t make any reservations in some dumb restaurant. Just no. Privacy it would be; something personal, accompanied with a simple and yet big enough gesture, him doing something just for you, following with words of you being his world or something.

Yeah.

And for once, it seemed that the universe that had seemed to hate him, finally started playing in his favour.

The weather was going crazy, sun and spring in a middle of February and Steve had a revelation – he was going to take you out for a picnic. It was going to be perfect; he’d take you outside the city, find a quiet corner, just you and him, nothing in your way and more importantly, in his way to pop the question.

Steve was certain that you’d prefer this to anything else anyway, loving when he made an effort to create something for you. He still remembered when you first discovered he enjoyed drawing and you practically melted into a puddle when you found drawings of yourself too, allegedly displaying you prettier than you were – as if.

So, picnic it was.

Except on Friday, the day before THE DAY, Steve woke up with a splitting headache, his whole body hurting, nose full and lungs as if stuffed with cotton wool. He blamed the crazy weather, but it didn’t really matter where this sickness came from – he felt like shit.

He groaned and downright punched the alarm on his phone, startling you awake.

With bleary gaze, he registered you rolling over in his arms, squirming at him sleepily as he let his eyelids slip shut again.

“Steve, hun, are you okay?” you asked him softly, voice husky as he loved to hear it when you woke up, too adorable for him to keep his hands off you.

He sure as fuck wasn’t thinking about sweet and filthy morning loving now; he would have coughed out his lungs if he tried to move too much and some parts of him might fall off judging by how much everything hurt.

“Yeah,” he rasped, throat scratchy at the single word and as if from a distance, he heard a noise of sympathy, your palm instantly finding his forehead, gentle touch soothing against his burning skin.

“You’re absolutely not okay. Stevie, you’re burning up,” you whispered compassionately and Steve blinked his eyes open, the little light in the room causing him to snap them close again immediately. Ouch.

“Fuck my liiiiife,” he groaned, prolonging the last syllable, which proved to be a wrong thing to do, sending him into a couching fit due to his scratchy throat.

Your hands roamed his shoulders and back as he rolled over to his side from you, hoping to suck in some air to continue coughing.

“Oh Stevie, I’m sorry. I’ll bring you some medicine when I’m back from school, yeah? And I’ll make some soup,” you assured him kindly, dropping a kiss to his shoulder before your pleasant warmth disappeared, leaving him too cold and hot at the same time.

Seriously. FUCK HIS LIFE.

Grunting, he fell to his back, exhausted by one stupid coughing fit, whole body heavy; and he must have fallen asleep too, because the next thing he knew, soft lips were touching his forehead, tender fingers brushing messy strands of hair away. He stirred, forcing his eyes open to be greeted by a sight of that angelic face of yours, complete with a halo of light around you.

“I already called Bucky. He’ll sort out your classes today, alright? There’s a tea on your nightstand along with some last Tylenol we have.”

Steve squinted in the direction of the piece of furniture you mentioned and sure enough, there it was, everything you said it would.

What a pretty dutiful nurse you were. God, he loved you.

As he eyed you then, deep sense of longing settled in his swimming stomach, more so as he didn’t miss the gorgeous thermo leggings and long sweater hugging your figure, reaching your mid-thighs.

All Steve wanted was to pull you back to him so he had a human furnace in bed with him, the soothing smell of your shampoo to comfort him – even though he probably wouldn’t be able to smell it. But his hands would still be able to explore your delicious body, grope and hold it close to his and you could maybe ramble about everything and anything, lulling him to sleep.

But no, you were leaving to school, leaving him alone in the apartment.

Just him, himself and his fucking flu.

He eyed you wistfully, lips pursed at your concerned expression.

“When you’ll be back?”

The wrinkle between your brows smoothened, a smile playing in the corner of your mouth.

