#ice pack vest

[impulsivelycontentious]

Firstly, if you have brain damage you are likely also suspectable to the heat now, it's a very common long term complication (not sure of term).

Secondly, as someone who is now VERY temperature sensitive (fun), I recommend an ice pack vest. You can buy some online! But if YOU actually cannot, you can make some!

Thanks to Cosplayers and Furries, here's some online tutorials on how:

A real basic flat pack

A vest you actually freeze (advanced)

A video with front and back

How to make your own ice packs

I bought my ice packs and use some cell ice packs that are hard - soft ones are more comfortable but these things have a lot of staying power and my research doesn't go far enough to find out if i could get flexible ones that can also handle several hours outside.

With pride month here, allow me to STRONGLY RECOMMEND for anyone who is heat sensitive who intends to be out and about in crowds in the northern hemisphere.

I can recommend the make of the ice packs if anyone is curious.

psa to everyone on antipsychotics during the summertime

some antipsychotics can make you more susceptible to heat exhaustion because they make it so your body cannot regulate your body temperature correctly. I learned this the hard way last summer, I got really nasty heat exhaustion while on a high dose of quetiapine. so check if your meds react badly to heat, and if they do, please be sure to wear your sunscreen, have light cover ups on or with you, wear a hat, and stay hydrated! be safe

[whelpimnauthuman]

So I just got my ice vest! MIL ordered 2 by accident (Spouse had asked if she could buy them bc Prime, she assumed it was for Spouse and BIL), so now I have so many ice packs. Like, as long as I have a cooler with me, I can take what I'm using, replace it with another frozen set, still have more left over.

I feel like the T-Rex with the grabbers

[mrs-elsie-barnes]

Back To Work | Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader | Drabble - 800 words

Retirement, a new house, a romantic evening planned, Bucky just knew that life was all going too well . Especially when he starts being hounded to return to his superhero life.

Warnings: language, fluff, a little angsty at the end. Featuring domestic thunderbolts Bucky.

Dividers by @firefly-graphics and @reveriesources

Masterlist | Bucky Barnes

“Bucky, are you ready to go baby?” Your voice carried through from the living room as he clicked his arm back into place, shrugging his shoulder to get the fit right. 

You'd been excited all day, buzzing around the new house and opening boxes, trying to unpack at the same time as finding the perfect outfit. Bucky was only half regretting making plans so soon after moving, sure it was stressful trying to dig out his nice shoes from the piles of boxes and bags, but seeing you so happy was completely worth it and knowing you’d be coming home to your house, together, was just the icing on the cake. 

Now the sun was setting and you had turned on the downlighters in the kitchen, void of your usual clutter it looked lonely. 

“Just checking my phone, Doll.” He called back picking the offending item up from the counter - so many missed messages, he sighed.

 He'd been better recently, replying to Sam and catching up with him every week or so. He'd even managed to facetime Steve in his retirement home. He quite enjoyed the easy freedom of digital communication. But today, of all days, it had been pinging non-stop all driving him crazy during the drive and ruining the relaxing and, he hoped, romantic atmosphere he was trying to create. 

“Come on, baby, I don't want to be late.” You strolled into the kitchen and he dropped the phone again to focus his attention on you instead, taking in your dress and heels, your lipstick perfectly done. How could he worry about a stupid phone when you were together. 

“C’mere,” he pulled you close, tucking you under his chin and planting a kiss to the top of your head. 

He smelt lovely, fresh from the shower but with the hint of cut wood from building furniture. His vest revealed the hint of his dog tags, outlined under the fabric, as well as his tanned skin from a summer well spent outside, your traced your fingers over the chain and up his neck. Tangling your fingers in his long hair you tugged him down for a kiss. 

“Love you, Buck.” You whispered against his lips, heat surging through you just at his presence. 

“Love you too.” His lips tickled your cheek, behind your ear, and then he was swinging you up onto the counter. 

“Don't make us late!” 

“If you don't like it, stop giggling.” His fingers tickled up your bare legs, eyes twinkling with desire. 

Ping 

“That fucking phone,” Bucky growled, grabbing it again. More messages, more missed calls. 

“You should see what they want,” wrapping your arms and legs around him as you tugged Bucky closer, every line and curve fitting against him perfectly. He was sun warmed and cuddly, still ridiculously strong, but the hard lines and plains had softened since his retirement and you couldn’t get enough. 

“Fine, for you, then we're going to go and have a nice dinner and I'm leaving this stupid thing here.” He grumbled, chin on top of your head. 

You giggled again, leaving kisses on his chest. Bucky was so attached to that thing you didn't believe it for a second. Until his breathing went funny, heartbeat speeding up beneath your cheek. 

“What is it?”

His eyes had lost their sparkle, looking sad and serious. 

“I might have to rearrange dinner.” 

“What? Why?” You couldn’t see the phone, but his eyes raced across whatever he’d been sent.

“Where did we pack the gear?”

“The what? Oh - uh,it's in the trunk, in the garage but -” 

Bucky slid away, eyes glazed, focussed, intent and you were suddenly so cold without his presence.Your heart sank listening to the movement in the garage on the other side of the wall. 

He emerged ten minutes later, his smart trousers and vest discarded in favour of leather, the dirty t-shirt he'd been wearing while you were unpacking was back and he’d at least grabbed his soft leather jacket for protection. 

You threw yourself into his arms, tears springing to your eyes. “Are you needed?” 

“I think so,” his voice was low, sinking into the headspace required to take on whatever danger was lurking. 

“Come back to me in one piece, okay?” Your voice cracked, arms squeezing him impossibly tight.

“Of course, doll.” He looked at you then, tears welling in his own eyes, his lips so soft against your own. 

“You're my hero, you know that? You don't have to do anything else?” 

He nodded, letting you slide back to the floor, heels clicking on the tile in a sad reminder of your ruined evening. 

“I love you, Bucky.”

“I love you, lock the door behind me, okay? Don’t let anyone, anyone, in.” 

It was your turn to nod, you knew the protocols, the rules that reassured him. 

His bike roared to life, then he was gone, and you were alone in the echo of your home. 

[totheblood]

protective!spencer reid headcanons

a/n: this is a remake of one of my headcanons i did for ellie but i completely rewrote it cause yea... AI AUDIOS throughout, also reblogs, asks, and replies are so appreciated and encouraged! thank u kisses

spencer is extremely protective of you, more than anyone else in his life... he just doesn't know how to show it

he knows that the job entails danger and as much as he doesn't like it, there isn't much he can do about it

but that doesn't stop him from trying

when you partner up on cases together he always makes sure he enters first, a hand outstretched to make sure you're always covered

"it's clear, you can come on in now," he would whisper, gun still drawn. 

"spence, you don't have to do that every time."

"i know," he'd say with a small smile, "but i want to."

he tries not to coddle you. he has seen you take down unsubs twice your size(which he would be lying if he said it didn't turn him on), but sometimes his protective instincts just take over.

he'd rather put himself at risk than see you hurt. even after you're cursing him out, hands in a balled up fist banging on his kelvar vest. 

"what the fuck was that?" you'd yell, face getting hot, "i had him, and you could've gotten yourself killed,"

with an ice pack pressed to his forehead where the unsub got a punch in he closed his eyes gently, "i know, i know... i didn't even think, i just saw his hands on you and i just... look, i'm sorry for scaring you but i'm never going to be sorry for protecting you."

but when you get injured on a case, he just loses it

"what were you thinking, running in like that with no back up?" he'd scold while gently dabbing at the wound on your arm. 

"spence, I'm fine, it's just a scratch."

"just... be more careful next time, okay?" he'd say softly, looking around to make sure no one was watching before pressing a gentle kiss to your forhead, “i… can’t lose you.”

or if you were partnered with someone else and you came back with even a semblance of a bruise, he'd have his eyebrows furrowed, lips twisted into a scowl as he approached you, hands gently holding your arms, his face softening when you wince at the contact

"what happened?" he'd say voice tight, looking up at morgan who was trailing in behind you, looking guilty as ever. 

as derek opened his mouth to speak, you spoke up, "it wasn't his fau-"

"i didn't see him coming," morgan shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose, "i got him off of her the minute he was on her."

"he shouldn't have had a chance to be on her," spencer spat back angrily.

"spence, it all happened in a matter of seconds," you say, voice sickeningly sweet as you tried to sooth his nerves, "i didn't see him coming either,"

"i know," he sighed, closing his eyes as he took a shaky breath in, "i know, but all it takes is one second and you could be..."

"i know," you pull him into a hug, his tall frame leaning down to wrap you in his arms, "but i'm here and i'm okay."

his protectiveness extends beyond the field too. 

the team would be out for drinks at o'keeffe's, you with a saltrimmed glass as you sat next to him. as you licked the edges, and drank your margarita with a satisfied grin, he would smile to himself, his smile dropping the minute a tall gruff man approached the two of you 

spencer's fingers twitch as the man puts his hand on the small of your back, taking notice in how your body tenses immediately and you laugh nervously. 

when he was in front of the team he wasn't your boyfriend spencer, he was your coworker spencer and as much as you planned on keeping it that way, spencer's patience was wearing thin each second the man's hand was on you. 

he'd cringe as you lean away from the man, mumbling some excuse like "i have a boyfriend," which made spencer's lips quirk upwards, just for a moment before he realized the man was still leaning into you, whispering, "he doesn't have to know,"

it's then that he steps in, getting up from his seat and stepping in between you and the man, flashing his badge at him with a quirked eyebrow and tight voice as he said, "i believe my colleague has made it clear she's not interested."

after a long case, one he knows hits you harder than the other's he is insisting you go to his apartment with him, his hands linking in yours the minute he's in the car and rubbing soothing circles into your palm

his voice is soft as he speaks over the radio, "everything okay, baby?"

"yeah," you would mumble, but he knows you too well and he knows that's not true. but he also knows you well enough to not bring it up again, choosing to distract you with your favorite songs on the drive or a warm bath when you get home, pressing sweet kisses all over your face as he bathes you

when you're sick, he shows up with:

homemade soup (his mother's recipe), herbal teas, and your favorite books which he reads to you, despite your protests for him to stay away.

instead he'd be telling you to open up as he fed you chicken soup while speaking to you gently, "did you know that chicken soup can actually help reduce inflammation? the chicken and vegetables in chicken soup actually inhibit the migration of neutrophils which can help you breathe better."

in public, his eyes always find you. especially at work he is glancing over at you from his desk, pen in his hand tapping the desk as he looks over at you for the thirteenth time that hour. 

