#just going to throw things out as i brush off the dust <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[evocatiive]

random starter for @dysnomiias

"Your parents....they don't really like me, do they?" That much has always felt obvious, as if Key isn't someone worthy of their daughter's friendship, much less anything more. The two of them have always skirted around that fact, but he doesn't know how much longer they can do that. His smile is a twisted thing, twinging and rueful. "Do you think there will ever be a way for me to get into their good graces?"

[scudslut]

ahhh yes yes, I haven’t written him too subby on here yet so I was super excited to write this❤️ I hope you like it @darylsgirl23 <3

Heartsease

Daryl x f!reader

Setting: Bridge Camp/Post Savior War

Wordcount: 2.6k

Warnings: 18+, softdom reader, unestablished relationship (but both know there’s a little somethin somethin iykwim), aka your his and everyone knows it, oral (m - receiving), unprotected piv, premature finish

Daryl was never one to keep still.

It made him anxious to be in one place for too long, always going on runs and patrols ensuring his people were as safe and provided for as they could be. He felt at ease outside the walls, out of people's prying gazes, and left alone to do his part for the community in peace. These days though, he was a flurry of activity. Hardly ever in the same spot long enough to see the sun rise and set again.

You knew he felt guilty - that he was angry and didn't know how to release it. You'd watch him work on the bridge for hours, frustration seeping out of his bones and into the atmosphere around him. It hung off him like a phantom.

The vast majority of the community was intimidated by it. They would walk on eggshells in his presence as if they could predict an oncoming outburst. But you knew better, you knew him.

He was angry at the world, yes. But he was distraught with himself... his own mind. It ran a mile a minute and gave absolutely zero reprieve. Anyone could see that if they dug just a bit deeper, looked at him a little closer.

Sure he was strong and burly; a true beast of a man, but he was also quiet and thoughtful. He cared so deeply about others that it frightened him to his core. All he wanted was to protect his family and do right by them.

And you saw all of that.

You had for years now and it only made your desire for him stronger. You wanted to thank him. Drop down to your knees and worship every freckle and scar that made him, him. He deserved it, deserved an escape.

Initially, you thought maybe he wasn't into that and preferred to keep his relationships asexual, to which you were perfectly happy to abide by. Any time spent with him was cherished time in your eyes. But during a sleep-deprived chat with Carol one night on patrol, long ago, you had found out he did have a few sexual encounters before the apocalypse. Just none that had truly meant much to him, or that he was entirely sober for.

That small bit of insight helped you understand the man so much more and you carefully dropped your hints from that point on. However, with your luck, every time you thought something might happen between you two, the moment would slip right through your aching fingers, dusted away by whatever imminent danger lurked behind each corner.

To be quite honest, you were getting fed up with the world's continuous cruel jokes, and from the looks of things, Daryl could use a healthy distraction right about now.

Ears perking at the familiar rumble you'd grown to love, you watched as he pulled up on his trusty, beaten-up Nighthawk, finally returning from a longer visit at Hilltop. You could see the sheen layer of sweat built up above his furrowed brows, his teeth nibbling away at his lower lip - an anxious habit you had picked up on mere days after meeting him.

His mind was bothering him. That much was clear.

He shuffled quickly to his tent, gaze transfixed on the muddy shoes he wore, avoiding any onlookers who wanted to ask their silly questions, throwing the flaps open, and disappearing in a fluster.

You knew better than to bother him now, give him some time to gather his thoughts and decompress. You whittled away at your spears, biding the time as you devised a plan on how you would approach him. After all, the last thing you wanted was to scare him off or embarrass him in any way. He was reserved when it came to these situations, unsure of himself. The few times you had brushed lips or touched him a bit heatedly, he was jumpy and almost insecure, as if he needed instructions on how he should behave. It was extremely endearing to you; like a stray pup who just needed a little reassurance and affection to calm his fierce walls of doubt.

It was almost dusk when you finished with your spears, gathering them up and placing them near some of the other weapons the community used when needed. You scanned the grounds, noticing everyone collected by the fire, dishing up for a late dinner. You quickly made your way over, grabbing two portions and slipping away before you were noticed and stopped for conversation. You knew Daryl wouldn't get one for himself, spew some excuse that 'he wasn't hungry' or was 'too tired' when really, he just didn't want to take away from another. Even if that meant he didn't eat or drink anything for days at a time. It made your heart blister for more reasons than one.

You balance both plates on your left arm, reaching to pull the flaps open slowly, not wanting to startle him with your arrival, "Dar? You asleep?" you whisper into the dim den.

You hear a grunt, some shuffling, and in a moment a soft glow fills the area as he lights a nearby lamp, perching up on his small cot, "I was."

Flicking off your boots, you zip the entrance closed behind you, "I brought you some dinner, figured you'd be hungry after your trip," You smile and he mutters a quiet thanks, opting to accept your kind offer rather than argue with you, he knew you wouldn't take no for answer anyway. He scoots to the side, creating a spot for you to sit while you two eat in comfortable silence. He liked that you didn't feel the need to fill the air, that you could simply enjoy each other's company without all the small talk. You were one of the few people he'd met in his life, who just inherently understood him, down to the most basic level. He hated leaving you all the time like he had been, just another thing to nag at his over-exhausted mind.

Hearing him sigh quietly, you cast your eyes over, watching as he scrapes up the remaining crumbs off his plate, placing it outside the tent along with yours for you both to deal with in the morning.

"I imagine your pretty tired, huh?" You ask, following his movements as he plops down again beside you.

"Nah, not really. Got a few hours 'fore ya came bustin' in here," he grumbles with a small smirk and you lean into him nudging his shoulder playfully. "Why ya wanna chat or somethin'?"

You consider him for a minute, trying to find the proper words to initiate what was truly on your mind. You knew you had no reason to be nervous. That even though you'd never labeled anything between you guys, you both felt it. Knew it was there. You just needed the right moment. Now was as good a time as any, you figured.

"No, I just- I wanna try something."

He nods his head for you to continue, so you scoot closer, placing your hand delicately on his shoulder and bringing your face centimeters from his. You stop just before you close the gap, gauging his reaction. His breath hitches slightly and you feel his pulse rapid under your fingertips, but he doesn't pull away. Taking that as the only confirmation you'll get, you press your lips to his softly, brushing your thumb against his stubbly, pink cheek. He takes a good minute to respond, carefully moving his lips back against yours and placing his hands on your hips. You feel him squeeze, eliciting a quiet moan of encouragement from you and he all but sinks into your touch, falling into a comfortable rhythm with your lips. You stay like that for a while, breathing in his piney scent and relishing in his gentle kneads at your waist. It wasn’t much to the untrained eye, but you knew that was his way of pouring his affection into you without so many words. His way of telling you he was yours.

You drag your kisses down his neck, nibbling and sucking at the salty flesh between his collarbones. His breaths grow uneven and you can feel him begin to tense again, unused to such personal attention, "Is this okay?" You ask, not wanting to push him past his boundaries. He only nods in response, his throat feeling like the Sahara.

He has to admit, he's thought about this many times, relieved himself to thoughts of you too many times to count over the years. He's just never known how to approach you about it, scared you'd reject him or he'd do something wrong.

He watches as you slip to your knees before him, your eyes glued to his. "You'll let me know if you want me to stop, yeah?" As he tries to nod in response again, you stop him, "I need you to say it to me," You press.

"Y-yea, I'll say somethin'," he whispers timidly and you grin, beginning to unbuckle his belt and slip his raged jeans down. You kiss down his strong thighs, feeling them tremble slightly beneath you. His hard-on is poking through his boxers and you drag your lips across it, placing soft pecks down the length of him, listening to his breathy pants. You didn't realize how turned on you'd be, having him all flushed and needy for you, but god were you enjoying it. Slipping your fingers into the waistband, you tug them down and his cock springs free, precum leaking from the pretty, pink tip.

