#jack's grouchy ass self

[stellarhistoria]

^ THIS BITCH MADE ME REMEMBER HIM. NOW I WANNA SEE IF PEOPLE WANNA GET INVOLVED IN HIS GROUP

AUGH!

[loser-jpg]

👉👈 humble request for headcanons if Leona was in the stitch event

ohohoh that is such a wonderful silly idea.

firstly 100% he has an open shirt outfit like jack i would cry if he didnt. also tied up hair. in a bun. because i need that.

i feel like unlike all the others he wouldn't immediately try to bargain with gantu because hed immediately be mega distrusting, but he also wouldnt trust stitch.

hed be annoyed at floyd and lilia the whole time for their antics but probably have less of a reaction than everyone else just because hes so used to this kinda nonsense at this point LMAO

after seeing stitches skill hed probably be one of the first to agree to side with him, but because hed see him as useful rather than wanting to help him stay away from gantu.

hes definitely not putting in as much work as everyone else to build a shelter or get food, but is somehow getting away with it since everyones so laid back and having fun. once that hammock gets built hes not leaving it. his ass is planted there and he is having the comfiest nap of his life.

something ive noticed about the stitch event is everyone in it seems to just allow themselves to be happy and carefree way more than any other time we see them, so i feel like by the end of the event hed be a lot less of his grouchy usual self, and would be having fun like everyone else. hed be menace while they were surfing and playing in the water, definitely picked it up quick and started showing off. might've purposely tripped some of the others off their boards lol.

he warms up to stitch by the end too, mostly because stitch curls up in the hammock at one point when hes napping, and his fluffiness makes the hammock more comfortable. hes not as excited about stitch as lilia or floyd but he lets him climb on his shoulder without much complaint.

at the end when they all forget and decide to go to the beach together over the summer, he only agrees once jack says hes going and only agrees because he thinks the beach would be a good nap spot (it so is, in the sun but cooled off by the breeze from the sea oh its wonderful)

[yulin-pop]

↛ ❀ 2023 Kickoff

Kalim Al-Asim

“ Are we best friends or just friends?” | “ Do friends kiss??”

Note: Based off of me and my crush. This may be non sense because I got lazy at the end.

You knew Jamil would kick your ass if he knew you were flirting with Kalim. But its not your fault Kalim is so cute!

Jamil has taken notice of your interest in Kalim but you always have an excuse ready if he ever tries to confront you.

It kinda feels forbidden with you being a commoner and from another world while he’s a prince.

Your relationship was complicated— you couldn’t tell if he was being his usual friendly self or being more than just friendly whenever he grabbed your waist and casually held you like that.

It started off as a joke. Because that’s how it ALWAYS starts off. Very embarrassing on your part. It’s like setting up a trap and then falling into it.

You ended up spending a lot more time at Scarabia. Most of your friends complained, even Grim. But you pretty much drowned it out.

It really felt like Kalim could be your boyfriend.

“I really should be going but— I don’t wanna!” You threw yourself on Kalim’s lap while stretching your arms out.

He laughed, “Well, you don’t have to. You can stay over.”

You smiled but shook your head. “No I can’t do that…”

“Eh? Why not?” Kalim whined.

Yeah you were playing hard to get, you were aware how stupid you sounded. At times like this, you two felt more like a bantering couple.

People were talking about you two. Scarabia students spread some accurate rumors of you two. Probably not on purpose but it still ended up in your friend group. They weren’t happy at all.

Ace grabbed the collar of your uniform and shook you back and forth while interrogating you. Deuce, Epel, nor Jack did. much to help while Grim threatened to burn your hair.

“Kalim, what are your thoughts on dating?” You suddenly asked. You felt promoted to ask such a question because of all these rumors .

“Hmm…” He hummed for a moment, “I see it a lot. My relatives are always asking if I’ve got a partner yet. I guess it’s just not my top priority! But it’s still on my mind…” He spoke a bit slow in an unsure tone with his eyes gazing into yours.

You smiled, “Oh yeah? What is your top priority?”

“You, of course!”

You laughed in unison as you sat up to wrapped your arms around his neck.

You glanced off to the side and thought.

If we were dating, this would be a good time to kiss.

Why were you thinking this? You did this to yourself when you started acting this way towards a friend. Of course you couldn’t go complain to your friends because they’d laugh in your face. Then again you would also do the same thing.

You looked at him straight in his eyes. He could tell there was something off by how tense you were and your expression look as if you were gonna sneeze.

“Uh are you okay…?” He poked your cheek as he leaned in closer.

“Kalim!” You suddenly shouted his name. Then you went for it.

—

Now you didn’t know what to do. You stuck closer to Grim and randomly went silent in conversations. Even in class, you seemed spaced out. Maybe not spaced out but just bothered by something.

Grim already tried to ask you but you easily disregarded him. Unfortunately Ace and Deuce can be somewhat dense and didn’t realize your soured mood until half way into the school day.

You pouted to yourself in your seat as Grim ate all of your lunch that you were supposed to share.

“Grim, you just ate all of MC’s lunch.” Deuce pointed at the empty tray.

“Eh whatever, they always share lunch with Kalim anyway!” Ace teased but you showed a very bitter reaction.

Finally they notice…

“They’ve been all grouchy all morning!” Grim complained, you were being super rude today!

“I’m not being grouchy. You’re just high maintenance!” You spat back. You put your head down to slouch in your seat and let out a groan of distress.

“You’re completely ruining the mood for us!” Ace forcefully pulled you back up and shook you. “You’re gonna tell us what happened.”

Maybe your friends aren’t as mean as you thought.

They still reprimanded you for doing something so absurd almost like they were your guardians or something but they wanted to help you. But ideas from the ex-anemone heads weren’t very bright. Maybe the most direct approach would work in this situation.

Right as the last bell rang, you jumped out of your seat and made your way down the halls. You nearly crashed into an upperclassman but you stopped right in front of him.

“Do you know where Kalim is?”

“I think he went to the light music room. He was talking about practice before the bell rang.”

When you approached him, you almost forgot what you were gonna say. He greeted you curtly but didn’t have the usual upbeat attitude.

“Could we talk about.. last night?” You nervously said.

“Oh! It’s okay. If it’s better for you, we can just forget that ever happened.” He quietly said.

Somehow, that hurt to hear. You didn’t want to forget it. You shook your head and glanced to the side. You were at a loss.

“Are we best friends or just friends?” Kalim suddenly asked with a serious gaze.

“Do friends kiss?” You were asking yourself that. You did love him but maybe he saw it as just friendly banter.

“Uh well obviously not!” Kalim said without sarcasm. You almost forgot how honest could be. The two of you sighed in confusion.

“Well then— what are we…?”

That was a question neither of you could answer. You bit your lip and looked down.

“You know what… I like you! It’s okay if you don’t like me back yet! I still have time to woo you, right?”

“…Right?” You answered back. “But I do like you.”

He grabbed your shoulders and came closer. “But I didn’t do it right. I thought it was obvious. I wouldn’t go do that if I didn’t like you. My ma told me that love built in confusing feelings like this aren’t good! So I just gotta redo it.”

Honestly, he was just making it worse.

“If it’s okay with you. Then let’s restart. I’ll take you on a date!”

You nodded your head, you didn’t understand what he was trying to say.

“Great.” He let go of you and stepped away, “I’ll be going but please don’t forget. Bye bye!”

At this rate, he might kill you with all this tension.

[clowntiggles]

Okay so I don't have finals today actually which is pretty cool but you know what I do have? Some dsaf headcanons that I will now share with you.

Dave is the bigger tickler of the dynamic duo but he's also the more sensitive. He kind of digs his own grave (he likes it tho shhhh).

His long-ass neck is a big weak spot, which is a bit of an inconvenience due to its aforementioned abnormal length. It comes in handy because Jack can never escape kisses but he risks exposing himself to tickles whenever he utilizes it. Or accidental throat punches. Which has happened more than once. It's a bit of a glass canon.

Jack isn't as affectionate or cuddly as Dave is, but he's willing to indulge in tickling despite its silliness. He enjoys the closeness and Dave's reactions will always be worth it.

More about Jack: ever since his front teeth got knocked out in a work accident he's been pretty self conscious about his smile. He either keeps his mouth closed or covers it when he can't. Dave simply cannot tolerate this behavior.

Trying to find ways to make Jack smile practically counts as a pastime at this point. A real smile, not those bullshit polite ones you use on customers.

Well, he likes any smile from Sportsy no matter how small, but his heart gives a little kick every time he gets to see really smile. It gives a bigger kick when he's the one causing it.

As one does, Dave uses the whole situation as an excuse to tickle the shit out of Jack almost too often. A lot of "oh but you've been so grouchy today!" and "where's that smile??". If Jack tries to cover his mouth Dave can catch him in the saw trap of "what's more important Sportsy, hiding that grin or protecting these sensitive sides you got here?". He's evil.

Jack can't really get mad at him. He can get revenge, though.

[honey-milk-depresso]

Hello! I really love the TWST x Genshin Y/N requests... So, would it be alright if I requested a Sucrose Y/N with the SavanaClaw dorm? ^^ I really love your writing, thank you!

Hi hi! I'm finally onto your request! So sorry it took quite awhile for me to answer. I hope you enjoy! Also, Sucrose is such a cute bby MUST PROTECT I LOVE HER JDGDHGDHDH-

You love experimenting and spend you of most time researching on bio-alchemy, yearning to uncover secrets of life.

Your research often yield numerous results that you often label every unique variable as a result of its own, regardless of how useful said result may be. You're so engrossed in your experiments, you find yourself getting bored easily when you aren't conducting them.

You, however, are quite reclusive and timid, you worry a lot if you unintentionally offend people.

Added Trey and Jade man-

TWST The shy and experimental alchemist, s/o (Sucrose)

Leona Kingscholar

Leona couldn't care at first.

You were just so quiet and timid, that he easily found you forgettable.

Leona isn't really the type to listen to people shy and unable to speak up more like he doesn't listen to anyone-

So he didn't really care much at first.

But overtime, he noticed how engrossed you are in alchemy.

You aren't the best, but you aren't the worse either.

And he had to admit, you were pretty cool in conducting your experiments.

And since you never talk a lot, he prefers sleeping next to you, since you won't make a lot of noise.

It's quite funny, a gruff, lazy guy with a shy, polite other. And they're a couple.

Anyone who thinks they can be a smart ass and target you, are gonna get obliterated by Leona.

No one should dare come near you in the first place. <3

Ruggie Bucchi

Like Leona, he didn't care much.

You were soft spoken, and you don't really get much attention, not that you wanted to.

So, he pretty much disregarded you at first.

But he's seen you carry out your alchemy experiments.

And he's pretty amazed by how you carry them out.

And I like to think Ruggie tried to open up a conversation once, and almost got shocked when you suddenly jumped by his sudden appearance.

But you're constant stuttering is something he finds cute, and ruffles your hair stating how adorable you are.

And to Ruggie, you're just the most precious bean!

Anyone who thinks they can take advantage of you, are gonna tumble down more the stairs, and get more than just a sprain.

He won't ever let that happen! <3

Jack Howl

It's funny.

Someone like him; tall, gruff and intimidating, helping someone timid, shy and easily scared to get around with the life of NRC.

He's a big ol' softy with you.

He looks so grouchy, but when you come around, he's very overprotective of you.

Jack tries to help you get over your fear of peer pressure, and he also helps you get along and talk with others.

He also finds you the most adorable person to walk this planet,

he will protect you with his life, no doubt.

He's also pretty surprised by your alchemy skills.

Like, glowing, pale green butterflies swirl around you from your cauldron, and you looked like a fairy of a garden.

You're just so cute!

And Jack hates people who tries taking advantage of the weak. And he's not saying you're weak, you're just more shy than others.

And thus, some people think they can just push you around.

Not when Jack is around.

He's gonna make sure they aren't going to abuse you, and he will protect you from them. <3

Trey Clover

He helps you a lot.

Whether be it in communication, or getting out of your shell,

either way, you had a big fear of speaking to others.

When he first spoke to you, you all of a sudden shrieked and apologized so much.

And he was like "???"

It was clear to him you're a very shy person, and you don't really know how to talk to others without thinking you'll offend them.

Because of Trey's kind, gentle and patient nature, you got along with him pretty well,

and he has to say you're quite the outgoing one when it comes to your alchemy experiments.

He's really impressed by your skills!

Trey finds it adorable when you stutter a lot and blush whenever he comes around.

He just feels the constant need to hug you when he sees you.

Anyone who takes advantage of your timid self,

are gonna be met with the more sadistic side of Trey,

and no mercy is going to be given to them. Not one bit.

Then he'll come by to tell Riddle to take care of them, and he'll spend the rest of his time cuddling you. <3

Jade Leech

Oya oya?

How adorable~

Jade finds your shy and timid nature really cute!

He grins whenever you blush and stutter a lot when he comes by, he's quite amused by the way you act when he talks to you.

You're such the adorable angelfish, aren't you?~

Jade finds your experiment conducting very impressive.

You seem to be a professional when it comes to conducting your alchemy research.

And your love for uncovering secrets is something he admires, too.

Every time you ramble about your conclusions and focus on writing them is something he can stare at quietly, admiring your adorable face.

Jade helps you a bit to overcome your fear of talking to others, albeit a little teasingly, but never with harmful intentions.

All of it is affectionate!

Anyone who even dares try to lay a finger on you, take advantage of you,

is going to be met with a very pissed of Jade, who's smiling so cynically.

Perhaps also letting his dear brother and friend to join in on the fun~

He makes sure you're never harmed, he loves you really much, I assure you. <3

[whump-town]

The Safe Side

No pairings

No warnings (surprising, I know)

Hotch is getting older and that scares the shit out of Reid

I probably wouldn't have finished this if not for @genevievedarcygranger

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

His only symptom is memory loss.

Reid sees it, he knows it. The symptoms he’s committed to his memory for better or worse dispelled so easily, so regularly before him but he can’t help but entertain his irrational fears. He’s not sure why. It would not be more comforting for Hotch’s occasional forgetfulness to be Alzheimer’s and not age and yet he waits for the moment that proves him wrong. For the phone call that Hotch is dressed for work and trying to get up to the bullpen. That they’ll lose him to anxiety and aggression, he’ll lose his temperament and comforting nature bit-by-bit until he’s broken down. And Reid will lose him too.

The good things become tainted by his fear.

At Christmas, they go to Rossi’s like they always do, and while the others dance to the music softly humming through the room Reid finds himself watching Hotch. Inspecting the grey hairs growing ever more along his temples, spread now through the rest of his hair. They age him appropriately but Reid can’t help but feel betrayed by their presence like he’s being taunted. No different from the reading glasses perched at the very edge of Hotch’s nose, the ones Hank lightly reaches up for. Old enough not to grab at them but still curiously taking a finger to trail their frames. Reid neglects his desire to be closer to them, to be drawn in by Hotch’s deep voice and the crackling fire soothing Hank to sleep. He stays where he is, hearing the ghosting bits of “Where The Wild Things Are” for the third time.

All he hears is science. Proof in the voice’s Hotch uses for each character -- “Oh, please don't go — I'll eat you up — I love you so!” -- that his language center had no inhibitions. The way Hank looks at Hotch when he bellows that line the first time, giggling and writing about when Hotch tickles him and squeezes him up tight so Hank can’t get away is lost to Reid for what it really is. That the spontaneous tickling and the reading mean other things. The love between them and Hank’s adoration for Hotch boiled down to symptoms Reid can prove Hotch doesn’t have.