"she's fine, kid. she's not going to magically disappear from her desk," derek teases, as he leans on spencer's desk, looking over at where your eyes finally met his and gave him a soft smile. 

"i know. i just like seeing her smile," spencer replies, voice soft as he smiles back at you. 

[paceprompting]

Need a Ride?

written for ‘snowfall’ wc: 1000 # | steddie | rated: g | cw: non archive warnings apply | tags: alternate first meeting, pre-season four, feat. steve harrington's beemer

@steddieholidaydrabbles

He was sending his van right to the dump this time. He meant it.

Stupid engine he’d had to drop all his profits on for the third time crapping out right in the middle of the road. Leaving him to hoof it back to the gas station and hope that Wayne was home from his shift to get the call.

And of course, the snow season had to start today.

Head ducked against the wind, with only his battle vest and leather jacket against the bracing cold and snowflakes that stung his cheeks and nose where it wasn’t covered by his hair. He was just glad that there were streetlights so he wasn’t veering off into nowhere in the dark.

He could barely feel his fingers in his pockets by the time he made it to the station. He was still shivering, so he wasn’t quite at the point of hypothermia, but even dialing the numbers on the pay phone was a bit of a feat in itself.

Eddie put his back to the wind as the phone rang. And rang. Eventually, it rang out.

Wayne must have picked up a double shift. Not unusual, especially this time of year. Honestly, Eddie should have guessed that in the first place and called the plant instead of the trailer.

And he didn’t have enough change for another call. Guess he shouldn’t have stopped to buy that pack of cigarettes. That he’d already opened and smoked one from before his shitty van broke down.

“Fuck,” Eddie hissed, smacking the receiver into the hook.

He could trudge back to the van and settle in for the night. But without heat, he’d be just as well off trying to walk home in the wind and snow. And he wasn’t going to be getting sympathy with how he was dressed for spare change, much less did he have anything to deal to someone who would give him the time of day.

If he didn’t figure this out quick, he was going to get arrested for loitering.

Although…

“Munson?”

He perked up despite himself, recognizing the voice. Even if it wasn’t exactly someone he was elated to have run into at a pretty low point in his day.

Standing there under cover from the wind, the snow fell gently onto Steve Harrington. Of course it did. Settled on his hair and his jacket like powdered sugar on an overly-sweet dessert.

He wasn’t getting gas, pulled over and stood with the driver’s door open. One hand braced on the door and the other on the hood of his car, Steve stared curiously at Eddie. He was actually dressed for the weather, a puffy white and pale blue-striped monstrosity with fur around the hood.

Steve glanced at the rest of the gas station, noticing that his was the only car around.

“What are you doing here?”

Eddie stayed beside the payphone, in the wind and snow, but the farthest he could be from Steve. He’d dealt to him a few times, just weed, really, and only knew Steve by reputation. Last he’d heard, Steve had just dumped his two lackeys, Tommy and Carol and had slung ice cream at the Starcourt Mall until it burst into flames.

Why Harrington could care about him, Eddie had no idea.

“Van broke down,” he answered shortly, shoving his hands in his pockets even though the leather was nearly as cold as the wind. He gave a strained smile. “Stuck here.”

“Phone busted?”

“Out of money.” Eddie cocked his head, feeling bold. “Got fifty cents?”

It’d be enough for another call to the trailer and one to Wayne’s work for safety.

Steve raised both brows, and Eddie blanched. He and Steve were practically strangers, and he’d immediately hit Steve up for money. Even if he was known as the rich kid with parties every week because his parents were never home—Eddie was so far off his radar, he might as well have been gum under his shoe.

“I could give you a ride,” Steve said instead. “Forest Hills, right?”

A ride in the Steve Harrington’s Beemer. Sleek and maroon and drool-worthy.

The girls at school that would have literally slit his throat to be in Eddie’s place.

Eddie’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head, but he managed to find words and point back at the payphone with his thumb.

“I really just need to call my uncle. He’ll come get me.”

Steve leveled a gaze at him. “And you’ll spend an hour in the snow waiting. I’m not going to leave you out here to freeze.”

Eddie sucked his teeth, staring Steve down. He hated to give Steve the point of being right, but he was starting to lose feeling in his hands and his cheeks were stinging from the wind across his face.

He sighed, wetting his bottom lip. Or tried to, since the wet from his tongue only made his face freeze more.

“Fine,” he said, ducking his head as he trudged toward the Beemer. He didn’t dare stop to double-check with Steve, wincing as he pulled his hand from his pocket to open the door and slide inside.

The inside was immediately ten times warmer, blasting from the fans and Eddie nearly moaned. Until Steve’s door slammed closed and suddenly Eddie was inside Steve Harrington’s car. With Steve Harrington.

“You good, Munson?”

He was staring, he realized only after Steve spoke. If Steve wasn’t apprehensive about letting the school freak into his car, he was sure to be when Eddie acted as though he’d been raised far from civilization.

He forced a hard swallow. “Just surprised this isn’t all some trick. My type doesn’t exactly mesh with your type.”

Steve gave this chuckle, like an inside joke only he had any idea of.

“Right,” he said softly, and Eddie definitely felt as though he was way out of the loop on a new kind of Steve Harrington.

A kind he had a single car ride to figure out.

Part Two

[kingkatsuki]

— heatwave

I’m suffering through the heatwave over here, and Bakugou is the only thing that could make it better or worse.

Warnings: 18+, not proofread, Bakugou is your roommate, sweaty sex, dirty talk, spanking, creampie.

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x f!reader.

Word Count: 3.8k.

“It’s too damn hot,” Bakugou growled as he lay the back of his head against the couch. Even the soft, worn fabric was uncomfortable against his back. Retaining more heat than necessary paired with his body temperature it had sweat pooling against his skin.

Life as an up and coming Pro-Hero had been rough. With long shifts, terrible hours and little pay he was stuck in this dingy, stuffy apartment. Waiting for the day he’d add an extra figure onto his paycheck to have enough to move out. Things like air conditioning were a lavish luxury that he couldn’t afford right now, so it meant suffering through the torridness with a small ice pack he’d grabbed from the freezer.

The only bonus was having a roommate like you.

Originally Bakugou had been adverse to living under the same roof as someone, unable to trust anyone living in close quarters with him. There was an entire cacophony of issues that could arise from picking the wrong person— from being kept up all night, the mess they could leave behind to having friends or hookups in his shared space.

But you had been a godsend, understanding of his unsocial work schedule and his house rules. You could even argue that you were a better roommate than he was, with his friends delighting in showing up unannounced and causing a mess in his apartment. Something that you were always so understanding of when you’d join them for movie nights or dinner.

You were a blessing. Or now that he thought about it, perhaps it was a curse. Now forced to watch you practically saunter around in the shortest short shorts known to man in a feeble attempt to try and deal with the extreme temperatures. Your top half not much better, the stringy vest top you wore— without a bra no less— exposed your midriff and the cute stiffened peaks of your nipples. Not that he was looking, and even if he was what did you expect him to do.

Rubbing sweat from his upper lip as he spreads his legs wide on the couch as you made your way into the kitchen, his crimson eyes roaming your figure as the shorts hugged the swell of your ass perfectly. Dipping in between the cheeks as he imagined pulling them apart to see what was hidden between them, the material dangerously close to revealing it to him anyway—

You were doing absolutely nothing to help quell the heat oozing through his body. In fact, Bakugou was certain you were making it worse. His cock jumping at the sight of you, pulsing beneath his shorts as his Adam’s apple bobbed. Praying that this sudden heatwave would cease and he could stop being tortured by the sight of you like this every damn day, it was bad enough when he’d catch peeks of you in a towel coming from the bathroom towards your bedroom, or forgotten panties left strewn around. But this? This was unbearable.

“I can’t deal with this heat,” The whiny tone to your voice had Bakugou silencing a growl deep in his chest, watching you hold the back of your hand to your forehead dramatically, “I wanna sit in the freezer.”

“Don’t you dare.” Bakugou knew from experience the heat alone would be enough to shut down the entire machine, and you both definitely didn’t have enough money to replace it if it did.

And that freezer was the only thing satiating the heat so far. Shoving his melting ice pack against his chest, the contents quickly changing form to liquid as he tried to make the most of it before it would have to go back inside the freezer.

“Let me feel,” You came around the couch to stand in front of him, his eyes set in a heavy glare as he tried to weigh up whether it was worth letting you feel how cold the pack was.

It was bad enough having you so scantily clad in such short proximity to him right now, certain he could now smell the saccharine of your perfume as you pulled the top of your vest down, exposing the swell of your breasts as you presented your sternum to him.

Bakugou pushes the pack to your chest and immediately regrets it when the sound you let out is downright sinful. You have to know what you’re doing to him, the way your lips curl into a delicious looking pout and your eyes roll to the back of your skull.

“Oh god, that feels so fucking good.” You moaned, eyes clenched shut to focus on the cool chill that slowly washed over your chest.

His cock jumps in his shorts as he tries to shift his hips to avoid you from noticing the now very evident bulge, the throb pounding through his veins as he feels a different kind of heat beginning to take over.

He should stop here, take his ice pack back and tell you to go and sit in front of your mini desk fan again. Get you out of the room and as far away as possible and save this for another day, a day when you’re both not delirious from the intense heat.

But his depraved thoughts have already consumed him, the thought of your plush body pressed against his while he slides his throbbing cock inside you now at the forefront of his mind as he presses the pack lower. Watching as you arch your back towards it, welcoming the cool chill as you lean forward to splay your sweaty palms against his thick thighs.

And whether he’s delirious from the heat, or it’s the desperate look in your eyes he doesn’t know. All he knows is he’s kissing you fiercely, the ice pack drops forgotten between your bodies in favour of grabbing your hips.

“Fuck,” You kiss him back, words swallowed by his chapped lips as you feel the bulge between his thighs press snug against your crotch.

