#i vaguely imagine the mug is a nice

[wearerandomlyyours]

Admiral Tom Kazansky, AKA the Iceman, has one of those novelty coffee mugs that has 'Fuck You' written on the bottom so it can only be seen when you're taking a sip. More than one person has tentatively asked where he got it, and Ice always responds, oh, my husband gave it to me, isn't it nice? And the person nods because everyone is terrified of him, and they walk away certain that once the Admiral finds out what's on the bottom of that mug Captain Mitchell is in for a world of trouble.

(No one guesses that Ice bought that mug for himself. Mav thinks it's hilarious how thoroughly his husband has everyone fooled.)

[cowboygenesis]

5: turpentine | kylo ren x reader

part 5 of the "bump it, cool it" series: masterlist. | playlist

pairing: [modern!au] kylo ren x reader chapter warnings: explicit language, nudity, vague sexual imagery. word count: 3.9k series summary: when your roommate’s older brother needs a place to crash, you begrudgingly offer up your couch— only to realize he’s the most insufferable, entitled asshole you’ve ever met. the worst part? you can’t seem to stop thinking about him. notes: 1/3 of the way through already! i'm super happy with how the plot is coming along, let me know how you like it!

Now Playing: my kiss era - bar italia

“So does he just own the place now?” you huff, leaning your hip against the kitchen counter as you watch over a pot of oatmeal. Rey is sitting at the small dining table, legs crossed on the chair as she proofreads some documents.

“Before I say anything,” she pipes up, pointing a finger in declaration but never taking her eyes off her assignment. “I just want you to know that I’m not picking sides. By any means.”

You exhale humorlessly, withdrawing a wooden spoon from a drawer. “Should I prepare to sue?”

Her gaze finally rises to meet yours, eyebrow raised. “Funny,” she utters through a half-hearted smile before returning her attention to the table. “He wakes up real early. I mean, he’s in the shower before you even get to exit your bedroom! Do you expect him to just sit there and wait until you’re up?”

You purse your lips, momentarily focusing on the distant sound of falling water as you stir your oats. “…No. But it’d be nice.”

Rey scoffs, rolling her eyes before scribbling something on one of the pages. “See? Then what’s the problem?”

“It’s not just about the shower,” you sigh, shaking your head. You think it’s unwise to direct this anger toward Rey when it’s clearly meant for her brother, and being neutral in this specific situation doesn’t make her his accomplice. “We agreed on a system— he agreed on it. It’s about honoring our pact more than anything.”

“Pact?”

“You know what I mean,” you chuckle dryly, turning the electric stove off and reaching for your favorite bowl. “I just want him to respect my requests. I feel like he’s not even trying to fit in.”

You place a spoon into your oats, grab your bowl with one hand and your coffee mug with the other. As you take a seat next to Rey, she gives you a sympathetic look and drops her pen.

“He’s not the kind of person to change his ways,” she explains, placing her chin into her palm as you bite your lip. “But that doesn’t mean he’s not trying.”

“Is he?” you question over the rim of your mug. Your lilt is soft despite your frustration.

“Yeah,” she nods, watching as you take a bite of your breakfast. “…In his own, stubborn way. I guess.”

“And how exactly has that manifested so far?”

Rey furrows her eyebrows in thought, scanning your deadpan expression as she thinks of an example. You know she’s found one when her eyes brighten with mirth, the corners of her lips curling upwards as she meets your gaze. “Has he texted you recently?”

You stop chewing, eyes widening for a second as you think back to a few days ago. Your stomach twists at the banter you and Kylo had shared, and that damned pet name that’s been haunting you ever since. For a second, you think Rey might know about it, and your cheeks flush. “Yeah. For a second.”

She nods with a pleased hum, taking a sip of her tea. “Aren’t you curious how he got your number?”

Somehow, the question never crossed your mind, which only accelerates the frustration simmering in your belly. A part of you hates to imagine the possibility that you enjoyed his shitty antics, and so curiosity gave way to hedonism.

But as Rey tries to hide her grin behind her mug, it all becomes clear to you.

“Rey…” you trail, eyes squinting but not quite filled with the anger you thought you’d experience.

“What?” she replies softly, “You live under the same roof now, I thought it’d be practical.”

You shrug half-heartedly, cupping the mug between your hands to absorb the heat. The days have been getting warmer as March rolls in, but mornings still leave you cradled in a sweater.

You recall how once you had mistakenly grabbed a hoodie off the couch, thinking it to be yours. It was only when Kylo marched into the living room, eyes sparkling with mischief, that you realized your grave mistake. Even as you screeched your way out of the hoodie and threw it at his chest with a grimace, his sly grin plagued your memory for the rest of the day—along with that fresh smell of pine you had grown to enjoy despite yourself.

Now, the memory fills you with prickling guilt. Any ounce of sympathy or pleasure you accumulate for Kylo reminds you of why you could and should never like him in the first place. In a few weeks time, you’d part ways and forget him forever. And he’d forget you.

“I wish you had asked me first,” you mutter, mindlessly stirring your oatmeal. Then, you huff joylessly. “As expected, he’s an ass through text as well.”

“Really?” Rey quirks an eyebrow, scanning your face with intrigue. You match her gaze with your own, tilting your head in question before she continues through a soft, teasing smile. “He was the one to ask me for your contact.”

Your mouth hangs open for a second, urging your throat to speak but no noise comes out. Your fingers wrap around the handle of your mug, knuckles turning white for Rey to watch.

“He asks about you, too,” she continues, her smirk threatening to spill into a laugh. “When you’re away.”

“You’re fucking with me,” you shake your head, and she laughs, but you can’t match her joy with the way your chest thrums.

“It’s true,” she shrugs, leaning forward on her elbows. It’s like she’s watching for a reaction, and suddenly, you’re feeling hyper-aware of your body and the way it warms. “Even today.”

You swallow thickly, watching her eyes fill with mischief. When you speak again, you need to clear the dryness from your throat. “What?”

“You know,” she hums, eyes flickering over your face, “If you’re home, when you’ll be back…” She leans in ever further, lowering her voice as if Kylo could hear her over the thrum of the shower, “…If you’re still angry with him.”

Your stomach twists and you cross your arms over your chest. It shouldn’t matter, yet the idea still makes your heart skip a beat—you wonder if it’s out of anger or disbelief. “Sounds like he’s just trying to gauge if he’s gonna be yelled at.”

“Maybe,” she shrugs, hovering close for a beat. She studies your body language quietly, almost threateningly, before finally leaning back into her chair. She takes a languid sip of her tea before picking up her pen again. Her eyes meet yours, flickering with mirth. “Or maybe he’s just an idiot who doesn’t know how to show he cares.”

The quiet thrum in your chest fires up, reaching your head and leaving your ears ringing. Care. As if the bastard has any intentions of being cordial with you, let alone caring about your well-being. The idea alone sends you scoffing, reaching for your spoon again to stuff your mouth with more oats. You chew them with a certain spite as Rey goes back to checking her papers, a smile still hanging off her lips.

You hear a doorway in the hallway creak open. For a second, the implication doesn’t register in your thought-ridden mind before Rey pipes up at the figure entering the kitchen. “Speaking of idiots…”

You feel him hovering behind you for a second. If it wasn’t for the sunlit window he was facing, you’re sure his silhouette would cast long shadows over your head.

“Morning,” he speaks, the low baritone of his voice reverberating through your chest and prickling your skin.

When he moves to the fridge, you don’t dare look up. You can’t.

Your gaze glues to your breakfast as he moves to fix himself on his own. You hear him withdraw something from the fridge with a low hum, before reaching for a cabinet. A low clank against the counter followed by a pour. Then, unbeknownst to your flushed face, he leans against the counter, facing the table you’re sitting at.

Your head tilts, eyes spotting his towel-wrapped waist. It hangs low, taunting, framing the softness of his broad form. Like his face, the skin is speckled with little spots, inching up his legs and chest—the plane of it wide and slumped as he sips orange juice from his glass.

When you spot his eyes, they’re dark as ever, boring into you like the first time you met. His face has a soft glow from having just showered, dark tresses slicked back with moisture.

You know you’ve been staring when his lips curl into a trepidating smirk. He lowers the rim of his glass, head tilted with curiosity as you choke back a cry of embarrassment. “Still mad with me?”

The spoon in your hand stills, your lips pursed. Rey chuckles softly in the backdrop, nearly choking on her tea— would serve her well, you think. The absolute nerve of them both.

“Morning,” you grit through your teeth, rapping your fingers around the edge of the table before meeting Kylo’s gaze again.

As expected, he meets your anger with a bright grin. If it hadn’t been for the teasing in his eyes, you think the sight might have made you smile.

Instead, it only serves to fuel the simmering frustration in your gut.

Without another word, you push your chair away from the table and stand up. With a sharp inhale you return your dishes to the sink, pointedly avoiding Kylo’s towering frame as they clink against the surface.

When you turn toward the hallway, you feel his gaze burning into your back. Rey calls after you, her tone laced with laughter, but you ignore it all. Instead, you turn the corner and disappear into your room.

“Fuck him,” you grit, withdrawing a clean towel from your wardrobe before you catch sight of your windowsill. The morning light pours over your face, warming your cheeks and making you squint. The colorful tin sitting by the plant is open, reminding you of the night after you argued with Kylo. Ever since, you had made it a habit to smoke at this windowsill, looking to the streets below, but you never spotted him again.

You sigh, before heading for the hallway again.

When you reach the bathroom, you catch steam rolling near the ceiling, coating the mirror with a thin layer of moisture. You place your towels on a wooden stool by the shower, and inhale deeply. The familiar scent of pine fills your nose, and despite yourself, you feel your shoulders sag as you lock the door behind you.

As you undress, you try not to think about Kylo Ren. As you enter the shower, you try not to think about the tension coiling in your stomach.

You pull the small, metal lever, and exhale as the hot water hits your face. It rushes over your skin, loosening the tension in your muscles as you tip your head back with a sigh. The heat soaks into you, steaming away the frustration clinging to you, but your mind still buzzes, traitorous and restless.

You scowl, pressing your palms against your face. The image of him standing there—towel low on his hips, broad frame slouched against the counter, that smirk—burns behind your eyelids, making you groan.

With a sharp exhale, you reach for the shampoo. Your fingers find the bottle without thought, popping the cap open as you squeeze some into your palm. The scent drifts instantly, sharp and crisp, a deep woodsy scent softened with something warmer.

You freeze.

Your stomach twists, fingers stilling against your scalp.

It’s pine.

A rush of embarrassment flares in your chest. Your gaze flickers to the corner of the shower, searching for your usual bottle, but when you move to squeeze it, it whistles pathetically. You must have forgotten to replace it.

The sensible thing to do would be to rinse it out, or maybe brave the towel wrap and sneak back to your room for your own.

But instead, your fingers clench in your hair, tugging lightly as you bite your bottom lip.

The lather spreads easily, rich and foamy, and before you can stop yourself, you’re scrubbing it through, running your nails against your scalp. The scent fills the space around you, coating your skin and sinking into every quickened breath. It’s the same scent that clung to his hoodie when you’d mistakenly worn it. The same scent that lingers in the air whenever he brushes past you.

Your face burns with heat, and you worry about its source.

You stand there in silence as the water rinses the suds out your hair, fists squeezed by your sides. Despite the slickness of your skin, your choice has left you feeling dirty, enveloped by that crisp smell you suddenly wish you could wash off. You’d have to make it a point to avoid him until he leaves the apartment again, lest he notices your sinful deed.

A knock comes at the bathroom door, startling you to yelp. Before you can realize what’s going on, you’re already calling out. “Leave me be, Rey!”

“Wrong sibling,” comes a low voice, chilling your blood. Did you just manifest him with your thoughts, or had he miraculously heard them?

“What do you want?” you grit out, scrubbing your skin. Suddenly, you feel much more exposed than you should be, even as a locked door divides you two.

“I left my phone on the sink,” he replies flatly, knocking on the door again. “Let me in for a second.”

You turn around and look at the sink. Indeed, a sleek, black phone sits just on the surface. Your eyebrows furrow, sighing in frustration. “I’m in the shower, Kylo!”

You think you hear him huff over the thrum of cascading water, and for a second, there’s silence. You sigh in relief, going back to lathering your body before you hear his voice again. “Well?”

“You’re still here?”

“I need to make a call,” he explains and you roll your eyes, sighing. The phone screen stares back at you, coming to life with a soft glow. Surely enough, a string of texts pops up, too far for you to see the contents clearly.

The foam slides down your water-slick body and your eyebrows furrow. “Then wait,” you bark.

“I don’t mind,” he replies, and just as you’re about to bite back, he continues through what you imagine is a smirk, “but it’d be quicker for me to go in there and get it myself.”

Your stomach lurches. “You wouldn’t dare.”

A soft chuckle bellows from the hallway, and for a second, you think he’s being serious. “Wouldn’t I?”

Your skin prickles with heat as you rinse the remainder of soap and suds from your shoulders. His phone keeps buzzing with texts, and finally, you feel your resolve melt. “You’re insufferable.”

“I can be,” he chuckles again, though his lilt reveals a semblance of something more visceral. Momentarily, as you turn the overhead stream off, you feel like he might just be threatening you.

“You’re lucky I’m in a good mood,” you grumble out, a little quieter now that the thrum of water has gone.

“Yeah?” he teases as you exit the shower, shuddering at a gust of coolness against your wet skin. Fuck, what a horror. You hadn’t even managed to use that conditioner you’ve been itching to try. “I really couldn’t tell.”