“I have class until eleven. I see what I can do. I’m gonna have to hit the pharmacy and make some shopping,” you explained patiently, casing Steve to groan. Too long. So so long… Your smile widened, another kiss landing on his temple this time. “But I’ll be back before you know it. Get some rest, Professor Rogers.”

Your teasing tone made him growl, the action effectively sending him into another coughing fit and through glassy eyes, he saw you disappear from the room with one last glance over your shoulder.

Steve closed his eyes and breathed in deeply – oh, the delicious air – and then buried himself in the covers, praying that a decent sleep would make him feel better.

It didn’t, not quite. What did make him feel much better was the Tylenol and the sirup you brought along.

The absolute best was when you were there for him to cuddle you to sleep in the evening; somewhere in the back of his mind, he was aware that he was being a giant baby and was being utterly ridiculous, but God help him, this was all he needed the whole day.

He sighed blissfully as he hugged your midsection while you were sitting propped on the back-rest, soft light from the nightlamp illuminating the pages of the book you were reading. You were warmth, the gentle kind and Steve felt you seeping into him, fingers of one hand raking through his hair; he felt himself getting high on your loving care and cough sirup.

“I love having you here,” he muttered into the fabric of your pyjama, feeling you shift in your position a little, probably as you looked at him.

“Yeah?” you asked, sounding as if you were smiling, maybe even laughing at him; but he couldn’t care less, already drifting off to sleep, just content to have you.

“You’re warm and nice… and the prettiest nurse. And I love you. You’re my everything.”

“Oh Stevie,” you cooed sweetly, kissing the crown of his head and he preened at the sensation, smiling lazily. “I love you too.”

His heart skipped a beat as he nuzzled into your flesh and heard you gently toss the book away, your other hand now caressing his cheek.

“Yeah? Will you always be here? I want you to always be with me,” he admitted sheepishly, drawing a soft giggle and earning a kiss on his forehead.

“God, you’re adorable like this…”

Steve grunted, discontent with your reaction. “Not an answer.”

“I’ll always be here if you want me to, Stevie,” you answered dutifully, causing warmth fill his chest even if your body was shaking with hushed laughter; he felt it, but didn’t care. For your words however, he did; phew, as if he ever wanted something else, as if you had the right to question that!

He really needed to propose soon… just not tomorrow. You’d probably say no if he asked you, blaming his request on the fever. Naively.

“I wanna,” he mumbled, trying to squeeze you tighter. “Mine. My pretty girl. My babygirl. Forever.”

“Forever is a long time,” you noted, smile once again lacing your voice, along with an emotion, oh so soft one, he didn’t have the capacity to identify anymore. “But that’s what it’ll be if that’s what you want.”

Finally satisfied and with determination in the back of his mind, Steve let your love bridge him over to the dreamland, distantly aware of your fingers still playing with his hair.

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

+1

Steve’s mother used to say his that flu lasted a week under a doctor’s care; and seven days without it. Of course, when he was younger with many health issues, it was more complicated than that, but he got the message.

Under your care, he felt considerably better after five days, only a mild case of a runny nose remaining. On a Thursday morning, he even found himself awake before you did, before your alarm went off.

Contemplating whether he should stay in bed with you or get shit done, he lazily scooped away a bit and propped himself on his elbow to feast his eyes on his pretty nurse.

Your hair was a messy halo around your head, your brows were lightly crooked as if you were having an unpleasant dream, your lips parted just a fraction, the softest snort escaping you.

Steve felt himself grin, a love-sick lift of the corners of his lips.

You were so freaking cute.

And seeing you, relaxed, but clearly catching up with sleep to beat your exhaustion to which he abundantly contributed, he knew he couldn’t stay in bed; in fact, he had to make you breakfast to bed, for all the troubles he put you through and for the attentive care you lavished him with.

Sure, when he was getting overly needy and whiny or cranky, you weren’t shy to call him out on his shit – which only made him love you more – but otherwise you were admirably patient.