Your hands reach up to card through messy blond spikes as your nails graze his damp scalp, your tongue swiped against his as he palms your ass. Calloused fingertips disappear beneath the flimsy fabric as he squeezes the fat of it, tugging you down against his hardness as he pulls more sultry sounds from your throat.

“It’s too hot for this, Katsuki.” You whine, breaking the kiss as you gasp for air in the humid room.

At this chance Bakugou’s lips venture lower, peppering kisses along your jawline towards your collarbones until he reaches the hem of your vest. Tugging the fabric down to reveal your round breasts, his tongue pokes out to wet his lips at the marvellous sight.

His nighttime fantasies can’t compare to the sight in front of him, crimson eyes shamelessly ogle your skin to commit the sight to memory as he leans forward.

“Shut up,” He rasps back gruffly while mouthing your breast.

You’re right, it’s entirely too hot for any kind of strenuous activity, especially when he’s sweating so much it already feels like he’s run a marathon. But the way your soft body feels pressed against his is too much to pass up. Especially when this is what he’s been dreaming about ever since he moved in with you, fisting his cock too. It’s too much to leave it to chance that he may get this opportunity again later. Bakugou’s always been a greedy man, and he wants to have you now.

“Fuck,” You cry out when his teeth graze your nipple, pushing your crotch against his with more urgency.

Certain you’ve leaked through the flimsy fabric, desire surges through you dense and fast. A stark contrast to your lethargic movements as you grind yourself down on his lap pathetically.

“Katsuki,” You whine.

His strong hands are doing all the work as he moves you how he pleases. Strong palms pick you up by the meat of your ass to drop you back down on his length. Grinding your puffy clit against his pelvis with each motion as he has you crying out in pleasure.

“Fuck, Katsu. S’too hot—”

You weren’t sure whether it was the humid air permeating the room or the way that Bakugou was looking at you with smouldering eyes that had your body aflame. Muggy, vapid air filling your lungs as clammy hands stroked along his bare torso. Mapping out a course of newly discovered territory as you let your thumbs brush against his pebbled nipples, his chest vibrating against your touch with more sultry groans.

“I know you are, sweetheart.” He hummed, his fingers brushing the crotch of your shorts, “Let me make you feel good.”

“Oh,” You gasped when you felt the calloused pads stroke your labia, involuntarily leaning forward to give him more space as Bakugou began to spread you apart for him. Fingers gliding through your messy folds, dragging your essence along your slit until he found your puffy clit.

The contact had you jolting forward, nails grazing his chest as he focused his attention on it. Circling it tentatively with the pad of his finger as you began to rock your hips back against him, uncaring about how debauched you looked as you began to seek your own pleasure.

“Yeah?” He rasped, and the gravelly husk did nothing but increase the desperation inside you, “You like that?”

“Fuck, please—“ You buried your head in the curve of his neck, your lips pressed against the slick skin as you tasted the saltiness of his sweat on your tongue.

“Please what, sweetheart,” He cooed.

“Please—“ You gasped when you felt his thumb press against your empty hole. He knew exactly what you wanted, he was toying with you.

“Tell me what you want.”

“Your fingers.” You were shameless, your hips grinding back against him as Bakugou finally took mercy on you and pushed his thumb into your sloppy entrance. The slightest penetration enough to drag a deep moan from your throat as he kept his focus against your clit, leaning his head back against the couch to try and see the blissful expression on your face as he worked you with precision.

“Got no damn idea how long I’ve been waiting to do this,” He husked against your ear, lips soft against the shell as you clenched around him in response, “Always walkin’ round in those fuckin’ short shorts got me wanting to bend you over every surface in this house.”

“Oh fuck,” You mewled, already feeling yourself teetering on the edge of your climax as he kept his pace constant against your clit, his thumb positioned to press against your spongy wall as his other hand tightened its grip on your ass. Spreading you open, as you found your bliss, “Katsuki.”

“That’s it, good girl.” He hummed, feeling your walls pulse around his digit as he kept his pace. Working you through your release as he pressed sloppy, wet kisses to your temple.

You’d lost count of the amount of times you’d wished the same, coming into the kitchen to see him still in full hero gear after work. Dirt and grime covering his body as his mask was pulled up over his forehead to show his blackened eyes, bending over to grab the carton of juice from the fridge as he held it up to his lips to chug it. Watching his Adam’s apple bob as the liquid flowed, giving you the perfect view of him as you tried to busy yourself to hide the fact you were blatantly staring.

Or the moments where he’d come out of the bathroom with a towel slung low on his hips to shout at you for using the taps in the kitchen while he was showering. The cheap apartment had one flow of hot water and it shut off that luxury whenever it was used elsewhere. The cold water catching him off guard as he glared at you, water droplets drooling down his perfect skin and making him look more like an ancient god or deity than your roommate.

“So why didn’t you?” You asked when you’d come down from your high.

“Huh?” Bakugou’s brows furrowed in confusion.

“Why didn’t you tell me how you felt before.”

“I like livin’ with you,” He shrugged, “Didn’t wanna jeopardise that.”

“You wouldn’t have,” You smiled, pulling yourself back from his neck to meet his gaze, “I like you too.”

“That mean I can finally eat this pretty little pussy?” He groaned, shuffling his hips, “Been thinkin’ about it since the day I met you.”

“Later, please—” You pawed at the hard bulge between his thigh, his pre staining the fabric as you pressed against the tip.

“Fuck,” He grunted, shamelessly bringing his fingers to his lips to get a taste of you. His tongue sweeping against his digits to clean them of your slick, “Gonna take you over every damn surface in this house, princess.”

Your fingers curled into the hem of his shorts, Bakugou lifting his hips off the couch to help you drag them down just enough to free his heady cock— the sight of it better than you’d ever imagined in those nightly fantasies.

He was thick and long, bulging veins that forked along the length of him only made him seem that much more intimidating as his balls sat heavy at the base. Neatly trimmed blond hairs decorated his pelvis as they created a pretty trail along his abdomen, unable to resist running your hand along it as his stomach folded at the touch. A sharp hiss sucked sharp through his teeth as you wrapped your hand around him at the base, holding him steady so you could see the tip. The head a swollen pink as pre continued to bead at the slit, drooling down towards his frenulum as you moved to settle between his thighs. Wanting a taste of him yourself as you swiped your thumb over the leaky tip of his cock.

“Oi, I thought you said later,” He teased, rough hands steady on your hips to stop you from moving.

“Please,” You whined pathetically, “Wanna taste you.”

You brought your thumb to your lips as your tongue swiped at the surface, tasting him on your tongue as your lashes fluttered. Crimson eyes focused on your movements as his cock twitched in appreciation, tempted to let you do whatever you pleased. But he’d been waiting far too long for this moment, and there was no way he could wait any longer.

“You little minx,” He groaned as you sucked your thumb, “I promise later.” He groaned, tugging at your shorts, “Do you like these?”

“Yeah, they’re— what the fuck, Katsuki?”

You gasped when you heard the sharp sound of ripping fabric, “I said I liked them.”

“Sorry,” You could tell from the smug grin on his face that he was anything but as he positioned you above his leaky cock, “I gotta have you now.”

You held onto his shoulders as he wrapped a large fist around his cock, dragging the tip through your slick as he felt it catch against your tight entrance. His other hand on your hip slowly dropping you down onto his length as you felt the pleasurable ache of him stretching you open ebb through your pelvis.

“I got you, sweetheart,” He groaned, watching his cock slowly disappear inside you as he felt your warm walls wrap snugly around him, “Gonna take such good care of you.”

You felt hot, the heat radiating from your sex sweltering and yet you didn’t want to let go. The thick girth of his cock filled you perfectly as you felt him pressed against every ridge and groove of your cunt like he was made for you.

Your lips move together languidly, tasting the saltiness from his upper lip as you move together in tandem. Wet and sloppy while his tongue strokes yours, desperation evident by the way you try to deepen the kiss. As though you’re trying to melt into him, to feel him devour you whole.

“Oh, shit.” You choke back a cry when you feel the tip of his cock hit a spot deep inside you, certain you’ve never had something quite so big before.

You struggle to lift yourself up with your legs spread wide over his thick thighs as you grind yourself against his lap. Your clit catching against the trimmed hairs at his base as you roll your hips with desire, your chest pressed taut to his as you start a lazy pace. The scorching heat inside the apartment makes it difficult to breathe as you writhe in his lap, his warm breath fans against your skin almost feels cooler than the thick air clouding the room.

“Kats. It’s too hot.” You whine pathetically, your pace clumsy and sluggish as the desire inside you burns hot and heavy.

“You started this.” He retorts cockily with a smug smirk on his face.

“I did not.” You pout, “This is your fault.”

“Stop whinin’” He reaches back to bring his palm down on your ass in a rough smack, the sweatiness of his quirk has his skin tacking to you as it increases the sensation, clinging to your skin as you gasp in surprise. A painful pleasure courses through your veins as the skin prickles beneath his touch, your pliant walls clamping down around his girth in retaliation.

Without hesitating he reaches his large palms back to cup a cheek in each hand, lifting you up languidly as he marvels the glossy sheen your slick leaves on his cock.

“You just sit there and look pretty, let me do the work.” He spread is thighs wider, giving himself more air as he shifted your weight. Picking you up and dropping you down on his length as he listened to the pretty sounds that spilled from you like a siren, drawing him in and capturing his heart as you pulsed around him.

“Why couldn’t you have got an ice quirk?”

Clammy hands paw at his shoulders as Bakugou repeats the motion, skin tacking to skin as he bounces you on his cock. The kinetic energy builds heat swiftly and harsh as you feel the stickiness against your skin. Your wetness seeps out against his pelvis and matts the hair at his base, catching your clit with each drop of your hips.

“Shut the fuck up,” He scoffed, “You won’t be sayin’ that come winter.”

The thought of having his warm body to warm you during those cold winter months, still being with him then— had you clenching around him.

“Oh yeah? You like the sound of that?” He grinned, “Can feel this pussy clenchin’ around me.”