"You dun have'ta," he mutters, anxiety sweeping over him fast, even though he really, really does want to. You catch his gaze, noticing how dark his stormy eyes have gotten.

"Let me take care of you, sweetheart," you reply, pressing soft kisses from the base to tip, feeling him pulse under your touch. You enclose your mouth around him, taking almost his entire length at once and you hear a guttural groan from above you, his knuckles white from the clutch they had on the bedsheets.

You wondered if he had ever had a woman go down on him before. Judging by the gasps and twitches he was emitting, if he had, it hadn't been for a very long time.

He bucks into you, searching in a daze for more friction, and you pin his hips down, earning a deep whine from him. You knew if he wanted to, he could easily overpower you, use your mouth to his heart's content, but he wouldn't. He wanted you to take charge. Needed it.

Raking your eyes over his heaving figure, you slide your tongue along his shaft, moving in slow, sensual circles as you bob up and down. Daryl's head is tossed back, eyes screwed shut and you can tell he won't last much longer. The sensitivity of not being touched in so long, sprinting towards him at full speed. You pull back, slowing your movements. He lifts his head off the wall, pale blue eyes blown to darkness as he watches you take him so sweetly, "Please," He whispers.

When you shake your head, humming a soft, "Not yet," as best you can around him, his eyes roll back into his skull, entirely overwhelmed by the overstimulation, but loving it nonetheless. "I-I can't," He gasps, his accent muddled even stronger in his lustful state. You have to squeeze your legs tighter, clenching around nothing hearing your man so utterly wrecked beneath you. You want to draw it out for hours. Have him begging you to let him cum down your awaiting throat. However, you decide you both have waited damn long enough to prolong your union even more.

Releasing him with a soft kiss to his leaking tip, you stand in front of him, shimmying out of your clothes as quickly as you can. "Lay down for me, baby,' You direct, moving the straddle him as he eagerly follows your orders, turning lengthwise on the makeshift bed. His eyes never leave yours as you sit down on him, groaning when he feels how wet you are pressed against his cock. "Have you thought about this before, pretty boy?" His cheeks flush crimson at your sultry compliments, nodding curtly whilst avoiding your stare.

"Dar." You press.

You were being so gentle yet stern with him it was making it brain fuzzy, all stressors from the day long washed away to be replaced by only you.

"Have, yeah," He huffs in embarrassment, trying with great difficulty not to portray how truly turned on your words were making him. But you saw right through him... or rather felt him. You lean forward, kissing and nipping up his neck to the shell of his pink ears, "Do you want me to stop?"

A full-body shiver jolts through him when he feels your warm breath against his ear, involuntarily rolling his hips into yours and you chuckle at his obvious sensitivity. He knows he needs to use his words. You won't be letting him off that easy. "Please don't," Is all he manages and it seems to do the trick. You grip his length, tracing it along your soaked folds, and slowly sink down. Your careful as you take in his reaction, scanning his expression for any signs of discomfort. He bites his lip, his eyes squeezed shut and lets out a muffled groan.

"Fuck," He mumbles, and you're surprised to hear him say anything you didn't need to pry out of him. A positive sign, you determined and start to bounce your hips slowly, creating a synchronized dance between your bodies. Your body is buzzing as you ride him, finally feeling the dull ache you’ve had for the man below you begin to dissipate as he whimpers oh so softly for only you to hear. His hands grip your waist hard enough to leave bruises to find in the morning, but you hardly give it a second thought. All you can think about is Daryl. His closeness, his warmth and strength, and-

He tenses beneath you, broken gasps leaving his chewed lips and suddenly he’s lifting you off of him, soaking your thighs and abdomen completely. You gawk as you watch him come down, sworn you haven’t ever seen something so fucking sexy in your life. His head tossed back, jumbled curses leaving his mouth, and dark auburn hair dripping with sweat. You don’t care that he finished before you, this was about him. But you see his eyes snap to yours when he fully comes back down to reality, cheeks blazing for a different reason than before.

Leaning towards him, you capture his lips with your own, tenderly pouring your affection into him, needing him to know you weren’t upset, “It’s okay, relax,” you whisper against him with a soft smile, leaning your forehead onto his. His eyes are filled with guilt, “I mean it, Dar,” And he’s back to his nods of response.

He didn’t need any more words of sympathy. He knew you were happy as a kid on Christmas, he just needed to accept it for himself. So with one last peck to his cherry lips, you slide off him, grab a rag to clean yourself up with, and scoot right in beside him, craving his warmth. He turns to you quickly, grabbing your waist and pulling you impossibly closer to him, burying his head into the crook of your neck. You feel a few soft pecks from him along your jaw and you sigh contentedly, wrapping your limbs around his, reeling in your post-coital glow.

You were safe, snuggled with your love, and that was all you needed.

[arlowthenacho]

cherry wine

(carmen berzatto x reader)

summary: carmy has panic attack and calls for you.

warnings: cussing, fem presenting reader, kissing, intended lowercase, please let me know if i misses anything !

wc: 975

a/n: omg its finally done...part 2 to “that funny feeling” !! its a bit short but i dont have the patience for anything longer lmao. @unbearableblog ik you wanted to be tagged so here you go <3

its been a week.

a week since carmen invited you to his house. and the funny thing is, its happened again. more than again, actually.

within the seven days after he originally asked you to come over, you’ve been invited to come back about 5 more times, all for the same reason. being a little taste tester for carmy. telling him what needs salt and what’s too bland and what’s perfect and doesn’t need any more tinkering.

and what’s even funnier than the fact you’ve been in carmen berzatto’s kitchen at 11:00 pm for the better part of the week is the fact he hasn’t tried to get in your pants at all. not once.

all he’s done is…talk.

about you, about him, about his family, and about yours. and its been nice.

refreshing.

seeing this other side of him, this vulnerable side of him, has been almost eye-opening. everything you thought he was had been turned to dust and reborn with new perspective. carmen berzatto wasn’t just the guy who occasionally hooked up with you to let off some steam anymore.

he was soft, and gentle, and vulnerable, and sweet. sure, he had his faults. his stubbornness, his ceaseless need for perfection, and most of all, his pride, but the sweet balanced the sour.

your thoughts drift back to the show playing on the t.v briefly, when a buzzing in your back pocket stuns you out of focus.

carmy parmy 🧑‍🍳

can u comw over?

huh. carm never really misspelled words. whatever.

course! gimmie likeee 15 mins

carmy parmy 🧑‍🍳

please come quickly

shit. now you’re worried.

you hastily make your way towards your bedroom and throw on a hoodie and leggings, damn near sprinting to your car.

after turning on the ignition and pulling out of your garage, you’re right back where you were a week ago. only this time you wear a concerned frown.

“carmen?” you rap your knuckles against the door, your breaths coming short and shallow.

“its unlocked,” his voice is hardly his right now. its all television static and distance.

you burst through the door and frantically scan the room for any trace of carmy. after a couple seconds of searching, you see him curled into himself on the floor of his kitchen, hands in his hair.

your heart drops six feet deep as you sit next to him, taking his hands into yours.

“hey, carm. what’s the matter, hmm?” you spoke with a foreign gentleness, a tone that was never usually present between you and carm.

“i just—i cant…” he hyperventilates. “i can’t breathe,”

and within a second, your blood was lead and dropping your organs to hell.

“i cant—”

he can barely finish his sentence before being enveloped in your arms. the sinking in your gut was still present, but you ignored it. you both just sat on the floor, holding each other together.

after a while of holding carmen, his breathing had somewhat evened out. he releases the white-knuckling grip on your shoulders and lifts his head from your chest. you brush the stray hairs out of his eyes and smile softly.

"hi, baby,"

he takes a stuttering breath.

"hi."

"what happened, carm?" you whisper, not daring to break the silence you both have fallen into. carmen takes another deep breath before letting the words fall from his lips.