Reid is terrified and it won’t let it up.

He finds himself panicking in Rossi’s backyard, surrounded by laughing people. Happy people who have no idea what his problem is. But he sweeps his over the clusters of chatting people and realizes that in all the groups he can’t find Hotch. Amidst them, he’s fairly easy to spot. Sticks to what he knows and who he’s most comfortable with. Diplomatic in that he makes sure he talks to everyone once but if he’s going to be someplace he’s not where he should be.

This is it, he tells himself. He’ll find Hotch confused, ambling about alone and where he shouldn’t be. Not sure where he is or why he’s here.

And then Reid turns around and finds Emily sitting with him on the porch swing. One of Hotch’s legs stretched out over the expanse of the porch, dark jeans a contrast to the concrete as he rocks them back and forth. Emily’s head on his shoulder and his arm around her back, a glass of wine passed between them. Neither saying a word as they watch the teams they built interacting with one another, families mixing together.

Reid can’t enjoy their smiles, the way they look out over everyone like proud parents.

Even his own birthday with books in a variety of languages sitting around him wrapped in an array of papers that so brilliantly display who their giver was. With his fingers tracing the one covered in newspaper, the one he knows is from Hotch, Reid is lost to this rot in the pit of his stomach. The sludge that fills his veins with tension. It leaves him the only person not smiling, with no idea what’s happening, when Garcia and Hotch stand over his cake fussing about which direction to light the candles. He misses the finger Hotch swipes through the icing and dollops right on Garcia’s nose. Looks up to watch Garcia retaliate with the same treatment but can’t enjoy it, can’t feel love or ease when the room erupts in laughter and Garcia and Hotch stand there with their icing-covered noses smiling at one another.

He finally finds the courage to mention it to someone, tells Morgan one afternoon when they both end up at Hotch’s house. Morgan is there fixing some wooden stakes in Hotch’s garden and Reid dropping off groceries. Hotch is sleeping off surgery medication, unaware of the hushed conversation being had outside.

“Kid,” Morgan can see it. The terror eating Reid alive. “They just hacked him apart and put him back together, all right? He’s on some strong shit right now. He’ll be fine in a day or two. You’ll see.” Morgan tells him not to worry about it, Hotch has been knocked around his entire life. Nearly sixty years of severe blows to the head and if he manages to walk out of this life with just a sketchy memory then he’s getting off lucky.

But when Hotch stands for too long in a room trying to remember what he was doing or when he can’t provide an answer for how much coffee he’s had or if he needs eggs or if he had the last bowl of oatmeal this morning it scares the shit out of Reid.

Really, Hotch is fine.

Hotch had to write his doctor’s appointments down and he’s constantly needing some sort of surgery to fix whatever old injury is coming back to remind him of his previous offense but he’s his normal actively grouchy self. He never forgets to stop by Reid’s apartment Thursday around noon or his promise to get Henry and Hank from school when no one else can.

That doesn’t mean no one worries about him.

He would hate to know the collapse wasn’t when they started taking note of his fragile health.

Two weeks after his forty-fifth birthday he pulled a muscle in his chest (moving the couch so Jack could get a Hotwheels out from underneath) and JJ had watched him pause during his coffee run to press his palm into the strain. Her mind had filtered through a hundred scenarios to explain the behavior and they’d all ended with his death. Hotch is the kind of person with a puzzle piece life, whose pieces are spread out over the course of years, meant to be collected and put together by only the most detail-oriented. She knew his father had died of a heart attack and Reid only served to reiterate that fact. It was only a pulled muscle but, not for the first time, she felt utterly terrified of how much losing him would hurt.

There’s a string of these awful moments when his humanity, his mortality, is right there for them to witness. And, as strong as they’d like to believe themselves to be, they look away.

He’s fine now, all things considered.

The janky memory thing isn’t all that bad. He has milked it on more than one occasion. It’s how he keeps missing his physical therapy. Although, that has come around to bite him in the ass. He’s supposed to be using this cane they gave him and now someone shows up every week to take him to the appointment so he can’t even play it off like he’s forgotten. Typically it’s Emily or Derek but Garcia’s shown up and Reid even took him once. It’s very annoying. Doesn’t help that there are roughly thirteen people who he might run into in public who know he’s supposed to be using the cane and who will inquire about it or bring it up to someone else.

He hadn’t realized just how many people could get on his case until he’d run into Matt’s wife in the store and after having their brief, polite conversation where he mentioned Reid had called him not that long ago asking for advice on the BAUs current case, she asked about his knee. She said Garcia had been fretting over this last surgery he had and told her about it, she hadn’t thought that much time had passed. Was surprised he was back on his feet. It had taken six hours for him to get the phone call from Garcia and then Emily came over an hour later begging him to just “for the sake of my fucking sanity, Hotch, take it easy”. That’s when Garcia sat down and made him a calendar and he lost his say in matters of his grocery shopping and responsibility to take himself to doctor’s appointments.

He’s since won back grocery shopping. His doctor wrote him a note and Garcia conceded. She’s not stupid enough to toss their schedule for his doctor’s appointments though.

So, though he loathes it, he takes the cane with him when he leaves the house.

He’s learned his lesson. Penelope Garcia is one scary-ass lady who has far more control over him and everyone else than he’d care to realize.

Hotch hears the doorbell, muffled though it is, from outside. He’d known getting down on the ground was a bad idea with the way his knees have been hurting but he’s got zucchini and cucumbers laying out in the sun and while he ignored them yesterday, he knows he need to get them out today. Reid had expressed interest in them and Rossi’s likely to want the zucchini. He also knows Derek offered to take care of this sort of stuff but it’s a too warm Sunday morning and Derek’s likely chasing around a happy toddler.

Besides, he doesn’t have enough tomatoes to compensate for Derek’s work. That being said Derek would come over and do it regardless, he doesn’t mind.

“It’s about to rain,” Reid informs him the second he gets to the door. Hotch watches Reid’s eyes flick to his empty left hand, to the curve of his limp palm where his cane is supposed to be. Unlike the others, Hotch knows Reid will not say anything directly to him. Emily might ask where the cane is and Garcia would insist on going to get it but Reid will just anxiously flicker back and forth between Hotch’s face and his hand. Twisting and worrying until Hotch gets it himself. Which is surprisingly effective.

Hotch hums his agreeance, he could smell it in the air. Can tell it’s going to be a good storm with the shift and strength of the wind coming in. It’ll cool things off for a few hours then bring back the humidity and the mosquitoes with a vengeance.

“Do you think” Reid follows Hotch into the kitchen. He’s careful to keep a distance, not to push Hotch’s pace. He mills about in odd places to compensate their gates, looks at the book sitting on Hotch’s coffee table. “Do you think it’s going to rain a lot?” He’s a genius with the means to figure that out on his own and likely he already knows what he thinks the answer is. Hotch’s opinion is still important.

Hotch is in the fridge, rustling bags around as he finds the bag of vegetables he’s got set aside for Reid. He’s weird about fruits and vegetables, worries about bacteria and things but will eat a Poptart for every meal if given the chance. The logic is irrational but after twenty years of worrying about Reid’s diet, Hotch has finally found a solution to this particular problem.

“No tomatoes,” Hotch promises as he hands the bag over to Reid.

Reid nods, “I don’t like tomatoes.”

“I know.”

Reid takes his bag, smiles as he thinks about what things he can make with what he’s been given. “How much do you think it’ll rain?” he asks again.

Hotch hums, having heard Reid the first time. “It’ll be a good storm,” he figures, “might take out the electricity.” He only adds the last bit as a warning. Reid’s scared of the dark, a fact exacerbated by big storms that knock out the electricity. A common occurrence but no less startling.

“Oh.” Reid worries his lip, looks to the ground and everywhere but where Hotch is.

It’s likely to start soon, the winds really picking up and the sun’s drowned out by thick, rolling clouds. The storm of the century it’s likely not. Hotch doubts it’s even the sort people pull over on the side of the road to wait out but he decides to think it might anyway. Decides to tap Reid’s elbow and motion for him to follow, “come on.” He’s not even really sure where he’s going but it’ll lend a distraction. “Wait out the storm,” Hotch tells him, glancing back to make sure Reid’s following. “I wanna show you something.”

They spend the storm in his office, leaning over an old law school textbook. Reid has an affinity for them. No matter how many times Hotch uses them for a distraction, pulling them down from their dusty shelves, Reid still takes to them like it’s the very first time. He’ll sit for hours reading over the information but, his favorite parts, are how Hotch they are.

The notes he’s scribbled in the margins. Flashes of yellow highlighter. A coffee stain or smudge where his palm moves against not yet dried ink. Notes for cases or classes. Pages he’s dog-eared. They’re lived in, nearly perfect condition biographies. Of course, Reid gravitates to them.

By the time the storm rolls over Reid realizes he’s been alone in the office for hours. Sheepishly, he gets up and looks around. Makes his way through Hotch’s house until Reid finds him on the couch. As soon as Hotch sees him he takes off his reading glasses, placing a bookmark in his book and raising his eyebrow to inquire if Reid needs something.

“I should probably get going.”

Hotch doesn’t miss how suddenly bashful Reid gets, the way he looks down at the floor. “If you’d like,” Hotch won’t encourage him to leave. He spends a lot of time alone. He doesn’t mind have someone floating around. But Reid’s decided he’s overstayed his welcome so he moves cautiously towards the door. Taking his time because he knows Hotch will see him out.

“Be careful,” Hotch tells him as he opens himself up for a hug and Reid flushes a little under the attention but still steps into Hotch’s arms. Hotch gives him the bag of vegetables and frowns at the state of Reid’s hair. “Stop worrying so much,” Hotch fusses and they’re both aware of how parental his tone has gotten as frowns. He can see grey hairs here and there. Maybe not as present as his but there. “Do you want to talk about it? Whatever’s worrying you so much?”

Reid freezes, confused. Ordinarily, he’d give in, Hotch always fixes things but not this time. “I’m okay,” Reid promises.

Hotch doesn’t believe him but Reid’s an adult and Hotch knows when he’s needed Reid will know where to find him. All he can hope is that Reid comes to him if he really needs help. “Alright.”

They nod once more and Reid steps out but he’s not halfway down the driveway when Hotch shouts “I meant it, be careful driving home!”

Reid stops where he is, struck by the oddness of this situation. He made it his entire childhood without this sort of thing. His mother cared that he got home but he didn’t have friends to be out with. Never needed to stop and figure out how to call home and tell her he’d be home late. Now he’s lost his mother and he’s lost Gideon.

And he’s terrified he’ll lose Hotch next.

“I’ll text you when I get home,” he offers, feels silly the second it comes out of his mouth. Like Hotch would care enough for that. Like Hotch won’t be bothered with him texting him. Like Hotch is going to sit there and wait for the text.

Hotch narrows his eyes, “you’d better.”

Because Hotch will sit there and wait for the text.

“Yes, sir.”

Hotch is fine but Reid will keep watching just to be on the safe side.

[misssophiachase]

All You Never Say - Part 4a

Mr Mikael and Mrs Esther Mikaelson and Dr Grayson and Mrs Miranda Pierce request the pleasure of your presence at the wedding of their children:

The Hon Elijah Edward Mikaelson and Dr Katherine Elena Pierce

On the twenty-third of June, twenty-twenty one, 1400h at Ely Cathedral followed by a reception at Mikaelson Manor, Ely Cambridgeshire

Dress: White Tie

23rd June 2021, Mikaelson Manor, Ely Cambridgeshire - 8:47am

“What do you mean the beagle ate the wedding cake?” Caroline hissed, shutting the door behind her so as not to alarm the bride on her big day.

“Well, I can detail the stages of destruction, but yes, the Mikaelson's beloved pet dog decided to taste test the cake early, long story short.” Caroline was certain that the housekeeper’s use of ��the Mikaelson’s beloved pet dog” was clearly by design.

Caroline was all for adorable dogs, especially those that were photogenic for the wedding album like Tully, but not those who scoffed the cake before the ceremony had even begun. Especially given that extra amount of fondant and extra tier which cost the earth.

But given the way Tully looked at her with those imploring, brown eyes and the telling evidence of frosting smeared across her chops, she was close to calling it a day.

Who needed cake anyway? It was worth way too many calories and most people would be so drunk that far into the festivities it wouldn’t even matter, right?

“So, I see you’ve met our cute but pressing problem.”

Caroline turned to see the best man in all his glory. And by that she meant those unkempt curls, sly grin and a fitted, tank top that should be illegal given those arms on display. 

Was this their thing? Just running into each other partially clothed. She looked down at her ensemble self-consciously glad for the shorts, t-shirt and the Maid of Honour monogrammed robe that she greedily pulled across her chest.

“Our problem?”

“Because a problem shared is a problem halved right, wedding buddy?”

“Wedding buddy? Oh, you mean the same guy who wanted to document the lost ring for speech fodder?”

“It was a joke but clearly you don’t know what that means, grouchy.”

“Oh, like that time you let your dog, albeit cute, eat the wedding cake before the ceremony. I only hope the Bride and Groom figurines are still firmly intact at least?”

“Well, their passing was most definitely mourned,” Klaus noted. Caroline was trying to be mad, but he was doing that thing where he looked cute so as to avoid her wrath. Bastard.

“So, what you’re telling me is that we have no cake or cake topper and the wedding is due to start in 5 hours?"

“I mean there’s some cake left, albeit a mess, but if the guests want to eat it off the floor...”

“Yeah, I can see the Prime Minister doing that. You are not helping, Mikaelson. Look, I’ll call the baker, they must have a back-up cake on hand, otherwise why are we paying them such an exorbitant amount? I mean it’s a cake, like it’s hard to bake one of those,” she rambled, the reality of the situation making a sudden and ugly appearance.

“Okay, I didn’t want to tell you this because you are clearly already upset but the baker has no wedding themed alternatives,” Klaus explained, shooing away both the guilty canine and her loyal housekeeper in the process, no doubt by design. This was not the news Caroline wanted to hear and clearly he knew it.

“What?"

“You are not going to lose it, not on my watch, Forbes.”

“I am not losing it,” she hissed, finally finding her voice. “But she is your dog and that makes you responsible for my mood.”

“She is a Mikaelson, I mean expensive taste comes with the territory,” Klaus replied. Caroline, meanwhile, felt the brief spell he had over her lift.

“Can you please stop offering up annoying commentary? We have an emergency, one that needs to be rectified STAT.”

“What I didn’t get to say was that the baker has two other cakes on hand.” Caroline’s ears pricked up, maybe all wasn’t lost.

“I’m listening,” she murmured.

Klaus pulled his cell from his pocket and swiped through his phone. “These are the options.”

He leaned in closer so she could see the photos but in the process his arm grazed hers and she was momentarily blindsided and not focused on the pressing emergency. It reminded her so much of two years ago, when she’d felt his arm encircle her waist and pull her towards him. 

Caroline told herself he must have been dreaming at the time but that didn’t take away from how it had felt. It felt good, really good.

“Alright, love?” She looked up into his blue eyes, only deciding too late that it was a bad idea. A very bad idea.

“I’m just shocked by...” she paused, her eyes hurriedly flickering to his cell screen. “Congratulations on your Retirement, Bernie?”