“Fuck, Katsuki.” The heat was becoming unbearable, radiating from your core as it burned molten lava. The coil inside you dangerously close to snapping as you danced on the crux of your release, gasping for air as he changed tact. Holding your hips tight under sweaty palms as he planted his feet flat on the ground, pistoning his hips up into your pliant sex, “There— oh, god. Right there—”

“That’s it,” He rasped, watching your tits bounce with each rapid thrust, “Fuckin’ beautiful.”

“‘m gonna cum,” You choked out between moans, feeling the curved tip of his cock drag against the spongy spot inside you with each thrust, “Oh shit—”

“Cum for me,” He growled, “Cum all over my cock.”

The tips of Bakugou’s thumbs pressed against your pelvis, tightening his grip as it only increased the pressure. Sweat trickling down your temples as he sent you vaulting over the edge into euphoria.

“Good girl,” He grunted, feeling your walls clamp down around his cock as you willed him to come with you, trying to milk him of his seed.

The pleasure was unlike anything you’d felt before, mind-numbingly intense as you cried out a jumbled mess of his name. Your nails digging crescent moons into his skin as he hissed beneath you, shamelessly searching for his own end as the heat radiated from your body. Sliding against each other from the sweat that now trickled down your skin, leaving a glossy sheen against you both as he used you for his own pleasure.

“I’m gonna cum,” Bakugou grunted, moving to lift you off his cock before you wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders, unbothered about the stifling heat in the room as you kept him tight against you.

“Cum inside me, Katsuki.” You gasped a he choked back a grunt, your words all it took to meet his own end.

His guttural moans are sinful, erotic as you cling to him with fervour. Committing the sensation to memory as though it’s the last time you’ll have him like this, as if the heat has him in this delirious state. And maybe it does—

You never thought Bakugou could look so pretty like this, completely vulnerable as he exposes his most intimate self to you. Thick, white spurts of cum spurt from his tip as he empties his balls inside you.

“Fuck, baby.” He breathes hot and heavy as you feel his chest rise and fall against yours.

Bodies slumped together on the couch as you feel the dampness of skin against skin, your vest that now sits useless around your waist is soaked and warm as the fabric clings to your body.

“I’m so sticky,” You whine childishly, making no attempt to move as Bakugou’s fingers trace absent-minded patterns along your exposed back.

“How the fuck dya think I feel?” He rasps, “My ass is stuck to the couch.”

“Eww,” You tease, running your nose along his collarbone as you take in the musky scent of him, “We’ll have to get another couch.”

He catches you by surprise as he presses the forgotten ice pack to the back of your neck, although it’s mostly melted it’s a stark contrast to your sweltering body as you flinch in surprise. Your cunt clenches around him at the sensation as Bakugou grunts from the attention.

“Oh shit, don’t do that sweetheart—“ He hisses, wrapping an arm around your back to hold you tight against him, “You’ll make me hard again.”

Something that you’re not sure you’d mind, even though your body is screaming out for a different kind of relief now. Desperate to cool your temperature down as you scrunch your nose in irritation.

“I feel so gross.” You complain as he gives your ass another playful spank as you barely move from the impact, your bodies stuck together with a mixture of heat and sweat.

“Got no one to blame but yourself, princess,” He groans, “I was just mindin’ my business until you came over in those little shorts.”

“You weren’t complaining when you were balls deep.” You moved your head back to glare at him.

“My balls feel like they’re on fire now,” He scoffs, leaning forward to peck your pouty lips, “Cold shower?” He asks, although he’s already decided he’s showering with you— he’s taking every moment he can with you now.

[simpforboys]

Just an idea but olo'eyktan!neteyam and preggo!reader but it's that one scene from ice age 3 where the dads like panicking and running around thinking that the baby's coming but its was actually a kick. (LOOK IK THE MOVIES ABOUT 12 FOOT FURRY ELEPHANTS BUT DON"T JUDGE ME ITS A 3AM THOUGHT) (link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QfxmRsWGg_0)

-🍄

i think this is my sign to rewatch the ice age movies (i'm an ice age stan)

right here

olo'eyktan!neteyam x fem!pregnant!reader

summary: when a false rumor gets back to neteyam, it leads the anxious mighty warrior to panic

warnings: fluff, pre-dad!neteyam, swearing, neteyam is my fav boy ever

aged up characters

the raging wind blew neteyam's long braids as he rode his ikran, soldiers following behind him as they made their weekly hunt.

neteyam's ears flicked from the wind, his loincloth and feathered vest blowing gracefully.

neteyam called out to his warriors, circling in on an animal pack.

however, as they were beginning to land their ikrans, a call came in through the ear piece the group were wearing.

"neteyam- it is y/n. she has gone into labor."

neteyam's body froze once he heard lo'ak speak. his heart was pounding as the men and women looked at their leader, waiting for his word.

"continue with the kill."

his command was quick as he took off, ikran roaring as the banshee felt neteyam's nerves. he hadn't noticed his shaky hands and pounding heartbeat, his focus on getting home to you.

he landed quickly in the high camp, surprised there aren't more people panicking.

"where is y/n?" neteyam asked one of the people. the girl just shrugged back in response, watching neteyam take off.

"neteyam!" lo'ak caught sight of his brother. they both ran towards each other.

"where is she?" neteyam rushed.

"over here, c'mon, bro!" lo'ak lead his brother.

"i'm having a baby!" he announced to the clan, excitement taking over his long body.

people whooped and cheered, the women and children cocking their head at the olo'eyktan.

there had been no sign from eywa of you having your child, being only eight months along.

"code blue! code blue!" lo'ak ran with his brother, their large feet padding against the stone ground.

"or pink if it's a girl." neteyam happily slapped his brother's shoulder.

the tent was getting closer, neteyam pausing to grab some fresh water for you. his excitement was turning into nerves as lo'ak looked at his hesitant brother.

"what is wrong?" he asked, confusedly walking up to neteyam.

"it's finally happening... and i-"

"what is finally happening?"

your gentle voice scared both the brothers, your bulging belly appearing from the tent.

"my love- aren't you supposed to be in labor?"

neteyam's giant hand placed itself on your belly, feeling your baby kick against his palm.

"what?" you asked, your brow bow furrowing at your mate.

"oh my eywa- lo'ak i told you! it was just a kick!"

neteyam's ears fell flat as he looked between you and his little brother, the future uncle now blushing from embarrassment.

you rolled your eyes at lo'ak, feeling neteyam's hand travel down near the band of your loincloth. he stood on his knees, face by your tummy as he kissed your belly button.

"you gave sempu (daddy) a scare, baby."

"mhm." you playfully rolled your eyes, softly punching lo'ak in the arm.

"hey!"

the surrounding clan members whom where excited to welcome their future olo'eyktan or tsahik frowned from lo'ak's false rumor.

"that is the second false alarm this month!" a child pouted.

"alright people, nothing to see here." lo'ak pushed away the crowd as they went back to their tasks.

"darling, i know you are nervous. i am too, but that was a bit too much." you cupped neteyam's face as he stood now, slightly towering over you.

your pregnancy made your height shrink slightly, going from 8'8 to 8'6. neteyam kissed your forehead, standing at 9'4.

"i am sorry, i am just scared."

you rubbed your belly as your made pulled you into his embrace.

"i have seen you with tuk and the children, ma neteyam. you are going to be an amazing father."

neteyam reassuringly smiled.

"i will be right here with you every step of the way."

and once the baby did come, neteyam was calmer than ever (on the outside, not internally).

this was so cute omg

[octuscle]

A Christmas Carol

Eric's father had been incredibly popular in the company. He was the boss, the patriarch, no one doubted that for a minute. But he had always been generous to his employees. What was good for the employees was also good for the company. That was his credo. And everyone involved benefited from it. Eric had grown up in the company. When he rode his scooter in the factory halls as a child, when he did his homework in the canteen, he was always somehow the son of all the employees. Just as popular as his father. But unfortunately, as it turned out after his father's death, an asshole.

His father was barely in the ground when Eric launched cost-cutting measures after cost-cutting measures. His goal was to trim the company for short-term profit. And then sell it. He wasn't interested in producing rolled sheets. He wanted to finance startups. At the beginning, there was still some sympathy for him. The poor survivor. The inexperienced entrepreneur. But after the story with the Christmas bonus, he was just an asshole.

Eric had canceled the Christmas bonus. His employees had received vouchers for the “Fat-free Cooking” course. Most of them were too fat for the fitness fanatic Eric anyway. Surprisingly, this action was not very popular shortly before Christmas. And so the mutiny began. And Eric found himself in an apartment of one of the blocks of company-owned apartments that he had approved for demolition. He had no idea where he was or who had kidnapped him. He only knew that he had nothing to wear except for an undershirt that was too tight, a dirty jockstrap, dirty socks and work boots. There was a mattress to sleep on and a hole in the floor where the toilet used to be. Otherwise the apartment was empty. Three times a day he got a bag of food from McDonald's or Kentucky Fried Chicken. Twice a day a six-pack of ice-cold beer and a pack of fags. And once a day he got a new gay porn magazine pushed under the door. In fact, they weren't new porn magazines, they were old ones from the nineties. Full of dog-ears and cum stains. It was disgusting. At first. But what could Eric do? He started to enjoy the junk food, the beer and the smoking. And at some point, he also jerked off for the first time to pictures of fat, hairy guys in leather vests.

Three weeks later, Eric was still slim. But his washboard abs had become flabby. His hair was greasy. He had the beginnings of a full beard. And he found that less and less bad. What he didn't know was that this was just the beginning. One of the IT nerds had found a prototype of a device called Chronivac in the archives of the research and development department. And he had managed to get it working. And so one day Eric found himself in an apartment with an open door. There was nothing to eat. He had no more fags or beer. Did he now have to fend for himself? He had never done that before. Not in his entire life. And then the Chronivac was activated...

Rick was the caretaker for the company apartments. Even though no one had seen Eric for weeks, he kept giving instructions via an assistant. Among other things, that the apartment blocks should be renovated. Rick's shithole was the last to be renovated. But shit, he was used to nothing but this shithole. It was his home. And his wages were enough for cigs, beer and fast food. That's all he wanted.

[brainddeadd]

Halloween Party

The New Jersey Devils' Halloween party was destined to be anything but normal. You knew that from the moment you walked into the venue—a rented-out lounge decked with fake cobwebs, jack-o-lanterns, and strobe lights—only to be tackled by a very enthusiastic Jack Hughes in full Spider-Man gear.