As if he hadn’t already known that you were a keeper before that; this only solidified his conviction. If everything about you didn’t scream put a ring on it, then he wasn’t Steven Grant Rogers.

Hell, he had a half-mind to propose you just at that moment, all domestic atmosphere and sweet gesture like breakfast in bed, but he wasn’t certain it wouldn’t look like the past few days were what pushed him over the edge. That would only be a half-truth--- quarter-truth?

Shaking his head at his own dumb thoughts, he gathered the pancakes, yogurt, various pieces of fruit and obviously, a coffee, laying it on a tray he had nearly forgotten he owned and tiptoed to the bedroom, honestly surprised that you hadn’t woken up yet with him fumbling around.

He stopped dead in his tracks when you sighed and stirred, rolling over and stretching out a hand as if in a search for him, only to find the space empty. Something between a hum and a damn meowl fell from your lips and Steve had to remind himself what it was he wanted to do besides trying his best to find out how exactly he could make you repeat that sound.

So precious. Absolutely adorable. Beautiful. Tempting.

You clutched the empty sheets, but didn’t wake and Steve crossed the distance to the bed, carefully setting the tray on the nightstand as he went to sit on the bed next to your waist, a dopy smile on his face.

Laying a hand on your thigh, he squeezed a little, attempting to wake you gently; he knew you got jumpy when something tickled your face, so this was the safer option.

You stirred once again, but didn’t wake, your eyes only fluttering open when he called your name a few times, alternating with your favourite term of endearment.

You squinted at him, appearing confused and groaning. Steve grinned.

“Morning, sunshine,” he hummed, finally allowing himself to run the pads of his fingers from your forehead to your cheek and jaw, leaning into drop a kiss to your lips.

He froze, his brain on alert as he registered how hot your face felt.

The faint snoring. Squinting against light. Not waking up sooner than him. Your face pretty much burning to touch.

Oh no.

“Babygirl… are you feeling sick?” Steve whispered hesitantly, met with a bleary gaze and a pout.

“Wasn’t feeling great even yesterday evening…” you said, voice hoarse – whether from sleep or the flu Steve had managed to infect you with, he couldn’t tell.

But he certainly felt guilty, even if it was inevitable, really; with all you sweet care and constant proximity, it was only a matter of time. Not that it made him feel any better.

“Oh sweetheart, I’m so sorry-“

“Not your fault-“

“Kinda is-“

“Steve dammit!” you hissed, your eyes flying open fully and Steve knew what was coming; still, he grimaced as you coughed. “Shit. I hate flu.”

“Tell me about it. You think you can eat something?” he fussed, snapping into his nurse mode right away, ready for your roles to reverse.

You hummed and tried to sit, your gaze falling on the nightstand for the first time. Your expression, having been twisted in a grimace, softened instantly. As you turned to him, he suddenly felt sheepish. Was he acting like a love-sick fool?

“You made me breakfast to bed?” you cooed, snuggling into the covers before gesturing for him to help you sit up. “You’re the best.”

“I’ll be better if I make you some tea to go with it… and bring cough sirup… and stuff, yeah?”

You smiled like a loon – well, you tried, the result kinda faint, a testimony to your exhaustion – and Steve quickly rose to his feet.

“You’re the best.”

“Nope, that’s you. Eat your breakfast, babygirl.”

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

Steve could tell you still didn’t feel exactly alright and the idea of eating wasn’t thrilling to you, but the pleaser you were, you tried your best for him to see that you appreciated his effort to make breakfast. When he brought you the tea, the medicine and water to down it, you were hallway through the pancakes, even though you seemed to force yourself into every bite.

“You don’t have to make yourself sicker just because you feel like you have to eat this, you know,” he hummed nonchalantly, causing you to grimace and take another two bites before sighing and pushing the tray away.

“It’s really yummy though… I think,” you stated, a wry smile playing in one corner of your lips. “Thank you.”

And you sounded so honestly grateful, clearly attempting for the smile to look real even with your eyes blazed and your features undeniably displaying tiredness, that Steve had to chuckle as he handed you the pills.