"its, uh. family stuff. my mom is fucking insane and it just..." he pauses, takes another breath, and continues. "during christmas one year, she went really crazy. and it gave me some lasting issues."

your heart ached for him in a way that you can't explain. he spoke a little more about his warped family dynamics before trailing off. he meets your eyes again, but with a look in his eyes that you can't quite place. you're rendered speechless for a second before finding the words to say to him.

"you're safe now, baby. you're safe now." you pick the both of you off the floor and towards the couch, still grasping carmen tightly.

another week passed since carmen had the panic attack.

that night, you stayed at his house for the first time. you're departure was abrupt and maybe a bit rude, but in your defense, you panicked. however, you have been over his apartment pretty frequently for one reason or another.

today, you've been invited over to cook.

its 12:34, which is a normal time for carmen to ask for you, when you start to get ready. you only throw on a bra, some socks, and more comfortable shorts before you get in your car and drive to carmen's.

your knuckles rap against his door twice before he opens it.

"hey, hi, come in," he rushes out, mindlessly taking your hand and dragging you inside.

"oh, alright then," you mumble, letting yourself be pulled into his space.

the kitchen smells like an array of spices and you look at the bottles that litter carmy's counter. rosemary, tumeric, paprika, chili flakes and more things that you can't pronounce are written on the glass.

you're pulled out of your thoughts when carmy picks you up by the waist and places you on a clean portion of the counter. you smile at him and swing your legs against the cabinets below.

"what do you have for me today, carm?" you tease.

"this."

he nearly lunges for you and attaches his lips to yours. he tastes hungry, like hes been starved of your lips for an eternity. you gasp an press back into his mouth with a matching passion. his hands find your waist and yours find his hair. a whirlwind of pulling and tugging sends you both into a frenzy before he parts away for air.

"this wasn't about the food, was it?" you breathe. he giggles, the sound akin to something angelic.

"no, it wasn't. it never was."

[sincerelybubbles]

Here's a dialogue prompt for Emily please! Try this out pls. Love you Kam sm sm. "So why are you here?" "To make a fool of myself." ok ty lysm

even though i watched u type this, the wording makes me giggle every time i look at it.

emily prentiss x tech analyst!reader <3

warnings: fem!reader, cannon typical violence, very brief allusions to sexual assault (nothing happens!), angst and fluff! mutual pining.

word count: 5.4k

Emily is the loveliest thing you've ever seen and you can't imagine how she could ever possibly like you back. She enjoys the game, though, and teasing you is her favorite hobby.

-

It’s a sunny day. Warmth trickles down with the scattered light through the leaves. Patterns trace your arms, throwing your skin into a collage of different shapes and shades. Leaning back on your elbows, you watch people mill about the park. You look back down at your arm after a few more minutes, this time focused on the small watch resting there. With a sigh, you stand up and dust off your pants before picking up the small blanket you laid out and tucking it into your bag. 

You walk back to work, enjoying the sounds of the people around you. You lingered too long at the park during your break and are hoping that nobody notices your slightly late return. Maybe the team will be in a meeting, gruesome pictures you never quite learned to stomach plastered on the board, entirely oblivious to your tardiness. 

Unlikely, but a welcome thought soothing your anxiety as you push the door open and scan your badge at the security desk. 

“Welcome back,” the security guard says, smiling at you over his paperback. He’s an old greying man and you vaguely recognize him. You think he’s new and send him a warm smile in return. 

“Thanks,” you glance at his name badge, “Martin!”

You walk past him and step into the elevator. “Wait!” A voice calls and you reach forward to hit the hold button instinctively before you register the voice as Emily’s. 

She jogs into the elevator with you, smiling gratefully. “Thanks, I’m already running a little behind.” She lifts a container and shakes it a little. The label is from the Italian bistro across the street, about a ten-minute walk away and always nearly triple that in wait time. 

“Brave of you to go there during your lunch,” you joke, returning her smile and pressing the button for your floor. 

You hope she can’t see how your hands shake as you reach forward.

“I know, I just love their Pasta Brado. Have you tried it?”

“Can’t say I have. I’m boring, I usually go for the parm.”

“You’re not boring,” she says so earnestly that you can’t help but blush. You cough as an excuse to raise your hand to your face and hopefully hide it some. “You do have to try it, though. Here,” she offers you the plastic box. 

“Oh, I couldn’t. And I already ate.” You ignore the way your chest hurts a little at how enthusiastic she is. The worst part? She doesn’t even know how endearing her simple kindness, her casual enthusiasm, is to you. 

“Tomorrow, then. We can go together.” The elevator doors open as she says it and she steps out with an affirmative nod to solidify it. “Don’t try to bail out on me either, I know where to find you.”

“Yeah, I'm okay,” you say, feeling lame as you step out behind her. “I would love to.” She’s too far to hear you, though, already heading to Spencer’s desk and jumping right into his conversation with Morgan. 

Someone says your last name and you turn on your heel to see Hotch and cringe slightly. “I was trying to find you.” It’s a kinder way of him reminding you that you’re nearly ten minutes late back from your lunch. 

“Sorry, sir.”

“It’s fine. Do you have the reports finished from last week's trip to Huston?”

“Yes, sir, they’re at my desk. One moment.”

-

You and Emily don’t go to the bistro the next day because she and the team are sent to a small town in Kansas that night. 

“I’ll owe you lunch,” she says, hand on the back of your desk chair and brushing your shoulder as the team rushes to the jet. 

“Don’t worry about it!” You reassure her.

“I’m taking you to lunch,” she calls over her shoulder, pretend-glaring, “you will try that Brado!”

And then she’s gone, leaving you giddy and breathless. 

You know she’s just being friendly – she treats Spencer, Morgan, and JJ all the same as you – but her efforts to spend one-on-one time with you outside of work still have you feeling like a schoolgirl passed a note from her crush in class. 

You try to remind your heart to stop singing because Emily probably isn’t even gay and definitely isn’t interested. Instead, Garcia scares the shit out of you when she interrupts your inner monologue. 

“Lunch with Emily? Things are getting serious in your work marriage.” You hadn’t seen her walk into the room and jump at her voice, hand jumping to your mouth to suppress a yelp. “Sorry! Sorry!”

“It’s okay, didn’t see you.”

“Your loss, I look fantastic today.”

“As always,” you smile up at her, nose wrinkling and genuine fondness filling your senses. 

“Careful, wouldn’t want a workplace affair,” she jokes, leaning against your desk and picking up the stress ball you keep handy. 

“Stop,” you moan in good nature. “Nobody else calls us work wives.”

“That’s just because they don’t have my brilliance and excellent observational skills.”

“Nor do they have the same privy to my more personal thoughts,” you say, glancing up at her before returning to your paperwork. With the team leaving so quickly to tend to a missing child's case, you’re not getting home in time to cook dinner but are hoping to leave early enough to grab food instead of resorting to your freezer stash. 

“I would hope not. You know I can’t be replaced, baby.”

“Does Morgan know you talk to all your work besties like this?”

“I most certainly do not. You’re a regular bestie, not a work bestie.” A wink and then her expression sobers. “I do have an actual reason for visiting your humble cubical, though.”

“Hm?”

“I’m going to need extra hands for this case. It’s time-sensitive, as usual, and seems like it will be particularly tricky.”

“Yes ma’am,” you say, dropping your pen and standing to follow her. 

Your position at the bureau is kind of a catch-all. Most of your time is spent logging data, building reports, and doing general research for the team. Occasionally, though, you jump in to help Garcia with real-time research. Nothing as high-stakes as her direct assignments, more background work. Calling offices to talk to managers, combing through more meticulous data, generic census material to rule out obvious dead ends. 

It’s stressful work that technically isn’t what you’re paid for but you never complain. Your team saves lives, consistently putting themselves in the line of danger. If you have to spend a few hours a month helping Garcia call a suspect's manager at McDonald's to see if he still works there, it’s literally the least you can do. 

“Yes, so, it looks like our unsub…”

You drown out Garcia’s brief about information you already have sitting in front of you and begin vetting possible suspects from the large pool her system created.