“Y/N!” Jack yells, wrapping you in a bear hug and lifting you off the ground. “You made it!”

“Put me down, Spidey,” you laugh, squirming in his grip.

Jack grins under his mask but finally sets you down, brushing invisible dust off your costume. “What even are you supposed to be?” he asks, squinting at your outfit.

“I’m a vampire,” you say, flashing the plastic fangs you barely managed to keep in.

“Cute.” Jack winks, slinging an arm around your shoulder just as Nico Hischier—dressed as a very convincing pirate—walks up, giving both of you a fond, exasperated look.

The lounge is packed with players, staff, and their partners—everyone dressed to the nines in goofy, spooky, or downright ridiculous costumes. Luke Hughes stands by the snack table, inspecting a bowl of candy with the kind of concentration you usually only see him use on the ice. He’s rocking a cowboy hat, boots, and a vest that’s way too small for his frame.

Dawson Mercer, meanwhile, has gone all-in with a werewolf costume, complete with fluffy ears and a tail that keeps smacking people as he walks by.

“I swear to God, Dawson,” you mutter, swatting at the tail when it brushes your arm again. “Control that thing.”

“It has a mind of its own!” Dawson defends himself with a mischievous grin.

As the night progresses, the chaos only multiplies.

Nico keeps trying to convince everyone to join him for a game of beer pong, insisting that pirates have an unfair advantage because they’re “naturally gifted at throwing things.” You’re not entirely sure that’s historically accurate, but no one argues with him.

Jack somehow convinces half the team to start a limbo competition—using a hockey stick, of course. Luke crushes it, his height somehow not being a disadvantage for once, though he nearly trips over his boots at the end.

Dawson, in typical Dawson fashion, sneaks up behind you at one point with a fake severed hand, pressing it to your shoulder.

You jump and swat him again. “You’re asking for a punch, Mercer.”

“Worth it,” he laughs, scampering off before you can retaliate.

The highlight of the night is, without a doubt, the costume contest.

You watch as Nico steps onto the makeshift stage, adjusting his pirate hat dramatically. “Arr, mateys,” he says, clearly enjoying himself way too much. “Who dares challenge the captain?”

Jack boos from the crowd. “Your hat’s crooked, Captain Fraud!”

“At least I didn’t dress as Spider-Man for the third year in a row!” Nico fires back, making everyone roar with laughter.

Luke takes the stage next, tipping his cowboy hat. He pulls out a toy gun from his holster and blows on the barrel dramatically, earning a mix of cheers and teasing catcalls from the crowd.

When it’s your turn, the boys start cheering before you even reach the stage.

“Y/N! Y/N! Y/N!” Jack chants, getting the whole room to join in.

You roll your eyes but strike a dramatic vampire pose, hissing playfully at the crowd. Nico, Jack, Luke, and Dawson lose it, clapping like you’ve just scored the winning goal in a playoff game.

“Best costume ever,” Dawson declares loudly, like a proud big brother.

After the contest wraps up (Nico wins because, as Jack puts it, “the pirate hat has plot armor”), the team settles into smaller groups, chatting and dancing to the Halloween playlist someone threw together.

Jack stays glued to your side for most of the night, making sure no one gives you too much grief—though he’s not above throwing in a little teasing himself. “You’re lucky you have us,” he jokes. “Otherwise, these guys would eat you alive.”

Nico walks by, overhearing. “We’re protecting you from them,” he says, tilting his head toward the crowd of rowdy teammates. “Not the other way around.”

You laugh, but you know it’s true. These boys are chaos incarnate, but they’re also fiercely protective. And if that means surviving a Halloween party filled with ridiculous costumes, bad jokes, and limbo competitions—well, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

The night winds down with Jack flopping onto the couch beside you, half-asleep but still grinning like a kid. “You have fun, Y/N?”

You smile, leaning your head on his shoulder. “Yeah. Thanks for dragging me here.”

Jack gives your shoulder a gentle nudge. “Anytime, little sis.”

Nico, Luke, and Dawson join you shortly after, each collapsing into the nearest seat. The five of you sit there, surrounded by the aftermath of the party—empty cups, candy wrappers, and a whole lot of memories.

And as you glance around at your chaotic, overprotective teammates, you realize there’s nowhere else you’d rather be.

[carolmunson]

we better make a start (older!modern!eddie)

continuation of orange colored skyorange colored sky setlist

inspired by the fact that i fall in love with someone new every time i go to trader joe's and @loveshotzz new older!steve series. tw: outside of an age gap, not much. super fluffy it borders on gross. eddie is in his late 30s/early 40s, reader is late-late 20s/early 30s. music inspo: everywhere - fleetwood mac

Wednesdays at two… You wished you’d met this guy in the fall when you still felt cute getting off the train. It was like being in a sous vide every time you got on and off, walking back out into the hot sun of the city. Would your hair frizz? Was your makeup melting? You were at least smart enough to wear bike shorts under your skirt to avoid the rubbing of your thighs – hopefully he wouldn’t notice. Your feet hurt in your 90s looking wicker sandals but at a passing glance in a store window you figure you don’t look half bad. You look infinitely better than when he first saw you in your ‘errands ugly’ clothes. Maybe he’d even think you look cute. Y’know – if he’s even there. Why’re you meeting up with some random stranger anyway? A sick flare of nervous embarrassment slides through your chest like a snake – this is stupid. He probably forgot about it. Whatever, you wanted to pick up a couple things anyway – it’s totally fine – this isn’t weird at all – and if he’s not there? It doesn’t matter. Who cares? You’ll be fine. You’ll go home and sift through a never ending collection of left swipes and ‘haha not much, just chillin naked. wbu?’ messages on whatever dating app you feel like opening that day. 

A block and an escalator later, you’re in the depths of the shopping center where Trader’s is. You swallow the sick creeping up in your belly — this is so stupid — but it doesn’t take long for you to spot him at a small table near the coffee stand across from the store. His hair sits in a low bun this time, most of his wavy curls spilling over and framing his face. He looks nice, black tee shirt that he might’ve pressed, smarter looking black chinos with a belt he likely got at a vintage store. The silver buckle looks pretty and polished, shining like the rings on his fingers and the rim of the wire glasses he had perched on his nose. He’s typing away on a laptop, black iced coffee melting next to it that he occasionally reaches to sip.

“Um…You’re Eddie, right?” you stammer out as you walk toward the table. He looks up from his laptop, the glow of this screen reflecting back in his glasses. He stops to look you over, straw still in his mouth. 

“Yeah, that’s me,” he grins, a breath of relief puffing out of his nose, “Didn’t actually think you were gonna show up — was sort of a shot in the dark.” He stands up, hand outstretched for yours to shake, “I never caught your name.” 

You take it, his handshake is firm and you can make out some of the tattoos on his fingers and hands. You introduce yourself and he mumbles a ‘nice to meet you’, your name sounds nice coming out of his mouth. “This feels like a business meeting,” you laugh, “Like I’m here for an interview.” He laughs back, “I did just come here from a meeting so I might still be in work mode, sorry.” He takes off his glasses, hanging them off the collar of his shirt. He packs up his bag, a well worn Jansport backpack covered in patches like the vest he had on the last time you saw him. You could tell it was old since there was a patch right at the center that read ‘METALLICA 1997 - Poor Touring Me’. A few other concert patches with ranging dates, 2003, 2009, 1998 littered the black canvas, you smile at it. 

“1997?” you ask, “Metallica concert at what – nine? Your parents were cool with that?” 

He looks down at it and his cheeks go pink, letting a breath puff out of his lips that makes them push out and motorboat, “What year were you born?” “‘92,” you answer, “Why?” 

“Jesus,” he mumbles, rubbing his face with a tight smile, “You’re a young thing, aren’t you?” 

“How old were you in ‘97?” you ask while you both make it through the double doors of the grocery store. He grabs a basket and raises his brows with another big breath. “Seventeen,” he says, “Got this backpack two days before that show actually.” “You still have it?” you ask, trying to do the math in your head of how old he is and how long he’s had it. “Jansport has a lifetime warranty,” Eddie smirks, “I’ve been putting it to good use.” “So why’re you back here,” you ask, following him to the back aisle where the bread is, “You just went food shopping a few days ago.” “I went for my neighbor,” he explains, grabbing two baguettes, “He fractured his foot and hasn’t been able to get up and down the stairs. Been running errands for ‘im in the meantime.” “Oh,” you smile, “That’s nice of you.” “Thanks,” he says, “You like bruschetta?” 

“Why do you ask?” 

“Well,” he starts, “I didn’t really think that Trader Joe’s was an ideal date so I thought I could ask you out here and also get some stuff for it ahead of time.” “Oh,” you repeat, heat creeping up on your cheeks, “What did you have in mind?” 

“Well if you’re free tomorrow afternoon…” he begins, but gets sidetracked. He sneaks behind you to grab some yogurt covered pretzels, “I saw you grab these the other day and got some too, they’re fuckin’ delicious.” 

The spicy suede scent he had last time is replaced with a bright citrusy cedar, it matches his overall disposition. Your mouth waters when you inhale. 

“Anyway, as I was saying,” he starts again, “If you’re free tomorrow afternoon, I’d love to treat you to a little something cute in the park. It’s supposed to be not so swampy.” “Like a picnic?” you ask with a hint of a tease. “Yeah,” he says, a glow of pink perking up on his ears hidden by his hair, “Something like that. If you’re into that – like – if you even want to go on a date with me.” “I showed up here. I feel like that’s answer enough, right?” “Right, right.” The conversation quiets while he tosses a few more things in his basket. “So what was your meeting for?” you ask, watching him look over the cold cuts and cured meats in the open refrigerated section. He was one of those, a ‘stand-and-starer’ instead of just knowing what to get. You try not to grind your teeth. “Oh, new client meeting,” he says, like you know exactly what he’s referencing. 