“Glad you liked it, sweetheart.”

You went to drop a careful kiss to his cheek when a coughing fit took you by surprise, starling him and resulting in you clutching both your chest and head, wide hurt eyes looking up at him as he smiled, tight-lipped and compassionate; he knew exactly how you felt.

And you were still kinda adorable, pouting a bit, looking at Steve as if he could save you from the evil flu monster.

“I hate flu… but I really like you. Thank you for taking care of me,” you said sincerely, emphasizing your point with an obviously unplanned sneeze.

Steve lips twitched, but so did his heart. His hands went to caress your hair, earning a pleased hum.

“Just returning the favour.”

“Uh-huh. Don’t think I was that nice.”

“You were,” he assured you, feeling need to add a little piece of important information, just to show how much he meant it. “Just made me fall in love with you all over again.”

“Sweet-talker. I bet that’s all gone now, seeing me about to go through a box of tissues a day,” you chuckled weakly, nearly sinking into the cushions.

Steve wasn’t sure what was it he was suddenly overcome with; how or in which exact moment it sneaked into his conscience, a crazy insane thought and the untameable feeling in his gut that nudged him to do it.

To do it right now. To tell you, truly and from the depth of his heart, how much you meant to him. How much he was sure you always would.

“No, it’s not. I want to take care of you,” he whispered, hesitantly taking a hold of your slightly clammy hands and gently squeezing. You reciprocated the action, even if weakly.

“I want to take care of you and I want you to take care of me. I want to have you by my side every day, in our home, in our bed,” he continued, for once not talking only about different ways of making you moan his name when mentioning a bed. “I want to kiss you stupid whenever I get the chance, I want to laugh with you when you’re happy and hold you when you feel like crap. I want us to fight the whole world if they tell us that our love is wrong, because I know there’s nothing more right than me loving you and you loving me.”

The words spilled from his lips without much thinking, just one following other, somehow making sense, he hoped.

The strange buzz of nerves in his ears was so loud that he barely registered you breathed out his name.

“Steve-“

His eyes never left your face, watching it crumble under the weight of his declaration, already glassy eyes turning wetter, breathing ragged almost as much as his was from the rapid fire of words. Your lips parted in beautiful awe, that beautiful awe he had seen before, whenever you seemed to be shocked by how deep his need for you ran.

There was no questioning what should come next. Only half-aware of doing so, Steve had already prepared the ground.

“Stay right here,” he blurted out, giving your hands another quick squeeze before straightening rapidly and nearly tripping over his feet as he rushed towards his desk, opening the third drawer. Your voice, laced with both confusion and overwhelming emotion, followed him.

“I- I’m not going anywhere. What’s-“

“Sh-shh,” Steve hissed distractedly and took a deep breath as his fingers finally met with the box, gripping it tightly and his palm covering it as he stalked back to the bed, heart hammering in his ribcage.

This was the right moment, right? It seemed ridiculous, but god, so so right.

“You’re lucid, right?” he asked just to make sure, wavering only for a bit; you might be sick, even have a headache maybe, but you certainly appeared lucid enough a moment ago. But maybe that would be the reason you’d say no?

Shit, he felt like teenager about to ask his first crush to sit with him at lunch.

“I—I think? I’m just hella confused…“ you stuttered, causing his already wild heart to skip a beat upon hearing the nerves in your voice.

Your eyes, wide with confusion and yet slightly narrow because light hurt, watched Steve carefully as he dropped to his knees by your bedside and he didn’t think he ever saw you looking more endearing.

Steve had never been more certain of the fact that he wanted you to be his wife; and yet, and maybe precisely because of that, a lump formed in his throat. He took a deep calming breath, bracing himself.