It’s going to be a long night. You think about future Brado to cheer you up. 

-

“Reid, Prentiss take the back,” Hotch’s voice fills your ears. You imagine the pair nodding and splitting off from the group. 

This is your least favorite part of helping the team with active investigations – listening in on the calls. It’s rare that you and Garcia join the line when they’re approaching the unsub but, with you helping her, it isn’t a risk to distract Garcia and a much quicker method of getting any new information the team needs. It’s a new system you’ve only tried thrice, unsure how having microphones on 24/7 will work, and it grants you and the team more fluid communication.

Still, adrenaline floods your veins as you listen to their coms, the sounds of Garcia typing a constant behind their voices, imagining every way this could go wrong. 

You suspect the girl is still alive, the uncle doesn’t seem to have any reason to kill her just yet, but your fear for her grows with every minute. 

“Clear!”

Your eyes fall to the receipts flooding your screen. Ammo. A new rifle and pistol. The team knows but the evidence of this unsubs ability to hurt any of your friends, your family, isn’t helping your nerves. 

“I think he’s going to the roof!” Morgan’s voice, clear in the comms. 

You click out of the documents. Two swift motions on the screen. The firm press of the button. 

“Morgan, you’re on foot. Prentiss, follow him. Everyone else in vans, go!”

“Garcia, map out possible escape routes from the roof,” you instruct. 

She nods, screens shifting immediately. She puts on her own headset with one hand and clicks on the call and starts to bark information to Hotch. 

“Got her!” Reid’s voice sounds and you deflate a little. He mutes as he begins to console the small girl. 

You know you can take off your headset now, leave the call, and go to your paperwork. There isn’t much more you can do to help – you’re sure that’s what you’re supposed to do – but you stay on anyway, listening. 

“Right on Elmore!” Morgan calls. You find the street on Garcia’s screen, eyes tracing the path you think they’re taking. 

“We’ll try to cut him off,” Rossi says and you can hear tires in the background of the call. The click of a steering wheel cutting to the side too quickly. Someone’s labored breathing – probably Morgan’s as he dead sprints. 

“Stop! Put your hands up!” Emily shouts. The firmness in her voice makes you sit up straighter in your chair. 

You hear something that sounds vaguely like, “bitch,” before a loud pop drowns anything else out. 

“Emily!” Morgan’s voice, more pops. 

Gunfire. That’s gunfire, your brain recognizes. 

Your blood has gone cold.

“We need a medic!” Morgan shouts. Hotch’s line blinks red, going dead as he calls the ambulance. “Emily, Emily.”

Rustling. Cars. Sirens. Morgan’s line goes dead after you hear a car door slam shut. Then Reid’s and Rossi’s. Emily’s is the last to stay green, blinking.

You and Garcia stare at each other as you listen to Emily be loaded into an ambulance. Listen to Morgan tell the team, voice far away and barely tangible, that the unsub only managed to fire out one shot before he downed him. 

Neither of you can hear where she was shot or how badly injured she is before Emily’s line goes red as well.

-

“Emily?” You call softly, rapping your knuckles softly on the frame of the cracked hospital door. 

Your name, faint, answers you and you take that as permission to nudge the door open. The room looked dark from the hallway but Emily has the small lamp embedded on the wall switched on, throwing her face into harsh shadow. 

“Hey, you,” you say, walking in, arms full. “I brought things.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” she says, trying to sit herself up further and wincing as the motion pulls on her stitches in her abdomen. 

“Wait, let me help you,” you say, setting your things down and reaching out a hand. 

You wait for her nod before touching her, letting her grasp your arm and looping your other arm around the back of her waist to take most of her weight yourself. 

“Thanks,” she mumbles. You can tell she hates feeling useless, hates needing help for something as simple as sitting up, so you drop the subject with a nod and kind smile. 

You turn around to the small rolling tray where you put your things down, pulling two black containers out from a plastic bag. You feel silly and very awkward as you turn around to show them to her. 

“I know it’s probably not quite what you meant but,” you set the containers down on her bed and pop one open. 

“The Pasta Brado! Oh man, I was going to treat you.” She’s pouting through a smile, attempting to put on an upset facade and failing miserably. 

It’s so cute that you struggle with what to say next. 

“Thank you, really. You can pull up that chair, if you’re hungry now.”

You grab the chair she’s motioned to and drag it to sit next to her. “I’m hungry if you are. It might be a little cold, though, it’s kind of a far walk.”

“You walked here?” Emily asks, tone appalled and face comically shocked. 

“Yeah, my car broke down last week. I’ve been walking to work – it’s actually really nice out right now – and I couldn’t find a cab from the bistro.” You busy yourself with the food while you talk, opening the second container, setting it on her legs, and unwrapping the plastic cutlery for her. 

“Jesus! You didn’t need to come and see me if you don’t have a car. You didn’t need to come at all, actually. I really appreciate it,” she amends, seeing how your bashful smile freezes on your face, reaching forward as if to touch your face and brushing your shoulder instead. “It’s really sweet of you but you didn’t need to walk all that way. Isn’t it like a twenty-minute walk from here?”

Over thirty, but you nod anyway, knowing it won’t help your case to correct her. “It’s not a big deal. You were shot in the stomach, of course I wanted to see you.”

“Ah, so you wouldn't want to see me otherwise,” she teases, nodding and pushing her pasta around with her fork. She doesn’t even try to conceal her grin. 

“Ha ha, very funny,” you mumble. You take a bite of your food and your eyes widen. “Oh my god.”

“I knew you would love it,” she beams, watching your expression as you taste the food. You you she meant to say it in a gloating way but you swear you can hear a sort of fondness behind the words. Something in you warms at her ability to know you so well. 

You tell yourself you’re overreacting about both thoughts. 

“You were right – Emily this is unfairly good.”

“Oh, I know,” she says, taking her own bite and letting out an exaggerated moan, complete with an eye roll. You giggle and she smiles at you. “Thank you, this is exactly what I needed.”

“You’re welcome,” you say, holding her eye contact. 

She's been in the hospital for three days, transferred back to Virginia last night; her hair is unwashed and unbrushed, and she’s wearing no makeup and a hospital gown. 

She’s still the prettiest girl you’ve ever seen. 

-

Your car is fixed by the time Emily is released from the hospital two days later and you offer to take her home. 

“Hi Sergio,” you greet the cat brushing against your legs as Emily disengages the alarm. 

You set her things down by the door before turning to offer her your arm. Emily doesn’t pretend that she doesn’t need the help when it’s just you two, something you’re grateful for after watching her struggle with the team around, and lets you guide her to her bedroom. 

You set about making her comfortable, turning down her sheets and propping the pillows up so she can sit. 

“I’ve got it,” she laughs, playfully pushing away your hands. 

You laugh along with her, raising your hands and backing away. “I’m going to go put the rest of your stuff away and get you a drink.”

“Perfect, I’ll take an old-fashioned. Don’t forget the cherry.”

You roll your eyes at her, scoffing and leaving her room. 

You throw her clothes and go-bag in her laundry room before making her a glass of water and another glass of juice. Once you’re sure she’s settled in her bed with her book, you return to the kitchen to make her a few dinners, ignoring her protests. 

-

Emily is back in the field much sooner than you would have liked. 

“I was cleared by the doctors,” she tells you, coat slung over her arm as she digs through her bag for her badge. 

You smile at Martin, sending him a mock exasperated look, before she finds her ID and shows it to him. 

“It still seems too soon, Em,” you persist, reaching forward to push the elevator button and turning so you can lean back to watch her face. 

“Em?” Emily asks, the hint of a smile pulling up the left corner of her mouth. 

You sort of feel like you could die in that moment, just from the heat that simple gesture surges through you. 

“It just sort of slipped out, sorry,” you say, thoroughly embarrassed. 

The elevator dings and the doors open, throwing you off balance for a second. This doesn’t help your already flared nerves as you stumble back and drop your bag. You reach down to gather it and the files scattered across the floor. 