“I’m sure we can change a few letters around or something,” she gave him a look which plainly said it wasn’t going to happen. “Right, here’s the other one."

“Happy 6th Birthday to our Unicorn Princess? Don’t think Kat would mind being called a unicorn princess at all but not sure about Elijah...”

“Well, what suggestions do you have, Forbes?”

He had a point, there were none that forthcoming but then it hit her.

“The bomboniere.” Caroline was surprised she thought of it given she was so caught off guard by his close proximity and the unfolding situation.

“The what?”

“I don’t have time to explain wedding terminology right now, I have a bride to reassure that everything is peachy. Just meet me in the kitchen in twenty minutes and put some clothes on while you’re at it.”

“Only if you do,” he smirked. Caroline didn’t wait before slamming the door in his smug face.

There were so many things to reconcile with Klaus Mikaleson and not just her feelings. Last night they’d shared more than a sandwich in the kitchen and two years ago...well that was another story.

Perch, Los Angeles CA - 14 February (two and a bit years earlier)

Caroline felt like she’d finally hit rock bottom.

Not because it was Valentine’s Day.

Or that she was single.

That wasn’t the worst part of her predicament. She was currently...well, before she could lament her situation a bell rang out, breaking Caroline from her regretful thoughts. She didn’t have time to bid Phil the Chiropractor farewell because a burly looking brunette appeared immediately in his place.

“Tyler.” Apparently there was no need for an actual greeting or for Caroline to ask his name in the first place. I suppose they only had two minutes so he was getting straight to the point. Caroline couldn’t blame him given how painful this whole thing was.

Caroline was going to kill them. First Bonnie, who wanted their apartment to herself tonight so she could cook a romantic dinner for current boyfriend Jeremy. Clearly he hadn’t been present at her most horrific of food failures given they were still dating.

They’d been living together since Bonnie relocated to Los Angeles nine months earlier and Caroline was enjoying rooming with her best friend again after so long. Then she got a boyfriend, even if he looked twelve, and Caroline was relegated back to her usual existence. It wasn’t like Caroline wanted or needed a boyfriend because her schedule was busy enough.

Which took her to the second person she had to blame. Lexi. Her colleague and friend, who decided they should spend the evening speed dating so Bonnie could “get it on with her boyfriend” as she put it. Caroline figured the fact she’d already signed them up weeks earlier and only asked right before a deposition hearing were the main reasons why she had no choice but to agree.

Now, here she was, pretending to be interested in Tyler and shooting deliberate looks in Lexi’s direction who seemed unaffected given the way she was attempting to read her guy’s palm. Smooth.

“I don’t think I got your name?”

“Huh?” She looked into his warm, brown eyes feeling guilty she’d been blatantly ignoring him.

“Your name?” Before she could reply, she heard a very familiar voice call out her name.

Then he appeared in all his gorgeous goodness, his ability to wear a suit had not waned since they’d seen each other last at a mutual friend’s engagement party. Why he was here of all places, she had no idea.

“Caroline, sweetheart.” Sweetheart?

“Do you know this guy?” Tyler asked, the confusion obvious. She didn’t blame him.

“Of course she knows me, I’m only her boyfriend.”

Her what now? Caroline was too shocked to speak let alone reprimand him for being a presumptuous idiot.

“You have a boyfriend? Then why are you here?”

“I’d like to know the same thing, mate,” Klaus agreed, his hands crossed over his chest. Caroline was madly trying to crawl under the table just so everyone would stop looking at her like she was some two-timing girlfriend.

Lexi meanwhile seemed to be enjoying the entertainment from afar, raising her champagne glass in salute, even if she had no idea what was happening. Caroline wasn’t enjoying it at all. She wanted to scream at him for being such an ass but at the same time a rescue from this situation was an equally enticing prospect.

“I…”

Before she could find the words, he found them for her.

“It’s my fault, sweet cheeks,” he implored, pushing past Tyler and placing his hands in hers. Caroline was trying to ignore the electricity it generated but also the horrible pet name he’d bestowed. Like he couldn’t have come up with something normal? “I neglected you and for that I am so sorry but just know that I will love you, always and forever.”

Was he kidding? Next thing he’d be pulling out a cracker jack bracelet or resembling any one of the romantic leads in a Nicholas Sparks adaptation. Caroline made a note to tease him about his taste in movies and television later.

However it seemed their audience didn’t mind one bit. Women and men nearby were more interested in fawning over the scene playing out than resuming speed dating. Even their organiser seemed transfixed.

She hated him, especially for interrupting her night and being the smug pain-in-the-ass she knew so well but she needed to get out of there fast and he was her ticket.

“Honey bear,” she cooed, noting the slight twitch in his jaw. Caroline knew he was trying to withhold his signature smirk. But why did he have to smell so good withholding it? His hands were still firmly intertwined with hers too. “You took me for granted, so why should I forgive you?”

Now he was trying to contain an eye roll, only someone who’d known him for that long could tell. And she was loving every moment especially if he was going to crash her speed date and embarrass her in the process.

“And for that I am eternally sorry, baby cakes.” Caroline had to really try not to dry reach. “But you are the one for me. We are destined to be together forever, like soulmates.”

As much as she wanted to draw this out and force him to eat those horrible and predictable platitudes, this show needed to end. Now. Given Tyler’s defeated expression she knew it wouldn’t be too difficult to transition to the bar and to a much-needed straight vodka on the rocks.

“You were an imbecile, Mario, but I’m willing to consider a reconciliation if you stop being an asshat and promise to worship me forever.”

Before she could relish in her response and the slight tugging at the edges of his crimson lips, he’d pulled her up and moved them towards the direction of the bar. No doubt because her demands were slightly out of the question and he was starting to feel embarrassed himself. Served him right really. Given half of the people were entranced by their conversation and the rest were clearly dubious she decided it was good timing to high tail it out of there.

“Worship you forever, someone clearly has tickets on themselves,” he muttered, gesturing to the barman. “And who is Mario? I so do not look like a Mario.”

“Says the man child named Mario who called me sweet cheeks and baby cakes."

“I was clearly being sarcastic,” he shot back, gesturing for a shot. “What was honey bear all about then?”

“You barrelled into my life uninvited, and last time I checked you don’t live here.”

“I'm in town for business and was having dinner with colleagues. Had I known it was going to be dinner and a show I might have arrived sooner.” Caroline chose not to respond immediately, just drank her vodka in one, long gulp. “Someone is thirsty.”

“I need to drink to deal with you.”

“Says the girl speed dating,” he whistled. “I mean you can be difficult and kind of abrasive, Forbes, but I never thought you’d speed date in a million years.”

“I am only doing this for Bonnie because she wanted the apartment to herself to cook for her date and then my friend Lexi signed me up without telling me,” she rambled.

“She’ll have another vodka,” he gestured to the barman. “So, I take it this boyfriend hasn’t sampled Bennett’s cooking yet? I just hope you left the fire extinguisher in plain view.”

“That’s what you took from all of this?’"

“I feel like if I delve too deeply I’ll be too immersed in all the Rebekah type drama and we both know that is not my thing.”

“I’ll be sure to pass on your best wishes to your sister,” she growled. “So, why involve yourself and embarrass me like that in front of total strangers? Let me guess, you’ve got no one to play with and were bored?”

“Don’t underestimate my ability to find a playmate, love.” The way he drawled “playmate” was making places below feel like they hadn’t in a long time. So much so that she didn’t even try to bite back. “Anyway, I thought it would be fun,” he teased, his left dimple making an unwanted appearance at that exact moment. “And I could tell you you needed rescuing.”

“I’m not some damsel in distress you need to save, Mikaelson,” she argued.

“Says the girl who looked like she’d rather be anywhere but here,” he shot back. “So, you’re welcome.”

“Kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss!” The patrons began to chant and tap their glasses, Caroline only just realising they seemed to have an audience of very interested speed daters watching their every move.

“I’m going to need more vodka,” she muttered, “But not here.”

Roosevelt Hotel, Beverly Hills - 2 hours later

“So, this is where you bring all your playmates?” It was the first thing that came to mind when Caroline spied the king size bed taking pride of place in his suite. They’d spent an hour at 25 degrees, the hotel’s poolside bar and were now in his suite.

Inexplicably.

Okay, maybe not so inexplicably.

Caroline wasn’t one to go to a guy’s hotel room - especially this particular one - but between the vodka buzz and the fact Lexi had picked up and Bonnie was enjoying her night in their apartment there wasn’t much choice about where to go.

The vodka had helped loosen her usual inhibitions and, although she’d never say it aloud, Caroline was enjoying his company. Although, if anyone asked about this temporary bout of insanity she’d blame the alcohol.

“ Says the woman who was questioning the existence of said playmates only a few hours earlier.”

“So, you won’t mind if I do this?” She stated, not bothering to ask his permission as she discarded her heels and jumped onto the perfectly made bed. He stopped what he was doing momentarily, his eyes transfixed on her short, black dress and bouncing, blonde waves.

“I’m going to have to tip the maid extra now,” his voice was low, husky almost.

“Maybe she deserves it,” Caroline shot back.

He didn’t respond immediately, just shrugged off his suit jacket and loosened his tie. She was watching him do it like it was in slow motion. Then he rolled up his shirt sleeves. Who knew forearms could be so...appealing?

Caroline was starting to think that she was entering some sort of alternate universe she needed to escape, if only just to keep her sanity and self respect. I mean he was Klaus Mikaelson and she wasn’t one of his “playmates.” Not by a long shot.

“Drink?”

“Water, please,” she replied immediately, he cocked an eyebrow as if to say she was no fun. “I’m a cheap drunk, what can I say? And who knows what else I might trash in this place under the influence?”

He seemed to accept her response, busying himself with drink preparation. “So, why exactly did you go speed dating in the first place?” He asked, filling a tall glass with ice cubes.

“I told you,” she panted, finally tiring of the activity and making herself comfortable on the expansive bed. “Bonnie…”

“I heard that version,” he pressed. “But I want the real one.”

He passed her the water and made himself comfortable on the bed, his aftershave combining with the dizziness and messing with her overall composure.

“It’s Valentine’s Day, and maybe you don’t understand, but spending it alone can kind of suck,” she confessed. “Especially when your roomie kicks you out of the house.”

“I just hope you kick Bennett out on Halloween as payback.”

“You like Halloween?”

“You have no idea, love,” he chuckled. “No rose petals or corny ballads, just blood, guts and general mayhem.”

“Noted.”

“It’s just this ridiculous Hallmark Holiday,” Klaus offered, stretching out further and grazing her legs in the process. “It creates unrealistic expectations.”

“So, it’s Hallmark’s fault?”

“Hallmark is the tip of the iceberg,” he explained. “Every candy company, every florist, every jeweller and don’t even get me started on those terrible things they call romantic comedies.”

“You don’t like romantic comedies?”

“I try to steer clear for my own sanity, Caroline.”

“Not tonight,” she murmured, an idea suddenly coming to mind. “If I’m forced to stay in this mediocre hotel with you then...”

It was a lie and they both knew it but suddenly the less tipsy version of herself felt like she needed an excuse to stay the night with her best friend’s brother in such close quarters.

“I demand a movie marathon.”

“Terminator, Rambo, Rocky?”

“It’s Valentine’s Day, Mikaelson,” she shot back. “And I happen to know there is a marathon on television tonight.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me?”

“I’m deathly serious,” she answered. “But before we start, I’m going to need some popcorn and a shirt.”

“You want my shirt?”

“Not the shirt you’re wearing, lover boy, don’t get so excited. But I can’t sleep in this dress.”

His eyes seemed to linger a little too long on her body and Caroline was trying to do everything in her power to remain calm. Luckily he broke the silence not too long after.

“I’ll get you a shirt, but I’m not going to enjoy these movies at all, understand? I am only watching these ridiculous excuses of cinema because you’ve taken my television hostage?”

2 hours later…

“So, the apparent “virgin who can’t drive” ends up with the step brother? I mean I’m not surprised given the poor and predictable plot but is this kind of union legal in the state of California?”

“For the fiftieth time, he’s not related,” she growled, throwing a few popcorn kernels in his direction. This is about Cher realising that material things in life aren’t everything.”

"Whatever you say, Forbes. Although, tell me after this movie ended she ditched the mansion, the jeep, the designer plaid and knee sock combination outfits and moved to the Valley?”

He was annoying but also eerily observant.

“Yes, I mean maybe? People with money can change.”

“They’ve clearly never met Mikael or Esther.”

He said it quietly but Caroline couldn’t mistake the pain in his voice. She knew about his difficult past but they’d never been close enough to discuss it and given they were lying in the same bed it didn’t seem like the best time to open that pandora’s box.

“Do I have a great choice for you next,” she promised, her eyes sparkling, hoping to lift the mood.

2 hours later…

“Are you crying?”

“No, for the last time I have allergies, Caroline.”

“Inside?”

“The pollen level was high today and the doors in these rooms are forever opening and closing. Maybe the maid doesn’t deserve such a big tip after all.”

Maybe it was cruel, but it was on television and there was no stopping the effects of the Notebook on even the most emotionless male.

2 hours later…

“I thought I’d seen everything,” he scoffed, stretching out tiredly. “She paid a guy to be her wedding date?”

“Not just anyone, he’s hot.”

“He’s an escort.”

“I think it adds to his overall appeal. He knows how to treat a woman because of his experience.”

“And how many escorts have you met?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Wow, if you ever show up to a wedding with a stranger, I’ll be asking for their credentials,” he joked. “Wait, you think he’s attractive?”

“Didn’t I just say that?”

“Each to their own I suppose, but that aside, the whole premise is just unrealistic.”

“It is a movie.”

“Yeah, a romantic comedy,” he shot back. “Case closed. Now, can we please sleep already? I think I deserve it after that marathon effort.”

“Fine,” she conceded, leaning across to turn off the lamp. “I have to say your shirt is very comfortable.”

“It should be," he replied, snuggling into the covers. “That’s my lucky Ramones t-shirt.”

As her head hit the pillow, Caroline was wondering why he gave her that particular shirt to wear. She couldn’t deny just how good the worn fabric felt against her bare skin and how the faint hint of his aftershave consumed her senses.

Sleep was immediate.

When she woke up the next morning and felt his arm encircle her waist and pull her towards him Caroline relished in the feeling. She assumed life would go back to normal but for now she was happy to live in the moment. It was probably better that way.

Read on AO3 HERE 

[volleyball-dontknowher]

hi! can i request a nsfw alphabet for kenma?

Thank you for the request!!!! I am not going to lie to you I think Kenma is secretly super kinky

Words: 2k 

Warnings: NSFW

Requests are open

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

He doesn’t ever say much but always does little things to let you know that he cares, he likes to wrap his arms around you and play with your hair until you fall asleep, or give you a couple of little kisses. He cares about you a lot and will show it through actions not words. 

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He loves his hands, they play video games, hold your hand and most importantly can make you cum within minutes, so versatile so great. 

On you he loves your thighs, he loves laying his head in your lap while he plays games, getting pulled on your lap, and holding on to them while he is pounding into you or pulling them to his face while he eats you out. 

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

At first is super embarrassed when he would cum but after the two of you built trust in your relationship he gets more confident in where he is going to cum. He loves to cum deep inside you because he doesn;t like the mess, he also likes when you swallow because it’s not worth his time to clean it up. With you however he is going to want to lick it all up slowly and take his time to clean everything up. He likes it the lazy way most of te time but sometimes he likes to be messy and cum all over you. 