“Fuck off, Ren,” you scoff, haphazardly wiping down your body, wrapping your hair in a towel before putting on the tank top and sweatpants you brought with you. While the sweats keep you cozy, the thin, baby-pink tank top clings to your skin, puddling with moisture where you failed to dry properly. Your nipples firm at the coolness, lip caught between your teeth as you reach for his phone.

“As soon as you give me what I want,” he retorts, but you’re stilling at the sink. Your eyes widen slightly, fingers trembling against the red phone case as the screen flickers to life again.

Sienna, 02:35 I miss you. Please talk to me. Please.

Between the blocks of text, you spot seven missed calls in the early hours of the morning. Then, the texts continue.

Sienna, 6:58 Ben I know you’re upset. It didn’t mean anything. I told you it didn’t.

Your eyebrows furrow, grip tightening as you chew at your bottom lip. Ben. If your gut feeling was correct, this woman could have been the one you saw on—

“How much longer?” Kylo calls out, shaking you from your daydream— you flinch, nearly losing grip on his phone as you struggle to turn the screen off. Once that’s done, you take a deep breath, straightening your posture as you approach the door.

You grasp the metal knob, twisting it to the side until the hinges click. Your trembling fingers press down on the handle until the doorway gives way, pushing it forward until you catch a glimpse of Kylo’s dark hair peering through the gap.

You’re about to hand him the phone, when he pulls the door open wider. The gap is just enough for him to snake through and lean against the frame, arms crossed, and you unknowingly take the time to gawk at his chest; the softness of his pale skin, the scattering of moles, and the delicate lining of muscle down his arms. Despite his nude topside, the towel he had previously donned is now replaced by a pair of melange sweatpants.

“Are you staring?” he asks flatly, but when you meet his gaze, you catch the usual curl of his lips.

You roll your eyes, but his words are enough to coat your cheeks with a layer of rouge. “In your fucking dreams.”

“You’re blushing.”

“It’s from the shower,” you reply curtly, watching his head tilt downwards. The small smirk you’ve previously witnessed slowly falls as his gaze creeps down your thin tank top and fuck, you might as well be naked. Your lips press into a line just as his jaw tightens, eyes glazed with something you’ve not seen in them ever before—dark and stormy, like flickering pools threatening to pull you under at any given moment.

You feel your body prickle with heat, something tight pulling at your gut, but before you can respond, you catch his eyes flicker behind you. His nostrils flare, and when you catch his gaze again, he seems back to his usual self.

“Smells nice,” he quips, and your legs threaten to give out under you. He knows.

“What?” you utter through a scowl, urging the twist of anxiety down as he meets your sharp gaze with something teasing.

“You,” he continues, and you need to grab the doorframe to steady yourself from the shudder that runs down your spine. “What is that? Pine?”

You shake your head, willing a sharp exhale through your nose. His watchful gaze makes you feel vulnerable, and suddenly, a question leaves your mouth. “Is Rey home?”

“No,” he replies half-heartedly, giving you a shrug. When his eyes meet yours again, there’s a certain, teasing mirth in them. “Why?”

“Nothing,” you reply promptly, pressing your lips into a thin line.

He smirks down at you, head tilted as he probes for your reaction. “What did you think I’m gonna do?”

Your face tingles as the blood vessels in your cheeks expand, making you rub at your temple in a feeble attempt to hide it. When you look at him again he hums, slow and thoughtful. His gaze drags over you again, lingering on the damp fabric of your tank top. The corner of his mouth quirks up, amusement curling in his mein, forgetting about your response to continue his interrogation. “Didn’t take you for a little thief.”

Your pulse spikes. “I’m no thief.”

“No?” He leans in, just enough for your shared scent to creep into your space, except his is so much more divine— mingling with the natural musk of his skin, filling your nose and making you lose your fucking mind. His face dips lower. “Then why do you smell like me?”

Your breath hitches.

For a second, all you can do is stare, stomach twisting, your grip on his phone tightening. Kylo watches your reaction with quiet satisfaction, his amusement barely veiled behind the sharp cut of his jaw, the way his eyes flicker to your body and take in the scent of you.

But despite the intoxication, you refuse to give him the satisfaction. Not after everything he’s done and said to you, sending mixed signals and giving you a run for your money.

Huffing, you shove the phone against his chest, forcing him to take a step back. His hands briefly graze yours to grab the device from you, his warm digits making you swallow thickly.

“Just a lucky coincidence,” you grit, your tone urging the man to tilt his head curiously.

“Lucky for whom?” he challenges, taking a step closer. It’s almost imperceptible, but you can tell by the way his breath suddenly fills your hearing.

“Take a guess,” you hiss, puffing your chest just to make a point.

He assesses you quietly, his warm breath tickling your face when you realize your hands have been lingering on his chest. Swiftly, you withdraw, scoffing.

“You might not like my guess,” he counters through a soft chuckle, making you grab the door.

“Fuck off,” you utter through a scowl, swinging the door shut.

Before you can stop it, his hand is around your wrist. You’re too stunned to speak, the warmth enveloping your senses and causing your mouth to come ajar.

He leans in, gaze softening when he’s inches away. Your spine trickles with electricity, gaze stuck on his when he speaks. “Not so eager to get me out, after all?”

Your eyebrows furrow immediately. Your palm clenches as you release yourself from his grasp, moving a step back before giving him one last glare. “Bye.”

And then, the door shuts. You hear him chuckle behind it, making no move to leave. “Don’t miss me.”

“Bye, Ren!” you reiterate, voice sharp as you approach the mirror. And with a final laugh, you hear him retreat.

The silence that follows is deafening. You stand there, staring at your own reflection, heart thudding against your ribs like it’s trying to tell you something you don’t want to hear.

You exhale sharply, pressing your hands against the sink. The condensation on the mirror is beginning to fade, revealing the flush still painting your cheeks and your tragically blown-out pupils.

It’s all too much. The texts, Kylo’s taunts, Sienna. Ben. For a second, you think you might hurl at the nausea brewing in your gut.

With a sigh, you reach for your moisturizer and get to work. You wouldn’t let him be your plaything, especially when it’d mean you’re just a rebound.

Why are you even thinking this way?

There’s nothing binding you and Kylo Ren together—not friendship, not acquaintance, and especially not a palpable, explosive attraction. That much you’re certain of.

But as you dry your hair, do your skincare and finally head to your room, the ache between your legs threatens to betray your very understanding of the word ‘enemies.’ As your hand slides down your tummy and under the waistband of your panties, you listen to his muted conversation through the thin walls of your shared home and think about that hand grabbing your wrist, and how it’d feel running down your sides.

As you cum, the only name to fall from your lips is of the man you vowed to hate.

[snixkers]

Crushed Walnuts

Pairing: Spencer Reid × GN!Reader

Angst

For: Anonymous Request

Content Warnings: Character death, gunshot wound, loss of blood, grief, funeral, NO HAPPY ENDING

Summary: You fade in and out while Spencer tries to keep you alive.

Author's Note: Tissues at the ready. I'm experimenting with writing style and trying to improve how I write grief so enjoy!!!

Feedback is always welcome!

Requests are OPEN!

You rolled onto your side, vaguely aware of your team's muffled yells around you. The shot rang in your ears, rattling around your brain and causing your vision to wobble.

As you started to regain consciousness, you saw Spencer crouch down beside you, pressing on your chest.

Spencer.

Your breath hitched when you saw him. He was always so nice to you, telling you random things he’d learned and filling up your coffee for you.

(He did that for everyone because that’s the kind of person he was, but you liked to imagine that he took as much pleasure in your morning routine as you did.)

The best part of work was walking into the bullpen and seeing his smile.

Where was his smile?

He was panicked now, and his hands were shaking as he pressed on the red-hot spot.

“Hey, stay with…”

★★★★★

“...me personally, I think Gattaca is one of the most accurate sci-fi movies.”

You tilted your head, giving up on your paperwork to listen to his voice.

“I’ve never seen it. I’m not much of a sci-fi person.”

His smile widened, and he quickly leaned forward.

“Oh, you’re missing out! Sci-fi is one of the most interesting genres of film and literature there is. Some advancements in technology were directly influenced by fiction.”

You shook your head. “Unfortunately, I’m more of a rom-com person.”

He took a sip of his vile coffee.

“Did you know the first romantic comedy was released in 1924?”

You shook your head again. He always knew things you never even considered.

“I prefer to watch things that have been released within the past few decades.”

He sighed again, wiping a smudge of coffee ground off the bottom of his mug.

“You’re missing…”

★★★★☆

“...out. They’re going in and out!”

You blinked again, groaning at the pinching pain in your ribs. You could see the panic in his eyes, tears forming as he called for backup. You went to sit up, but he pushed you back down.

“Stay where you are. You’re losing a lot of blood.”

His voice cracked slightly at the end, something that usually happened when he was happy. But there was no joy in his expression as you both stared down at the bloody wound in your chest.

“When did I get hit?”

He frowned, elevating your head to keep you conscious.

“A few minutes ago. Don’t worry, an ambulance is on the…”

★★★☆☆

“...way back in 10,000 BC, the first ancestors of the modern walnut started growing.”

You paused, your hand halfway to your mouth.

“That long?”

He nodded, eager to share his never-ending flow of information.

“Mhm. They were brought over by Chinese merchants.”

You popped a few in your mouth, chewing slowly.

“Well, they’re really good. I could eat them for hours and never get…"

★★☆☆☆

“...tired.”

You heard your voice from far away, watching the panic in his eyes increase.

“No, I need you to stay awake. Don’t die on me, okay? I don’t want to lose you.”

His voice grew fainter, and you could hear your thready heartbeat in your ears.

“Stay with me. Do you…”

★☆☆☆☆

“...understand Korean? There's a film festival in town this weekend.”

You smiled gratefully, watching him stumble over his words.

“I wouldn’t get any of it.”

“Oh, you wouldn’t need to. I can translate everything for you in real-time.”

You blushed at the thought of him whispering in your ear, hoping he didn’t notice anything.

“Yeah, sure.”

The nerves quickly left his body and he sighed in relief.

“Perfect. It’s a date.”

Realizing his words, he quickly headed toward the elevator, pressing the button for the ground floor. You hesitated before stepping after him.

“When you said date, you meant as friends, right?”

He turned around, flashing you a more subdued smile.

“Yeah, of course. I don’t know why I said that. Sometimes I don't even know what I'm...”

☆☆☆☆☆

“...thinking of you all the time. And I miss the way that you listened, and how you used to make me feel. And every time I do a crossword, I look for things you like. Liked. I don’t know if I’ll ever get over you. Um, that’s all.”

He stepped down from the podium, making his way back to his seat in the front row. The shadows under his eyes were darker than usual, his hair was greasy and unwashed, and he hadn't eaten in days.

He knew if you saw him, you’d worry and tell him to take care of himself. But sitting in front of your fresh grave as another team member came to say some more remarks, he couldn’t bring himself to care.

[loveindefinitely]

hello!! how are you? i’m hoping youre doing well! also, congrats on 3k followers <33 may i request a gorgeous for your event? c:

short desc: i would say i lean more on the artistic side, and i’d say i trust my instincts (or my heart) more than i trust my head lol. i have a great amount of art supplies in my room, it’s the first thing you might notice if you enter my room! i’d also say i’m more of a warm and easygoing person, I don’t really have qualms often, and I just want to have a good time!

notes : i dont mind being paired with anyone! please tell me if i’m being vague in my request ! i’d gladly specify <3

,,,, so uh thats it HAHAHHA i dont know what else to add tbh 😭

also, to add identity, may i be 🪷 anon? ^^;

i ship you with john price!

this man is entirely built on instincts and using his head. he struggles to trust, let alone love, but you break down his walls with every smile and thoughtful act.

when he sees you drawing, or painting, or whatever, his heart melts just a bit. you remind him that there's still room for beautiful things in this world, and that it's not all chaos and sorrow. soon, he finds himself finding your very soul, your body, beautiful as well. he admires how much you feel, and how openly.

when the two of you get together, his entire demeanour changes. all of the 141 notice. he because softer, a smile stuck to his face more often than not.

he'll take you to a 'sip and paint' for a date, and although he's not at all artistic, he just admires your talent and devotion for the mug you're decorating. even if he looks like a lovesick fool, chin on his hand as he watches your paint strokes, he can't find it in himself to care at all.

further into your relationship, he'll let you paint/draw designs onto his back!!! imagine a nice summer day, the two of you in your backyard, his shirt off where he lays on the grass. you straddle his hips, his old shirt on as you paint/draw along his tanned skin. soft music playing in the background while you hum along to the tune.

when the design's dried, and you're laying on the grass next to him, you don't think you've ever been happier.

he feels much the same.

a/n : yes, of course !! :)

[lumine-no-hikari]

Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #453

I remember a brief flash of a dream I had, which is very unusual, because typically, I don't remember my dreams at all.

In this one... I couldn't see you, because I was focused on the task at hand. But... I knew you were in my kitchen, somewhere behind me. I was reaching in my tea cabinet for that pink Kashmiri tea that we saw at the Indian grocery store - the one that we didn't get when we were there. I was going to prepare some for you, in my borosilicate glass mug. I felt excited about you getting to watch the tea swirls in person...

...I woke up too soon. Oh well.

Still... the pattern of asking and then receiving shortly thereafter is... hm... almost palpable at this point. I dare not write in this space what my brain wants to make of it, despite the impossibility of it. Regardless of the reasons or whether or not it's warranted... I'm going to thank you anyway. It was nice, even for the briefest moment, to be able to imagine that I had an opportunity to make you some tea and sit down with you someplace warm and safe for a while to drink it.