“I love you. I love your mind, your body, your soul and everything that’s you and I—I think you’re the most wonderful woman I have ever met and had the luck to fall for. So I…”

With another heartskip, loud pounding in his head and maybe a tiny bit of a shake to his hands, he rose to only one knee, not missing your expression turning into a picture perfect of shock when he held out the box he had been thinking about for too long.

“Oh my god, Steve-“

“Please let me do this,” he whispered, barely audible, mostly because while you seemed absolutely stunned, you didn’t look angry or horrified, so he sensed a chance.

“I’m running a fever, my nose is running too and I’m--- ew all over-“ you protested weakly, a tear actually running down your cheek, but then you chuckled, a hand flying up to cover your mouth and Steve felt his confidence rise.

“You’re not, and even if you were I wouldn’t care. You’re my everything and wish nothing more than to make you mine officially.” Unable to wait any longer under you attentive and entirely adoring gaze, he opened the box and said your full name, nearly choking on it under the overwhelming joy of the moment – because he already knew. He knew what you were gonna say; you had it written all over you face. “Will you marry me?”

Steve knew. He was so sure that he knew--- and yet. Yet. As the silence prolonged, lasting seconds, minutes even – hours, it must have been – Steve felt the nervous coil in his gut twist painfully.

He watched you with torturous anticipation as you were; semi-sat up on a bed, hurting, probably beginning to sweat through your pyjama and drinking chamomile tea to get rid of the bug you had caught from him, and here he was, proposing.

In sickness and health indeed; and in some absurd way, this all made perfect sense to him… well, it had, a minute ago.

You looked like a million thoughts were racing through your head, and Steve felt his heart sink to his stomach. What if you truly were thinking he was crazy-

“Yes,” you said at last and Steve released the breath he was holding, endlessly relieved, the heaviness weighting a ton finally falling from his shoulders. Oh Chirst, thank fuck—he really had been getting worried- “Yes, I-“

Relief blended into delight as he heard you speak the beautiful word again.

Yes. Yes, you wanted to be his wife.

Yes, you wanted to marry him!!

An incredulous chuckle spilled from his lips and he tossed the box on the bed, swiftly moving up and grabbing your face to kiss you stupid as he wanted and had said that he always would.

You made a startled noise, but you giggled too, grasping onto his shoulders and his nape and kissing back with all you got—and then you were pulling away, fighting for breath, because flu, duh, he needed to be careful with you, but-

You agreed to marry him!

Keeping you as close as possible while allowing you to breathe, his eyes happily roamed your face, so pretty and adorable and the knowledge of him being able waking up next to that face for the rest of his life sent his heart into frenzy, sparkles of pure joy filling his chest.

“I love you! Thank you, babygirl,” he exclaimed, kissing you once more, a short but intense encounter of lips that caused you to giggle again—but he didn’t give a shit if he was being ridiculous. Your eyes, even if tired, seemed to glow now, happy twinkles dancing in your irises, telling him you were just as excited and delighted as he was. “Thank you-“

“You’re so crazy-“ you mumbled, dropping a kiss to his shoulder as you still shook with laughter and Steve simply climbed on the bed fully, wrapping you in his arms tightly.

He could sing at how you fit into his arms.

“I am. For you.”

“I can’t believe you proposed to me while I’m lying sick on a bed,” you mumbled over his shoulder, sounding as if you were complaining a little.

“In sickness and health?” he offered nervously, holding you tighter just in case you were going to back out now. Which was not an option.

He had to physically put the ring on your finger. Right now. Then you wouldn’t be able to change your mind.

In the back of his brain, an annoying voice told him that this was not how it worked, that there was no guarantee. But Steve shushed that voice and withdrew only enough to reach for the box and with a grin so wide he could feel his cheeks hurt from the strain, he took a hold of your left hand, slipping the ring on.

He didn’t miss the way your breath caught and he didn’t think the flu was to blame for that; the ring looked lovely on your hand. And Steve was a smidge proud of how he managed to make it fit perfectly.

“Steve… the ring-”

“You don’t like it?” he worried in an instant as he detected a new emotion in your voice.