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He has absolutely tried a vibrating cock ring and loves it, he loves that it can please him without him having to do any work, he would turn it to the highest setting and get off while he was playing games. 

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He watched a lot of porn before he got a girlfriend and he picked some things up but he really just watched girls boobs bounce and their reactions, so he started out knowing the basics but was super nervous but was amazing his first time nonetheless. He only gets better every time you two finish you are blown away and wondering where he learned that. 

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

HOnestly if he can be inside you he likes it. He does really like having you ride him because he doesn’t have to do a lot of work and he gets to watch your boobs bounce and your face scrunch up. He also loves hitting it from behind and pulling your hair and being able to smack your ass and grab your boobs while he pounds into you, just depends on the day 

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Serious. He isn’t goofy ever and sex is not going ot be any difffernt, he is very calm and serious, Getting him to actually smile at you with his eyes is going to be as goofy as he gets. 

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Carpet has brown straight hair and he doesn't see the point of doing any maintenance unless you ask him too then he totally will because he wants you to be happy and he wants to give you every reason to do it with him. 

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Usually a total dom and is going to be talking dirty and just focused on the pleasure for the two of you once he is done he becomes a sweetheart who cuddles right up to you but don’t expect that 90% of the time while you are actually doing it. 

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Doesn’t see the need for it anymore, he has you, if he is horny he is going to have you right there to help him out, if for some reason he is away at a con or something and you aren’t there then he is going to be in his hotel room, calling you so you can help him get off, he is going to be whiny and moaning and it’s not going to completely satisfy him so right wihen he gets back he is going to be on you. 

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

I feel like he is either a kinky boy or the most vanilla boy on the planet , but for the sake of this let’s all say that he is super kinky. Like I feel like  he likes any and everything kinky. Call him daddy, praise him, he’ll edge you and deny you orgasms until he’s ready for that. He is going to be a total dom 90% of the time and is going to make you scream his name. Most of all I feel like he has a total voyeurism kink, like he loves watching you touch yourself thinking of him, or watching you suck off someone else and knowing that he is the one who gets to take you after that and that you just keep looking at him because no one else compares to him. He really trusts you when you do that but is still going to get jealous and intervene halfway through because he can’t handle it and will push into you. He is also a dirty talk God like something switches on inside of him and he becomes a sex God like he is going to leave you satisfied. 

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

He prefers his bed room where the two of you can make as much noise as you want and have privacy. He also likes doing it in the kitchen, living room or anywhere in you two have privacy. 

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

If he walks in the door and you have his gaming headset on with matching colored lingerie he is going to first whine that you take it off then fuck you so good that you can’t walk the next day. He also loves when you get on his streams and message things about how cute he is under your anonymous account that he knows is you, or when you actually do play with him. He also cannot handle when you run your hand up his thighs. 

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He wouldn't let anyone see hickeys on either of you, he is protective of you and doesn’t want his fans saying anything about you. He also wouldn’t like to actually hurt you, get pegged or have him be blindfolded. 

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He is going to love you giving him head and he is going to start off calm and collected when you start and is going to be looking down at you while biting his lip but once you start picking up the pace he is going to let out needy moans and pull at your hair. If he's really horny he is going to take control and fuck your face and make a mess out of you. 

He really only eats you out when he is taking his time with you, he is going to be a total tease and have you screaming his name the entire time. He knows exactly what he's doing between licking and sucking on your clit. It only takes a couple of minutes for you to be screaming his name. He always gets a little ego boost from it. 

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

If he is dom mode he is going to be fast and rough enough that you aren't able to keep up with it all you feel is pleasure. If he's in a soft mood it's going to be almost painfully slow because he likes to watch every single expression on your face as he enters you and is going to kisses along your jaw as he teases you, eventually though he needs more and ends up speeding it up.

He is going to like to do them after a long stream or even between filming episodes, he gets really tense while playing and a quickie is a great way to release stress. He also loves them early in the morning when it’s quiet, these are usually some of the most loving because it is just the time for the two of you even if it is quick it is a lot of quiet love. 

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He is willing to try a lot of things on you and try new positions, kinks and ideas, there isn’t a ton that he is not willing to try like he loves trying things with you. 

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

He likes a one and done type of thing, he takes his time and ends up lasting forever but he doesn’t like for it to take several rounds because he uses all of your energy in the first round. 

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He likes toys on you when you are masturbaitng or he is teasing you but he is going to only like to use his hands to prove that he is the only person that can make you orgasm and just feel that good. 

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He is going to tease just so he can hear you beg for him, he is going to make you whiny and needy before e is going to give you what you want. 

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He’s super quiet and is going to let out a couple low moans and grunts when he gets into it but for the most part the only thing you are going to hear from him is dirty talk. 

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

One time he was losing during his game and was super grouchy and a viewer commented something negative about you and he told them no, ended the stream and then went and pulled you into the bedroom and fucked you, he now has no one ever make comments about you 

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

He is shy about everything but that, he gets his confidence for a reason he is probably like 7 inches with a thick base and he knows how to use it. 

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Honestly not that high, he really is ready to go at it about once a week maybe once every other week, but when he does it is not cut short by anything, he takes his time with you and gives you everything you want. If you do it more often it is going to be shorter but definitely as good. 

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He either pulls out, pulls you close and then is straight asleep, or cuddles you until you fall asleep then gets up and goes to play games until he is tired (which is going to be never so you end up waking up and having to force him to bed) 

[bambigoose]

Not All Heroes Wear Capes

AN: So life is a little different right now and I hope everyone and their loved ones are doing okay. Personally its been a rough few months, working as a healthcare professional you know its always a possibility but we were never prepared for this. Stay safe everyone! I’m hoping to get back to writing on a consistent basis so send in some requests or player suggestions! 

Mass General Hospital is a busy epicenter of healthcare in Boston on a normal day, add in a pandemic and it looks like North Station on a Monday morning. Precautions are taken, safety is maintained, and the deep routed never ending exhaustions settles within the entirety of the staff. Doctors, Nurses, EVS and Administrative workers are pushed to their limits.

In a buried office, down an abandoned hallway Stephanie groaned as she hung up the phone with another patient. Massaging her temples while cancelling the next pre admission testing appointment, she jumped as the door opened behind her. “Pretty sure massaging your temples counts as touching your face.”

“Pretty sure this office and myself are cleaner than they’ve ever been before. If I attempt to put any more sanitizer on my hands right now they’re going to scream at me.” she replies, turning toward Dr. Connor in the doorway.

Dr. Connor held out a dunkin coffee made to Stephanie’s preference for the poor girl, “Wish I could take credit for this but it was delivered to the door for you. I offered to walk it over since I was on the hunt for you. Eerie over here, don’t you think?”

Stephanie laughed at the cup, reading the order and knowing only one other person knows her ridiculous preferences. “I love him, truly.” she says to Dr. Connor as she inhales the aroma and takes a deep sip. The gentle sigh escaping her, despite best efforts to contain it causing Dr. Connor to chuckle while Stephanie gestured to the chair in the office. “With no visitors and all elective surgeries cancelled it's pretty dead over here. Should have seen it when I walked in at 6, felt like something out of a horror movie with all the lights off.”

“Does he even pay for coffee anymore? All those commercials…”

With a laugh Stephanie interrupts, “Despite popular belief hockey players are just like the rest of us, even David Pastranak pays for his coffee.” She flips off a quick text, You’re an angel. I love you!

Smiling at the return message, Figured it was coffee time! Love you too with the typical ridiculous amount of emojis she always gets from him.

Turning to Dr. Connor, she sighs “Now who's trying to convince us to put a surgery on the schedule now.” The hospital procedures require the agreement of the Surgical Coordinator and Chief Medical Officer in order for bookings to occur now. The two in the office were always friends, but now with the multiple hats they had to wear they were working in tandem.

“Dr. Barre, GI Bleed.” he replies back.

“Oh, that’s happening.” as Stephanie begins to type in the booking.

….

Four hours later, Stephanie stood outside the ER doors in full protective gear screening patients walking in to determine whether or not they need to head to the possible covid waiting area or if they were general patients that can go to a waiting room for other issues.

Some people were willing to work with them and happy to answer questions others gave them more grief then necessary. Every once in a while people will bless them with their life story. The clearing of a throat brought her attention to the door behind her and a chipotle bag Dr. Connor was waving in his hand. "Special delivery! You can eat it while you put a booking in for Dr. Barrett."

"The lady who dislodged her rectum?"

"How'd you know?" He asks with a smirk.

"She walked up to me and the very first thing she said was 'I tried to shit and my ass fell out."

Passing over the bag with a laugh, the duo proceeded to the office. "I like how this delivery comes with a message that food  is necessary to survival. Wasn't aware that needed a reminder."

"Not all heroes wear capes Doc, some wear scrubs, and some wear sweatpants and order uber eats to make sure their girlfriends don't turn into angry bears. "

"Don't poke the bear." He replies with a smirk, holding the office door open.

Falling into her chair, Stephanie twirls with an eyebrow raised. "Honestly, how long have you been waiting to say that?"

Dr. Connor's laugh echoed down the empty hallway.

…..

Stephanie hated very few things in her life, how self centered her aunt was, spiders, outrageously rude people, Dr. Berry for reasons known only to the other surgical staff (and poor JD too after one night with too much wine), and Pasta's inability to put his goddamn shoes away. "You know I can't help save lives if I die tripping over your shoes! Seriously you can't even go anywhere, why do you wear so many shoes? And how do they always make it to the entryway?"

Shaking her head at the laughter coming from around the corners and rolling her eyes when David's head pops out like a Jack in the Box. "Go shower. You're grouchy until you shower. Although I feed you, so you shouldn't be this grouchy. Did you not eat it? Babe we've discussed this."

Cutting him off with a quiet giggle Stephanie smiled "I promise I ate and thank you again." Searching her face for a lie, David deflated seeing none. Her dimples blending in with the markings from the N95 she'd been wearing all day. Pasta still thought they were too tight despite the multiple times Stephanie explained to him it's not meant to be comfortable it's meant to keep her safe just like the pads he complained about, didn't mean he had to be happy about it though. If she made it home the mask has been off for at least thirty minutes and it still looked like it was removed seconds ago. "I'm going to hope in the shower so I can actually greet you properly and then my plan was to wipe the floor with you in Mario Cart. Any objections?"

Stephanie had to laugh again at the look of outrage on David's face, challenges of any time brought out the competitiveness in Pasta that you see during games. Their previous stove was a victim of the hard headed determined boy who obviously could cook better than her. She's still not sure how he managed to wreck all of the burners.

"Oh it's on now." Pasta pivoted in place heading back towards the living room, Stephanie's laughter following him down the hall.

[squidproquoclarice]

Hey Squid 👋🏻 Regarding your Sunrise AMA, what is one of your favourite moments from the story, or favourite thing about Sunrise in general? Was their a line or paragraph that stands out to you as one were you were like yes, this is good and just flowed easiest? Did you have any things that you knew straight away that you needed or wanted to write about? Also I was wondering what inspired you to have them join the Circus? And what do you think their kids jobs would be when they grow up? (I probably have a dozen more but I will just leave it at that for now 😊 ty!)

Heya!  Let’s see.  Since we’ve got multiple questions, I think I’ll leave the favorite moment(s) question for someone else to ask.   Favorite thing about Sunrise: I started it a few days after finishing the game.  From the savefiles and my chapter 1 posting date, it was only four days.  Obviously Arthur touched something emotional within me, like he did for a lot of people, and seeing Sadie so cold, alone, and fatalistic in the Epilogue hurt too.  I wanted to see if I tried to write what could have happened after that fight on the ridge where it might lead.   So I guess my favorite thing about Sunrise is that it debunked the assumption that Arthur had to die for the story to work or matter.  I wrote a journey for him and for Sadie that a lot of people connected to and told me that meant a lot to them to see them thrive and heal.  Characters don’t need a tragic ending to be deeply meaningful.  Characters don’t have to die for redemption.  It’s not somehow more artistically pure or daring to kill someone off.  I didn’t break RDR1 by writing Sunrise, and I made the plot beats of the RDR2 Epilogue work.  So Arthur’s death also frankly wasn’t necessary for plot integrity towards the events of 1907 and 1911. A line or paragraph that I really enjoyed writing: I’ll go with one early on, from chapter 6, “Death Is A Woman”, that actually gave the chapter its title. He managed a low, dark chuckle at that, leaning forward to rest his arms on his knees. His lungs gave a bit of a grouchy hitch at it. “Newsmen are a different breed of confidence men and liars, that’s all. Anyway, I’m sure Death’s got to be a woman, Sister, cause it seems even she won’t have me.” That one made me feel like I really finally nailed Arthur and his character and state of mind in the weeks right after he’s had his entire life and identity knocked out from under him.  But of course he has to couch it in a self-deprecating quip.  Also kind of a funny line in retrospect because I hadn’t planned anything with Death/The Strange Man cropping up in the story at this point, but apparently Arthur’s wrong and Death is not a woman in RDRverse.  ;)   Things I immediately needed or wanted to write about: Giving Sadie a voice and POV to show what was going on in her head.  Beyond that, giving both of them the respect of acknowledging their PTSD, but doing my best to let show what trauma recovery really looks like, and showing that it’s possible.  I didn’t want to either shrug it off as inconvenient to a happy ending, or else treat them like permanently broken things.  I wanted it to be a journey.  When it came to Arthur’s TB, I also wanted to write something realistic and accurate to the period in terms of his recovery rather than just sort of handwaving it.  Historical medicine’s an interest of mine, so this was a good chance to explore some of that.  Joining the circus: This is one of the rarer instances where the tail sort of wagged the dog and I had to make something fit to an immovable future plan.  I had them in 1904 having claimed a homestead up in Canada that needed to be settled and improved within three years.  And I knew for 1907 Team Griffith needed to be in the five-state area of the RDR2 map in order to be involved in the Epilogue.  I could have had them go back to Chuparosa and continue eking out a living, and debated pushing them back on the bounty hunter path to put them being sometimes in those American states that would let them cross paths with the Marstons somehow. Didn’t really like it.  Given how averse they were to bounty hunting together with two very young children at home, how Sadie absolutely wasn’t going to be the little wife sitting at home and letting Arthur go alone into danger as an alternative, and how much they both liked the idea that they no longer needed to live that sort of life, it felt like I needed something else.  And it needed to be something that they could walk away with no offense taken from in three years.  In retrospect, I could have had them hire on at MacFarlane’s full time rather than seasonal and developed that bond even more, but I ended up coming up with a circus that folds in 1907 as a good alternative.  Given they’re ace riders and crack shots and pretty fair actors, that Arthur was very used to a nomadic lifestyle, that circus folk are great actors and can deal some mild well-meaning trickery as part of the delight, that they were fairly egalitarian for the time, and that traveling circus folk sort of existed as a quasi-disreputable and tightly knit “outsider” group, it felt like a neat chance to mirror the gang, but in a positive way.  So with the circus, I got to write Sadie and Arthur getting to live the best version of that kind of life, and sort of coming to peace with more of the past by it.  Proving the things they missed about the gang weren’t the robberies or Dutch’s antisocial philosophy, but the people they loved and the freewheeling lifestyle.  Also proving that while they enjoy that life, they do both really want to have something more settled and put down solid roots.  Sadie misses that, and Arthur yearns for it as something he’s never had. Also noting I hadn’t planned at all on Arkady Rudenko when I wrote Sadie and Arthur performing as the “Cossack Karolovs”, and I only realized that connection after I’d written the final chapter.  Guess my unconscious brain knew more than I thought even back then, though I’d only earmarked a few months before that final chapter trying to possibly work in the interesting fact of Ukrainians being a very prevalent immigrant group to the Canadian prairie provinces at the time.  But yeah, as an actual Cossack kid, Archie’s probably going to laugh his ass off. Kid’s jobs: So I actually have a short scrapped bit that I didn’t include as an extra document at the end of chapter 88, though I debated it.  I like the piece, but I wanted to leave it with Sadie and Arthur’s journal entries and the circle of things being sort of complete. It’s a preface to a book called “Red Dead Redemption” written by Jack--who’s become a writer of a fairly famous radio play turned TV serial--in the ‘60′s once all the OGs are finally gone and he feels safe to tell that story.  It mentions that the illustrations were done by his wife, Bea.  So yeah, Bea got Arthur’s artistic talent, and by submitting her work as “B.M. Griffith”, she managed to get some illustration jobs that would have been denied to her as “Beatrice”.   Mattie (Matt as he grows older), becomes a doctor.  He’s already got the caring heart and desire to heal and help people.  He’ll likely end up helping Felipe out as a teenager and learning some of the ropes there before going to college. Susie ended up becoming a teacher.  There were definitely still strictures at the time against married women working as teachers, so if/when she got married (and I think if so, she did it later in life) she’d have been expected to retire and effectively become a housewife.  But she’d still keep teaching as a tutor.  Andy, with his energy and love of horses and the outdoors, actually shows a passion for farming and ranching.  So he’s the one who ends up running the day-to-day of Paradise Run as the next generation.     Feel free to keep up with the AMA with those further questions!  Might be better to send them in individually, though, as this one got pretty long.  ;)

[chinatea]

Jikook Sexy Alien AU Part 1

Personas are a product of @satellite-jeon​ ‘s beautiful mind.