...Maybe, despite the fact that my tea cabinet is overflowing, and despite the fact that I need an additional tea in the same way that I need an additional orifice in my skull, I'll see about getting the pink tea. I wonder if the rose syrup we got would sweeten it nicely. Though perhaps we should try it with plain honey first...

Speaking of which, Sephiroth, do you remember when we went to The Fat Crow that one time? I'm pretty sure I wrote a letter about it. I remembered on their website, the existence of teas from a maker called Simpson and Vail.

...Well. I went and looked them up. Sephiroth. My goodness. Look at these!!!

Do you see that crème brûlée one? And the baklava one?? And the berries and cream one???

...Oh, Sephiroth. Though my tea cabinet is already overflowing, I'm not sure if I'll be able to resist these for too terribly long... hahaha...

I wonder which of these you might be most interested in trying...

Today was otherwise fairly slow. I thought I was going to play Hades, but... I got sucked up into leisure writing, looking for a way out of the vague sense of emptiness I felt since waking.

On the bright side, J and I went out to Eggcellent, hoping for a gift certificate of some sort for K, but I don't think that's a thing they do anymore. So we just got yums instead! I got an ube cheesecake and a guava drink of some kind, while J got an avocado pomelo and a strawberry croffle. We also split a crème brûlée:

...I wished you could be here to try any of these...

The leg that got the trigger point injections barely hurts at all today, so after we got back home, M, J, and I took a brief walk around our neighborhood. I was surprised to discover that not only does my leg work mostly normally now (it's doing all the right movements, even if it tires out more quickly than the other one), but also... I can stand on it all by itself, without it getting all weird and wobbly. I couldn't do that before, ever since smashing it. What's more, though the weird lump just under my right collarbone is still there, my shoulder, neck, and upper back on the right side all hurt a lot less than before.

...I'm not sure how long any of this will last, but I'm hopeful nonetheless.

Today was another relatively warm day, even if it was breezy and cloudy for most of it. The smell in the air makes me wanna play Valheim, but... I feel like I gotta finish Hades first.

I wonder if you'd play video games similarly to how I do. Hm. I wish you could chill at my house for a bit and find out.

I'm not really sure what else to write about; today was relatively uneventful, but in a way that was mostly relieving. So I suppose the thing to do is leave it here for now.

I love you so much, and I hope you're warm, safe, and well-fed, wherever you are. Please keep trying to make good choices that will lead you towards the normal life you dreamed of as a boy. I'll be here, cheering for your success.

I'll write again tomorrow.

Your friend, Lumine

[levanswrites]

chapter 5 - tomato soup, garlic bread and merlot

“You sure I can’t help you with anything?” Steve called over for the 100th time. After his sudden arrival, she had thrusted a piping hot cup of chamomile in his hands, and made him sit in the corner booth, her favorite spot, the one where they had sat discussing Marvin Gaye munching on chocolate chip cookies.

Tomato soup, warm garlic bread, and two glasses of some cheap grocery-shop Merlot were on the menu tonight. She kept the soup in a small pantry in the backroom, made the bread herself (obviously), and the wine had been more for baking than drinking, but she figured it couldn’t hurt to break it out for an emergency like this (though she’d have to buy another replacement bottle for her killer red wine chocolate cake).

“Do you drink?” She called from behind the counter. Somehow, she’d always imagined Captain America to be abstinent from alcohol, not that she had spent that much time thinking about him at all.

“Sure.” He called. She frowned at the vague response, but poured two generous glasses anyway, into two red-and-green Christmas mugs. Very classy.

“Sorry, I don’t have any wine glasses but…” she said, walking over to the booth and setting the cups down. “…what did you mean ‘sure’?”

“Oh well, alcohol doesn’t really… affect me?

“Huh” she frowned, before realizing.

“Oh, right you’re… enhanced.”

She laughed at the grimace on his face at the word, setting down some napkins and squaring the lines up — if this was gonna be their first date (is that what this was?), she was sure as hell gonna try her best to set the table nicely. 

“So, you can’t get drunk or anything?”

Steve shook his head.

“Jeez, tough way to live.” She remarked, sliding into a spot in the booth next to him.

“It’s not so bad” he smiled, moving to make room for her.

“You can take off the hood, you know. No one’s gonna see ya” She pointed to the door where she had turned the ‘open’ sign over. 

He did, rather sheepishly, bruised knuckles raising to pull his cover down. She could see his face in the full light now, and as her eyes trailed up, his hair caught her attention: still damp at the edges, flat where it’s been pressed down by the hoodie in the back. Definitely not the proper, trim, slicked-back Captain American look. But she decidedly liked this version of him more. 

He ducked his head, running a hand through his hair like he was embarrassed to be seen as he was. 

“Cheers” Smiling, she suddenly reached for her wine mug, the one that read ‘oh deer, Christmas is here’ in red sparkly letters, and lifted it up in his direction

Steve frowned, smiling, and reaching for his own. “For what?” 

She stared at him, incredulous.

“Oh, I don’t know Steve, maybe for saving us all, yet again? At least that’s what I assumed you’ve been doing.” 

Steve smiled, his silence confirming her guess.

“But hey, if you’ve got another side job I don’t know about, that’s cool too.”

He chuckled, and it felt good to hear him laugh, watch his eyes crinkling up in that endearing way. 

“Thanks” Steve glanced down to a spot on the table before looking back up, raising his mug higher.

“And a toast to you too.”

“For what?”

“For this amazingly delicious garlic bread,” Oh, if only he knew what he was doing to her. 

“… and for taking the first step, giving me your number.”

She grinned, but said nothing as she clinked her mug with his, something reminiscent of pride and pure adoration making her chest feel all fuzzy.

They dined in relative silence, clinks of silverware interspersed with brief moments of eye-contact and the occasional smile.

As her third cup of Merlot trickled into her mug, she could feel the warm effects of alcohol settle in her stomach, her cheeks tinted pink. Her body swayed involuntarily to the song flowing from the overhead speakers, Yesterday by the Beatles. ‘Rainy Day Blues’ was the name of the playlist, she recalled. 

“Nice shiner” she quipped, breaking the silence, and pointed to the purple bruise blooming under his left eye, above the cut on his cheek. 

“Thanks” he mused, biting around some bread.

She bit her lip, taking another quiet sip of her wine. “How’s Tony doing?”

She saw his face darken for a brief moment before he swallowed, nodding. “He’s alright. Nothing too serious.”

“And are you… are you okay?”    He looked up at the question, eyes conveying an emotion she couldn’t quite decipher. For a brief moment, he looked like he wanted to say something, but before he could, he quickly broke eye-contact, returning his attention back to his bowl of soup. He nodded, clearing his throat. 

“Yeah, yeah. Nothin’ too bad.”

She bit her lip, scooting a bit closer. “Steve, I…” She didn’t know what to say — how could someone like her begin to fathom the troubles of someone like him? 

“Y-you can talk to me about it, if you’d like.” 

A few moments passed as she stayed silent, carefully surveying Steve’s reaction. To her surprise, she saw him start to smile, eyes still fixed on the table in front of him. 

“I thought about you the whole time. Coming back here-” he glanced up, gesturing around the cafe “-that’s kinda the only thing I’ve been thinking about since we got back.”

She remained silent, feeling her body go still, and focused on the way Steve’s shoulders rose and fell with each breath.

“I’m sorry I haven’t always been as… direct as I wanted to be.” He let out a bitter chuckle. “Guess I have a habit of waiting too long.”

She frowned, shaking her head. She wanted to pull him in, give him a hug, tell him he hadn’t ruined anything, tell him that they can take it as slow as he wants to. And maybe she would have done all of that, if his next words didn’t suck all the air from her lungs.

“But during these past few weeks I realized that I can’t afford to wait. Not for…” he sucked in a breath.

“…not with you.”

As the words left his mouth, she froze, breath halting in the back of her throat.

His blue eyes bore into hers, and she finally saw him. 

Steve had never been who she assumed he was. Not the revered hero parading around in a star-spangled outfit. Not the solemn leader commanding the universe’s saviors into victory. Not even the shy guy who visits her for coffees and cookies. 

No, this was Steve. A man who spent his whole life bruised and hurting, not because he went out looking for fights, but because he just couldn’t walk away from ones that needed to be fought. Someone who wouldn’t hesitate to put his life on the line for a stranger, but never gave into his own needs because the very thought of vulnerability, the thought of losing one more thing in his life, was terrifying. As a renewed sense of adoration washed over her like goosebumps, she felt any remaining doubt wilt away. 

She tried to vocalize those thoughts, let him know he didn’t have to suffer alone, but found that when she opened her mouth, no sound came out.

Registering her silent reaction, realization flashed across his face at what he had said. He shook his head, eyes closing shut, wincing in embarrassment. 

“I’m sorry, I-“

And before she knew it, she was leaning in to close the gap between their lips. She felt Steve tense, before his eyes fluttered shut against her cheeks, letting her lips press firmly against his. He tasted faintly of wine, smelled a little like the rain, and felt a lot like heaven.

She scooted closer, and as her lips shifted against his, the added pressure on his split lip made him wince.

She immediately pulled back. “Shit, sorry.”

“It’s okay” He whispered, shaking his head hurriedly before he leaned back in, hand cupping the side of her face as he pulled her in even closer, right shoulder pressing against her left. 

She sighed into the kiss, resting her hand on the arm framing her profile. 

When she pulled back, she felt like she could melt all over again at the way he was looking at her. Like she had just gone up into space, fought off all the aliens standing in her way, and hung the moon. Just for him.

And as a new song started to pick up in the background, she couldn’t fight off the feeling that maybe, just maybe, they were meant to be, cliche be damned. 

The two of them stared at each other, wide-eyed and incredulous.

“Is this…?”

She nodded, letting out a loud laugh. Grabbed both of his hands, she dragging him out of the booth.

“Come on, this is our song!”

“Wai-“ Before Steve could register what was happening, she had him trapped in the small opening between the door and the register — their own little dance floor. 

Grinning up excitedly, she threw her arms around his neck, his hands resting on her waist. Before either of them knew it, they were slow-dancing across the floor of her cafe, swaying to the beat of If I Should Die Tonight.

Steve took a second to relax, and when he did he was surprisingly graceful for a 6-foot-something giant, leaning into the step with ease. 

He stared down at her with an amused smile, and she avoided his gaze by digging her head into the fabric of his hoodie, faint scent of cologne, and her eyes fluttered shut.

“I gotta have you know,” Steve started, voice rumbling deep in his chest. His hands were resting gently on her lower back, radiating warmth even through her thick cardigan.

“I’m a terrible dancer.”

She shrugged, smiling, her eyes still closed, thanking the Merlot for giving her the added courage.

“…and the fractured ankle isn’t helping a whole lot either.”

She gasped, eyes popping open as she pulled back abruptly, though his hands still remained on her waist. “You broke your ankle?”

He laughed, waving off the horrified look on her face. “It’s fine. It’ll heal in a couple of days.”

If it hurt to stand on it, he didn’t show any sign of it, only pulling her in tighter. She shook her head, resting her head back on his chest and mumbled into his shirt “you’re ridiculous.”

They stayed like that for a while, just swaying with each other, before she broke the silence with a quiet question. 

“How’d you get so hurt?” She would never admit it to herself, but seeing Steve like that made her the tiniest bit upset, no matter how routine this was for him. 

He sucked in a breath, tutting jokingly. “Don’t think I’m allowed to tell you that. Classified information.”

She smiled, quipping back “Oh yeah? Sure you didn’t just trip over a rock?”

He chuckled, pulling back slightly as she looked up. 

In the lines around his eyes she found an immeasurable amount of adoration, mixed with a hint of pained melancholy that she felt was a conversation for another time. 

As he leaned down to capture her lips once again in a tender gesture, she felt the frigid air melt around them, keeping the rain and cold at bay, and finally began to understand the lines of her new favorite song.

How many eyes Have seen their dream? How many arms Have felt their dream? How many hearts, baby Have felt their world stand still?

(cap)puccino, w/ milk and sugar masterlist

[dpimagines]

The Sharpest Lives; Wade Wilson (feat. Nathan Summers) – Part 5 of 5

I expected this to be smuttier. Maybe I can get around to writing a bonus chapter with smut if any of you would be into that? Let me know!

Same trigger warnings, actually, this is much milder since the action/conflict has pretty much passed. Yay for happy endings!

tag list: @peculiar-persephone @fuckyouandtheboatyoucamein @yomama-umbridge @dee-vn @ghostlyvenus-selfships

Waking up is less dramatic than yesterday. Simply put, you got too hot. Wade’s healing factor makes him the equivalent of a heated blanket that’s just a little too warm. 

He’s already awake, though, gazing at you in a silence that to most would seem uncharacteristic.

But you know him. 

“Can- Can I call you ‘baby,’ now?” he asks. It lacks his false bravado, in fact, he sounds like the scared little boy he once was, before the killing and the new girl every night and the grand love story and the cruel experimentation. Before he was him. 

You nod solemnly.

“They’ll be here in a couple hours. After that, we’ll get Eddie and then lay low for a little while, blow away some of our savings. Get to know each other again, and get to know him.”

You nod again. 

“I love you, you know that, right?”

And again. 

“Say something?” he meekly requests. 

“Water, please?” you croak, throat dry.