You’re kneeling to stuff everything in your bag when Emily crosses your line of sight again, wide smile on her face – teeth fully on display and nose scrunched, you are in desperate need of help – holding out your notepad.

“I think the nickname’s sweet. I kind of like the idea of having a name only one person, only you, calls me.”

All of the air has left this godforsaken elevator, the heat must be on, you stare dumbly at her as she reaches forward to grab your bag and put the rest of your papers inside of it for you. 

And then, realizing you look like an absolute idiot, you snap back into your body and cough slightly. The doors ding and open again, you grab your bag from her and stand slowly. Smiling at her, still crouched on the floor and looking, amused, up at you through her eyelashes, you say, “Okay. Thanks, then, Emmy.”

You walk away after that brief flash of confidence, telling yourself you’re just imagining how you swear her face flushed bright at your comment. 

And if Morgan mentions a few minutes that Emily seems flusters, well, who can blame you for floating on that high for a few days?

Except she doesn’t let it go. 

She corners you on your break in the kitchenette. Literally. She catches you when you’re examining the coffee pot that has been making concerning gurgles for the past few days and leans on the counter behind you, effectively blocking your exit. 

Not that you really want to leave. 

She’s wearing a red tank top and dark jeans, her hair is loose around her shoulders, eyes steadily trained on your face as you work. 

“Hello,” you say, quiet in a way you’re not normally. 

“Hi.”

“What’re you doing?” You ask after a few more moments of her silently staring at you while you pretend to know what you’re doing with a screwdriver. 

“Enjoying the view.”

You drop your screwdriver and relish in the sound of her laugh. 

-

You’d love to say that you had some suave answer to return her charm but you think you spent it all that morning with your boldness. 

You’re not shy but confidence doesn’t run in your blood either. You’d say you’re pretty normal – average. You don’t find much wrong with that, you know you have other qualities that build you up into an interesting person. You love your friends and coworkers deeply, for one. And have an intense trust in them and their abilities. 

That trust is always tested in your day-to-day at work but never more than now as you feel the car around you make turns at highway speeds. You think you’re on some sort of back road but it’s hard to tell from the trunk given the obvious lack of windows. 

You’re calmer than you thought you would be if kidnapped. 

Groaning after one particularly rough turn that has you jostling against the sides of the trunk, you allow your head to thump back and stare at the inside of the dark car. Light breaks through the cracks of the hinges of the trunk and you wonder if water trickles through when it rains. 

You’ve been in here too long to consider if you’re focused on the wrong things. You’re scared shitless, of course, but the adrenaline faded about an hour into your drive and now you’re just bored. 

Imagine that – bored as fuck in the trunk of a stranger's car, wrists burning from the rope and jaw sore from where it’s been forced open too long by the fabric tied around the back of your head. 

You’re just allowing yourself to reimagine your morning with Emily when the car stops and the engine cuts. 

You snap back into the present, energy flooding your system again as your brain flicks into overdrive. You might spend your days paper-pushing behind a desk, but you passed your physical. You’re smart, you’ve heard the stories of how these victims survive captivity. 

When the trunk pops open, you squeeze your eyes shut to prevent pain from the sudden lack of light. You don’t want to be blinded and the action has the added benefit of pleasing your captor. He put a hood over your hood when he grabbed you, muttering in your ear in tense tones that you would do best to not even try to see him. 

Say what you will, you usually do a pretty good job at following directions. This one is easy and happens to be number one on your list right now – keep him happy so he keeps you alive. 

“Good girl,” a gruff voice says before a calloused hand gropes the back of your neck to yank you forward. Scratchy fabric envelops your head and your hot breath bounces back against you, trapped against the fabric of the hood. 

You stand when his hands start to grab your waist, pulling yourself to your knees and allowing yourself to be lifted from the trunk.

You want to run but know now’s not the time. 

“Look at how well-behaved you are!” His breath is wet against your neck. He stands too close, hands clawing under the hem of your shirt to cling to your skin. 

He walks you forward like that, chest pressed against your back and breath slithering down the collar of your shirt to hang uncomfortably over your collarbones. 

It’s becoming increasingly more obvious what this sicko wants from you and your stomach is twisting at the thought. You urge the team to hurry up, knowing your absence would have been missed ages ago. They have to be looking for you by now. And, with how sloppy this dude seems to be, he must have left a plethora of clues waiting to be found. 

You have to repeat this to yourself as you hear a door lock click. 

“Took you long enough. This is the girl? She’s kind of … well,” the second man kisses his teeth with a sharp sound. You’re pushed forward again. “Whatever floats your boat man.” The door shuts and locks behind you. The second man's voice fades as he talks, disinterested. 

You wonder if it’s wrong to feel slightly insulted right now. 

“This way, doll.”

You listen. It’s saving your life to be complicit in his directions, so you listen. Still, you’re shoved harshly to the floor once you get to where he wants you, knees striking what feels like cement. Before you can recover, your cheek stings and your head is whipping to the side from a sudden slap. 

Then, there’s a kick to your ribs. You fall onto your side, too winded to even cry out, lips falling open in a silent scream. A boot in your belly. Your ribs again, your hip and back. 

“Why?” You manage to sob out. “Why, why?”

You don’t get an answer.

-

You’re not overly religious but you thank whatever heavens or universe exists that he leaves you alone once he’s done kicking the shit out of you. Your ribs are bruised but the worst you expected hasn’t happened. 

The boredom returns as you lay with throbbing ribs. At least one is broken and every breath hurts. You can’t imagine sitting up and, luckily, with your hands tied behind your back, it’s not really an option anyway. 

It must be near an hour later when you’re fading out of consciousness – a purposeful choice on your part to save your energy – when you hear the front door burst down. 

“FBI! Hands where I can see them!” Morgan. You nearly weep but think better when your stuttered gasp makes your side throb. “What the fuck?” You hear shouted in reply. “Robb, what the fuck man.”

There isn’t much of a resistance from the living room. The second man is shouting at what you can only assume is the first – your initial kidnapper – but there’s nothing else other than that. 

“Clear!” You hear Hotch call. Spencer replies and then you hear the door nearest you open. 

His voice calls out your name. You deflate against the floor. A second, you know he’s scanning the room with his gun before holstering it. “Clear! I need a medic!”

Hands, gentle, against your face, removing the hood. Swifter after that, removing your gag, and then hand binds. 

“Hey, Spence,” you say, trying to smile up at him. 

“Shh, you’re okay. We’ve got you.” He starts to support your weight behind your shoulders and the pain that brings is too intense to prevent your yelp. 

“Oh my god, is she okay?” You hear Emily ask seconds before you see her. She looks concerned, hair now in a tight ponytail and FBI vest strapped over her chest. She whispers your name once and then a second time, reaching forward to gently brush your hair out of your eyes. 

“Hey, pretty,” you say, words tumbling out of your mouth before you can catch them.

“Hi beautiful,” she answers, reply just as soft as your own. Earnest. 

It makes your heart ache and, for the first time since being yanked off the road walking to grab lunch, you start to cry. 

“Hey, hey, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, beautiful, it’s okay. You’re okay.” She repeats this as you’re lifted by the paramedics and cry harder. 

She repeats it when they stitch up where kicks burst the skin over your cheekbone open, repeats it as she trails a hand down your arm in gentle patterns while they examine your ribs and confirm that you’ve broken two, maybe three. 

She tries with you in the ambulance. 

You can’t help but think about being on the phone when you heard Emily be shot weeks earlier. You squeeze your eye shut as they insert the IV, beyond grateful that she’s there to hold your hand while they do it. The tear that falls down your cheek has nothing to do with the pain and everything to do with the thought that you couldn’t have been there for her in the same way. 

An odd thought, you realize, but it’s the one you’re stuck with as you drift away when the pain medicine enters your system. 

-

You’re sent home three days later. You insist on spending the night alone, afraid to admit you’re scared because, honestly, nothing much happened to you. 