“For what? If you don’t mind me asking.” He reaches for a package of salami and prosciutto before turning to you, “Do you eat meat?” You nod while he continues to pick up and compare products, “New client for my side gig.” “Which,” he says, tossing his selections in the basket, “If you can believe it, pays a shit ton more than my main gig.” “What’s your big money side gig?” you laugh, following him to the next aisle. “I’m a web developer,” he says, squatting down to look at granola. He hopes you don’t hear the way his knees crack, the way his face winces at the slight tightness in his joints. In Eddie’s defense, he didn’t get a chance to stretch this morning – normally he’s much more limber – he promises. “Like making websites and stuff?” you squat next to him, your own knees cracking. You hope he doesn’t hear it. “Just like that,” he says. He reaches in front of you, grabbing your arm to steady you as you wobble to move out of his way. His grip is gentle but firm, the spots beneath his fingertips buzzing with electricity, “Careful there, sugar.” A smile spreads deep across your face while your eyes make friends with the floor under you, both of you rising back to your feet. His keys jingle on the same carabiner from before, clinking against a silver chain that you’re pretty sure connects to a wallet in his back pocket. He has Nike Killshots on today, the white with a black check instead of the navy. Everyone and their father has the white and navy. “Do you like it?” you ask, holding in a giggle while he grunts getting up. “Writing code and doing graphic design? Sure,” he shrugs, “Got into it really ahead of the game. You were probably still in grade school.” You roll your eyes and he snickers, “But mostly, I make websites for trust fund kids who use daddy’s money to start new businesses. So it’s sort of like my side gig is uh…” “Exploiting the rich?” you grin, he grins too, “Super punk.” He shakes his head while you both walk out into the produce section, “No, no, super metal.”

“What’s your main gig?” “Oh, come on – don’t break my heart,” Eddie’s dramatic flare shines through when he leans up against the flat edge of the pillar holding up the bananas. He holds his free hand to his chest, looking at you with a faux forlorn face that makes his brown eyes shine. Now that you’re really taking stock, you see the thin silver hoop hugging his right nostril – something about it makes your heart thump harder in your chest. “The tattoos don’t give it away, huh?” he asks, passing the basket to the other arm, both biceps flexing against the well tailored t-shirt’s sleeves. 

“A tattoo artist?” you wager a guess with a grimace and half shrug. “No,” he says, the word covered in a soft laugh, “But I’ve been in my artist's shop enough that I might as well get paid to be there.” “I can see that,” you nod, pulling a bunch of bananas from behind him and cradling them in your arm, “So what is it then?” “C’mon, it’s obvious,” he smiles, “I’m a rockstar.” 

“Are you?” you ask, your laugh bubbles out of you and it makes the back of his neck get hot. You’re too pretty to be flirting with him in Trader Joe’s but he can’t stop trying to make you laugh and smile. 

“Well,” he shrugs, kicking off the wall, “Sort of.” “Sort of a rockstar?” your brow lifts while you scan some of the fruits, hand reaching down to a display in front of you, “If you’re doing food food, how about I do dessert?” 

“Peaches, huh?” he asks with a smirk, wrinkling his nose, “A little messy, don’tcha think?” 

“They’re nectarines,” you correct, putting a few in one of the produce bags, “They’re not the same.” 

“Hm,” he shrugs, letting his finger trail over the smooth waxy skin of one of the nectarines in the display, “Whatever you say, Peach.” “Pfft,” you shake your head the same way he did to you, tying off the bag while you try to ignore how the butterflies in your stomach multiply at him calling you Peach. “So if you’re doing dessert that means you’re free tomorrow, then?” he raises his brows, waiting for your answer while you both walk to the checkout line, “You never said if you were.” “Yes I did,” you protest. His tattooed hand reaches out for the nectarines and bunch of bananas you’re holding. You look down at them and then back up at him, Eddie gives you a look, encouraging you to hand them over.

“No, you said you’d go on a date with me – gimme these, I got ‘em–” he beckons you with his hand to take them until you relent, putting them both in his basket, “And trust me, I’m glad you’re down to go on a date with me. But I just wanna make sure you’re around tomorrow so I know to turn on my charm in the morning.” 

“Oh, it’s not on right now?” you flirt. Eddie’s smile gets boyish and shy, tucking a loose salt and pepper collection of strands behind his ear. He’s too blushy to respond, thankful that the Trader Joe’s worker directs you both for the next cashier. He hands you your bananas and nectarines and you plop them into your canvas bag while he finishes up, walking together out of the double doors. 

“Um, could I - uh – damn why am I so nervous to ask you this? What am I, sixteen?” he thinks out loud to himself, furrowing his brow at his own ridiculousness, “Fuck, could I um – get your number?” 

“You already asked me on a date and you’re nervous to get my number?” you tease, “For real?” 

“Long story, I’ll tell you one day,” he says, handing you his phone. He tucks in his lips while you take it, watching eagerly while you put in your information. You save it under ‘Peach 🍑’ with your real name in the second line. 

“Oh what, did it happen all the way back in the 70s or something? Hard to remember?” Your mean girl tone of voice has a hold on him that thrums in his chest. 

“So you’re one of those girls, huh?” he releases his lips, tip of his tongue pressing against one of his canines, “I’ll keep that in mind.” He takes his phone back when you offer it to him, taking a quick second to shoot you a text that just says ‘eddie m.’ Your phone dings in your hand, going to save his number while he watches. 

“M’gonna put it in as ‘Sort of Rockstar’,” you giggle to yourself. “Please don’t.” “Too late.” 

You drop your phone into your canvas bag, giving him a final once over. He does the same and his stare almost makes you nervous with the way his brown eyes soften when they find your face. Not one for awkward silence you reach your hand out like he did when you met outside of the store. “Pleasure doing business with you, Eddie,” you say, a lightness to your voice that has him swooning. His hand takes yours, big and slightly rough, calloused fingertips slightly brushing your wrist. “Pleasure doing business with you,” he says, giving you a firm shake, “Same time tomorrow? At the park?” 

“Sounds good.” 

“I’ll um, I’ll text you. I’ll drop a pin,” he offers. 

You’re both quiet for a moment, anxious with anticipation for tomorrow – for a real date. You say your goodbyes, your ‘see you tomorrows’. Only to both start walking the same direction towards Target. 

“Oh,” you laugh, “Are you going to Target, too?” 

He laughs back, slightly hoarse and rough, smokey sounding, “I am. Should I wait a little? Don’t wanna cramp your style or anything. I know we just said goodbye.” 

“No, no, we can go together,” you smile, big and bright, “We can both decide on what I’m making for dessert.” 

prev | next

[rottnteen]

"Are you mad at me?"

There’s a silence in the room. It feels heavy. You sit on one side of the couch and Spencer on the other, his hand on his head holding an icepack. Your hand grips the couch's green suede arm, your fingers digging into it. He finally speaks, after what feels like forever, “Are you mad at me?”

You feel his eyes on you and shake your head with closed eyes. Are you? Of course, you are. He had thrown himself in front of you in the belief that someone was going to shoot you. Thankfully, the suspect didn't and deviated from the profile. In return for Spencer's act of true love and idiocracy; He got a head injury when he fell on the ground. 

Another beat passes and you feel him get tenser. “Yes, because you are an idiot!” You sigh and finally look at him. His big hazel eyes bore into you with a glassy look. 

His eyebrows are turned up and he licks his lips before speaking, “Babe-”

“No! No, you are so stupid! You are supposed to be a total genius; instead, you sacrifice yourself in front of me without even wearing a vest!” Your hands fly around as though you're gripping for a sense of reality. 

He shakes his head and grabs your hands, “Hey, hey” His voice is so soothing that it ticks you off. You almost look up at him with a pouty look. “I’m sorry that my actions worried you.” He says, trying to make eye contact with you. Instead, your eyes are set on the icepack that lays limp on his lap instead of on his head. You grab the ice pack and place it back on top. His hands stroke your face as you hold the ice pack on his forehead. “There’s my girl.” His lips curl up and his eyes soften as your own meet his. 

[charliemwrites]

I've fucking expired over your Gaz/Researcher! I just want to stanglehug it

Hi!!! Thank you so much. Idk what came over me this morning but I’m a little obsessed with this concept now…

So here’s some headcanons about researcher reciprocating:

-everyone in the lab drinks coffee, but they start keeping tea around specifically for Gaz. He has his own mug, too, and no one is allowed to use it except him

-they have a lab playlist and when they find out some of Gaz’s favorite songs, they add them

-when Gaz takes a bullet (to his state of the art and custom designed bullet proof vest) they huddle up close to his side for HOURS and insist on fetching him ice packs

-they go with him to the gym to do Stupid Health Walks. They take the treadmill next to his and watch documentaries to keep themselves entertained. When Gaz finishes with cardio, though, they’ll abandon the machine and just keep nearby

[zenlesszonezero]

[the-kr8tor]

Heatwave

Feat: The cats 😺😻😾

Pairing: Hobie Brown x gn! Reader/ Spider-Punk x gn! Reader

Word count: 1.7k

Synopsis: You and Hobie try to survive a record breaking heatwave.

Tags: no use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, established relationship, some miscommunication, FLUFF, lovestruck Hobie.

A continuation of this fic

My Masterlist

*I don't consent to having my work translated/ published on other platforms*

You groan loudly, as if it helps make the air cooler, but alas it doesn't work that way. It certainly doesn't help that the air-conditioning in your building completely fizzled out last night, resulting in you and Hobie waking up sweaty and grumpy.

You breathe heavily through the humidity, but the sweltering heat doesn't make it any easier.

The cats don't help too, especially that they're currently blocking the air flow from your single working fan. Crumpet,Teacup and Crowley lay sprawled across a cooling mat, Crowley looks back at you every minute or so, checking to see if you've melted into a puddle.

Teacup, the ever spoiled baby, mewls towards you, as if to say it's time for their hourly wipe of their paws with a cold damp cloth. She's lucky you love her. She's been relishing the attention lately, especially time spent with Hobie, you can't help but get jealous sometimes, this is what Hobie probably feels like with Crowley attached to your hip.

You reluctantly stand up, stretching to your full height, arms wide, you cringe at the sweat clinging to your back, arms, legs and clothes, it's safe to say you're covered in it. You grimace at how tacky your clothes feel on you, your tank top must look like an abstract painting from behind. You lick your lips in a futile attempt to keep them moist, feeling the cracks of skin underneath your tongue.