He leaps to action, accidentally shaking the rollaway a little bit and waking Russell with a start.

“Sorry, little man. Just grabbing some water for the wifey.”

Wade toddles over to the kitchenette, and you turn, wrenching yourself from Nathan’s grip to observe him as Wade observed you. Some people look more at peace when asleep. Not him. His jaw is clenched shut; his eyebrows are furrowed. You brush a tuft of his gray hair from his face, and he snatches your wrist. 

You flinch back, and recognition washes over his face, remorse following shortly after. 

“No touching while you’re asleep, gotcha,” you awkwardly chuckle. 

“Can’t imagine why you’d wanna touch this mug,” he grumbles. 

“Get used to asking yourself that question every day!” Wade chirps. “Well, on second thought, you are super fucking se-”

“Wade,” you hiss, reminding him once again that there’s a kid present.

Nathan takes a moment to examine the arm he grabbed. 

“Sorry,” he nearly whispers, but you shake your head. 

“I scared you,” you dismiss it. “Don’t you start with the whole delicate treatment, too.”

“It’s not that you are delicate. You just deserve to be treated like it. Y’know, gentle.”

Wade laughs heartily, nearly spilling the glass he’s returned with. 

You give him a pointed look as he hands it to you. You take a nice, long drink before placing it on the nightstand.

“I didn’t say anything,” he defends himself. 

“Oh, is that how it is?” Nathan looks up at you with a glint in his eye best described as devious. Blood rushes to your face, but you force it back nearly as fast. “That’s a nice little trick you’ve got there.”

“What trick?” Wade asks, oblivious. 

“He doesn’t know.” Nathan looks a little too proud of himself. 

“I don’t know how you do.”

“I… Have some telepathic abilities. They’re almost exclusively used to keep the virus from taking over, but I can still sense some things. She uses her abilities to push the blood away from her face so she won’t blush. I wasn’t sure what you were doing the other night when I felt it, but you’re a little slower in the mornings, aren’t you?” 

Wade is gobsmacked. 

“Yes, she knew,” you know the question he’s too scared to ask. “That night was her idea, actually.”

“That night?!” he squeaks. 

“That night?” Nathan asks. 

“Well, I kind of…challenged Wade. To make me blush,” you explain as vaguely as you can, but Russell still chortles. 

“You were so mean,” Wade teasingly whines. “You’re just not trying hard enough,” he imitates you shockingly well. 

“You liked it,” you remind him. 

“Evil little- Hmph!” Wade grumbles, and you can’t help but giggle.

“If I was as goofy as the two of you, I’d be playing dead right now,” Nathan cuts in. 

“Huh?” you and Wade respond. 

“Y’know, how I said I’d drop dead… Ugh, nevermind,” he groans. “See? Not goofy.”

“Wait, no, I get it now!” you reassure him. “Very funny.”

“I don’t.”

“Oh, it’s just something he said the night before last, about how much prettier I’d be if I was well-rested and… Really smiling.” You smile again, gazing at your newly-found soulmate. “Guess it happened sooner than I thought.” You know there will be days where the grief is crushing, but you’ll feed on this little slice of happiness, on any that you can find. Something tells you that you won’t be running out of them anytime soon, even with the hard times to come. 

“Can I kiss you?” Nathan asks. 

You look to Wade for approval. 

“He’s your soulmate, too,” he tells you with a shrug. 

And so, you two have a kiss that’s a little more than chaste, but still simple. Butterflies flutter in your stomach, and you once again have to prevent yourself from blushing like it’s the first kiss you’ve ever received.

He’s smirking like you did, though, and that’s when you know you’re in for it. 

“Cute,” he says softly. 

“Isn’t she?” Wade rejoins you in bed. “Let’s just cuddle until the X-Losers get here.”

“Dude,” you remind him, and he turns to Russell. 

“Oh, they’re, uh, they’re not losers, I- Uh-” 

“Anyways, I’d like to remedy my morning breath and do my best to no longer reek of blood and sweat.”

“Wouldn’t we all?” Wade agrees. He and Russell are still in their yucky jumpsuits from the prison. “How about this? Russell gets picked up by them, and we go back to the apartment for a group shower?”

Nathan clears his throat. 

“You don’t have to join, but I will say, Y/N really gets into your back with this super yummy-smelling scrub, I mean, why make it with sugar and make it smell like fruit if you don’t want people to eat it? It’s downright cruel, truly, I-”

“Can you shower?” you wonder, cutting Wade off. “Do you need, like, a special sleeve for…” You’re not sure what to call the metal creeping up Nathan’s neck and covering his arm. 

“It’s hard to explain, but it’s organic.”

“So’s malachite,” you reply, wanting a real answer. “Doesn’t mean it doesn’t give off toxic fumes when it gets wet.”

“Oh, a geologist, are we?” he half-snarks back. 

“Best friends with one.”

And with that, you get a call from Ellie. 

“Speak of the devil. Hi.”

“We’re almost there. You okay?”

“Okay-er than I was yesterday, and the day before,” you tell her. 

“Good,” she replies. “See you soon.” 

“Yes, ma’am! Be safe, love you.” You hang up. 

“It’s fine. The metal, I mean. Doesn’t rust or anything, at least not yet,” Nathan mumbles. “And it’s been around for a long time.” 

You nod in understanding. 

Wade ruffles your hair and you sigh, still a little drowsy. 

“Are you excited?” you ask Russell. 

“Yeah, kinda…”

“It’s a great place. I grew up there.”

This seems to relieve him a bit. 

“I get my own bed?”

“You’ll probably have a roommate or two, but, yeah. And there’s plenty of food to go around, and movie nights where the movie doesn’t get turned off, and… It can be a lot sometimes, but it really is like one big family.”

You feel a pang in your heart and look at Wade, who’s looking at Nathan.

“I’ll explain later, maybe,” Nathan mumbles. 

“Okay,” you reply.

There’s a knock at the door, a special pattern that you know by heart. 

You go for the door, opening it up for Ellie, Yukio, and Piotr. 

“Russell!” you call. 

“You sure you’re okay?” Yukio asks.”You know you can always come back, there’s plenty of room and everyone would be so happy to see you, and-”

“Yukio. She knows,” Ellie mumbles. 

“You’d be the happiest to see your pseudo-big sis, don’t pretend it’s any other way!” Yukio insists, and you giggle a little. Russell joins you at the doorway.

“Hey, buddy!” Yukio chirps. 

“Russell, this is Yukio, president of the Welcome Committee. This is her girlfriend, Ellie, and that’s Mr. Rasputin. He teaches some of the art classes. Do you like to paint?”

“I think so… It’s been so long,” Russell admits. 

“I guess you’ll find out,” you tell him. He grins. 

“Do you have any questions before we go? Anything you wanna say?” Ellie asks curtly, but, hey, she’s trying. 

Russell simply gives you a big hug. 

“Okay, that’s all,” he says before finally crossing the threshold and joining the trio outside. 

“See you soon,” you say to the now-quartet, and they all say (or in Ellie’s case, wave) their goodbyes. You shut the door and lock it. 

“Alrighty. Let’s go home!” Wade cheers. Both he and Nathan have gotten up at this point. “I, uh, cleaned up the laptop shards. And basically the whole apartment. Cocaine and anxiety, well, they make for a very clean house.”

“I’m sorry,” you apologize, but Wade shakes his head. 

“You had a human reaction to a fucked-up situation. One I put you in. And you already apologized, and I already forgave you. We’re as okay as we could possibly be right now, alright?” 

“Alright,” you reply.

“I’m gettin’ kinda curious about this place,” Nathan chimes in. “Especially that whole shower thing.” 

“You just wanna see Y/N nekkid,” Wade giggles.

The shade of red Nathan turns is so adorable you feel yourself start to giggle, too, but you try to force it down for his sake.

Nathan clears his throat. 

“You don’t?” he retorts, but it took a little too long for him to come up with that to take him seriously.

“Why, of course I do! If I had my way, it would be federal- No, international law for Y/N to never wear clothes. Not for sexual reasons, no, no, sir, but because she is art that should not be hidden from the world. Especially me.” 

“Don’t get his hopes up,” you laugh. 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Nathan’s tone suddenly darkens when he says this, and he turns your head so you face him directly. “You’re gorgeous, doll. Guess he’s not getting his nose broken. Don’t think I could stand to see tears in those pretty eyes again.”

“You were gonna break my nose?!” Wade whines. “No, wait, that’d be kinda hot. You do aftercare, right?” 

Nathan just scoffs, shaking his head. 

“Let’s just get checked out and go.”

You and Wade follow his lead, cleaning up after yourselves and letting Nathan do the talking in the lobby while you two wait in the truck. He swiftly returns, and the trip that follows is like the day before yesterday in reverse; the sun gets higher as you return to familiarity. You’re squeezed between Wade’s nervous rambling of directions and Nathan’s stoic silence.

Eventually, you’re home. 

Nathan parks behind the duplex to avoid the stolen truck being spotted by those passing by, and the three of you make your way upstairs. 

“Shit,” you realize you left your keys inside when you left, and it’s not like Wade was able to retrieve his when you did your little prison break.

“Lock’s still busted, hon,” Wade murmurs. 

“Right,” you say, but you don’t open the door, steeling yourself. 

“Do you want me to do it?” Nathan asks you both. The two of you nod, and he opens the door. 

You sigh as you enter. It’s the same as when you left. Cleaner, like Wade said, but the same. It’s like nothing even happened. 

“Nice place,” Nathan comments. 

“Thanks,” you and Wade say in unison. 

The cleanliness of the apartment makes you even more aware of the grime you feel you’re covered in. You scratch at your cheek.

“Go ahead and hop in the shower,” Wade says. “I’ll lay out some comfy clothes for you and get your phone on the charger.” 

“You’re not gonna shower with me?”

“I was… Sorta kidding,” Wade admits. “Figured you might want some time to yourself.” 

“‘Cause that totally sounds like me,” you laugh. 

“I meant you might not wanna be, y’know, around me.”

There’s a thorn in your heart. Or maybe his. 

You shake your head. He embraces you, and it’s gone. 

“We’re gonna be okay, you know that, right?” you remind him. 

You look up at him, and that grieving ache in his heart intensifies.

“I don’t deserve you.”

“I deserve you even less,” you reply. 

“You two. I feel like I’m watching one of Aaliyah’s vampire shows. Go take a fucking shower,” Nathan grumbles, but his cheeks are a little pink. You’d be worried if you felt any jealousy, but you don’t… 

Wait, does he think you two are cute? 

You nearly giggle. 

“Okay,” you respond, giving Nathan a peck on the cheek before heading to the bathroom. You turn the water on and strip down while you wait for it to warm up. 

The door opens, and you turn to see Wade. 

“Wow,” he blurts. 

“You act like it’s the first time every time.”

“Sure does feel like it, hot stuff.” He unzips his jumpsuit and takes off his boxers. “Wait, uh…” 

You finally notice the collar, and reach for it.

“No!” The fear jolts you more than his shout does. His fear. “It’ll shock you if you try and take it off. Do, the, uh… The pressure thing.”

“That shit hurts,” you remind him. 

“Dying of cancer hurts worse. It neutralizes any mutant ability.” 

“Fuck… Okay.” 

You take a deep breath, focusing on the beating of his heart; the blood rushing in his veins. You make it burst out of his neck in a tiny, powerful stream, slicing the collar off. It leaves a pretty nasty gash in his neck, but that heals up quickly. You rub at the same spot on your own neck, still feeling the sting a little. 

Nathan pounds on the door, scaring you both. 

“We’re fine!” Wade shouts. “Had to get my fancy prison necklace off without touching it.” 

“Just checking.” 

And with that, you check the water again, pulling back. 

“Ow!” Wade squeals dramatically. 

“I know,” you reply, turning the temperature down. You two share a look, feeling a certain third party’s anxiety simmer in your stomachs. 

Nathan knocks on the door again, this time lighter. 

“Just come in already,” Wade complains. 

The door cracks open. 

His eyes widen, flicking between you and Wade. 

“Did you not expect us to shower naked, or…?” Wade asks rhetorically. 

“Well, I just- Hm. Yeah. Okay.” 

He leaves as quickly as he arrived. You and Wade laugh like idiots— mostly at the aching in your groins that isn’t yours —before finally getting in the shower. 

Wade squirts a good amount of shampoo in his hands as you wet your hair. 

He lathers you up and you damn near melt at the sensation of his fingers against your scalp. 

You rinse your hair as he gets the conditioner. He works it into the ends of your hair before the two of you finally kiss. He sighs. 

“That’s it. Now, I’m home.” 

“You’re so cheesy,” you tell him.

“But you like it,” he sing-songs. “Mm, beautiful.” 

“You’re just buttering me up. C’mon, let’s switch spots and I’ll get the scrub.” 

He nods, and the two of you do as you said. You unscrew the lid of the scrub and get to work on his back, not bothering to save the best for last. 

The scrub stings against his aching skin, but he seems to like whatever other sensations he gets from it, the ones you can’t feel.

“You know, I could just give you a back rub,” you remind him. 

“Yeah, but exfoliating gets all the dead skin off so it doesn’t try to heal back and get all gross and flaky. Remember the first time you did this?”

You do. His back looked like a lizard struggling to shed its skin. Wade’s skin doesn’t disgust you, but you have to admit, it did give you the creeps that time. 

You finish up quickly, and he turns to rinse the remaining soap and sugar off. 

“Want me to get yours?” 