Oh, of course, everyone tries to convince you otherwise but you know they’ve all had it worse. You were gone from the bureau for about eight hours and spent most of it bored. 

So you force yourself to spend the night alone. You don’t need help moving around or doing things for yourself so you convince yourself you don’t need help. 

You’re cooking dinner when the doorbell rings. You wipe your hands with a dish towel and take your time walking to the door to look through the peephole. You don’t know who took you yet, you haven’t asked and nobody has said, but you can imagine seeing him through the door. Waiting for you, waiting to kill you this time. 

Okay, yeah, maybe Spencer was right when he talked about PTSD and usual levels of anxiety, but you’re so tired of him being so right all of the time that you really want to prove him right.

There is no man standing on the other side of the door, though. Instead, you see Emily, holding a plate wrapped in tin foil and looking serene in your apartment hallway. 

You open the door quickly, unlatching it and turning off your alarm with a few clicks. “Emily?”

“Ah, man, I was getting used to Emmy,” she jokes, stepping inside with a smile in your direction and kicking off her shoes. 

You can’t think of an answer so you just smile at her, hoping she’ll take the lead. You’re tired and she must see it because she offers the plate in her hands to you once the door is closed and the alarm is reengaged. 

“Rossi sent me with it with explicit instructions to not let you share it.”

You giggle and take the plate. “I’ll have to tell him thank you. It’s kind of out of your way to come all this way, though, isn’t it?”

“Not out of my way at all,” she says, words dripping with meaning as she holds your eyes. “I would have come even if Rossi didn’t have food for you.”

“So why are you here?”

“To make a fool of myself,” she says, casually, like that’s something people say every day, “probably. You’ve just gotten back from the hospital and I know you said you wanted to be alone, but,” she swallows and her words are becoming more rushed as she speaks, “I said the same thing and you still stayed.”

“Emily?” You ask, setting the plate down on your hallway table and clearing your throat. “Ah, Emmy?” You amend when she cuts you a look. Your attempt to diffuse the tension doesn’t work and she steps closer so you’re toe to toe.

“That doesn’t really answer your question, though. You’re sweet enough that you would let it go, but,” she shrugs, reaching forward to gently loop her fingers around your wrists. “Stop me if this is awful timing. Please,” she says, leaning forward and staring into your eyes. 

You feel like you’re suffocating, but if this is death, you’ll greet it gladly in the irises of Emily Prentiss. You’re caught in the trap of the moment, heart hardly breathing, all aches and sores forgotten because Emily is leaning closer, breath fanning across your face. You feel intoxicated, ensnared. 

Everything that has ever been exists here, now, in this moment. Every breath used to blow out birthday candles and blow away eyelashes – breaths with purpose, with wishes, with intent – exists between the two of you as she leans closer and closer. Closer, still, and how can so much distance exist between you two when you’ve been standing so closely?

“Just, stop me, if you want,” she whispers against your lips, eyes falling shut. 

Time yawns again, freezing. Your eyes open, hers closed, beats of seconds pausing. Hesitating for you to hold this moment in your hands. You’re grateful to appreciate it because she really is so lovely. Her bangs are pushed back from her face with a headband – imagine that! Emily owns headbands! – and you can see every detail of her face. Her elegant nose, her slim eyebrows, her narrow, prominent, lips.

And then your heart finally catches up, beats loudly, cracks whatever fragile plane of glass holding the moment so perfectly still, and her lips are meeting yours. 

You gasp into her mouth, hands breaking out of her hold to grab her face. You’re afraid that she’s going to pull away before this kiss can be fully real. Before you can actually taste her – lemon cake and rain and warmth. Before you can memorize the feel of her lips pressed against your own before you can drag her closer and slip your hands into her hair. 

But she doesn’t pull away. She meets your enthusiasm with a sigh and then enthusiasm tenfold. You can feel relief in the kiss, feel how she relaxes into you. She takes a step forward and you take one back half the amount to account for it. 

A tilt of your head and it’s better, impossibly. She’s firm, sturdy, beautiful. Confident. Lovely, lovely, lovely. 

And then she reaches forward to hold you to her, hands brushing your ribs to wrap around your back and you can’t hold in the gasp of pain that causes you to stiffen. You want to take it back, want to ignore the pain, want to keep her near, but she won’t allow it.

“Oh, I’m so so sorry. Are you okay? I’m sorry.” You smush the apologies against her lips, removing one hand from her hand to guide her arms around your shoulders where they won’t hurt. “Okay! Okay,” she giggles, leaning back with several short kisses that do nothing to satiate you. “I need to know you’re okay.”

She can obviously tell she hasn’t hurt you too bad by your reaction, but the sweet caution in her voice has you melting further. 

“I’m perfect.”

[fcthots]

Happy New Year!! I wish you the best of luck and prosperity in the New Year!

Have you thought about teasing Jason? Maybe making him read one of his favorite books out loud as you tease him til he can’t remember the words?

happy new year!!

Anon, you genius. I am a Jason loves teasing you truther, but I hadn't even considered the possibilities of you teasing Jason. And now that I am, he would not be able to take it for long. He would get so whiny and xhibedcd i have so many ideas for this, it's hard to pick one.

I'll proofread this later. <3.

It's not that Jason doesn't pay you enough attention, you take up 75% of his thoughts, but when Jason starts reading, it takes up all of his focus. It's damn near impossible to get his attention. Good thing you love a challenge.

When you walk into the living room, he's seated comfortably on the couch. A well worn book rests in his hands. He is so engrossed in it that he doesn't seem to notice your presence. You'll have to fix that.

"What are you reading?" He doesn't quite jump, but his eyes shoot up. There's something to be said about how he's so comfortable around you that his guards is completely let down. That does something to your insides.

"Just some poetry." It's such a vague answer that it piques your interest.

"What kind?" You step closer to him. His eyes track you.

"Some love letters. It's Letters to Milena by Franz Kafka." He'd spoken of the book before you think.

"Thinking about me while you read?" You climb onto the couch and straddle him. One of his hands moves to your waist on instinct.

His face dusts with a light blush. He doesn't respond, seemingly at a loss for words. You wrap your arms around his neck. He stutters for a moment, but never quite makes a full word. You smile. He's getting so riled up and you've barely done anything.

"Read it to me." His brows furrow and he fumbles with the pages. You dip your face into the crook of his neck and softly bite down. His breathing grows deeper and faster.

He stutters at first, struggling to find his place in the book. Eventually he finds it. "Yesterday, I advised you not to write me every day," You feel him grow hard beneath you, "I still hold the same opinion today and-"

You grind down onto him. His head tilts back, moving your face away from his neck, as he makes a sound between a whine and a moan. You lift your hips away from his and he opens his mouth to say something, but you speak first. "Keep going."

He nods obediently. His movements are shaky, pent up and nervous. "it would be very good for both of us," You drop your hips back onto his and he gasps, but doesn't stop, "and so I repeat my advice today even more-..." His voice trails off as your hand drops from his shoulder to down into your pants. He watches you with something akin to reverence as you slip the pants and underwear off together (with some difficulty). You drop them to the floor. Jason shudders beneath you. "Wait." His voice is whiny as he pants beneath you. "Please," one of his hands moves to the hem of your shirt and tugs, "take this off. Need to see you, please."

You start tugging it over your head. "Only if you keep reading." He nods vigorously and you unclasp your bra.

"Emphatically- only please," his voice hitches when display your tits in his face, you bring one hand to your chest and roll a nipple between your fingers, making a show of throwing your head back and pushing your chest towards his face with a breathy moan. "Milena," you grind against him and he stutters for a moment. You move the other hand back between your legs and begin to work yourself open, starting with two fingers, in and out. He continues and his hooded eyes watch your every move. He doesn't need to look at the book to know the words. "Don't listen to me, and write me every day anyway," you add another finger to your rhythmic motions that brush against his length, "it can even be very brief," you add in your pinky finger and Jason makes a pathetic little whiny sound that is music to your ears.