You grab the designated cloth to soak it in the sink, at the same time you open the fridge to grab another ice pack. Thank goodness you have a stock of them for whenever Hobie comes home bruised. You wish you don't have an abundance of it though, you hate it when Hobie gets hurt.

Teacup meows loudly, telling you to hurry up.

"Alright, alright! 'm coming, you big baby" not noticing your words slurring together. You lift up the cloth, wringing off the excess water.

You stride towards the cats, carefully patting the cloth on their paws, while checking their fur for any tangles. Making sure their water bowls aren't empty.

After rubbing their paws you move to pet Crumpet, moving your fingers on her head, and scratching behind her ear. She purrs under your touch.

You're concerned about Crumpet, she's a lot older than the other two, so you're taking more time to be more attentive towards her.

You rub her thick fur absentmindedly, the air from the fan blowing on your lashes. Your mind wanders back to Hobie, how is he faring in this temperature? Especially in his suit, you practically had to beg him to leave his leather vest at home.

"I always wear it, love, I don't feel complete without it"

"Yeah, I know for the aesthetic," you change your tone, you don't want to fight, "but damn it, just for today please, I don't want you getting heatstroke" you sigh at his stubbornness.

For added effect Crumpet meows at Hobie, backing you up.

Hobie sighs in defeat, "fine," he drops the vest haphazardly over your bed, you think he's mad.

He leans over kissing your cheek, it's too hot to give you a proper kiss, you curse at the temperature, depriving you of affection. "don't forget to drink water, yeah?"

"Mmhm, you too. Take breaks, okay?" you move to hug him, but you recoil your hands back, thinking the added heat might make him more agitated. Hobie thinks you're mad at him.

You wanted to convince him to leave his leather boots and wear his trainers instead, but it might've been all in vain, since he's already opening the window to swing away.

That was hours ago, you hope he's okay, and keeping hydrated. You wish he wasn't mad at you.

Putting the ice pack on your head, you lean against your sofa, watching the cats stay cool.

You zone out, not hearing the familiar thump of heavy boots.

Hobie thinks you're ignoring him, shit you look mad, your face scrunched up into a scowl, sweat dripping on your forehead.

He crosses the small distance, the cats lay sprawled on their mat, the only indication that they noticed him is their heads slightly following his movements, even Crowley refuses to scowl at him. It's hot even for the little hell spawn.

Hobie grabs the cool can inside his little plastic bag, it rustles, but you still haven't looked at him. Fuck he should've kissed you goodbye better.

You feel the cold can on your cheek, waking you up from your daze. You feel sluggish. Craning your neck towards Hobie, you give him a small smile.

"Hey, you're home, early" your eyes slightly glossy.

"Yeah, even villains are too hot to commit crime" he notices your eyes, "when did you last drink water?"

You grab the cold can of soda from his hands, your hands shake trying to open the lid. "Um, I'm about to drink now"

"Shit, sweetheart, that's not enough" he grabs the can from your hands, earning a small "hey" from you. "Let me get you some water, yeah?"

Hobie rushes towards the kitchen, shit how long have you last drank? You must've been too busy taking care of the cats that you forgot about yourself. He doesn't blame you though, those cats are your family. He should've checked in on you on one of his breaks.

Glass in hand, he webs himself towards the living room, so he can get to you faster. You hate it when Hobie leaves his webs inside, but he'll apologize and clean it up later.

Hobie brings the cold glass to your chapped lips, you empty it in a flash, water drips from your chin, he wipes it with his thumb.

"There, you're gonna feel better in a minute" he sighs when color comes back to your lips.

"Can I have the soda now?" You tilt your head prettily.

Hobie opens the can for you before giving it back, "lemme change and I'll get you another glass, yeah?" He rubs the sweat clinging on to your eyebrows, messing up the strands. He chuckles at your unruly brows.

"What's so funny?" You pout against the mouth of the can.

"Nothing" he pecks your forehead, ignoring the sweat. That kiss will have to do for now, he has to make up a lot of kisses for the lack of love he gave you that morning.

Hobie basically tears his suit off him, sweat clings inside, he should shower. He should also try and fix your aircon, but he doesn't want to leave your side, you were on the brink of heat stroke when he arrived, Hobie needs to watch over you till you're better, and the cats need attention too, he still hasn't won over Crowley yet. He's made it his personal mission since he met the rascal.

Crowley settles next to you, the fog clouding your mind slowly dissipating. You sigh with your eyes closed.

"Oi no sleeping" Hobie places another cold glass in your hands in exchange for the soda. He's now wearing an old band shirt that he's kept at your place. Hobie doesn't have shorts, so he just went for his boxers.

He sits next to you, with Crowley in between. Hobie stretched his legs in front of him, his toned legs in full display.

"Here," Hobie hands you a fresh cloth "nevermind c'mere" you happily lean towards him, "you need to take care of yourself too y'know" He dabs the cloth on your neck, drying it.

"I know," you sigh "I was just worried about the cats and you, it must've been hard being in that heat all day"

He hums too engrossed in wiping you dry. You take this as Hobie still being angry at you.

"Are you still mad at me?" You ask in a small voice. wringing your hands anxiously.

"What?" He stops his movements, "I thought you were the one who's angry" he grabs your hands, smoothing the skin with his thumbs, trying to calm your thoughts. "Why would I be mad?"

"Because of the vest thing" you look up at him through your lashes. "I thought, you might've looked at it like I'm trying to change you, I'm not, I like you just the way you are"

Crowley watches the scene with pensive eyes. Crumpet sneezes in her sleep, while teacup curls near Hobie's foot.

"I'm not mad about that, I understand you were looking out for me, and I was too bloody stubborn" he kisses each of your knuckles, his warm breath calms your nerves. You know he isn't good with his words, sometimes opting for showing what he means through his actions.

" 'm not mad either, I shouldn't have pushed you" you lay your head against the couch cushion.

"Nah, I want you to make me, you keep me in line, love. You're right I would've gotten heatstroke with it on" he softly lays your hands on Crowley, he returns to his previous action, wiping at the soft skin on your hip.

"Imagine, I fainted while swinging" he jokes but you glare at him.

"Not funny, Hobart"

"Now, you're mad" He chuckles as he moves the cloth over your nose.

"Augh!" You swat at the piece of wet cloth "that's disgusting!"

"It's your own sweat, lovey" Hobie smiles lopsidedly.

"Next time, wear your trainers instead of boots too?" You ask shyly.

"Alright, for you, yeah"

You nod, finally convincing him "you took care of yourself out there?" You cup his jaw, making circular patterns over his skin with your thumb.

"Yeah, took breaks, hydrated, can't say the same thing for you though"

"I know, I'll do better next time" you sigh, thumping your head on his shoulder.

"Oi" he shakes you with his shoulder "I still owe you that kiss"

You laugh, Crowley perks up at the sound "and I still owe you a hug"

"What are you waiting for? Come up here and get it" a smile creeping on the corner of his lips.

You lean up, head staying on his shoulder, Hobie does all the work, he cranes his neck down as he holds the back of your head, guiding you towards his lips. You sigh into his lips, ignoring the sweat forming on his upper lip.

You cling on to his shirt, slowly moving your arms around him, he kisses deeper.

By some sort of miracle the aircon comes to life, blowing much needed cold air into your flat. You both decide to ignore it, while you climb on his lap, so his neck wouldn't strain. He holds your back, anchoring you.

Crowley meows at the both of you trying to get your attention away from Hobie.

A/N: thanks for reading! Hope you liked it! Likes and reblogs are always appreciated ❤️❤️❤️

*picture above is from pinterest*

My requests are open! Check out my rules.

[serotonincemetery]

141 Headcanons! (+könig)

I give this to you because the oneshot is taking longer than expected and may be released later than intended!

Price

- Every time Price goes outside to smoke a cigar, he invites you.

- Always offers you your own

- If you don’t smoke, he makes sure to puff out the smoke away from you.

- if you smoke cigarettes but not cigars, he always tries to keep a pack of cigarettes that you like on his person.

- Makes you coffee in the morning, or tea based on your preferences

- Price will also make you eggs and toast if you ask

- Father figure

Soap

- Its always entertaining when you and Soap fight(affectionate)

- If you’re Scottish, you both end up arguing in Scottish and shouting curses in Scottish.

- The rest of 141 laughs as they don’t understand a single fucking word either of you are saying.

- Typically the fights always end with you or Soap giving a dramatic gasp and ‘storming off’ with the other following behind trying to ‘apologize’

- Like I said before /affectionate.

- You’ve only had one real fight with Soap and that was during practice when he kept using the wrong stance for a certain rifle.

- You two stopped talking for a week

- Then apologized and vowed to never argue like that again.

Gaz

- Gaz is like your big brother

- Mans will try to take down any mf who tries to harm you

- Keyword “try”

- The only person who he won’t try to take down is Ghost

- That man is a fucking enigma

- And it frightens him

- Gaz is the type of dude that would buy you ice cream if you asked for it

- Mans is kinda your personal chauffeur, you get him to drive you everywhere

- Gaz is the type to bring you soup and crackers if you’re sick

Ghost

- Ghost on the other hand

- He struggles

- He tries

- He really does

- If you’re sick he will bring you medicine and then sit across the room, watching over you quietly

- If he doesn’t sit in the room

- He checks up on you every 30 minutes

- Its like he has a built in timer in his head

- He does get extremely worried

- Doesn’t show it because he thinks its a weakness

(- It 100% is not a weakness, hes just not used to working with others or having people care for him)

- You pester him a lot

- Moving his shoes

- Hiding his vest

- He fumes whenever he can’t find anything

- 9 chances out of 10

- You’re the one who moved said thing

- He can’t be angry at you

- I mean look at you! You may be a hardened soldier, but to him underneath all of that, you’re his friend and the last thing you deserve is to be yelled at by him

König

- König is a sweetheart

- He is by no means a pushover

- But he’s kind with you

- Definitely cocky at times and is extremely competitive with you in the range

- You two compete a lot

- Its gotten to the point you race to see who can get the better seat in the helicopter

- Or who can get to the lunch line first

- A lot of the other people at KorTac think it’s extremely dumb

- But to you two, their opinions don’t matter

- Would never intentionally hurt you

- If he did hurt you he would do everything in his power to make it right

- You’re his partner in crime, he couldn’t function if you hated him

(- You never could hate him and have to reassure him sometimes)

- Sleepovers

- You’ve been scolded for sleepovers by the captain

- Not impressed when they go and find you two sleeping on the floor on makeshift sleeping bags

Asks are open!