You nod and turn around. You only woke up a few hours ago, but the warmth of the shower and the comfort of Wade’s presence is sapping your energy away. 

He massages the scrub into your back and you’re once again melting under his touch. 

“All done,” he chirps. The two of you continue to wash your bodies, and afterwards you rinse out your conditioner. He turns the water off for you and grabs towels from the hooks just outside. You pat yourselves dry and realize you forgot to grab clean clothes. 

The two of you giggle as you skitter out of the bathroom in just your towels, dropping them once you make it to your wardrobe and his dresser. 

“Can I wear one of your shirts?” you ask as you pull on your underwear and a pair of sweatpants.

Wade tosses you one and you put it on. He hums with delight at the sight of you. 

“Eddie can wait ‘til tomorrow. Now, it’s time for a cuddle sesh,” he suggests. “What do you think, Nate?”

“It’s her money,” he responds from the couch. He’s sitting in her spot. You look at Wade, who’s already looking at you. Your eyes burn a little, but you smile. He has no idea how he’s healing you both, filling that void. Not replacing her, he never could, but he’s like a rectangular block that fits through a square hole; something different taking up the same space.

“I think it can wait until tomorrow,” you agree, heading over to the couch. You take your spot, draping your legs over Nathan’s lap, while Wade takes his and you prop yourself against him. “This is nice.” 

“Mhm,” he hums in agreement. You’re all hurting, sure, but… But it’s peaceful. A new normal falling into place.

[14846]

Chapter 2: Tavern

Nobody had an idea where their large friend had vanished off to. Ironic how, anywhere he went, he seemed to pop out of any crowd like a sore-thumb. Now nobody could see the blonde. 

He was in a tavern.

The candles were flickering in the dim, wooded open-planned room. It seemed that despite all the technological upgrades since coming in contact with the outside world, some businesses did not bother (or perhaps were not able) to afford electrical lights. There were vague popping noises still grumbling into the foundation of the buildings centering around the celebration, but luckily they seemed to be more muffled in this direct, tucked-away vicinity. 

This must’ve been the lady’s tavern, no doubt. That, or it was her family’s. The blonde’s eyes hadn’t left the small table she had crammed him into, and he barely had more than just a single sip from the mug of tea she had made for him. He was still obviously so shaken up. The tea must’ve been cold, she added in thought. 

“I know who you are,” she said quietly. The whole world did. She was sitting at a neighboring table, having found herself drying off some mugs that had been previously washed. She had managed to make a whole set-up for herself, a rag displayed over the wooden framed surface with empty cups alike face down onto it. To him, this must’ve happened in no time at all. 

A few minutes of silence. He had simmered down a bit, and for some reason when he was graced with her voice he seemed to relax a little. His arm levered down the mug slowly, only stopping once he felt and heard the clink of the china against the counter. His eyes rolled from looking down, and his hooded eyelids raised to reveal that he was now finally making eye-contact with her. Briefly. He occupied his gaze back toward his mug as if he found it more attractive. The both of them remained placid. “Thank you, Janette,” the soldier spoke quietly to share his gratitude. Adding her name to it was just the cherry on top.

The brunette shook her head, her hand moving yet another glass from the wet pile to the dry, toweled pile. “I can imagine how hard it was- for any soldier,” she soothed. Her hands met at another wet glass and she began to dry it out of any leftover water droplets. “I respect any soul who took that vow.” The blonde heard the brunette’s chair scraping against the floor, and soon after there was a shadow imposing over his frame and a pair of hands to boot to take the mug from the table. “I’ll heat this up.” So he had been here for a while, he thought.

She felt pity for him. “Wait, don’t,” his voice curtled in his throat. The man who was crouched into the table extended out his hand to take the mug. “I don’t mind cold tea,” he added after clearing his throat. Truth is, he usually liked warm beverages to remain warm, but in a fit of petty, he could not afford for someone else to feel sorry for him. Janette’s eyebrow raised curtly, and she handed the man his claimed mug back. Well that made things infinitely more awkward. Now he wished she would’ve just heated it up for him, because every time he took a sip there was a visible, slight wince to his expression that did not need anyone to expound on. He was suffering. Rough night, right? The dark-haired girl popped herself back into her seat and continued her work, and after a muted 10 minutes, she began to speak again.

“You’re welcome to leave when the fireworks end.” “I was planning on it, thank you,” shit. That sounded rude.  “Right,” her eyebrows raised to herself as she wiped a few more droplets out from a glass. “In that case, it was very nice to meet you. I won’t tell anybody about what happened, alright?”  “Thanks..”

— 

The fireworks did not end. He was fine enough by now to hold his own without fearing for his life, that is, within the building. Janette’s make-shift cleaning table was long emptied, and she had occupied herself with a few late-night customers who had waded in to get away from the crowd. Reiner had not even drank halfway through his mug of tea all this time, and he was starting to feel a tad bit too awkward for his own taste. If only he had handled this situation better, he thought, maybe he could’ve been less embarrassed. 

He felt his nerves tingle, and without thought he scooted his chair back and felt his boots clunk against the floorboards. His feet were sore as his weight bore down against his leather-boot soles, and a slight adjustment of discomfort was all he could do as he approached his evening savior. A rumble in the foundation, again, and he found himself pausing stiffly against a wooden post. That didn’t help much, because it just reverberated the vibrations into his body now. A sharp inhale, and a leg extending out to continue the mission seemed all a bit robotic as he went over to the woman who took him here in the first place. 

She hadn’t even noticed his approach. Nobody had. The evening visitors were regulars and having a good laugh until the large blonde stuck out like a sore thumb between the group of them. The woman eyed the man in curiosity before she walked from behind the bar-tending counter and toward him. She guided him a few feet back as if to make it a more private endeavor, the man complying without any look of complaint in his eyes.

“We have an extra room upstairs if you need a place to sleep tonight,” she offered. “I don’t know if that’ll help-”

“My room is downstairs, it’ll mute any noise better than any place you’ll find,” she interrupted. Her voice was a bit urgent, but her body language spoke in the exact opposite way. She seemed genuine. It caught the man off guard, and he shook his head carefully. He wasn’t some soldier about to take up and quarter in a home that was not his. He raised a hand up as if to object, his mouth even opening before she spoke again. “You have nothing to owe me for this. I’ll sleep upstairs.”

Would his friends worry about him? No.. Not as long as he showed up bright and early to their meeting with the council. “Thank you..”

The brunette mouthed something muted to her customers as she guided the brawny man to a far corner and down a secluded staircase. What was she saying to those people? Words of pity, he ruminated. Suddenly he felt his chest tighten, and the layers of clothes felt more like heavy weights bearing down against his body. They reached the bottom, and despite the fear of it being pitch black, he kept his arms taut around himself. 

“Janette..” “Yes?” The dark-haired woman replied as she stood up straight. Ah, he could see. She had lit up a lantern by her nightstand and had been crouched for easier access. “I don’t need this pity, really..” Was pity the best word he could find?  “You’re not getting any special treatment for saving the world.” Was that sarcasm? He felt his cheeks turn a color of pink. “That’s not what I was implying-” “Good. There’s a bathroom to your right.” She didn’t even give him a second glance. Had he done something wrong? Of course he did..

She was gone without even another moment to spare. She left the soldier standing.

[jupiter-reimagined]

First, Kali is taking Butcher and Charlie home, so they can see the nice house.

It's cozy, but he also took the time to put some elements in there that are what Butcher likes in a house. (Yes, this is me being vague because I don't know/remember what Butcher would like in terms of the house.)

Lakshmi runs to hug Butcher. She'd hug Charlie too, but she'll wait until Sammy hugs his big brother.

god charlie is so pathetic still. hes staring at me like "why is lakshmi hugging me. what." he was so sure that she barely cared about him with how little they interact

but speaking of which, butcher is just picking her (and sammy) up and just not letting go for a little while. he needs this.

and lowkey... butcher probably added on a grand total of nothing of his personal flair to the ranch. he moved into kalis space, so it felt weird to him to try to shimmy his own decorations up. he barely has anything as is.

imagining kali going trough the moving process and realizing all of butcher's stuff fit inside a single large box. (save for the motorcycle). realizing how few memoribilia he even has from him, if he truly did disappear forever. mentally hating how stupidly practical butcher is, due to always being on the move. easier to pack when you dont have a million trinkets and all that jazz

or what if he broke one of the few things that butcher had claimed as his favorites. maybe a well loved lighter he kept on refilling stops working properly, or his go-to coffee mug gets pushed a little too strongly and falls off the edge, shattering. or what if kali started wearing his old sunglasses when going out, and forgot them at the store cas register and realized it just a bit too late. just little pieces that butcher had used regularly just slowly breaking or getting lost as time went on. eventually making it seem like he was never there.

[aahsokaatano]

What do you think is Clone etiquette for accidently mistaking one Vod for another?

Like, even irl people ocassionally call each other by the wrong names. My dad has called me by my uncle's name. And his secretary's name. And my mom's name. So what happens when one clone accidently mixes up two others?

Is it less frowned upon if they've just met or are still at Kamino amd not allowed to start showing individualism yet?

Or what happens when it's the galactic equivalent of 3 a.m. in the cafeteria after a long day, and a clone who's known another for their whole lives calls the wrong name by accident?

Say, Echo without even looking up from his empty cup, telling Rex "Fives, pass the caff would you"

1. Exhausted - Torrent

"Fives, pass the caff, would you?"

It takes Rex a moment to realize that Echo is talking to him, and then only because the caff pot is directly in front of Rex's tray.

They were coming off a hard mission - Torrent's three ARCs had been gone for almost a month chasing down rumors of a new type of commando droid. They had only returned to the Resolute about an hour ago - Jesse had gone to find Kix immediately, Fives had wandered off towards the barracks already looking half-asleep, and Echo's growling stomach had led him to the mess.

Rex looked at Echo and found that his eyes were closed even as he pushed his mug vaguely in Rex's direction.

He would forgive the slip; Echo clearly was two seconds from falling into dreams.

"How about instead of caff, I show you to your rack?" Rex suggested, standing up and moving around the table to help Echo to his feet.

(If Echo remembered the mistake, or the way Rex half-carried him to the barracks, he didn't mention it the next day.)

2. Just Met - Wolfpack

“You must be Wolffe’s new shiny,” Sinker smiled broadly as he held out a hand. “Comet, right?”

“Er... I’m Nebula,” the trooper said awkwardly. “The other new shiny. Comet is my batchmate.”

“Oh,” Sinker grimaced at his own mistake. “Sorry about that, vod.”

Nebula shrugged. “It’s alright. You didn’t know. For future reference, though, Comet has blue hair.” “Noted!” Sinker said. “It’s nice to meet you, Nebula.”

He smiled. “You too, ah... Boost, is it?”

He laughed. “Suppose I deserved that - I’m Sinker. Boost’s over there.” He gestured vaguely towards where Boost and Wolffe were having a quiet discussion on the other side of the hanger.

Nebula shook his head and laughed. “Well, at least now we know.”

3. Honest Mistake - Lightning

“Ponds! There you are.” Ponds turned at the call, a little confused - he prided himself on his ability to tell apart his brothers just by voice, but that wasn’t any of the Shebse, or Edee, and he couldn’t really think of any other CCs who would call out to him with that sort of exasperated fondness.

Walking up behind him was a grinning vod in freshly-painted armor. He did a little spin as he got closer, showing off the design he had chosen. “What do you think?”

“Looks good, trooper,” Ponds said, amused as he finally caught on to what was happening. “Tell me, when your squaddies told you to go show Ponds your new armor, did they specifically say to find the bald one?”

The vod furrowed his brow, confused. “What do you - oh kark, I mean - Commander! Sir!” He snapped an extremely belated salute, cheeks flushing with embarrassment. 

Ponds laughed. “At ease, vod. No harm done. Lieutenant Ponds and I are frequently sent messages meant for the other. I like the paint - you have a good eye for details.”

“T-thank you, sir,” the trooper said, standing in a perfect parade rest. 

“Go on,” Ponds waved him off with a grin. “Your squad is waiting for a dressing-down, I imagine.”

“Too right they are, sir,” the trooper groaned, spinning around and hurrying back the way he had come. 

4. Messing with Nat-borns - Wave

“Commander, you want to have a little fun?”

Caleb gave Sergeant Soot a questioning look. “Fun how?”

The trooper grinned widely at the Jedi. “Just watch.”

Caleb looked in the direction Soot indicated, and saw that a nat-born officer was approaching the desk where Captain Styles and Sergeant Harp were talking quietly.

“Captain, a word?”

Without missing a beat, Harp looked up. “Yessir?”

The officer blinked, looking between the two clones in confusion. “Er... I need to speak with Captain Styles.”

“Yessir, I’m listening,” Harp said.

Styles gave the two a nod and stepped away.

Caleb bit the inside of his cheek to keep from giggling out loud and giving the game away.

Soot moved in as Styles stopped on Caleb’s other side.

“You needed me, sir?” Soot asked politely.

The nat-born officer looked even more confused. “Ah... I just need to ask Captain Styles a question.”

“Yessir,” Soot and Harp said in perfect unison. They stood shoulder-to-shoulder in parade rest, looking for all the world like whatever the officer had to say, it was the most interesting part of their day.

Caleb covered his mouth with his hand as the officer gave up and started explaining his question to the two troopers who were most definitely not Captain Styles.

5. Stress - Nova

“Wolf, get down!”

Wolf experienced the very unique feeling of Marshal Commander Bacara bodily throwing himself onto Wolf’s person in the nanosecond between hearing the shout and comprehending the message. 