You undo the drawstring of his sweatpants and push them further down his thighs. Putting his book down, he shimmies his hips to help you get the pants down, as impatient as ever. As soon as he cock springs free, you urge him, "Keep going."

He watches, trying his best to keep talking, as you lift your hips and bring his tip to your folds. Your other hand staying occupied on your chest. His hands anchor themselves on your waist, "briefer than today's letters," he moans out as you begin to slightly push yourself down. He soldiers on, "just 2 lines," you slide down even more. You do your best to keep your own moans under control, you want to be able to watch him. You've worked yourself enough so he slides in easily, the stretch not painful. He feels good.

He can't form words while you take your time bottoming out on his cock. Once, you've sat your full weight on him, he can't tear his eyes away from where your bodies join. One of his hands slides down until his thumb reaches your clit. He's distracted, entranced, by you. You struggle to keep your composure. "Keep reading."

His eyes stay focused on his thumb as it circles your clit. "Just one," you move your hips up and snap them down. Pleasure blooms in your chest and you hear Jason curse and breathe faster. "Just one word," you find a rhythm moving up and down on his dick. His voice constantly wavers and he moans between words. "But if I had to go ah without them," the length between each word gets longer and longer as you move faster and faster and he gets closer and closer. He struggles to get even one word out.

"Finish it and I'll let you finish." You're getting close now too, his demeanor clearly having an effect on you. His thumb speeds up.

He nods, unable to hold himself back for much longer. "I would suffer terribly." He says the words fast, all in one breath as he begins to thrust up into you. You clench around him as he lets out a loud moan. You cum together as he spills out of you. His head tosses back and his thumb stills and he twitches through the last waves of his orgasm. You drop your head onto his shoulder and slouch against his chest. His arms curl around you and he kisses whatever skin he can reach. You legs burn and your knees ache, but you have nothing to be worried about. Jason will take care of you.

Also disclaimer! I have not read the book yet! I plan on getting it soon bc I've been wanting to read it for years, but have yet to read the full thing full so that's why it's undetailed.

[sommerregenjuniluft]

@jegulus-microfic june 17 — dust — 1279 words aka soft, mushy, fluffy jegulus on beach vacay<3 (harry is there too and he’s being super stinking cute)

James lifts his head from where he was picking sand out of Harry’s eyelid crease when Regulus turns aggressively on his beach towel for the nth time since Harry and he had come over to get this one’s water bottle.

“You okay there, love?” James asks as Harry gulps away noisily.

“No,” Regulus cries out, sitting up abruptly. “I’m sunburned and dehydrated, my head hurts, I am itching all over because of whatever stupid fucking insects keep biting or stinging me, I can feel sand in my ass crack and,” Regulus heaves a pitiful sigh, “and there’s dust all over my favorite sneakers.”

There’s a vein throbbing in his temple that James itches to smooth out, kiss away.

It’s been a risky step, going on vacation together with Harry and Sirius, the four of them, just a few weeks after Regulus and James had started exploring that little thing of theirs. When longing glances exchanged turned into brushing hands and snuggling closer on the couch turned secret, cautious kisses and whispered confessions.

And now Regulus is flushed and his voice is all whiney and James knows it’s an inappropriate thought right now but he just really wants to help Regulus feel better again. Take his face into careful palms and slowly snog him breathless until he can’t think of anything else but James and feeling good.

James is about to open his mouth when Harry, who has witnessed Regulus’ little outbreak, suddenly dumps his water bottle back into James’ lap and waddles right over to him. James’ toddler reaches for Regulus’ hand, petting it, watching him carefully out of big eyes, “Take a deep breath, Reg’lus.”

James promptly melts into the sand and Regulus’ expression, as well, softens in an instant. A weak chuckle slips out of him and then, following Harry’s advice, he takes a big inhale. His cheeks puff when he blows it back out and James thinks he’s pretty sure Regulus is the most adorable adult person to ever exist. Adult because no one can beat Harry when he gets going.

Harry nods, satisfied, and then runs back to the water where Sirius is waiting on him.

“There you go,” James murmurs, grinning, when Regulus takes another steadying breath.

“You,” the younger man throws him a half hearted glare out of stormy eyes, “piss off.”

James scrambles himself up out of the sand, opening his arms slightly, “C’mere, love.”

Regulus’ eyes soften, get all dewy and needy, but they also keep darting back and forth between James and the others by the water. Like he wants it so badly but won’t let himself have it. He shakes his head feebly, “We can’t.”

James clicks his tongue, opening his arms wider and wiggling his fingers, “Shut up—yes, we can. Come here.”

Regulus pulls at his bottom lip with his teeth, hesitating, “But…”

“I said, shut up and come here, Reg.”

Regulus huffs, like it’s an utter inconvenience to get up and get hugged but he does so anyways. He shuffles the few paces over to James and then lets himself thunk against his chest, weakly slinging his arms around James’ waist.

James can’t help but muffle a snort into the curls behind Regulus’ ear at the dramatics. He closes his arms around this one’s shoulders, softly raking short nails of one hand up and into his dark hair.

“You’re laughing at me,” Regulus grumbles against James’ shoulder, squeezing around his middle in reprimand.

“No, I would never,” James replies immediately. He lets his fingers dance gently over Regulus’ sunburned skin and feels him sink into him even more. James hums happily at that response, kissing the side of his head.

Regulus’ breath hitches and a warm feeling piles up in James’ chest, tingling all the way into his fingertips where he’s still touching the younger man.

“You smell like salt,” Regulus says, his tone accusing, “And you’re all sandy.”

James cups the nape of Regulus’ neck and pulls back to look at him, “That’s what typically happens when you’re on holiday at the beach.”

Regulus’ pout morphs into a sneer and James’ grin widens. “Feeling better?”

“No,” Regulus replies, not missing a beat. His hands are still linked at the small of James’ back. He really thinks he’s so clever, huh?

James raises his eyebrows expectantly.

Regulus’ nose scrunches, “Perhaps a little bit.”

James ducks closer again, pushing a curl that tumbled its way deep into Regulus’ forehead back again, “Let me tell you something—”

Regulus heaves another sigh. “Oh, great.”

James goes on, undeterred, “Why don’t we grant ourselves a little off-day tomorrow? Harry and Sirius can run around the beach all day or visit that reptile house again and we make ourselves all comfortable in the air bnb.”

Regulus blinks at him, that hopeful yet apprehensive look in his eyes. James knows he’ll give in though eventually and he can be so patient for Regulus. He lets his hand slide forward and thumbs at Regulus’ bottom lip.

And then James has to work hard to trap a groan behind his teeth because Regulus parts his lips so pliantly, not moving, just letting James do his thing. It makes James’ blood pump faster, high on all those ecstatic feelings, fondness and desire and something much more deep rooted that James hasn’t let himself think out loud yet.

“All day?” Regulus whispers, lips moving under James’ finger and breaking his train of thought.

“Yeah, love, all day,” James confirms.

Absentmindedly, it seems, Regulus fumbles around with his hands at James’ back.

James purses his lips, “Are you nervous?” Of course he’d love to hang out with Regulus all day but not if that’s something he isn’t comfortable with yet.

“No, no,” Regulus shakes his head, bringing his hands around between them with a frown, “I’m itchy.” He’s scratching at a red spot right below his wrist, one of the many insect bites.

James coos quietly and he gently wraps his palm around it, lifting them. He places a gentle kiss, watching intently as Regulus’ eyelids flutter, frown magically gone. God, how is James supposed to behave around him? It’s a wonder he’s been able to reign himself in for so long in the first place.

“Y’know,” James grins against Regulus’ reddened skin, “They say saliva helps sooth the itchiness of insect bites.”

A small noise slips from Regulus and James’ grin sharpens.

“What?”

“Oh, you heard me, love,” James replies. He gently massages the ball of Regulus’ palm with his own thumb, watching as this one keeps staring back at James stupidly. He’s so cute. “Any objections?”