You went to lightly slap his shoulder, rolling your eyes – an action you apparently regretted by the silent groan that followed; just another reminded of your sickness.

“Shush, you dummy. It’s--- breath-taking, but-“ you bit down on your lower lip, clearly hesitant to speak your mind and Steve didn’t find it at all comforting that you said you did like then ring. Not with the but. You sounded almost guilty, which was… strange. “But must have been so expensive and we still haven’t really-“

Oh. Oh.

Steve felt his lips spread back into a smile.

His sweet, sweet girl, responsible and perfect. He hated the reminder of your father’s behaviour, of the fact that you were ashamed on his behalf and felt guilty.

Steve didn’t want that.

“If I tell you it wasn’t, will you be mad?” he offered, watching carefully for your reaction, and your thoughtful expression turned into a confused one.

“Wasn’t?“

“I just had it cleaned and re-sized.”

You blinked, eyelids heavy, and tilted your head in bewilderment—melting into a brief panic and Steve realized what must have crossed your mind.

His stomach clenched in horror at you even considering it. You might have thought it was meant for another woman from his life.

Which it was, but not the way you thought!

“It was my ma’s!” he blurted out in panic, causing you to flinch a bit in fright of his suddenly louder voice. Steve shook his head – he was so messing this whole proposal thing up – clearing his throat, he observed your face, now full of emotion he couldn’t read. “…is that okay?”

There were tears prickling in your eyes, no words leaving your mouth as he had managed to render you speechless and he could punch himself for making you feel whatever you were feeling.

He had to fix this, fast.

“We can absolutely pick up something else if you don’t like the idea!” he was quick to offer, his heart speeding up when you still didn’t say a word. But you didn’t seem… that mad. What was happening in your head though, that was a mystery to him. “It’s just… she always told me that it was the second most precious thing she had left after dad, right after me, and that she wants me to give it to-- please don’t cry.”

Yes, he made the tears spill. There were a few rolling down your cheeks and Steve… he was starting to recognize the emotions playing in your expression, but he couldn’t entirely put his finger on it.

Honestly, he couldn’t tell whether you were so touched by the whole inherited ring gesture or if you were hating him with your very being for ruining some picture-perfect proposal you had been dreaming about since you were five; angry and disappointed that he didn’t even have the decency to buy you your own ring.

Probably a bit of both.

“Steve, you romantic idiot, come here,” you choked out, by a miracle not coughing for once and before he could even react and let the relief sink in, you grabbed him by his shoulders and pulled hard.

You had a surprisingly a lot of strength for someone coming down with a flu – actually, being down with a flu.

He landed on you, barely catching himself before he could crush you, a surprised laugh spilling from his lips, delight once again lighting up his world.

“I love you, Steve,” you whispered, pecking his lips, fingers sinking to his hair and that moment, Steve was in heaven. “So much.”

He grinned wide, wrapping his arms around you and holding you to his chest as tight as he could, feeling both his own heartbeat and yours, tumbling happily and together.

“And I love you… future Mrs. Rogers.”

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

Tied to you (next in timeline)

S.R.masterlist

Attached masterlist

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

Not gonna lie. Thought of posting this in four parts of maybe at least two (3 and +1), but then I thought, screw it, let’s post 7,7k words at once. I hope you made it through all of them.

What’s coming next? I have no idea... maybe it’s who’s ‘coming’ next 👀

Thank you for reading!

[peakascum]

Trouble (pt. 2)

Holy fuck I went through 20 different emotions writing this. Idk if it’s any good, I really hope you all like it. Also I want to add the song I listened to on repeat while writing this just because, https://open.spotify.com/track/321cXoYTsPtmNaVGubsz4o?si=jXiwELdgRY6ZNXVEOm9A3Q

A week had passed since the fight between you and John. He slept over at Tommy’s house, while you stayed at Polly’s. He had tried to visit once and apologize but was met with the barrel of Polly’s gun against his cheek.Polly knew her nephews well and saw how John was hurting. His eyes were dull, his skin was pale, and he was never seen without a bottle in hand. 