An explosion rattled their buckets, but it wasn’t as close as Wolf had thought it would be, after that panicked call.

There was some cursing and more shouting for Wolf over the comms and he didn’t really understand why, he was fine - would have been fine even if the Commander hadn’t tackled him -

“Kark,” Bacara grunted, hauling himself up and looking to the side, where smoke was rising. “Kark. That’s where Wolf and Keller were holed up - come on!”

There was a horrible swooping sensation in Wolf’s gut. Not him - the shouts were for the other Wolf, the armorer. 

The ARC scrambled to his feet and ran after Bacara, towards where hopefully, hopefully, their medic and their armorer weren’t suffering anything more severe than some busted comm units.

+1. On Purpose - Ghost  (direct lead-in to this drabble)

“Who’s got the best Cody impression?” Waxer called, leaning into the meeting room near Cody’s office that had been quickly surrendered to the Ghosts not long after all the Vode had come Home.

“Boil!” several people shouted back immediately.

“See?” Waxer said triumphantly, turning to give Boil a smug grin. “I told you you’re the best.”

Boil gave a long-suffering sigh. “But my mustache, Waxer!”

“It’ll grow back,” he assured him, before looking back at the room. “Oi, Paint! We need your skills!”

Paint leveraged himself up from the beanbag chair in the corner and sauntered over. “What’re we doing?” they asked curiously.

“We’re turning Boil into the Vod’alor,” Waxer grinned. “Because if Cody actually attends this meeting with this stupid Republic representative, he’s going to pop a blood vessel and Brix will kill us all.”

Paint grinned and eyed Boil speculatively. “So you need a fake scar to complete the picture.”

“Got it in one,” Waxer said, looking very pleased with himself.

Boil just looked resigned to his fate, but all the Ghosts knew that as soon as he looked the part, he would take to the role with gusto.

[sapphicquill]

Critickle Role: something good to celebrate

(ao3 link!)

Rating: Teen

Characters: Caleb Widogast, Essek Thelyss, Mollymauk Tealeaf

Wordcount: 3584

“It’s just your birthday, dear, no reason to look like someone’s kicked Frumpkin so hard he poofed.”

Caleb sniffed, glaring over the steaming mug of tea in his hands at where Mollymauk was leaning against the living room door frame. 

“I can tell the two of you are planning something.”

His tiefling boyfriend laughed, the jewelry on his horns clicking together delicately. 

“Well of course we are! Like I said, it’s your birthday. We’re your partners. We’re supposed to plan things for you for your birthday.”

It was all Caleb could do to keep from pouting, so he elected to just keep his eyes on Mollymauk as he blew on his tea. Molly grinned at him as he pushed himself forward and plopped down next to Caleb on their sofa. 

“Come now, if you can’t trust me to be nice, at least remember that I’m not doing this alone. Essek’s helping.”

“That is not as comforting as I imagine you think it is.”

Molly laughed again, this time his head tilting back from the force of it. Caleb lamented the fact that he still had a nearly-full mug of tea and had only been awake for a half hour. He’d very much prefer to shut Mollymauk up and keep his laughter coming. Ah, well. Time for that later.

“Hey, I’m not that much of a terrible influence, am I?” 

“Hmm, that’s up for debate, I think.”

Essek’s voice came from the other side of the room, sleep-rough and warm and affectionate. Molly wiggled closer to Caleb’s side to make room for the drow on the sofa. 

“Love, please inform our precious, stubborn boyfriend that he has no right to be this suspicious of birthday shenanigans.”

“Your usage of the word ‘shenanigans’ probably isn’t providing him any comfort.”

Molly pouted exaggeratedly at Essek but didn’t deny anything. Essek wasn’t wrong.

“The two of you do not need to do anything grand, really,” Caleb insisted after a quiet moment passed. “It’s just a day.”

Molly looked like he wanted to say something in response, but Essek cut him a pointed look before focusing back on Caleb.

“We know, chathtiu. But will you at least trust that we won’t do anything that would make you uncomfortable?”

The look on Essek’s face, full of concern and what Caleb thought might be hope, was enough to push past the instinctive fight that always boiled to the surface whenever the human wizard was confronted with being given anything nice. Despite all of the emotional growth he knew he had made over the last handful of years, it was still dreadfully hard to accept the kind of warm comfort and support his partners were always quick to offer. 

“I suppose,” Caleb finally replied around a sigh, focusing his eyes back on his tea. The sofa shifted, Molly doing some sort of excited wiggling next to him, and Caleb couldn’t hold back a fond, helpless smile. 

—

Birthdays had been a touchy subject for Caleb for a long time. He had been so young the last time they could be considered even vaguely important. When his life had been consumed by Ikithon, he and Astrid and Eadwulf had made a few halfhearted attempts at celebrations behind closed doors, away from watchful eyes, but it had very quickly proven too difficult to even bother. 

Thinking about birthdays with his parents made everything inside Caleb burn hotter than fire. His eighteenth passed in a haze of false memories and an ache in the pit of his stomach. If he had it his way, his birthday would be nothing more than another day each year. 

But then he had been adopted by a group of ridiculously sentimental idiots with far too much love in their hearts to stand idly by while he continued to self-destruct. He tried, every year, to not be such a “grumpy old stick in the mud,” as Jester liked to say, but it was so instinctive to just let his walls come up and block everything out. 

It was lucky, then, that he had two very precious people who loved him so thoroughly that they wouldn’t let that happen. Caleb knew he could trust Mollymauk and Essek to not go overboard. Well—he could trust Essek to pull Molly back from whatever ridiculous plans he’d come up with and hone in on something that wouldn’t make Caleb want to crawl out of his own skin. He loved his partners fiercely, as much as he knew they loved him and each other. He could trust them with anything.  

Still, old habits die hard.

The morning of the accursed day, Caleb blinked his eyes open to the feeling of tender fingers carding through his hair and soft lips pressing kisses to his face and neck. It was a lovely way to wake up, but his keen mind quickly reminded him of the date, and unwelcome trepidation began to bubble to the surface. Feeling a bit like he was standing on the edge of a precipice, Caleb braced for whatever his boys had come up with. 

He held his breath when Molly bounced out of bed while Essek stayed pressed comfortably to his side, but their tiefling returned bearing only three carefully balanced mugs like he did every morning.

He felt his pulse spike as he entered their living room after getting dressed for the day, but the ostentatious balloons and ribbons he’d been picturing were nowhere to be seen. 

There were no lavishly wrapped boxes or suspicious lumps on his desk in the study, only the stacks of books he’d left out the night before. 

Their small kitchen was entirely devoid of colorful baked goods, just as it had been since Veth and Jester had nearly eaten them out of house and home two days previous. 

“Something wrong, sweet?” Essek asked as he stepped around Caleb to get to the still partially filled coffee pot.

“Ah, nein, it’s nothing,” Caleb replied after scanning the kitchen for anything out of place again. Perhaps he was being a little too paranoid. 

—

The rest of the day felt exceedingly normal. Caleb and Essek spent a few hours working on their current research grant proposal while Mollymauk sprawled on the small loveseat he’d insisted they put in the study—“If you two are going to toil away in there all day, I might as well get to relax while watching you be complete nerds”—pouring over a book on practical divination that Beauregard had snuck out of the Archives for him. When he wasn’t shuffling his well-worn tarot deck, the tiefling alternated between his two seemingly favorite activities: sighing dramatically in hopes of luring either one of the wizards to take a break and join him on the loveseat, or draping himself over said wizards in hopes of luring them into taking a break and joining him on the loveseat. 

(He would only ever admit it under extreme duress, but Caleb preferred the latter method of distraction, as Molly would always sneak devilish, wiggling fingers up under his shirt or skitter teasing claws across Essek’s pointed ears to aid in his efforts. It was always a very effective method of distraction.)

As the glow of the sun through the study’s gauzy curtains grew steadily more golden, Caleb felt familiar Infernal warmth press against his side. In a true testament to how much he trusted the two other men in the room, he didn’t even flinch at the sudden sensation.

“We should put a bell on you,” the wizard said softly, not looking away from his current page, “You are quieter than Frumpkin.”

“Nonsense, you just block everything else out when you’re reading,” Molly replied haughtily. The tiefling’s hands curled lightly around Caleb’s waist and the human held his breath. His anticipation only grew when he realized Molly was content with just resting the very tips of his claws threateningly against the spot directly beneath his lowest ribs on either side. He felt a shudder ripple down his back as his boyfriend lowered his mouth to Caleb’s ear. 

“It’s getting late, so how about we all call it a day and have dinner, hmm?”

And, well, how was anyone supposed to argue when they’ve got a very seductive tiefling fluttering insanely ticklish scritches across their waistline?

They order in from a little place down the road, a restaurant owned by a sweet old Zemnian couple that absolutely doted on Caleb every time he came in. It had taken a somewhat depressingly long time for their affection to not leave him feeling singed and aching inside. 

As he sat nestled between Essek and Molly on the sofa with a steaming bowl of hearty stew, something inane and trashy playing on the TV, Caleb reasoned that perhaps birthdays might not be all that bad, if they ended like this. Between the comfort of a familiar meal and the loving little kisses the both of his partners kept leaving on his skin, Caleb figured that he might have figured out what to finally answer when anyone asked him to describe the perfect evening.

But, of course, it was still early. The sun had barely set. Still plenty of time left on the proverbial clock to run down. 

As Caleb reached forward to place his empty bowl on the low coffee table, he caught Essek looking rather pointedly at Molly from the corner of his eye. Before he could open his mouth to propose changing the channel, Molly’s soft accented drawl cut him off, making his heart beat just a bit faster.

“Caleb,” Molly said, shifting to sit on his legs to better face Caleb, “Since it is your birthday and all, we should probably discuss your gift.”

A heavy, hard-to-place feeling settled into the pit of Caleb’s stomach at the tiefling’s words. Of course a quiet dinner at home wouldn’t be enough to satisfy whatever part of Mollymauk spurred him into making a lavish show out of just about everything. Turning back to consult Essek didn’t make things any better—the drow mage wore the smile Caleb knew from experience was a mix of fond exasperation (usually geared toward Molly) and warm support (generally directed at Caleb himself). He should have known he wouldn’t make it through the entirety of his birthday unscathed.

“Meine lieblinge, really, today has been lovely—”

“Caleb, dearest,” Essek murmured, reaching forward and taking one of Caleb’s hands into his own. Almost instantly, Caleb felt just how much he had tensed up at Molly’s words. With a heavy sigh, the human let his shoulders relax before turning back to face his other partner. Molly simply smiled patiently at him, waiting, and that alone was enough to get Caleb to finally acquiesce. These were his partners, the two pieces of his heart that he didn’t even try to imagine living without. He could trust them. 

“Ah, ja, what is there to discuss, Mollymauk?”

Molly’s smile spread into a gleeful grin, and Caleb caught sight of his tail wiggling excitedly behind him. 

“Well, we’re all very aware that you don’t think you deserve anything for yourself,” he continued, ignoring the mildly insulted noise Caleb made in response, “And honestly, between Essek’s extremely deep coffers and my penchant for scamming idiots out of their coin, I figured there’s not much you’d be in need of for a material present. So, our loving boyfriend helped me scheme a bit—”

“Ah, sil'iluuth, ‘scheme’ might not be the most comforting term appropriate—”

“And we’ve come up with what might be, at least in my opinion, the perfect present for you.”

Caleb had to smile at the extremely self-satisfied look that graced Molly’s features. 

“And so you’ve come up with, what exactly?”

Molly let out a low chuckle before leaning forward, bracing Caleb against Essek as he invaded the human’s personal space. 

“Well, if I recall correctly, you really love when we can get your keen little mind to quiet up for a bit.”

Movement caught Caleb’s attention from the corner of his eye. Mollymauk’s hands were pressed into the couch cushion next to Caleb’s leg, and he’d started gently flexing his fingers, drumming them in a slow, light dance against the fabric of the sofa, and Caleb’s keen little mind was quickly catching his lover’s drift. 

“And lucky for everyone here, the most efficient method of doing that is one you rather enjoy for multiple reasons, so it was a fairly simple decision to come to, in the end.”

He was so focused on Molly, already so flustered, that the feeling of Essek’s arms coming to wrap around his waist nearly caused Caleb to leap out of his own skin. The drow simply pressed himself against Caleb’s other side, his minutely cooler temperature a delightful contrast to the nervous heat currently coursing through him. The brush of his lips against Caleb’s neck pulled a gasp from the human, and his attempt to stifle it was severely hindered by the light caress of air in the same place when Essek spoke up. 

“Mollymauk, get on with it already.”

Molly’s grin somehow managed to grow even larger before he pushed all the way into Caleb’s other side, his own warm breath dancing across Caleb’s ear. 

“We’re going to tickle you incoherent, my sweet. How does that sound?”

Caleb felt his mouth go dry at the tiefling’s words. While it would still take a pack of moorbounders to draw it out of him, Caleb was a big enough man to admit quietly in his own head that he loved when Molly and Essek drove him out of his mind with tickling. Like Molly had said, there were a multitude of reasons he did.

Chief amongst them in that moment might have been the absolutely devilish way the words slipped from that sinful mouth, all clipped accent and raw desire. 

Presumably, neither of his partners were actually waiting for a response. Molly’s tone made it quite obvious that he knew what was floating through Caleb’s mind in that moment regardless of anything the human could hope to stutter out in reply. Essek’s fingers, dexterous in the distinct fashion of a gifted caster, started slowly etching random patterns up his sides, and it took more concentration than seemed necessary for Caleb to squash the giggles threatening to bubble up and out of him at the sensation. Unfortunately, the instinctual squirming that always accompanied those giggles was significantly more difficult to squander. 