This is WIP and still pretty drafty, and I’ll be posting new parts to tumbler as I finish them. I’m planning 4-5 parts overall. 

For my best girl @kmheart​ <3333 Thank you for loving this mess. <333

Warnings: Coarse language.

Jungkook doesn’t know exactly when his life took a dive from awesome to downright shitty.

And even if he did, he wouldn’t be telling that story any time soon ‘cause no one gives a rat’s arse about good ol’ boy Jungkook who scrubs pools for a living. 

It didn’t start that way. In high school, he was a local superstar. The golden jock. The whole fucking trope, baby. With titties of all caliber following him everywhere. Boy did love him some pussy. Dicks, too. He loved everything to do with sex, drugs and rock’n’roll.

He believed himself invincible and it was only a matter of time before he mingled with the wrong crowd. Only back then, he thought of them as friends. His bros for life.

Well.

Now, he cleans pools - the only kind of gig he can scrounge up nowadays, what with a criminal record and whatnot - and trusts no bro. 

And when he’s not cleaning pools, he’s stuck at the garage being bossed around by a dirtbag who happens to be his uncle. His uncle, Sunmu, hates his guts - one of those stupid homophobic fucks who can’t mind their own fucking business. Needless to say, no love lost.

As much as Jungkook wants to punch his stupid teeth out - what’s left of them anyhow - he needs the money and it’s not like his uncle can do much more than run his smelly farthole of a mouth. Which he does. At lengths. The dude just never shuts up. Until one day, Jungkook made him shut up - even his golden-boy patience has its limits. And the dude blew up, called the police, the neighbors came a-running, the whole nine yards.

One hell of a shitshow, that night.

So now, Jungkook has taken to bringing guys to fuck in his garage instead. Totally intentional. He knows the geezer, like the sick fuck he is, had cameras installed all over for his own perverse pleasure. So Jungkook lets him enjoy it while he can.

‘Cause once the summer ends, Jungkook will burn down his fucking shack and hit the road, because he’s this close to being done with the shitfucks that are hell bent on ruining his life.

Another day. Another mindless grind.

Luckily for him, the client has vacated the house for the day, leaving their big pool in his capable hands. A much welcome break from those rich fucks being all smug and pissy and all up in his grill about every little nothing. 

Rich tits always think they know everything.

Not to mention their shitty kids running around, destroying his equipment and yapping his ear off. Or worse yet, their old haggy wives flashing their saggy tits at him - goodness gracious, does his face say he’s into wrinkled-ass pussy or something?

He thinks the fuck not.

Jungkook plops down on a deck chair and pops a can of coke open, taking a long chug. When he doesn’t have people looming over his ass, he prefers taking things slow. At his own pace. That’s what he’s all about. 

As much as he could wrap things up faster and call it a day, he’s not looking forward to trudging back to the garage. Sunmu the dipshit would be there, of course, nagging at him with this shit or that and he’d rather chill out here - the house is off-limits, locked tight, but the scenery is gorgeous. The house sits on a cliff, with the pool area overlooking the city below. 

It’s private and quiet and damn therapeutic. Like, he could just close his eyes and pretend it’s all his. That he’s not a broke-ass dude about to keel over any day now, but someone who is in control of his life. 

And he does just that. Closes his eyes and leans back, cradling the coke to his chest like one does a lover.

Mind blank of any thought.

The sky above crackles in warning, too close for comfort. And it wakes up goosebumps along his skin as he jostles awake from his little moment of inner peace. His hands flap around, knocking his coke over - it drips all over his tank top. 

Nice, Jungkook thinks. 

Of-fucking-course, it must rain today of all days. He scrambles up to his feet, ready to start hauling all the gear back into his truck when IT happens.

At first, he is not even sure what IT even is. One moment, he’s one grouchy mess, spewing dozens of profanities at no one in particular while tugging at his stained top in a retarded attempt to shake the mess off. And the next-

Something, fairly massive and spherical, materializes a few inches above the pool before plunging into water like a dead weight. Jungkook can only manage an undignified squawk before the impact wave sends him flying into the thorny shrubs framing the pool.

Mother-fucker.

When he drags his ass back from the shrubs, drenched from head to toe and covered in scratches, all he knows is that his stained shirt is the least of his problems now, because this…

What the fuck is this? he thinks, staring agog at the offender, hogging the pool now.

It looks like…something.

Maybe a futuristic car or a flying vessel of some sort. He has no clue, really. What it is or where it came from, but it’s here, right in his face, obstructing his work. Like a bastard.

He’ll have to call up a tow truck or something to pluck this sucker out, which will take forever and there go his plans for Friday night out.

Jungkook walks around the pool, inspecting the strange contraption from all sides. It’s slick and round and very, very chrome. Perhaps - a submarine. Some ultra-slick technology with masking abilities. Which apparently can fly, but not very well, otherwise, how the fuck it’d ended up stuck in his pool.

Those rich fucks and their stupid malfunctioning toys, eh. 

Jungkook sighs and kicks the empty coke can lying about. It flies off towards the pod, ricocheting right off its shiny cask with a sharp clank. And now he has even more trash to dredge up from the puddle bellow. What joy.

As he is about to roll over and wail in self-pity, the pod wakes up with a tremor, sending shallow ripples over the water. Jungkook freezes, frantically thinking over his choices - his gut reaction is to hightail the fuck out of here, because the thing is starting to show signs of life and it doesn’t sit well with Jungkook, not one bit.

He better scram and scram fast. Fuck the money and his uncle - especially his uncle - no one told him scrubbing pools involved close encounters of the third kind.

He makes to do just that but doesn’t make it too far as he bumps into someone, loosing his balance and sending them both to the ground. With a groan, he opens his eyes to stare at the unfortunate soul who had to bear the brunt of the fall on their- his. 

It’s definitely a he. A he so stunning Jungkook’s jaw goes slack and his brain radio-silent. Meanwhile, the he doesn’t waste any time making the most of their proximity as he slithers his hands around Jungkook’s neck and presses against him in a soft sweet kiss.

A supernova goes off at the back of his skull. 

It was awesome.

“Hello,” the other says, a quality to his voice that is out of this world. He must be out of this world, because how?

“I’m Jimin.”

“Hi,” Jungkook says.

A dumb grin takes over his face.

He’s tingly all over. He thinks he’s in love. 

“You’re gorgeous, Jimin-ah. Will you marry me?”

“Marry?” Jimin says tentatively as if testing the word on his tongue. His lips are pretty and full, forming a perpetual pout. It’s adorable. “I can’t marry. I need to mate.”

“Oh.” That throws Jungkook for a loop, as his heart swells with emotion. “Mate who?”

“You,” Jimin smiles. “Serendipity has chosen you as the most suitable candidate within this quadrant of our galaxy. We’re compatible.”

“Wow,” Jungkook whispers. He understands jack shit, but it does feel like serendipity, doesn't it. Just a moment ago, he was one miserable son of a bitch and now…he’s the luckiest son of a bitch in the whole fucking quadrant of their galaxy. 

“You do know I’m scrubbing pools for a living, right?”

He props himself up on his hands, hovering over the gorgeous Jimin and eyeing him like a candy on a stick. Jimin has pretty dainty hands. They are always in motion, feelings up Jungkook’s arm muscles, bulging all prettily just for him - this shameless little minx.

“I know everything about you,” Jimin says, his voice washing over Jungkook’s mind like a gentle summer tide.

Turns his brain all mush-mush. 

“Every second of your waking moment. Every dream, every thought you’ve had. Serendipity has shown me all of it.”

Whomever this Serendipity is, Jungkook hopes it didn’t show every single thought he had. After a certain age, they’d gotten rather repetitive and tended to fixate mostly on things below the belt - which is not the image of himself he wants to project into this world. 

“You’re thinking too much,” Jimin purrs, tapping his temple lightly.

His hands wind up in Jungkook’s hair, massaging the scalp and down his neck. His touches are flitting, almost shy and it kindles longing in Jungkook like never before. It tramples all of the questions budding in his head. Melting reason away. Before he knows they’re kissing again and it plays out like a dream. 

He’s doing something, but he’s not really in control. It feels good. Peaceful, he’s in a safe place. Jimin’s touches are weightless and tender as he maps out his body with the very tips of his fingers. 

Like he can reach everywhere - can touch anywhere.

The moment something prods his mind, gentle and soothing - akin to a light breeze caressing the leaves - Jungkook shivers. Falls under. A feeling like no other. Floating, like a little air bubble. 

It’s gone as sudden as it came and Jungkook finds himself yearning.

“We can’t do it here,” Jimin says as they both move upright in sync. He grabs Jungkook’s hand. “Let’s go. Serendipity will have to stay here for now.”

“Serendipity?” Jungkook asks, shaking off the drowsiness as his brain slowly kicks back into gear. “You mean that pod thing?”

“Don’t call her ‘a thing’,” Jimin chides. “She has feelings. Quite a temper, too.”

“Damn, a she-pod with feelings”.

They’re standing now with Jimin plastered against his chest and nuzzling his mighty pec. Not awkward at all. 

“She’s a ship. The most intelligent ship in the whole galaxy. Completely self-aware,” Jimin says, exploring the vastness of Jungkook’s chest with his curious palms now. Jungkook starts to notice a certain obsession here of a tactile nature, but can’t find it in himself to complain. “Be kind to her.”

“I am kind,” Jungkook says. “I’m like...wait, who are you?”

“I’m Jimin.”

“Okay,” Jungkook nods. “But what kind of Jimin are you? Where did you come from? You’re not with the Joneses here, are you?”

With the burden of rational thinking, Jungkook slumps into a realization that he has questions. And he must ask them. 

“No, I’m from space,” Jimin says like it’s not big deal. “We need to go,” he commands, taking charge and dragging Jungkook along.

“Space? Wow,” Jungkook says. “That’s, ah, nice, I guess. Never been myself, what with the radiation and minus fuck-ton degrees, you know. Transportation kinda sucks, too. I don’t know if you’re aware but we’re kinda still in the stone age or whatever, but, ehm...remember when I was lying on top of you, with our private parts perfectly aligned? That was nice too, wanna, ehm, do that again?”

“Here is not safe,” Jimin says and at least, it’s not a no. “Serendipity can hide herself well enough, but it’s a matter of time before he tracks me down. And if that happens, I don’t want him to track me down right next to her.”

“Who’s he?” 

“Just a man who never gives up what’s his.”

“You mean, like, ex-boyfriend?” Jungkook asks, swallowing down an annoying spike of jealousy. “Do you even have boyfriends in space?”

“I meant Serendipity, not me,” Jimin says. “And yes, we do have boyfriends up there in space. You don’t have to worry though, he’s been mated for the past five hundred years. He’s that boring.”

Jungkook lets out a low whistle.

“If his mate looks anything like you, that’s understandable.”

[soysaucevictim]

New Year, New Program (technically going to be a rerun.)

-

Jan. 2

I woke up around 2PM, today.

After a bit of the usual, I did today’s exercise.

First, today’s DD. 30 [deep] side-to-side lunges with EC. This was just about manageable.

Last, Chapter 1 of the Age of Pandora Program. I’ve been wanting to revisit this program a lot, given how much I remember liking it. Let’s just say, AoP wasted no time in kicking my ass, barely got through Level 2 today, I’m BUSHED - the killer were the half jack squats.

(Pffft, I wound up echoing my feelings from last time, too. Let’s see if overall I can do things a bit more intensely than last time, however. But no guarantees.)

After some dishes, I made today’s Hello Fresh Meal. Italian garden veggie soup. I personally rather like it. Worth a revisit, I think!

On top of some of the usual & chatting, I basically pulled an all-nighter setting up a masterpost for fandom blog. Been wanting to get that dealt wit h for awhile.

-

Jan. 3

I woke up after 1PM.

One of the fist things I got started on today was exercise.

First, today’s DD. 30 crunch kicks with EC. Just manageable.

Last, Chapter 2 of the AoP. First part, I managed Level 3, with the maximum rest. Jump knee tucks are pretty intense, but I could manage this okay.

Second part, I went for Level 3 too. Split the 4′ wall-sit time into: 2′ wall-sit + 2′ rest + 1′ wall-sit +1′ rest + 1′ wall-sit. Think my quads were pretty much done from everything I did the past two days. Or being somewhat sleep deprived didn’t really help matter. But this was no less a challenge.

(Looks like last time, I managed this in 2x2′. Ah well.)

I spent few hours finally getting around to updating my DD archive/log.

Then after/while doing some chatting, me and friend watched Pacific Rim together. Good movie.

The last thing I did that day was whip up a sketch of iZ!Remus I’ve been wanting to draw for the past few weeks.

Got to bed late and in the red zone, but earlier than yesterday.

-

Jan. 4

I woke up after 1PM.

One of the fist things I got started on today was exercise.

First, today’s DD. 30 jumping lunges with EC. Not super low/deep but no less ending/fatiguing.

Last, Chapter 3 of the AoP. I did both the rep and set number to Level 3 today (20 reps per exercise, 7 sets total), rested for the maximum 2′. I had a brief moment of self-doubt on whether I could manage this today, but I’m happy I could get through it alright. Split jacks are still probably not my favorite kind of jack (a bit too close to a dang jumping lunge, pffft.)