[whumpystuffy]

Whump list - Stargate Altlantis (2004-2009)

John Sheppard portrayed by Joe Flanigan. Plus some of the Ronan, McKay & Beckett whumps.

Trailer for the series.

Season 1

1x01-1x02 Tasered, grabbed by throat, slammed to table.

1x04 Alien stuck on neck, in pain, immobile, numb legs, grunting, heavy breathing. Defibrillated, no pulse, CPR, in med bed.

1x05 Under gunfire, shot with stun gun, unconscious. Sore, hit by explosion blast.

1x09 Gun point, captive, interrogated, betrayed.

1x10-1x11 (Plus major McKay whump)

1x12 Under gun fire, shot, bleeding arm wound, field medicine. Slams into invisible force field. Fight, slammed across field twice, cracked ribs.

1x19 Shot stunned.

Season 2

2x03 Shot, stunned, unconscious. Captive, tied up, gunpoint,

2x05 Ship crash, surrounded, outnumbered. Tied up, threatened. Fight, punched. (Plus Ronan whump)

2x07 Attacked, pinned down, bleeding arm wound.

2x08 Wound from previous episode, on stretcher, field medicine. Infected with mutating virus, angry. Shot stunned, coma, antidote.

2x10 Shot stunned, unconscious, captive, tied up. Forced to do OP, shot stunned, unconscious, captured. Forced to kneel by telekinesis.

2x11 Continuation from previous episode, interrogated, thrown into cell. Forced to kneel by telekinesis.

2x12 Attacked, thrown around multiple times, clawed on back, bleeding, bruised face. Field medicine, magically healed.

2x14 (Plus major McKay whump)

2x16 Shot, bloody shoulder. Shot stunned, unconscious, cuffed, dragged. (Plus Ronan whump)

2x17 Ambushed, gassed, unconscious. Tied up, needle injection in neck, gunpoint, captive.

Season 3

3x01 Captured, manhandled.

3x02 (Plus Beckett whump)

3x03 Sick, cold, coughing, sneezing.

3x04 Shot with tranquilizer, tied up, caged, manhandled. (Plus MAJOR Ronan whump)

3x07 Shot by grabbing-hooks in vest, slammed to the ground, captured. Failed escape, electrocuted, dragged, tied up. Tortured, life drained, weak, bleeding chest wound, punched.

3x12 Headache, bleeding from ears, eardrum blown, in med bed.

3x16 (Plus Ronan whump)

3x17 Training fight, punched, slammed to the ground, grunting in pain, ice pack on face.

3x19 Forced to kneel with telekinesis. (Plus Ronan whump)

Season 4

4x03 Shot stunned, unconscious, dragged. (Plus Ronan whump)

4x04 Fight with himself inside dream. Defibrillated, flatlines.

4x05 Captured, tied up, manhandled, blood test forcefully taken, interrogated, tortured, punched repeatedly, bloody bruised face. Failed escape, beaten, shot stunned.

4x06 Infected, sweating, forgetful, shot stunned, in med bed.

4x10 Hit during training, bleeding eyebrow cut.

4x11 Shot stunned, unconscious, tied up, interrogated.

4x12 Shot stunned unconscious. Captive, manhandled, forced to kneel with telekinesis.

4x15 Thrown across room, slammed against wall, strangled.

4x17 Attacked, air sucked from room, suffocating.

Season 5

5x01 Hallucinating, under collapsed building, in pain, object in abdomen, heavy breathing/bleeding. Field medicine, discharges himself, sweating.

5x02 Infected, restrained, seizure, flatlines, cpr. Impaled by vine, in med bed.

5x03 Ambushed, betrayed, punched, unconscious, dragged. Kicked, kneeling. (Plus MAJOR Ronan whump)

5x09 (Ronan & McKay whump)

5x11 Hit by explosion blast, ringing ears, glass shards in back, field medicine.

5x12 Gassed, unconscious, captive, manhandled, on trial.

5x14 Fight, strangled, punched repeatedly, bloody face bruise. (Plus Ronan whump)

5x15 Shot stunned, unconscious, tied up. Failed escape, interrogated, beaten up, punched, bloody face. Manhandled, hand cut off, in pain.

Man I really like Lt. Sheppard. His whumps were really great and so defiant! Not a lot of them but still some. Also a really watchable show in general. A gem I can recommend!

[puttersmile]

Crittertember Day 9: In Your AU

Excuse me as I shamelessly self indulge. Double induldge because I'm claiming this as a Crittertember Entry lmao. Day 9! "In Your AU"

This is a pretty loose AU. Pretty much everything I draw could be considered AU because what even is canon for the Smiling Critters? But I like to call this my "Critter Island" AU. (Or CritterCrossing) Simply because I headcanon that they live in a place called Critter Cove Isle. I basically treat it like a playground of ideas inspired by MLP, Animal Crossing and other stuff I like.

The OC is originally from This Post.

I wrote a short story about Kickin and my OC meeting for the first time. If you want then read below!

Self indulgent shipping stuff: First Meeting

It was a blistering summer day, and Sandy Paw Beach  was packed with critters enjoying the sun, surf, and sand. Kickin Chicken was in his element, surrounded by his usual entourage of fans. His athletic prowess, smooth confidence, and laid-back attitude had made him a local celebrity. Today, he was out there impressing everyone with his latest trick—a complicated, gravity-defying flip off the side of the pier into the ocean. 

“Yo, Kickin, that was sick!” one of the critters cheered, clapping him on the back as he stepped out of the water, flipping his wet feathers in an effortlessly cool way. 

“Ye-hah, you nailed it, dude!” another chimed in, eyes wide with admiration.

Kickin smirked, shaking off the water and casually throwing on his sunglasses. 

“Eh, no biggie,” he said, trying to downplay it. “When I was born my mom thought I was a penguin, y’know?”

His group of fans chuckled, hanging onto his every word. As they headed back toward the pier to grab some ice cream, one of the critters in the group glanced over at the lifeguard tower and scoffed.

“Ugh, there she is again,” an otter critter named Mia muttered, nudging her friend. “The weird lifeguard.”

Kickin raised an eyebrow, his attention pulled to where Mia was looking. At the lifeguard tower sat Jersey Shoals, a cow critter, her gaze steady as she surveyed the beach. She was calm and quiet, the wind playing with her short, ocean-swept hair as she sat atop the tower, her lifeguard vest loose around her shoulders.

“What’s weird about her?” Kickin asked, though his tone was still casual. He wasn’t the type to get caught up in gossip, but something about the way Mia said it piqued his curiosity.

“She’s, like, always so quiet and stares off into space,” Mia replied. “Barely talks to anyone, and when she does, it’s like... I dunno, she just acts kinda... different. People say she’s, like, in her own world or something.”

“Yeah,” another critter chimed in. “I heard she’s…excuse the language, a bit slow?  Probably not all there, y’know?”

Kickin shrugged, not particularly interested in the details. “Whatever,” he said, brushing it off as he strutted toward the ice cream stand. “She’s just doing her job.”

But as they passed the tower, Kickin couldn’t help but glance up at Jersey again. There was something different about her, but not in the way his beach pals had been suggesting. She seemed...focused. Like she was tuned into something deeper than the noise around her. She wasn’t gawking at the athletes and body builders on the beach, wasn't trying to impress anyone. She just... was.

Suddenly, as if on cue, a loud shriek broke through the chatter of the beachgoers. Kickin turned his head in time to see a kid flailing in the water, caught by a rough current. The lifeguard tower’s alarm sounded, but Jersey was already in motion.

Without a second’s hesitation, she leapt from the tower, her movements swift and precise. She sprinted toward the water, cutting through the crowd with ease, while the beachgoers began to panic. Kickin watched, caught off guard by the sudden change in pace.

Jersey hit the water with purpose, diving beneath the waves in a practiced motion. The kid had gone under for a moment, but she found him quickly, pulling him to the surface with a strength that surprised everyone watching. With measured, powerful strokes, she swam back to shore, cradling the terrified kid in her arms.

By the time she reached the beach, the crowd had gathered, buzzing with concern and admiration. Jersey laid the kid gently on the sand, checking him over as he coughed up water. 

“You’re okay, kiddo. Just breathe,” she said softly, her voice calm and steady.

The kid’s parents rushed over, thanking Jersey profusely, but she barely acknowledged the attention. Once the child was safe, she simply nodded and made her way back toward the tower, shaking off the water without a word, completely focused on her duties.

Kickin’s groupies watched the whole thing in stunned silence. Mia shifted uncomfortably, glancing at the ground as one of the others nudged her in the side. As if to say “Ahem. You were saying?”

“Well... okay, that was pretty cool, I guess,” she muttered, clearly embarrassed by her earlier comment.

Kickin, however, was still staring at Jersey as she walked back to her post. His sunglasses were pushed up, and for the first time that day, he was speechless. That girl who they had called “weird” had just saved a life without a second thought. No showing off, no need for applause. Just action.

Something stirred in him. She was different, all right—but in a way that made him curious. She wasn’t like the others around him, constantly seeking attention or validation. Jersey Shoals had her own rhythm, and that was something Kickin couldn’t help but admire, even if he didn’t understand it yet.

As Jersey reached the base of the tower, she glanced back, her gaze meeting Kickin’s for just a brief second. She didn’t smile, didn’t wave—just a quiet, steady look that lingered for a moment before she turned away and climbed back up to her station.

Kickin blinked, realizing he had been staring. He quickly composed himself, his usual cocky grin returning. “Alright, y’all go ahead,” he said, waving off his friends. “I’ll catch up in a minute.”

As they headed off toward the ice cream stand, Kickin lingered by the edge of the beach, his eyes drifting back toward the lifeguard tower. Maybe she wasn’t weird. Maybe she was just different. And honestly that was something he found intriguing. 

With one last glance at Jersey, he turned and jogged to catch up with his pals, but his mind kept wandering back to the girl on the tower, wondering about what made her tick.