As the day dragged on, Tommy called him into his office, unable to see him sulking anymore. “So this,” he gestured to John, “is how you plan on patching things up with your wife?” John looked at him through his lashes. “Fuck off Tommy, I don’t even know what to do anymore.”

Tom’s eyes hardened. “Fuck- Fuck off? Fuck off?,” he hit the surface of his desk loudly and stood up, “fuck off John. Fuck you.” His brother stared at him wide eyed. “Why the hell are you yelling at me for, ey? I tried apologizing but she didn't want to see me!” Now the whole betting shop was listening, even those placing bets. “I tried talking to her two days ago but I couldn’t! Why? Because you,” he stood up and pointed a finger at Tom, “you fucking sent her, my fucking wife, to deal with the fucking Russians.” Both brothers squared up, the only thing separating them being Tommy’s desk. John’s breathing was heavy, his eyes glassy and hands shaking. But he did have a point. 

*flashback*

The plan was for the brothers and you to attend the Russian party, but the evening before John had crossed the line once again. The family gathered in the den of the Garrison going over their parts.You and John sat on opposite sides, but you were hoping that after the meeting you would speak to at least be civil in front of the Russians. Then the barmaid entered, a new woman, beautiful, and just John’s type. 

After his eyes lingered on her for the tenth time that night you just about had it. “You know what, fuck you John and fuck you Tommy. I’m out.”

“The fuck-“

“Y/N!” Tommy exclaimed and grabbed your arm. “Don’t do this now. I know it’s tough but this is business.”

“This,” you said gesturing to the room, “may be business, Tom, but I am sick and tired of being disrespected by my husband in front of his- no, our family.” John snorted, obviously drunk beyond words. “How many times are we gonna go over this Y/N, ey?” You stared at each other, your eyes speaking defeat. “I am done being humiliated John. Fuck her for all I care.” 

“Fuck her? Ha! Fuck her? Oh, fuck me Y/N! Do you know how long I-“

“How long you what?” Polly suddenly interjected making the room quiet. “How long you what John?” She stared at the men’s faces grabbing your and Ada’s hands before saying, “Women are not pets. Wives are not slaves. We are not fragile or dumb. Built differently, possess different skills, but we can kill a man faster than any of you pigs could ever.” She looked over at John’s riled up frame before continuing, “Keep your cock to yourself John. One day you will find yourself surrounded by whores and death and loneliness, and then, just when you think that you've got it all, her face,” she said pointing at you, “will flash right before your sorry eyes, and your life will be reduced to pure shit.” 

You stared at Polly wide eyed while John stared at her. Polly’s always fucking right.

Tommy stared at the three women intently and then at John and a real silent Arthur. “You know what,” he paused to take a drag of his cigarette, “Pol, Ada, and Y/N, you will be attending the dinner with the Russians. We will place Blinders outside for your protection.” He stood up ignoring Arthur’s protests and shut him up with a single look. “Don’t be pathetic. You heard her, different skills, but we all know who’s the best shot in all of Birmingham.”

*flashback ends*

Thomas Shelby had sent his aunt, sister and sister in law into the hands of one of his most dangerous enemies, and boy was John mad. He knew he was in the wrong, but he just couldn't stop pissing off his wife. 

They had yet to return. No one had heard a word from them since they left last night, leaving a nervous Tommy and a distraught John to do something they had never been good at, sit around and wait. 

“Why do you care so much anyway, Tommy?” John asked sitting down once again. 

“I care because your wife is family and of great value to this company. Nobody can do their job right while having all his fucking tension between you.” Tom was very fond of you ever since Grace died. He had always liked you, but after her death you helped with Charlie a lot while never failing to keep your house in check, and do your job well at the betting shop. He admired you. 