(This was a day I surpassed my first go around. Did Level 2′s rep count and Level 3′s set count. Which is basically half as intense as how I performed today, a nice little achievement!)

Did some dishes, made some dinner, and hit the showers after that.

Spent a good few hours working on and streaming that iZ!Remus drawing some more. Chatting throughout.

After a few more hours on the usual, I got to bed a bit later than yesterday.

-

Jan. 5

I woke up after 10AM.

One of the fist things I got started on today was exercise.

First, today’s DD. 30 single leg deadlifts with EC. This was pretty manageable, not much to really comment on.

Last, Chapter 4 of the AoP. Level 3, max rest. I might’ve been able to shorten my rest periods - given I think that this was a tiny bit easier than prior chapters. But ah well. Got it done.

After some of the usual, spent most of the day working on and streaming that iZ!Remus drawing some more. Chatting throughout.

I went to bed around the same time as yesterday.

-

Jan. 6

I woke up after 11AM.

After a bit of logging stuff (and unnecessary/mistaken appointment preparation), I went into today’s exercise.

First, today’s DD. 40 seagulls with EC. I did this 20/20 to be a bit easier on the elbows. But it was manageable.

Last, Chapter 5 of the AoP. 18 travel points taken, I went for Level 2. I did the 180 reps as high knees, in one go.

For the workout proper - I went for Level 3 (5 sets), with max rest. the 2x8 push-ups per set were getting a bit sloppy. But I felt it enough.

Bleh. And then the whole fascist coup attempt shit happened in the WH today. Just exhausting to even think about or process right now.

Forced self to get dishes done, making dinner, and finishing draw/streaming that iZ!Remus drawing. Got a bit grouchy with the process - in part not helped by Everything Happening. But screw it. Happy I got it done at all.

Got to bed obscenely late - later than yesterday (and later than I had any business to - did finish the drawing around 2AM).

-

Jan. 7

I woke up after 11AM.

Spent a good few hours on the usual stuff before doing today’s exercise.

First, today’s DD. 40 scorpion twists, with EC. A fun one, as usual.

Last, Chapter 6 of the AoP. This chapter wast the one to introduce one to the job system of the program. Had three different jobs to pick from and I decided to do all three. Took me a bit over an hour to complete these tasks:

Camp to Canis = 12TP | xLv2 (HK)

Canis to Bunker 201 = 19TP | xLv2 (HK)

[Chapter] - Bunker Job = 50 Push-Ups (5x10)

Bunker 201 to Camp "Mira" = 13TP | xLv2 (HK)

[Chapter] - Camp Mira Job = 200 half jacks (100+60+40)

Camp Mira to The Swamps = 21TP (HK; 11+10)

[Chapter] - The Swamps Job = 400 side-to-side backfists (1x400)

The Swamps to Canis = 43TP (HK; 10+11+11+11)

108 total travel point done at Lv2 as high knees. Split some batches of exercise as above. Earned 380 scraps for it - spent 80 superfluously.

Interspersed amongst the usual, I did do more dishes and writing for the iZ!AU today.

I got to bed really late, but earlier than yesterday.

-

Jan. 8

I woke up proper after 1PM.

After a bit of the usual, I did today’s only exercise - the DD.

First, today’s DD. 2′ tricep dip hold without EC. Split this inot 2x1′, with 1′ rest. Mostly due to energy levels. And trying not  to have chair dig into back too uncomfortably.

After a bit of YouTube and dishes, I made tonight’s Hello Fresh Meal. Chicken and guac burrito bowls. Reasonably tasty, i gave myself kind of a lot. Everybody liked it well enough.

(I really didn’t need to eat so much frozen pizza after that either, so I was groggy and overfull for basically the rest of the night.)

Most of the rest of my night was spent BSing. Got to bed obscenely late again.

[idontgiveaflyinggrayson69]

Colton Parayko N/SFW Alphabet

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Colton is so good with aftercare. He likes to take care of you, so he’ll get you a warm towel and wipe you off, get you some water, run you a bath if things were really intense. And he’ll hold you. He likes to pull you to his chest, kiss the top of your head and talk to you while you both fall asleep. 

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He really likes his legs. They’re big and strong and make him a really good hockey player. And he knows that girls find strong legs attractive. And he loves the way you look when you ride his thighs.

On you, he likes your ass. Colton is an ass guy and he just loves it when you wear leggings or short shorts or a tight dress, the things that accent you ass. He loves to let his hand drift down to your ass when the two of you are out.  

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

He likes to cum in you. He’s a possessive dom and he likes the idea of leaving a piece of himself inside you. And when it drips you? He scoops it back up and pushes it back in, his eyes dark as he looks at you. “Can’t have you wasting any of daddy’s cum, now can we?”

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He wants to make a sex tape with you for when he’s on the road. 

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

He’s had a lot of practice. He knows what he’s doing and he knows how to be a good dom. 

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

Colton likes anything lets him be in control, but he loves pinning you down to the mattress and hooking one or both of your legs over his hip.

And he also likes doggy style where he can either press your face into a pillow or pull your body back against his chest and wrap one of his hands around your throat. 

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

Normally, Colton is not goofy. He’s a dom through and through, so he’s very serious. He wants to make you moan and feel good, and he’s not one to be goofy. If something were to come up, rolling off the bed, tripping on discarded clothes, etc., he’ll laugh, maybe crack a joke. And if you were have slow sex in the morning, it’ll be soft and giggly, but other than that, he’s not goofy. 

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

He keeps things tamed. Shaves around the edges so it’s neat and keeps it trimmed. 

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

First and foremost, Colton wants to take care of you, make you feel good and such, so the intimacy is in that. On Valentine’s Day, anniversaries, and birthdays he’ll take things slow, probably pull out the rose petals and candles, but that’s it.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

Colton prefers to get off with you, so he doesn’t masturbate too much. When he does, it’s usually through phone sex with you or in the shower after a loss on the road when he needs a release to feel better.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Choking. He won’t do it too hard (and not at all if you’re not 100% comfortable with it), but he likes how much you trust him to submit to him like that.

And he likes it when you call him daddy. 

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

Behind locked doors. Colton likes to keep things private. Mostly, he prefers to keep things to the bed, but he also likes shower sex and sex on the kitchen counter every now and then.

(Though, he would much prefer to sit you down on the kitchen counter, spread your legs, and eat you out like it was his dinner)

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Colton really likes it when you kiss below his ear and whisper that you love him. It pulls at the softness of his heart and reminds him that he’s doing a good job as your dom.

And it really gets him going when you wearing nothing but lacy blue panties under his jersey when you wait for him in bed after a game. 

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Let you dominate him. He’s a dom through and through and he can’t bring himself to give up that kind of power. He can’t let himself submit.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

Foreplay is a must with how big he is, so Colton was mastered the art of eating a girl out. He’s amazing at it and he knows the best ways to make you fall apart. And he likes it. He loves making you cum with his mouth, he likes the way you taste and the way he has to pin your legs down because you keep tightening them around his head. He loves eating you out.

He’s certainly not against getting a blowjob, and he does like pushing you down to your knees, holding your hair in his hand as he guides you down his cock. But, he certainly does prefer giving. He’s a giver. 

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

It depends on his mood. Colton likes things hard and rough, but he could just as easily take things slow with you. Regardless, it’s always firm and he is always in control. 

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

He’s not a huge fan of quickies. He needs to take the time to stretch you out before hand and he likes to take his time, and he can’t do either with quickies. Not to mention it’s kinda hard to find a place to have a quickie when you’re as big as Colton…

That being said, if you made his jealous when the two of you were out, or if you teased him, on the way home, he will intentionally take a route with a dark, empty road so that he can pull over and bend you over the hood of his car. And if he does… My god you better be ready when you get home because you are in for a punishment…

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

He knows what he likes, so he doesn’t bring a lot of ideas to you, but if you brought an idea to him and he’s almost guaranteed to say “yes.” He wants to please you and as your dom, it’s his job to make sure his babygirl is well taken care of.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

Colton is not only gifted in his size, he’s also gifted in the fact that he can last. And if you give him like an hour, he’ll be able to go again. 

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

He loves toys. In the beginning he was nervous and unsure about them. He didn’t know a whole lot and so the whole “toy shopping” thing was intimidating to him. But now he loves them and he loves using them to tease you.

He’s a huge fan of blindfolding you, pressing a vibrator to your clit and just talking to you. Telling you how pretty you look, how wet you are, how he couldn’t wait to feel your tight little pussy around his cock. 

U = Unfair (How much they like to tease)

Colton lives to edge you. Ghosting his fingers and lips across your skin, pulling every gasp, moan and arch from you. It feels so good but it’s tortuous at the same time because you just want more, want him to pick up the pace.

He also teases you outside of the bedroom. He keeps his hand on your lower back and whisper all the things he wants to do to you in your ear. If you make him jealous or get handsy with another guy, he’ll take you to the bathroom and lean right in, ghosting his lips over yours before slipping his hands up your skirt and taking your underwear off and putting them in his pocket and walking out, leaving you there.

He is literally such a tease. 

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

He’s not really a vocal kind of guy, just some soft moans. He’s really more of dirty talker. Colton is so soft spoken and quiet and sweet and he’s notlike that in the bedroom. He says the filthiest things and it’s amazing. 

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

Since he’s so good at dirty talk, he’s amazing at phone sex and it’s something that occurs frequently when he’s away on road trips. 

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

Colton is a big boi and hung like a horse. He’s big. And thick. Honestly, it’s probably a little intimidating at first. 

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

He’s a horny little shit, but he is really good about keeping it hidden. He can control himself and he doesn’t get grouchy without sex (unlike some people), but he yearns quite a lot. 

Z = ZZZ (How quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He doesn’t fall asleep to fast. He likes to stay up and cuddle for a bit, talk to you about whatever, just enjoy some time with you while he traces patterns on your back.

[mwolf0epsilon]

What was Sammy's upbringing like? His parents sound a bit like jerks, also where did you get the inspiration to make him a single parent kinda figure?

Honestly, Sammy's upbringing was pretty average for the time.

His father was a farmer in a cattle ranch up south, and his mother was a stay at home mom that took up seamstress work for extra cash. The two had very different styles of rearing children that clashed regularly and only just barely met at the middle.

Samuel Sr. was a strict no-nonsense Catholic man who wanted his son to be the poster child of his ideals and beliefs, so he forced them down his son's throat whenever he could.

Mrs. Lawrence (which I still haven’t named) was a very kind and meek lady that encouraged her son to pursue his interests because she cared more for his happiness. She didn't care what he'd become, as long as he was good to others and truly fulfilled.

Throughout this mess of Catholic upbringing, well funded education, and a mix of extra farm work and chores, 11 year old Sammy Lawrence was already well on the way to becoming a talented composer and instrument player. He was a ray of sunshine, was very well spoken, did good in his classes, and could do a lot of the farm work his father assigned to him whenever he was done with school work (he especially liked helping his father tend to the flock of sheep since they were his favourite farm animals), so overall his father didn't complain about his kid being too wimpy like those lazy city boys he often grumbled about. However when Mrs Lawrence died all traits of softness kinda went with her.

Traumatized by his mother's death, Sammy began to question religion. In the mind of a child why should he trust in a god that took his mother away from him? Then of course the stress of moving to the big city where he knew no one, having to restart the grade he was on, enduring his father's decline, being stuck with a step-mother who despised him, and slowly realizing he wasn't as straight as he should be, turned him into a bit of a grouchy asshole.

In his 20s Sammy went from the apple of his mother's eye to a closeted bisexual with internalized homophobia and a share of his father's bigoted views. The standard of the era, as sad as that is to say.

The one redeeming quality my version of Sammy has that the novel's Sammy doesn't, is that his role as his sister's sole caretaker and provider, as well as working with Jack and Norman, made him a little less of an intolerant douchebag.

His sister was inherently kind and disliked his racist comments, often calling him out on them after her nanny Mrs. Harrison taught her about learned behaviours and knowing when to correct them if you ever wanted to better yourself (Abby wanted Sammy to be the best self he could be because he was often unhappy).

Norman knew how to teach Sammy that his kinda views would get him killed if he mouthed off to the wrong person (he gave Sammy quite the a shiner on his first week working at the studio, and promised to kick his ass if he ever caught him saying any of the shit Sammy tried to throw at him upon meeting him).

Finally when Jack was hired Sammy gave him a chance and found that he greatly enjoyed the lyricist's company and musical talents (some of the other lyricists Joey tried to pair him up with were abysmally terrible).

-

My inspiration for Sammy's role is my grandmother actually!

Since her childhood she was always a tough cookie. She would get into fights at school and come back with her glasses broken and clothes ruined, worked in her father's store and forcing his mistresses to pay the right amount instead of letting them take stuff for free like her father often did (which nearly bankrupt the store by the way), and eventually not only worked in a medical lab as an assistant but also opened up her own successful clothing store.

She was revered in her neighborhood like the VIP of the era, but most who didn't know her considered her a controlling angry bitch. She gave everything up to take care of my mom.

She's also a racist, but often encouraged my sister's and I to have our own opinions because she knew teaching us to dislike other people wouldn't fly well as times changed.

That's the sort of person I can see Sammy being. Unapproachable to those he isn't closed to, trying to do good by his one remaining family member, and coming to terms with the bigoted views his father forced down his throat since childhood. He could have changed for the better too... If not for Joey Drew.

[flowerbeom]

Sweeter Than Pi | Mark Tuan

Mark Tuan x Fem!Reader

Genre: High School AU. Nerd Mark x Athlete Reader. Fluff. F2L.

Warnings: Some squishy ass, fluffy fluff. 

Words: 5.3k

Concept: Your place on the softball team rested on the back of you passing your General Maths midterm. Though Maths was always your worst subject, your genius best friend, Mark, could offer assistance in helping you study. If you could bring yourself and your heart to ask him... 

A/N: Happy Birthday almost twin @inkahgase! Fuck me, I’m sorry this took so long and that it is sooo long. I don’t know how to write short stories. I’m sorry. But I hope you enjoy soft, nerdy, cute AF Mark. Cause bro, this broke me...

“What was that?” Jackson slung the strap of his overfilled duffle onto his shoulder, rounding your desk to sit on the one beside you. Your voice continued to muffle into the pages of the textbook you were flattening your face into. 

Jackson, in all his measured audacity leant forward, flicking your ear as he ripped open the wrapper of a protein bar with his teeth. “Speak up woman.” 

“I failed!” The whining tone of your voice echoed around the empty classroom. You groaned as you tipped your head back over the chair, arms dangling pathetically beside you. You flailed your legs under the table, sliding down the chair a little more with every exasperated kick. 

“It’s just a mock quiz, it means nothing.” Jackson mumbled through chews. 

“Jack, if I failed the mock quiz it means I’m going to fail the mid-term.” Head still slung back over the chair.

“And?” Jackson barely audible, his mouth preoccupied with trying to tongue chunks of his white chocolate raspberry quest bar out of his molars. 

“And?! If I fail the midterm I’ll get kicked off the team!” Jaw dropped to allow for the extended grown to rumble out of your throat, you lifted your hands to card them frustratedly through your hair. 

Having had enough of your self-loathing, Jackson kicked the edge of your chair, knocking you sideways and out of your moaning. You snapped a hand down onto his ankle, steadying yourself from falling and pulling him off the edge of the table at the same time. Jackson broke his fall with a hand smacked against your forehead. Hands were thrown and insults were flying around until the commotion ended with your fingertips twisting the sensitive skin along his ribs. 