Molly laughed again and leaned back enough to look Caleb in the eyes. 

“Honestly, we’ve both been itching to get at you all day,” he said softly, shared like a naughty secret in the shadows, “You don’t know how hard it is to keep from just pouncing on you and making you laugh until you safeword. We’ve really been remarkably good, haven’t we, Essek?”

The drow hummed in the affirmative, still keeping up a steady rhythm of mindless shapes and lines drawn into the human’s abdomen, and Caleb knew he was in trouble when he felt the extremely light drag of tiny elven fangs against his neck. He couldn’t possibly have held in the shuddering, giggly gasp that pulled out of him. 

Molly suddenly captured Caleb’s lips in a kiss, swallowing the wizard’s shocked little whines as he burrowed one clawed hand into the space just above his top rib, the other sneaking around to squeeze at his upper thigh. The teasy onslaught consumed Caleb’s consciousness entirely, perception whittled down into only the places his boyfriends were touching him. After a few moments—just long enough to feel like he was just starting to lose himself to the sensations—both Molly and Essek paused their ministrations, causing Caleb to whine a fair bit louder into Mollymauk’s mouth. 

“Patience, lotha murrpau,” Essek murmured before slowly pulling away from Caleb and going to stand from the sofa. Molly nipped teasingly at Caleb’s bottom lip before moving back himself, his tail quivering with poorly-concealed excitement as he pulled Caleb to his feet as well. 

“Might be a bit easier to do this in the bedroom, hmm?” 

The bedroom contained their (honestly a little bit ostentatious) bed, which Caleb knew had several concealed sets of restraints attached to it, so yes, that would make things a bit easier. 

The trio quickly made their way down the hall (with Caleb having to swat at Molly’s wandering hands the entire way). Essek made quick work of magicking the mountain of decorative throw pillows stacked against the headboard onto the floor while Molly stalked Caleb backwards until his knees hit the edge of the mattress.

A nervous grin had already spread across Caleb’s face—he was far too flustered to manage a stoic expression for even a moment—and the fluttering in his stomach was only quadrupled when two sets of hands delicately pulled his wrists and ankles to opposite ends of the mattress. He whined helplessly, squeezing his eyes shut when he caught both of them watching him with molten want. Molly let out a dangerous-sounding laugh as he connected Caleb’s bound wrists to an extra strap of leather poking out from between the pillows and the headboard. 

“Oh dear, look at that,” came Essek’s voice from his spot at the foot of the bed, checking that the cuffs around Caleb’s ankles were comfortably tightened, “It looks like we’ve broken him already, Mollymauk.”

“Mm, good, means we don’t have to work too hard to get him to actually laugh.”

A truer statement had rarely come out of the tiefling’s mouth. One pointed claw each swiped delicately above Caleb’s highest rib on either of his sides and it felt like pure lightning was coursing through him. A bright laugh punched out of Caleb’s throat, which only seemed to spur Molly into repeating the motion over and over, slow and steady. 

And if that weren’t enough to short out the human’s brain, the cool touch of Essek’s hand pushing the toes of his right foot back enough to wiggle clever fingertips into the spaces beneath certainly was. A rushed litany of Zemnian curses and broken pleading poured from him the moment the other wizard’s perfectly manicured nails touched down on his overly-sensitized skin. At his head, Molly cooed in mock sympathy. 

“Gods above, darling! I know you’re one of the most deliciously ticklish individuals I’ve had the honor to know, but really, begging already? We’ve hardly done anything!”

“Haa-h, Mollymauk, bitte, the t-heeeasing—”

Caleb’s own frantic laughter cut him off, Essek spidering both hands up his thighs as Molly dove back to his upper ribs. 

“Teasing!” Molly affected a melodramatic, affronted tone, carefully filed claws scritching infuriatingly against the ridiculously ticklish skin between his ribs and underarms, “Starlight, I think our sweet human has already lost his mind! I’m not teasing, am I?”

“Hmm, I think you’re right, love, there’s definitely no teasing of any sort happening here.”

Their banter was almost worse than their hands, and Caleb could do little else but thrash his head back and forth as his boyfriends carefully took advantage of two of his worst spots effortlessly. Of course, they both knew the wonderfully tortuous cycle—enough teasing would make the actual tickling twenty times worse, and the tickling would make every cruel word that fell from their lips feel as if someone had unleashed a horde of butterflies in his stomach. Sometimes it would hardly take more than the two of them talking and fluttering fingers threateningly to bring Caleb to this point, Common all but flown from his head and tears puddling in the corners of his eyes (Molly had been particularly proud the first time he’d managed to get Caleb to scream for mercy without even touching him once). 

But the electrifying feeling of their touches to his skin, switching between light, gentle tracing to rapid vibrating flutters to nipping pinches across his pale, freckled form were something else entirely. There was nothing else in his annoyingly keen mind but Essek and Mollymauk and the glee in their voices as they pointed out just how ticklish their brilliant wizard was, how much they knew he adored when they would take him apart like this. These moments were the moments Caleb lived for, craved just under his skin like an addict. How wonderful, that the two men he loved were more than happy to be his enablers. 

—

After what the others would later insist was just under an hour—despite the human feeling like it was far longer—and he had managed to squeal out their safeword, Caleb found himself being gently eased into their (also a bit ostentatious) bathtub, steam curling comfortingly off of the water’s surface. He reclined with a long, relaxed sigh against the lean, familiar chest of Molly, while Essek began rubbing soothing hands up and down his arms. Occasionally, a firm stroke would lighten to an almost-tickle, or Molly’s exceedingly devious tail would swipe across the back of his neck, but at the most, Caleb would let out a soft giggle before slipping back into a light doze. 

It felt a bit like his brain was melting out of his ears. 

Delightful. 

“So,” Molly’s voice vibrated through his chest, a soothing purr against Caleb’s back, “Good birthday?”

Caleb slowly blinked his eyes open, meeting Essek’s soft, adoring gaze as he replied with a simple, “Ja, very good.” 

Perhaps birthdays weren’t so much of a chore. If this was the new tradition, Caleb thought that he might just have to start looking forward to them. 

---

Undercommon:

chathtiu: firefly 

sil'iluuth: violet

lotha murrpau: little cat

Zemnian:

nein: no

meine lieblinge: my loves

ja: yes

bitte: please

[seawitch62]

Are you safe? Online or home? Safe?

Word count 571

Mentions of online stalking and dick photos, home intruders.

Yandere

            Unfriended. 

"This guy is a creep! Dick photos really! Unfriend" going through all the steps to unfriend the creep, mission accomplished I should have gone with my gut instinct in the first place. All the direct messages, the personal questions he was invading my privacy like a pest, unfriend the social media  post control. Where do you live? Vague, always reply with non descriptive vague answers.  What's your digits? Who talks like this? No you are not getting my number. The feeling that this creep was stalking my online activity. No proof, just a feeling. Now dick photos. I feel safer already. 

■

'You will regret this' what does this mean? What no more dick photos laughing out loud. A momentarily pause of unease, dont be stupid he is online he doesn't know where you live, your phone number or for that matter your name, he is just talking through his ass!

Block!.

🎲

"Just great!" The shower rose continues to drip, "damn it". 

The main office politely informs  they will send someone to look at it, as soon as possible. 

Knock knock knock.

Opening the door, San stands on the entranceway, overalls covering his frame, the apartment logo embroidered into the fabric, holding what can only be assumed as a tool kit. "Shower probs?" He asks in a polite congenial manner. Yes yes. San makes polite conversation as he works and fixes the issue. Once the job is completed "nice to meet you, if you have any other problems, call me" he hands over a piece of paper with a number. "Thank  you".

■

In the ensuing weeks, San waves as he passes on the maintenance buggy, a genuine smile canvases his face. Nice guy. 

"I'm just being paranoid," although I'm positive I did not use that coffee mug this morning. Looking into the Refrigerator, something is wrong. I just can not place my finger on it. 

Examining the shampoo bottle, "how much have I used? When did I buy it?" On closer inspection the conditioner seems to be lower than expected. The towels are still damp? 

■

A very faint scent of men's cologne lingers in the air, looking around 'am I alone?'  Frantically  searching the apartment, under the bed, the closest, every nook and cranny in fact. I am alone! Maybe a  maintenance guy was here? No! We always inform you beforehand, apartment rules. Just my imagination then.

♧

"I can't find them anywhere?" Searching the drawers, the laundry basket, everywhere. "Dammit I just bought them" frustration edging the tone. Frigging sick of the dryer stealing my knickers.

How many pairs have gone AWOL? Lost count! It's not  like they are cheap! Guess I will order more, sighing.

■

"Dirt!" I know this is not me! I would not traipse dirt through the apartment aimlessly.  The dirt trail leads to the kitchen bathroom and bedroom. Sweeping up the soil, had to be the maintenance guys! Right?

"No there was no scheduled maintenance for your apartment"

Are you sure?  Nothing in the books.

■

Unlocking the door, the scent of men's fragrance is looming and drifting within. Flicking on the light switch,  "what the fuck!".

The apartment is plastered with dick photos, they cover all the walls, everywhere you look the photo mocks you. Stunned and stumbling walking through the apartment, something on the bed catches the eye.

A note in bold black lettering.

'You can not block me!'.

[solarmorrigan]

For the Newmann writing prompts, how about either 7 or 21?

Thank you!

Hello! Thank you very much for the prompts! I ended up filling both because I had some nervous energy on my hands, so I'll post one here and put up the other shortly

Some slightly suggestive stuff below the cut, but nothing explicit. Enjoy?? <3

Semi-NSFW Meme: #7: being drenched whilst wearing white

-

Today has been perfectly nice, Hermann reflects as he settles back in his desk chair, steaming mug of tea cradled in his hands.

The weather is clear and crisp with the oncoming winter, the early commute had been easy, all of Hermann’s students this morning had had their assignments ready and had asked insightful questions in class, and Hermann now has a nice block of time in which to do some grading and appreciate the quiet.

This is, of course, when his office door bangs open.

“Hermann,” Newton announces as he comes stomping in, “today is not going very well.”

This seems like an understatement. There is thunderous look on Newton’s face and a smudge of something purple on his cheek. When he turns to shut the door, Hermann spots a feather caught in his hair. The tie he’d been wearing when they left the house that morning is missing.

He’s also dripping water from head to toe.

“I can see that,” Hermann finally says.

“Oh, can you?” Newton snaps, plucking at his soaking white button-down. “Can you see that I haven’t been having a good day?”

Hermann ignores the sarcasm (really, the louder Newton gets about it, the likelier it is that he’s the one to blame for his predicament) and focuses instead on the issue which is resulting in water being flicked around his office.

“Why are you all wet?”

Newton chews the inside of his lip for a moment. “Okay, so you remember the experiment I was gonna do with my class today?”

“The one you haven’t shut up about for at least a fortnight, between your excessive number of trips to the hardware store?” Hermann raises his brows. “Yes, I vaguely recall.”

“Right, so I had everything ready, and it should have been fine, but I might have forgotten to account for–”

Newton prattles on, but Hermann’s attention is quite suddenly diverted by a drop of water that falls from Newton’s dripping hair, slides down his neck, and soaks into the collar of his shirt.

While this would normally be an easily dismissed detail, Hermann finds himself rather viscerally reminded of the shower he and Newton had shared the other day. Hermann had taken great pleasure in attentively following the paths of the droplets of water that had rolled down Newton’s neck and shoulders with his tongue, nipping and sucking at the skin until Newton had been squirming beneath his hands.

Only when Newton had begged for something—anything—more had Hermann trailed lower, mouth roving over the colorful stretch of Newton’s tattoos–

Tattoos which are actually quite visible just now, Hermann realizes.

Newton’s damp shirt clings to the contours of his body, the plain white fabric gone nearly sheer with water, and the swirls and lines of the kaiju below show through in sharp contrast.

It must be one of Newton’s cheaper shirts, bought in bulk in deference to regular lab messes, Hermann reflects distantly; it’s all but transparent at this point. Hermann can see the peaks of Newton’s nipples right through the front, and imagines he must be chilled by the brisk weather.

The fabric hugs Newton’s biceps and tugs up from the waistband of his jeans as he gestures, revealing a slip of skin that is somehow tantalizing despite the abundance of skin visible through the shirt itself.

It’s then that Hermann recalls that he’s meant to be listening.

“–so I managed to put my tie out, but there were feathers everywhere, and that’s when the water tank broke.” Newton waves his arms, as if to mimic the oncoming rush of water. “And then maintenance came and kicked us all out. So I’ll probably never be allowed to do that again, but I hope my class at least got something out of it.”

They certainly got an eyeful, Hermann thinks.

“And you’re in my office, why?” he asks.

“Oh, I’m out of spare shirts in my office, but I have one stashed in your desk,” Newton says as he crosses around to the other side of Hermann’s desk.

Hermann frowns. “Since when?”

“Since forever?” Newton shrugs. “It’s my emergency-emergency shirt.”

Whatever Hermann had been about to say to that is lost when Newton begins to undo his buttons, revealing a widening strip of his colorful chest.

“Hm.” Hermann turns his chair to face Newton as he strips. “I suppose that shirt really ought to come off. You’ll catch your death, otherwise.”

“Right, that’s why I’m trying to get to my other shirt.” Newton nods towards the desk.