John knew he kept fucking up, but he knew that it was just his self destructing methods. He felt embarrassed and the only thing he could do was sulk and act out. 

“Fix this John, you're not dad.” This caused John to look at his brother. A silent understanding between them. Oh, how cruel their father had been. 

John took a breath and his eyes watered, “How am I suppose to fix this Tom, ey? She hates me.” His voice broke at the statement, hands coming up to play with his lips. “She hasn't come back from a dangerous mission that you put her through, and she hates me.” Tommy pointed at him as he brought the cigarette to his lips, “Fucking fix it.”

The night set in once again, bringing in a cold wind of desperation and an all too uncomfortable silence. The act of waiting and never been easy for the Shelby men, much less waiting for the three most important women in their lives. As the night got darker, so did John’s thoughts. Images of you hurt haunted him. His words and actions, all uncalled for, haunted him. 

In a matter of minutes the door to the shop burst open and in ran the three women and a pack of Blinders. The once quiet shop was booming with voices and people, all talking at the same time. John elbowed through them searching for your figure, but you ran past him making your way over to Tommy.

You placed a single piece of paper in his hand with a triumphant smile, “Here are the codes and the address to where the jewels are stashed.” 

“I swear to God, the skills on that girl are unmatched.” Ada said proudly as the plopped on a nearby chair. You giggled tiredly and accepted the praise. “Oh please, what about Polly’s tricks, ey? Swear to God Polly’l have to stay away from Sunday service for a while.” The girls laughed. 

“Oh come on boys, you jealous we had all the fun?” Polly said as she watched her nephew’s confused faces. “Yeh, all right Poll. Just glad you're safe.” Tom said as he took out the whisky bottles. 

John came over to you silently, eyes scanning your figure. The dress you wore slightly ruffled and quite revealing, making his heart quicken. You had dried blood on your cheek and hair in knots, which tore at his heartstrings lightly. 

“Y/N?” He said, locking eyes with you. “What happened to your hair,” he gestured to to you, “and your clothes and cheek.”

You looked at him and said, “It’s just business, John.” Oh, how his own words came to bite him in the ass. “Just business, ey? Just-“ he paused and ran a hand through his face. He took your hand gently and dragged you to his office.

This was the first time you were alone in a while. John took a seat on one of the chairs with his arms resting on his knees, looking defeated. 

“How’d you get the codes Y/N?” He asked peering his eyes at you. 

“Does it matter wh-“

“Yes it does matter!” He screamed, “it does matter how my wife got the most guarded codes in all of Birmingham.” 

You looked at him with tears in your eyes, “I didn’t fuck anyone if that’s what you're implying John.” 

“It- it’s okay if you did. I wouldn't blame you.” He says softly. You scoffed. “I’m not you John.”

He stood from the chair and approached you slowly. His hands caressed your face gently, wiping away the dried blood that latched onto your skin after the Russians didn't comply. His eyes wrinkled a little, those same eyes that lit up every time he saw you walk in. The eyes that desired you after a night of work, when the world was quiet and you could built palaces out of pillows and sheets.

“You've been so horrible to me.” Your lower lip wobbled as you spoke. He flinched a little, feeling his heart break further. “Why would you do that? Have I been so horrible that you would hurt me like that?”

His shook his head quickly in an attempt to make the words fall out of his ears. “I will never forgive myself, but it will never happen again. It- it just fucking won’t.” His voice cracked, “It fucking won’t.”

He started pecking your lips repeatedly, tears mixing with each other, being the first to reconcile. He made his way to her neck and collarbone with is hands following by gripping your sides. Why had they started fighting? 

Your hands gripped his hair softly out of instinct. You had known each other for so long and had loved each other far too passionately to be fighting like this. 

His lips reached your belly, “I promise to be better, I promise.” 

The betting shop had quietened and your rage had passed. “Me too,” and it was a promise. 

“Don’t leave,” and it was an i love you.

Tags: @peakywitch