“Gah! God, okay okay!” Jackson shifted away, picking up his bag and moving to the door; pausing to see if you were following him. You were, albeit slowly, trudging to the door; dragging your equally overfilled duffle bag behind you. 

“Ever consider getting tutored?” His tone suggestive. 

“Can’t afford it.” Your tone defeated. 

“You really are stupid.” There was no fight in you left, rather acceptance and the vivid image of your softball uniform being stripped from you, leaving you standing in your underwear in the middle of the field. You shuddered at the thought. 

Approaching your lockers, you stood in a daze, fingers mindlessly rotating the dial on your padlock, not even sure if the combination was correct. Suddenly, and as softly as anyone could manage, you felt a shoulder nudge yours. It could only be one person, and you felt your body shrink into itself upon recognising the familiar smell of the fabric softener his mum used on his shirts. 

“Hey!” Effervescent, cheerful and light. You looked up to see Mark standing beside you, the glasses meant to be perched on his nose rather perpetually hovering above it as they were lifted by the plump in his cheeks made by the smile he could never control. Backpack full; books spilled out into his arms, one sleeve of his unzipped hoodie pushed up while the other dangled below his fingertips. The adorable nerd, Mark Tuan. 

You always felt yourself mirror the smile he effortlessly gave you, as if there was no other acceptable response to give him. No matter how grouchy or sullen you may have been, Mark was always this beaming beacon of joy, and it was impossible to resist getting pulled into the overwhelming happiness that seemed to radiate from him. 

If he was smiling, you were too. If he was laughing, you were too. If you were crying, he never had to do much to stop the tears from falling. It had been that way for years, having grown up beside him, literally. Neighbours since birth, playmates in preschool, deskmates in elementary school leading naturally to best friends in high school. You were inseparable, even when his interests leant towards equations and dabbling in applied physics at the college level while yours swung towards swinging bats at balls that soared past the car-park behind the field and making college scouts travel across the country to watch you play. But as thrilling as all that may be, Mark was the spark that lit your days ablaze. Though it was a shame you could never really tell him that. 

“Hey man.” Jackson reached over your head to knock knuckles with Mark; Jackson tipping his chin while Mark smiled even wider, again completely out of his control.  

Jackson, as he liked to remind you and Mark constantly, was the reason you and Mark stayed so close over the years. As your interests and hobbies split down the middle, Jackson provided the glue that held you together. While you and him bonded over a shared love of sports, he and Mark bonded over a shared love of video games. 

So, afternoons were spent waiting at the end of the pitch after softball practice for Jackson to finish soccer training. He’d jog to you, one arm shoved into the sleeve of a fresh t-shirt while the other had his jersey still hanging off the bend in his elbow. You’d walk home together - Jackson never failing to leave a trail of corn chip crumbs behind him and finally ending up on Mark’s couch; splitting your time doing homework together and watching him and Jackson take out Marakov soldiers in Modern Warfare 2. An unlikely trio, though it somehow worked. 

“Oi!” Jackson dug an elbow into the side of your arm, drawing a hiss to rattle the chemistry paper wedged between your teeth. “Ask Mark how his AP Calculus class was.” 

“It was really good, we started on fundamental theorems and.. “ 

Jackson tutted, making a sharp clicking noise with his tongue against his teeth; Mark’s grin dropping slightly at the corners. 

“No no, she has to ask you first.” You shot puzzled eyebrows in Jackson’s direction, shoving a textbook into your already full bag. 

“Why do I need to ask him?” The edges of the chemistry paper nipping against the corners of your lips as you spoke, Mark glanced around you to stare at the indiscernible look on Jackson’s face. 

“Ask him how his AP Calc class was.” Said sharply through gritted teeth. 

“Why?” You and Mark returned in unison, the word drawn out in confusion. 

“Just ask him how his AP Calc class was, goddamn it!” Slamming his locker door shut, Jackson’s eyes growled at you to turn around and do as instructed, but you weren’t one to back down. Ever. 

“Geez, why do I need to ask Mark how his AP Calc class was?! We all know it was ‘amazing’ and ‘interesting’ and that he’s still top of the class, so why are you being an ass!?” 

Tense pause. Loaded silence. Darting eyes. 

“OH MY GOD!” Dropping your bag to the floor, mouth gaping, your test paper billowed to the ground as you spun to face Mark - almost making him drop the books held precariously in his hands as you smacked your hands onto the sides of his arms. Jackson sighed from behind you, an unmistakable roll of his eyes evident in his exasperated breath. 

Mark’s eyes were blown wide, only to be magnified by the refraction of his lenses. You froze for a second, taken aback by the hint of rose tinting his cheeks and the way his lips rounded into a perfect circle of surprise and you wanted to melt into your sneakers but there were more pressing matters at hand. You made yourself believe that there was, no matter how furiously your heart was pounding in your chest. You sucked in a strengthening breath, his glittering eyes would not distract you now. 

“Mark, Mark! Oh my god, Mark!” Your fingers were digging into his biceps, the fullness of them surprising you.

“Yes?” Replying through a giggle, the smile he could never control once again taking over his expression. 

“Mark, can you tutor me?! I swear to god I will fail my Gen Math midterm if you don’t help me!” You were shaking him, wobbling his thin figure in the air as you continued to ramble. “I can’t fail Markie, I can’t get kicked off the team! Not before graduation! Please--” 

“Yes.” Sincere.

“Help me, please Mar--” Almost manic.

“Yes!” Heartwarmingly earnest. 

“--Kie, please! Wait, what?” Stupefied. 

Mark’s eyes folded as his smile widened, his arms tightening their hold on his books as he rocked back on his heels. “Of course I’ll tutor you, I’m surprised it’s taken you this long to ask!” 

“You and I both, dude.” Jackson smarted from behind you, his hand gripping onto the strap of your bag to lift you up after you had sunk to your knees from equal measures of shame and appreciation. Your eyes lifted to see Mark fumbling with his bag, one hand shoved into its depths. Taking his pile of books out of his other, Mark grinned so endearingly you swore you felt your heart bounce off your sternum. Fishing out his car keys, Mark gently took his books back into his slender hands.

“I’ll come round after you get home from practice. About six, right?” 

“Right.” Your hand lifted almost robotically to return the dazzling wave Mark gifted you as he skipped down the hallway. 

Mark’s ready eagerness to help you had made your heart swell with affection, and despite every desire to act on your feelings continued to tap away at your sanity, you knew better that someone like Mark was better off with someone who could actually challenge his mind. All you could do was beat him in a foot race. So you let Jackson cup your shoulder and drag you outside; critical paths and parabolas would have to wait, and it seemed trying to ease your heart would have to as well. 

As you wiped away a rogue bead of sweat that trickled down your temple, you asked yourself how someone could look so effortlessly perfect. Walking languidly along the footpath that lined your street, you stared at Mark as you approached your house. Sitting on the front steps of your deck, Mark cradled a text book in one hand; elbows leaning into his knees. From the curve of his wrist, your eyes trailed along the lines of his bare arms to the once, maybe twice, rolled up sleeves of his t-shirt. Your lips found themselves wedged between your teeth. 

Watching one delicate hand lift to push his glasses up his nose, you followed his fingers as they combed back his hair that always fell right back down to tickle his lashes. The setting sun sifted golden through his charcoal hair, as if it was made to reflect the light. And as you rounded your mailbox to walk up the paved path, Mark’s ear pricked to your footsteps and he greeted you how we always did; with one perfect smile and your knees went weak. 

Clutching onto the strap of your duffle bag, you pulled it tighter across your body as Mark rose onto his feet. You met him at the foot of the stairs, one step below the one he stood on. Mark clapped his textbook shut and slung his backpack onto his shoulder. 

“Ready?” You weren’t exactly sure what he was referring to, but if it was the hand that he reached out to gently sweep down your braid, you knew for sure it wasn’t that. He leant forward, glasses slipping down his nose as he tilted his face to look past your shaking eyes to what his fingers were doing. You could smell the eczema cream he rubbed into the back of his elbow as his index finger curled hair behind your ear. It felt like your entire body had broken out in hives, why was his face so close to yours?

“How many deep hits did you dive for? You have so much grass in your hair.” Mark knocked his knuckles into your shoulder, lightly pushing you back before he turned to step towards your front door. Following slowly behind him, you needed to catch your breath or else asking him to tutor would be a massive waste of time. You can’t tutor someone if they’re dead. 

“Come on, those quadratic equations aren’t going to solve themselves!” 

Mark stood there patiently, one hand deep in the back pocket of his jeans while the other held his textbook to his chest. Unlocking the door, you let it swing open before stepping through, Mark close behind you. 

“Bedroom?” Eyes shooting open, you whipped your head around to Mark’s innocent expression.

“Sorry, what? Bedroom, excuse me?” Blinking rapidly with every vowel, you watched Mark slowly tilt his head to the side; his puppy like eyes giving you puppy like confusion. 

“Want to study in your bedroom?” Not a completely outlandish question. Mark had been in your bedroom plenty of times over the course of your friendship. Sleepovers were a plenty and Jackson joined the fray once your duo became a trio. But it had been a while since it was just you and Mark. Alone. In your bedroom. So you deferred, you didn’t need the distraction; for he, in all his tall, slim, attractiveness was one giant distraction already. A disruption of the sweetest kind that you weren’t completely against but you really needed to study. 

“No.” Far too blunt to seem polite. You winced at the your own brashness. 

“No?” Mark’s body seemed to stutter, never having heard you be to short before. 

“Sorry! That sounded so mean! It’s just post-practice me talking.” You let your duffle bag crash to the floor, your hands quick to cup your cheeks to mask the red glow building under the skin. 

“So…?” 

“Dining table! Closer to the kitchen, closer to snacks!” Good save, you thought to yourself as you tapped your belly with one hand, the other resting on your hip. A bad impression of Jackson whenever he wanted to not so subtly tell you and Mark that he was hungry. Amused with the imitation, Mark hooked the straps of his backpack carefully on the back of one of the chairs bordering the dining table before taking out his notes and sitting down. His eyes glanced over to you expectantly. 

“Shall we get started then?” Timidly, you lowered into the seat next to him. Twirling a pen between his fingers like a poker player juggles a chip on their knuckles, Mark showed you nothing but honest determination as he displayed just how incredibly intelligent he was; yet it took a little longer for any of it to rub off on you. 

An hour had passed. Mark was nothing but sweet in his explanations and patient as you continued to endure this special form of torture. Math and Mark; one hard for your brain, the other excruciating on your heart. Every slight brush of his shoulder against yours as he leaned in to see your work sent shivers to crawl down your spine. Every time his hand would pull yours back so he could write the proper formula beside your incorrect answer made all the air block in your lungs. Mark was incredibly intelligent, but pretty dumb when it came to body language. And you were beyond thankful for that. 

Despite your body’s conflicting emotions between emotionally flustered and mentally confused, you had actually made progress. Whatever method Mark used to make you understand what your teachers had failed to teach you was proving a success. Question after question was solved correctly, Mark high-fiving you with the most genuine smile on his face with every tick he inked onto your page. However, expanding equations had shrunk your stomach - snack time was calling, and the time was now. 

“Super spicy or regular spicy?” Calling from the kitchen counter, two varieties of ramen held in each hand. 

“Can you just nuke me a plate of broccoli in the microwave? I’m trying to maintain my figure.” Mark bellowed from the dining table. Brows furrowing together, you threw your head over your shoulder catching Mark doubled over - body shaking with silent laughter upon seeing the look of perplexity on your face. 

“Regular spicy please, heavy on the cheese.” 

Once the narrow in your eyes had dropped and Mark heard the tap pour water into a pot, he turned back to the flat lay of books on the table. He was curious as to how you were doing so badly in class when you had made so much progress beside him. He always knew you were smart, and how focussed you could be - so he wanted to know what had stumped you so badly when it came to math. 

Slipping the textbook off the corner of your notebook, Mark began to thumb through the pages, searching for clues as to where the numbers stopped making sense in your mind. Page after page failed to reveal much; half written questions with notes sloppily taken in rushed handwriting that he knew wasn’t like you. 

Picking up the notebook, Mark closed it to gather the bottom corners under his thumb to start flicking through the pages rapidly. His eyes scanned the pages as they flew past, a chunk of blank pages ended with meticulously written words at the back of the notebook. Laying the notebook down, he smoothed out the spine so the pages stayed open on the table. Mark felt his lips carve a smile into his cheeks, his eyes following the intricate curves of your handwriting across the page. 

“Is this why you’re failing Gen Math?” A chuckle finished the question he threw behind him. 

“What?” Fumbling with a bag of shredded cheese as you answered him.

“Who’s got you so distracted in class?” 

“What are you talking about?” Rounding the counter with both bowls in hand, you froze one step away from the table; Mark’s index finger drawing an invisible line under the words who had written in the back of your notebook.

“I’m not being obtuse, but you’re acute guy.” You placed both bowls on the table, mainly because you’re hands had started to go numb.

“You are one well-defined function.” You lowered slowly into the seat next to Mark, fingertips clawing into your knees.

“Mark…” Voice shaky at best. 

“Oh this one is good. If I went binary, you’d be the one for me.” His soft laughter jiggled his glasses down his nose as your hand lifted to gently pull your notebook away from him. 

“Mark, stop please..” 

“Oh no, no this one’s my favourite.” Watching his finger hover below the last sentence on the page, you felt your body heating up from its core. Nervousness pulsated from the depth of your stomach and radiated through your skin. You saw his eyes crinkle at their corners, his ears twitching as he grinned. 

“You are sweeter than Pi.” He turned to you at that moment; cheeks plump, smile intoxicating. A wave of anxiety crashed over you. 

“No wonder you’re failing. Dude, seriously, who’s got you so distracted?!” Mark was asking you as if he really didn’t know; and a part of you wanted it to stay that way. You wanted to leave him in his naive innocence and continue on being brilliant, and wowing college mathematicians with his insight and natural numerical skill. You wanted him to find someone who would be just as excited about binomials and integrals as he was or at least someone who could understand them.

Mark lifted his arm to sling his elbow over the back of the chair. Combing back his hair with his other hand, he pushed up his glasses with his thumb before flicking you in the shoulder, and you knew it was because you looked like an idiot. Your face held no expression, your body was frozen in place. 

You knew pressure. You knew what it felt like having everything on the line. You knew what it meant to have both joy and sorrow rest in your hands. So in that moment, you would have gladly taken loaded bases, deep hit into left field, sun in your eyes as you lined up your mitt to take the last catch that would secure the last out to win the game. You would have gladly taken the chance to lose the championship over the way Mark was staring at you. Over the way his sparkling eyes were boring into you expectantly for an answer you weren’t sure he was ready for. Or more so, one you were about to give. Especially if it was the wrong one. 

“So, who is it?” But Mark always got the right answer. 

“You.”  

The pen Mark was twirling between fingers his crashed onto the table. An exaggeration, but everything seemed heightened after you somewhat easily confessed your feelings to Mark. Your hands had found themselves back on your knees, and your lips had found themselves between your teeth. Mark pulled his arm off the back of the chair and mirrored your stance, yet you noticed him swallow roughly. Your heart stammered at the sight. 