“Your trousers are soaked through, too, I imagine,” Hermann muses, without moving out of Newton’s way.

“Yeah, but I don’t actually have any spare pairs of pants. Probably should, but…” Newton shrugs again. “I’ll just wait it out.”

“Oh, that won’t do. They’ll dry faster if you take them off,” Hermann insists.

Newton steadfastly refuses to pick up on the hint. “O-kay, and what am I supposed to do while I’m waiting for them to dry?”

“I’m sure we could think of something.” Hermann very deliberately drags his gaze down Newton’s body and back up. “A way to warm you up, perhaps.”

For one long moment, Newton simply stares at Hermann, sodden shirt still hanging off his shoulders. Then it dawns on him.

“Really?” he asks, a delighted grin spreading across his face. “In your office?”

And just how is Hermann supposed to react, he’d like to know – alone in a room with his husband, who is wet and showing off nearly as much skin as he’s covering?

“We can lock the door,” Hermann says, as if this excuses anything.

“Why Dr. Gottlieb, this is scandalous,” Newton gasps, laying one hand theatrically over his chest.

“Newton,” Hermann sighs, “take off your shirt.”

The damp fabric hits the floor before Hermann has even finished speaking.

[naydraw]

HC (sorta) for the cup bros finding out the other has a crush on someone

So, it's gonna be more like a "imagine the situaton" thing, and i'll use Cala Maria for Mugman and Chalice for Cuphead as examples 'cause why not.

Mugman:

I think out of the two brothers, Mugman is the most familiar with the concept of love, but that doesn’t mean he knows exactly how it works. He learned a lot by reading the stories in his books, so he has a vague ideia of how it is when someone is in love, but things get tricky when it comes to real life. A scene that describes this really well is when Cala Maria is dumping the shit out of BrineyBeard and then it cuts to the boys and Mugs is like “oh no, she doesn’t love him back! That’s so sad!” while Cups is just like “WTF am I witnessing?”

So imagine this:

The boys just got their planes fixed from the last fight with Cala Maria, they had their encounters before but this time things were more serious, they had their own souls on the line, so they couldn't risk losing this time. Cuphead was firm in what had to be done, but Mugman wasn't so confident on the mission.

"Okay Mugsy! Just a few more upgrades and we'll be ready to beat that giant mermaid, she's gonna hand her soul contract in one way or another!"

"Um, Cuphead couldn't we just try to talk to her this time?"

"We tried to talk to other debtors before and it didn't go well, remember?"

"But what if this time is different? What if she actually listen to us?"

"Are you crazy?! What makes you think a giant sea monster with laser eyes that petrifies you would do if we went there and just said 'G'day ma'am could you give us YOUR soul contract so we can free OUR necks from the Devil?'" Cuphead says while making exaggerated expressions to amplify his sarcasm.

"Well I don't know, it's just... She seems so nice and elegant while also strong, I mean look at her! And her voice is so soothing... and her eyes are-" He stops mid sentence and looks at Cuphead which is just staring at him in confusion.

With that Mugman realises that he was daydreaming about her again. He can feel his cheeks heat up from embarassment, so he tries to brush it off saying "heh, lets forget that I said that!" But it's too late.

"Wait, why would you- Oh, you have a crush on her, don’t you?!" The cup looks with a teasing smile.

"What?! That's not true!" he shouts blushing even more.

"Yeah, it is!" His brother says while bursting out laughing.

"No, it's not! What makes you think on something like that? Just ‘cause i think she’s…kinda pretty? And that i like the way she fights, and- Oh no!”

“BAHAHAHAHA” Cuphead is now rolling on the ground unable to contain the laughter. “I can’t believe! You really fell for the sea beast. Oh Mugsy, I didn’t know had a thing for big women!”

Mugman was more annoyed than embarrassed now, how can Cuphead make fun of something he himself doesn’t have any ideia how it works?

“Fine! Maybe I do have a crush on her. So what?! This does not change my opinion on trying to talk to her instead of just going on fighting!”

“Okay, okay! You don’t need to get mad, if you think it’s worth a shot, we might as well try it.” He said petting Mugman on the back.

“Really? Would you do that for me?” Mugman’s eyes glow as he said.

“Of course! But if it doesn’t work, we’re doing it my way, deal?” Cuphead extended his hand in an offering manner.

Mugman takes it and shake his hand “Deal!”

Cuphead:

As for Cuphead, although he knows about the concept of love, he's not really a fan of it. He thinks it's cheesy and kinda boring, so when someone mentions it, he either makes fun of it, or does not care at all. But things get different when HE gets a crush on someone! At first he's confused, he doesn't know how to act, he doesn't know how to feel, so he'll bottle down his emotions and act like nothing is wrong. And if somebody acknowledge his behavior, he'll deny it to death only to get more and more obvious.

So get this scene:

It's a beautiful, sunny morning. The cup bros agreed to go fishing last night and the weather was perfect to do it. They had almost everything ready to go.

"Alright Cuphead!" Mugman enters the room with the last supllies for the trip "I got the fish rod and lures all ready to- Are you okay brother?"

Cuphead was lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling with a pouty expression. "I don't know Mugsy, I haven't been feeling so well lately I think I might be sick..."

Mugman approaches his brother and puts a hand on his forehead to check his temperature "Mmm... You don't seem to have a fever, what exactly are you feeling? Wait, don't tell me yet!" He runs away from the room but then comes back with fake glasses and a doctor's coat.

He grabs a notebook and a pen nearby, sits on a chair next to Cuphead "Ok patient Cuphead, tell me what have you been feeling lately?" Mugman says impersonating a doctor.

Cuphead sits on the bed and starts "Well, sometimes I have this weird sensation in my tummy, my palms get sweaty, my mind gets cloudy and I'm not able to think straight..."

"Not... think... straight..." Mugman says to himself while taking notes. Then it hits him. All these 'symptoms' Cuphead is telling him, could it be... "Interesting, what else?"

"Oh, sometimes I feel like I ran a marathon even thought I didn't do anything and my heart feels like it's going to explode!" He continues.

"Right, and can you remember when these weird feelings started to show up?" The boy asks his brother just to make sure of his assumptions.

"Um, I think it all started since the last time Chalice was here with us..."

"THAT'S IT!" Mugman shouts excitedly.

"What?! What is it doctor Mugman? Is it serious? Am I dying?!" Cuphead keeps asking with a worried expression.

"No, it's Chalice!"

"Wait, do you think she was sick too? Did she pass me the illness, or somethin'?" He was starting to get frustrated, how come he gets sick and his brother doesn't? the three of them we're together all the time!

"No Cuphead, can't you see?" Mugman says while giggling. "You're in love!"

"What?! No, i'm not!"

"Yes, you are!" He was laughing now.

"No. I. Ain't! Stop laughing!" The cup boy pushes his brother, and can't help but feel his cheeks blush a little. Maybe mugman's right, but that doesn't mean he can make fun of his feelings like that! "It's not funny..."

"You're right, it's not funny, but it sure is adorable, I already imagine you two walking together, side by side and holding hands and-"

"AAAAH!" Cuphead shakes his head and flops on to the bed, burying his face in the pillow "That's terrible! how can this happen?!"

"Oh, c'mon Cuhead! It's not the end of the world. You just got a crush, it's a natural thing that can happen to anyone. And don't worry, I won't tell anything to her."

His brother lifted his head from the pillow to look the Mug. "Promise?"

Mugman raises his palm "Promise!"

With that Cuphead sighs and gets out of the bed "thanks Mugsy, now lets get some fish, shall we?"

[multific]

Keanu Reeves Dating Someone Who is Covered in Tattoos and is a Secret Service Agent - Headcanons

Keanu Reeves x Reader

Request: Hey I love your writing. I was wondering for hcs if you could do some for Keanu Reeves with dating someone who is covered in tattoos and is a secret service agent please.

A/N: Thank you very much!

First of all, this man is a REAL gentleman

He wouldn’t care if you are covered in tattoos or if you have none

But you would often find him looking at them and asking the meaning behind each and every one

Even if after many years together he would have the whole thing memorised, he would still ask

He loves hearing you talk about your life before him

And if you have tattoos after meeting him

You best believe he would be thrilled to go to the Tattoo shop with you and watch the artist work

He would want to make sure it’s perfect

When you tell him that you are an agent, he wouldn’t believe you

He would look at you like ‘Very funny, Y/N.’ and just ignore your ‘joke’

It isn’t until a few things happen, when he finally starts to believe

Like he comes to pick you up after work, and the guard just doesn’t want to let him into the building

Or when he watched you catch a falling mug mid-air, reflexes sharp

Or when he met your co-worker and they pretended like they didn’t know you

But Keanu saw the woman talking to you just the day before

Then he started to believe you

Keanu got more interested

He wanted to know more

But when he asked about your job, you only gave vague stories or you flat out said that it is confidential

At first it irritates him, he wanted to know more

But as the years pass, he thinks it’s badass that you can’t share everything

Would totally ask you about his John Wick training

He would want to make sure the movie is as accurate as can be

And when you give your feedback he would go to the director

“I know someone.” he would explain when the director would ask how did he know so much?

Would totally show you off

To everyone

Even if he can’t mention your line of work

He would still be like “Yup, that’s my girlfriend.”

He would often joke about ‘finding a confidential document so you’d have to kill him’

But when you don’t laugh he would be concerned

Him being away for filming is good because you can schedule your work at the same time

Arriving home when he is there is like everything you would ever want

It’s warm, homey, nice and it means cuddles

Him arriving home when you are there is just the same

Warm, homey, soft and it means love-making all night long

And since you have some special skills, you’d totally find the engagement ring he hid in his drawer

Life would be just like him, perfect

Taglist: imreadinggoaway @fleursirvart v-2bucky ehsebastiancrunch-time-sports  @pxstelrainbow ablogbypeteparker liamssmilersmexylemony @greenarrowhead feelingsareharddd@thisismysecrethappyplace @sincerelyfan @theoneanna @aestheticsandmarvel @rororo06 @castellandiangelo @avengers-r-us @destynelseclipsa   @spilledinkindumpster celebsimagine@capsiclesdoll snoopy3000 @firstangeldragonranch @puknow crazzyter  @alwayshave-faith @soleil-dor @alex12948 scream-kiwi79  @lxdyred  @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

My taglist is open!

Feedback is greatly appreciated. Thank you for reading my story!~

[maryeve-the-bitch]

Day 2 of Royal Red Bros week  Growing Up || Remembrance/Nostalgia

Title: Never gonna give you up Word count: 647 @royalredbrosweek

After a few hours of work, England went back inside to prepare some tea for him and Canada. Tomorrow was going to be a busier day with the rest of the commonwealth, including Australia and New Zealand. After the tea was done, England brought his and Canada’s cup to the table outside. The weather was nice for once and perfect to enjoy a cup of tea with his adoptive son / brother. Arthur wasn’t sure exactly what their relationship was, but he wouldn’t change it for the world. 

They enjoyed their tea peacefully, no words needed. Only the chirpings of the birds and the few cars passing by the street could be heard. Arthur soon found himself to be staring at the grass next to Matthew, deep in thought. He remembered his first meeting with little Canada. He was called New France at the time and he was so small and innocent. He admitted that at the time, he wasn’t the best parental figure Matthew deserved, but he told himself that it was probably better than nothing or than some other nations. His gaze moved to Matthew’s gold hair, shining under the sunlight. It reminded Arthur about the time he was sick and Canada was by his side. Even after all they’ve been through, Matthew was by his side. The wars, even against his own brother. Again and again, Matthew chose him. He wanted to know the reasons. No one ever stayed by his side all these times. Not even France. Not even Portugal. They all gave up on him at some point before coming back to him. But not Matthew. 

“Something on your mind?”  Canada’s quiet voice put him back to reality like the morning sunlight waking him up. 

“Ah. Not really. I was reminiscing about our times together.” Arthur took a sip of his tea, crossing his legs. Matthew cocked his head to the side, reminding the older nation of a cute dog. 

“That bad, huh?”  Matthew sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. 

“Oh no no. Not at all. They are good memories.”  Arthur paused.  “Do you remember when we first met? You were very small. I could almost fit you in one hand.”  He teased with a smile around his mug. “Please. I was not. And I vaguely remember.” 

“I asked if we could be family and you answered that you’d try your best.”  A nostalgic smile appeared on Arthur’s face.  “ I wouldn’t have ever imagined that your best was going to be the best I have ever had.” 

Shocked by this confession, Matthew put his hands together and rubbed them. He stayed silent, looking down on his knee. He didn’t know what to say and he was convinced that if he tried to say anything, he would probably stutter nonsense. 

Was there alcohol in the tea? Usually, Arthur doesn’t express his feelings much unless he is pissed drunk. “May I ask why have you stayed by my side all these times?”  Arthur looks at him with softness. 

“I- well, because, because you did. You never gave up on me so I never gave up on you.”  Matthew answered shyly. 

Arthur knew for a fact that if he was plastered or if he was anything like France, he would have teared up. Maybe he would later when he’d be alone. Should he hug him? Thank him for everything he did? To his surprise, Matthew got up and bent over to give his adoptive dad an awkward hug. Arthur gently patted the boy’s back, accepting the hug. Matthew’s body felt all warm against Arthur’s.

 He was all grown up now, even way taller and bigger than Arthur. He didn’t regret how he raised Matthew as he grew up to be the kindest and loveliest man, but a large part of it must be thanks to the boy himself. Arthur couldn’t be more proud of him.