“We’re not even in the same class anymore..” You fought the urge to laugh, Mark’s charming naivety cutting through the tension in the air, his eyes twinkling in your direction. Lips parting to pull in a breath, you blew loose strands of hair off your forehead before letting your shoulders relax. Mark was doing it again, comforting you in his own special way. In the way only he could, even if he didn’t know he was doing it. 

“That’s the way it is, isn’t it? Love..” 

“You-you… love me?” Mark pushed up his glasses with both hands, swinging his legs around to face you; his knees merely grazing past like a single gentle flap of a butterfly’s wing. You sunk into your shoulders, there was no turning back now. 

“It’s funny right? How you stopped being in my classes years ago, but as soon as I look at an equation my mind flips and all I can think about is you. How funny is that?” Leaning forward to lean an elbow onto the table and your cheek into your hand; your eyes locked on Mark. He held your stare but you were caught in the unravelling of your own sanity to see how his eyes were flitting across your face. 

“Man it’s so funny. Mr. Grant stands at the chalkboard and starts drawing up some parabolic graph, and all it does is remind me of your smile. I open up my textbook and start reading about perfect angles and all that I can compute is the goddamn perfect angles of your cheekbones against your jaw.” You were laughing now, completely out of control. You weren’t even aware of what you were saying, the words simply falling out of your mouth. Blame it on dehydration, practice was gruelling; sure you could do that - but you simply kept talking. You weren’t even looking at Mark anymore.

“I try you know? I try really hard to study. And it’s only maths. I ace every other subject - I have no issue with Lit or History. Go, ask me anything about the Balkan War, I know it all. But Maths, phwoah..” Your head tipped back against the chair, your braid swinging behind it. 

“Maths, man I can’t even concentrate. All I see is your face in the numbers. All I can think about is your laugh when someone starts reciting algebra formulas. And when exams come around, I’m stumped.” Mark jumped in his seat when you shouted out a laugh. 

“I stare and stare at the exam paper and think about how you would solve every question and how quickly you would have done it. And once I’m thinking about you, that’s it. I’m gone.” Your rambling halted when Mark reached out his hand and placed it atop yours. Lowering your head back to level with his eyes, you saw the sheer shock in them. You swallowed dryly, the realisation of the utter madness you had spat out finally overwhelming you. Mark scooted forward in his chair, clearing his throat and lifting a shaking head to sweep his fringe off his eyes. 

“You know, Madison Kim asked me out in the same way.” Your hands went limp, the weight of your heart dropping into your stomach caused your shoulders to slump forward. You were an idiot. Literally, figuratively, emotionally. Of course Madison Kim would have asked him out the same way. She may be a genius, but she was an airy head girl, who in all honesty would be a fool to not ask out the gorgeous man who sat beside her in AP Calc every day. 

You shifted back in your seat, but Mark’s hand tightened around yours; your eyes darting up to find a softness in his eyes you had never seen before. In the entirety of your lives together, you had never seen that look, and it terrified you. 

“She asked me out with silly little mathematical pick up lines that she slipped into my textbook and I turned her down.” You could feel your teeth grind against each other. Your tongue pressed against the roof of your mouth as you swallowed down the saliva that had pooled beneath it. Mark scooted forward a bit more, taking your other hand in his. 

“Do you know why I turned her down?” A simple smile painted across his lips, his fingers curling around your palms. You shook your head, too afraid to speak; too afraid to let your stupidity form any more sentences than it already had. 

“Because she isn’t you.” A breath caught in your throat. Then swiftly gulped down with the lump that had clung to your tonsils. 

“Wh-what?” Mark sighed through his nostrils, a sweet tender exhale as his thumb drew circles into the back of your hand. 

“Since we’re confessing, I’ll go next.” Mark straightened, lifting his chin as if to give his valedictorian speech. “I never told you I love you because I never thought I was right for you. That I wasn’t the guy to make you happy.” 

Your chin dropped into your chest, eyes folding in amusement; your shoulders bouncing as you chuckled. 

“Now why would you think that?” Speaking into your stomach before looking up at him with a tilted head and an angled grin. Mark released his hold on one of your hands to hold his nape instead, fingers rubbing into the skin; a flush of embarrassment evident in the pink smoothing over his cheeks. 

“I don’t know.. I just thought that you’d prefer someone who could keep up with you. I can barely do a push up..” Timid and a little hushed; Mark darted his eyes around the room before slowly meeting your gaze. Like him, you straightened, shifted forward in your seat and retrieved his hand from his neck to lace your fingers between his. 

“Then I guess we’re both stupid.” Mark’s confused puppy expression returned to his face, and you suppressed a giggle to answer the question his eyes silently asked you. 

“I never told you I love you because I didn’t think I was smart enough for you. That sooner rather than later, you’d get bored of me..” The flush of pink that had filled his cheeks crept over yours; you bit down on your top lip. Mark stared at how your bottom lip plumped into a pout and felt his heart stutter at the sight.

“We’ve known each other our whole lives, you think I would’ve gotten bored of you by now.” 

“Hey!” Ducking but failing to dodge the sharp whack that your hand delivered on his arm, Mark grabbed your wrist and pulled you towards him. Lifting his other hand, Mark hesitated for a second before reaching forward, gently cupping your cheek. You swore he could feel how hot you were, your cheeks burning so fiercely you were afraid his fingers would singe. But he didn’t pull away. He kept his hand tenderly pressed against your cheek and you began to drown in the smile he gave you. Another one of his perfect smiles. 

“Let’s not be stupid anymore, yeh?” Blinking softly, his bottom lip folded between his teeth as he awaited your answer. Leaning forward, closing the space between your faces, you took a moment to catch the glimmer in his eyes. Whether it was the light catching in his lenses or the spark they naturally held; you wanted to get lost in the magic of them. But he was waiting, and Mark always got the right answer. 

“Okay.”

His kiss was as tender as you imagined it to be. His lips were as soft as you had dreamt them to be and you could feel him smiling against yours. Breaking the kiss, Mark pulled back to rest his forehead against yours as he drew in a breath. You weren’t sure if you were breathing, but you could see his glasses begin to fog so you knew you must have been. 

Both sitting back, you stared at each other silently; your hands fitting perfectly in each other’s. Yet the gaze was fleeting, both you and Mark breaking into laughter; possibly from the haphazard confessions or your shared stupidity. Either way, the air was clear and the problem of your irrational hearts solved. Mark would have enjoyed that the most; solving a seemingly unquantifiable problem and the thought made you feel warm. 

“Now I’m even more screwed.” Mark hummed quizzically in response, reaching under his chair to pull it closer to yours; letting his thigh press against yours as he removed the space separating you.

“Now I really won’t be able to focus on Maths...” Mark laughed with his entire chest, head tipping back to let laughter tumblr out of his mouth, yet his hand never let go of yours. Finally regaining composure, Mark angled his body to face you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you into his chest. Reactively, and almost naturally, your arms weaved around his neck. A single giggle fluttered through his lips before he spoke.

“I guess I’m just going to have to tutor you every day until the numbers make sense.” 

Trying not to let any laughter flicker out, despite your heart racing in your chest; you thought that you could be a little bold. “Do I get a kiss for every answer I get right?” 

Mark edged forward, touching the tip of his nose against yours. 

“Of course.” Mark briskly pressed his lips against yours as a full stop to his statement. Giggling as he pulled away, his arms slid off your waist to turn you back towards your notes. 

“Come on, you have three more equations to solve then we’re done, and we still have to eat. I’m starving!” Flailing in your chair in protest, Mark silenced your whining with another kiss planted onto your cheek. 

“I’m not going to go any easier on you cause we’re dating now.” You couldn’t help but feel your heart swell. Picking up your pen, you slid over your notebook that was still in front of Mark. Turning back to the page you were on, you gave Mark one last narrow-eyed look. 

“A kiss for every correct answer, remember.” You nodded in agreement. He was a brilliant tutor after all. And a cute one at that. Because he was Mark Tuan, the adorable nerd. Mark Tuan, your adorable nerd. 

[covfefeaddict]

10. — nostalgia for hydra husbands, please?

prompt requests; accepting!

times are changingship; Hydra Husbandsrating; not rated / PG?wc; 1,574

Brock doesn’t exactly remember how he got here.

The air of the hotel room is stuffy and hot, causing Brock to pull in a deep breath just in order to feel like he’s taken one at all. Honey browns are concentrated on the ceiling, brows knit in focus as he mulls over a plethora of intrusive thoughts. The only thing that really keeps him grounded is the rhythmic breathing of the larger man next to him. Brock chances a glance, tilting his head only slightly to gaze at Jack as he sleeps. It’s so strange, how peaceful the man looks in times like this, when he’s at ease and comfortable enough to sleep deeply around the other. Jack is prone to scowling every moment of every day, hard lines smoothed out only around Brock. Only by Brock. An unexpected kiss to the rigid line of his jaw tended to do the trick at times– a punch of air sighed harshly from Jack’s lungs and a look trained on him with a muddle of confusion and slight irritation.

Jack wasn’t privy to romantic gestures in return, but he appreciated feeling wanted.

Brock shifts himself to lay on his side, arm tucked under his pillow and feet shifting to just barely touch the fabric of Jack’s pajama pants. The blankets have been shucked down, and Brock can’t stop himself from raking his eyes down the exposed chest of his… boyfriend? Lover? There wasn’t really a word to label what they were, but they hadn’t taken the time to speak about it. Brock didn’t think they ever would set some time aside for ‘the talk’, but he was almost willing to simply accept it as it was. Why ruin a fairly decent thing with opening yourself up? Setting vulnerabilities on the table. Brock is smiling lazily, anyway. His eyes rake over the contours of Jack’s chest and stomach once more before lifting back to his face– he’s caught red handed, sun kissed browns locking with hardened greens.

Jack doesn’t say a word; he merely stares back with the barest hint of a smile ghosting over his lips. His features read amusement. At least he isn’t scowling yet. Brock, on the other hand, can’t help the grin that peels his lips back. Jack is beautiful in his own way, especially first thing in the morning. Brock had never been a morning person, but Jack always had been. Up with the sun, coffee made, breakfast cooking. Brock had never taken him for the type to be so domestic, but it was merely the way he was. Not domesticity at all. He slept well. He ate well. He worked out to keep healthy instead of stack himself up, and he didn’t abuse liquor or drugs like Brock did. Like he used to do. The agent heaves a breath finally, grin faltering a bit into a more comfortable smile.

“Mornin’.” Brock gruffs out, voice growly still with sleep.

Jack merely grunts in response, shifting a bit with a gentle sigh before rolling on his back. His arms lift, palms rubbing the sleep from his eyes as Brock watches on adoringly. As sissy as it might sound, Brock can’t help but think this still feels like home despite being cooped up in a shitty hotel on some shitty mission. Jack sits up, propped up on his elbows at first before shifting his weight and sitting up entirely. Brock takes in his large body once more, not exactly being coy about his eyes trailing over every inch of him this time. Jack stares down at the other a moment, resisting the urge to roll his eyes before distracting Brock by running a hand through his sleep tousled hair. The darker man groans, the sound reverberating through his chest as he leans into the touch with eyes fluttered shut. Jack takes the opportunity to quirk his lips in a quick smile before pulling away and swinging his legs off the bed.

“'Member the first time we had to share a bed in some shit ass hotel, Jackie?”

The nickname causes Jack to tense mid-stretch, arms held above his head and head tilted to pop his neck, but his hackles are raised now and the air leaves him as if he’s deflating on his next exhale. Brock sits up as well, reaching out to trace the lines and scars on Jack’s back with gentle finger tips. Jack sighs again at the touch before offering a clipped nod in acknowledgment. Yes, he remembers. He remembers it quite well. It had been a long day– far too long. A full day of driving the day before had taken a toll on the both of them already, but having to get right out there on the field as soon as they arrived hadn’t given either of them time to relax. They were grouchy, exhausted, and had both flopped on the bed after stripping down to their skivvies. Neither had the yearning to shower. Neither wanted to eat, or speak, or do much of anything but sleep.

“I woke up to your arm around my waist and your dick pressed against my ass.”

Jack tenses again, finally turning to glare over his shoulder, and Brock wishes he could back peddle and never say that because now Jack is scowling again. His face is all hard lines and annoyance, and the shorter man puffs air from his cheeks in self irritation. Why’s he always gotta say stupid shit. Jack merely shakes his head, eyes rolling and body lifting off the mattress so he can make his way toward the tiny coffee maker in the corner of the hotel room. He goes about making coffee - even though the brand of the grounds was nasty as Hell, and they had both agreed on that - though his head is tilted and his eyes are somewhat far away, as though remembering the night wistfully no matter how hard he tried to forget it. Brock shifts as well, crawling to the edge of the bed and leaning forward to stare at the man thoughtfully.

Well, he’s already started. He may as well continue.

“You remember. Don'tcha. I didn’t know what to do. Clock ya in the mouth or let it happen.”

Brock can see Jack’s mind working, one brow quirked on his otherwise stoic features.

“So, I shifted instead. Pressed back against ya. And damn, that moan…”

“Alright,” Jack has finally had enough– he doesn’t want to talk about it, despite the fact he’s been pretty intimate with Brock for the past couple months. It was just something they didn’t do. They didn’t talk about it. They didn’t breathe life into this relationship– it was too dangerous. They fucked, they found solace in one another silently, but they didn’t discuss any sort of relationship. “I remember, can we drop it?”

Brock flashes a grin, his position on the bed misconstrued as seductive as he hunkers the front half of his body down. His chest is almost on the mattress, lower back and rear up in the air. He looks like a stalking cat, and Jack can only roll his eyes once more. Brock has joked that they’d roll right out of his head one day. “Pretty sure this was the same hotel. Wouldn’t it be wild if this was the same room? Kinda hot.” he muses, finally laying his whole body down so his belly and chest were flat against the sheets. “Admit it, Jackie. It’s kinda hot.”

Jack bristles again at the nickname, only allowing himself a millisecond of admiration at Brock’s position before turning his back on the other and leaning against the small counter. He watches the small coffee maker drip quietly, brows furrowed and hulking body tense as he hears Brock slip off the mattress and pad toward him in socked feet. The hands on his shoulders suddenly pushes the air from his lungs in a sharp exhale, head dropping slightly to stare at the counter top as he keeps himself steady.

Jack wasn’t privy to romantic gestures in return, but he appreciated feeling wanted.

“Times were simpler then, huh.” Brock finally mumbles, lips finding the exposed skin on the back of Jack’s neck. He presses what could be viewed as a kiss there, letting his lips linger a moment before shifting his hands down– he wraps his arms around the large waist of his partner, resting his head against the other’s back quietly. Jack can only hum in response; he agrees. Times were simpler then. Emotions didn’t get in the way, and they could fight and fuck as often as they wanted without the question of whether or not they’d wake up next to each other in the morning. Now, it was more so the question of whether they’d wake up alone– and whether or not they’d like that better. “Times, they are'ah changin’.”

“Mn,” Jack turns slowly in Brock’s arms, quirking a brow as the shorter male simply readjusts his stance to rest his head against the other’s broad chest once he’s settled. He can’t help but think that that’s too true– and he isn’t terribly angry at the idea either. Hesitantly, Jack tips his head down enough to kiss the top of Brock’s head. Small and short, quick to the point– but it makes Brock grin and sigh, and cling to Jack just a little more tightly. “That they are, Rumlow. That they sure are.”