“James,” Regulus breathes, swallows roughly.

Slowly, James lifts their hands again, peering at Regulus intently in case his breathlessness turns from excited to apprehensive. But it doesn’t. All the way up to James’ mouth and then James is collecting the spit from under his tongue and letting the dollop drop right onto the patch of red skin.

Regulus sucks in a breath upon the landing and James can’t help but hum deep in his throat. It’s like Regulus renders the polite and logical part of his brain completely useless, instead activating a much more different and distinctly primal part. A part that thinks it’s a good idea to do stuff like spit on Regulus and rub it into his skin until it’s spread expertly.

“Okay, yes,” Regulus says suddenly.

James blinks in confusion but Regulus isn’t done yet apparently because he goes on, nodding dazedly, “We’ll have an off-day together. The…two of us.”

A bright smile creeps itself onto James’ face. He steals himself a quick kiss from Regulus’ cheek, watching his blush deepen as James announces, “Happy to hear that.”

[monstercampus]

...say the human wants to have a baby with the centipede stoner... how would we go about doing that?

babytrap him

But for real, that's a tough task! Efraim's still pretty chillaxed at this stage of life, lots of family drama/trauma, and drugs are more important than most things to him right now (present company excluded <3) so if you brought it up to him, he'd probably laugh and brush it off even if you make it clear you're being serious.

(cws: babytrapping, noncon, "tits")

"You don't want a baby with me, sweetheart," He'd say, a joint already lit up between his lips to calm the trembling of his hands. "Bad idea, I promise." But because you can't be deterred, he'll just find it cute and ruffle your hair or tease you about it here and there, never thinking it'll get more serious than that. Deep down, he's sure you'll change your mind on your own. Whether he wants them doesn't really matter, he knows that you'll be the one regretting it if you ask someone like him to give you a kid, and he can't even conceive of having to deal with that guilt when you eventually find where you left your common sense and leave him in the dust, as you should.

But at some point, you'll catch him off guard. Maybe get really stoned with him while his roommates are out for the night, maybe hang around him during breeding week and tease him all day. Maybe you even poke holes in his condoms, cause he won't believe you if you say you're on the pill. You'll find the perfect opportunity and Ef will be weak to resisting you, cause unfortunately for him, he's kinda got a thing for being held down by force--the self-loathing is so strong, he's so turned on by the thought of someone wanting him so much, especially you, that you'll pin his wrists down and make him give it to you. And when you get close, your skin squelching against each other and his bedframe bruising the wall, and that bubble starts to swell inside you from his leaky slit....when you throw your whole weight down and trap his hips against the mattress, that's when it'll finally clear up his mind and he'll realize what you're doing. His thighs will probably lift off the bed as he tries to throw you off, only to get your tits in his face as you hold his head and coo at him to just settle, just let it feel good in the moment.

Yet even after all that, he isn't mad. Not even a little bit. More impressed that you managed to carry out your little scheme after planning for so long. He'll call you crazy and some kinda freak for wanting bug cock that badly, but deep down he feels a swell in his heart as he numbly traces circles against your skin. You could have anybody, and you picked him. That's enough to have him on cloud nine for a long while....especially when he finally gives in to your wishes, and pitches in to help you properly breed that clutch of eggs of his you want so bad.

[comically-callous]

JESUS!!!! Y'all ask, I deliver I guess 😟

Rainy walks Home

Hobie brown x reader! Read part 1 here!

Warnings: Mild swearing, mentions of a breakup, reader gets robbed at gunpoint 💀

A/n: PART THREE HAS BEEN MADE. Didn't anticipate you guys wanting this so bad lol. But, I'm not complaining. Requests are open!

In hindsight, agreeing to close up alone was probably a bad idea.

You locked the doors to the Domino's that you worked at behind you, pulling at the door handle to make sure it was shut tight. Suddenly, literally out of nowhere, it began raining.

You sighed, cursing under your breath as you pulled your hood over your head.

It had been a little over 3 weeks since your ex broke up with you and things were going... Fine. You weren't super torn up over the breakup, but you definitely weren't happy either.

The rain began to pour down, only getting worse with every step that you took. Normally, you wouldn't take shortcuts. There wasn't really a reason to since the walk from work to your apartment wasn't that long. But, today was an acception. It was dark, and cold, and pouring down rain.

So, you turned down an alleyway.

You walked through the narrow space, listening to the sound of your sneakers as they hit the wet pavement. But, something made you stop.

You strained your ears listening for something. You didn't quite know what.

Nothing.

You continued walking, only taking a few steps before stopping again.

You heard it this time.

Someone else's footsteps.

You turned around to face whoever was behind you, but before you could fully face them, you were grabbed.

Instinctively, you screamed and began to thrash around in the person's grasp, but they were bigger than you.

"Empty your pockets." The deep voice of a man said into your ear. You tried kicking at the man and he didn't even react. "EMPTY YOUR FUCKING POCKETS." He screamed. You reached into your pockets and threw your belongings on to the ground. Your keys and your earbuds.

The man briefly looked at the items before throwing you to the ground. Before you could even think to get up and run, he was holding a gun, pouting it at you.

You screamed and shrunk into yourself, holding your hands over your face.

"Give me your bag."

You didn't need to be told twice. You were shrugging away your bag, ready to hand over whatever this dude asked for when you heard a sort of "thwip!" sound.

You lifted your head and all you saw was a flash of red and blue full force swinging into the man who was robbing you.

You watched in awe as THE actual fucking Spiderman beat down the man who'd tried to rob you. In a manner of seconds, Spiderman had knocked the man out and tied him up in webs.

You were in shock and couldn't do anything but stare with your jaw agape. Spiderman turned to you and crouched down to your level.

"Y'alright, mate?" He asked.

You blinked. "Fucking no!"

"Yeah, fair enough." He shrugged. "Let's get you up then." He held his hand out to you and, after a short pause, you took it. He pulled you up from the ground with what seemed to be zero effort and dusted off your shoulders.

"Cops will probably show up to take care of this one sooner or later." He crossed his arms and inspected you for a moment.

You became aware of the fact that you hadn't thanked him yet. "Thank you." You said, finally calmed down from the whole ordeal.

"Nah, don't mention it." He brushed you off. "Just doing what's right."

You silently picked your things up from the ground, trying to ignore the thief that was knocked out a few feet away from you.

"Want me to walk you home?" He asked.

You paused, letting his words sink in for a moment. Spiderman was offering to walk you home.

...

Why?

"You probably have better things to do." You said, shaking your head.

"Not really. People are less likely to go around committing crime when it's pouring down rain." He shrugged his shoulders. "Besides, I wouldn't be much of a gentleman if I didn't put the offer out there."

You thought over it for a moment. You would undoubtedly feel safer if Spiderman was walking you home.

"Okay." You agreed.

You were walking down the streets with Spiderman. You were with Spiderman. Walking to your apartment. Cool. Yup. This was fine. Totally normal situation.

"Sucks that this all happened in the rain, huh?"

You broke out of your own thoughts and managed a chuckle. "Yeah, I guess."

"I would offer you an umbrella, but," He motioned down to himself. "Spiderman doesn't carry around umbrellas."

"It's okay." You went quiet again, getting lost in your thoughts. He seemed to notice the trance-like state you were in and tilted his head.

"What's on your mind?" He asked.

You took a moment before answering. For some reason, you sort of wanted to be honest with him, really tell him what was on your mind. Maybe because you knew you'd probably never talk to him again; and you knew Spiderman wasn't gonna go swinging around, telling everyone your business. So, you spoke.

"I got broken up with a couple weeks ago."

"You're still hung up about it?!" He asked. The way he said it was strange. It was like he was expecting you to be over your break up, despite the fact that the two of you had never spoken before, so he shouldn't have any reason to expect better from you.

"I mean, I'm sort of over it. But..." You sighed. "When it first happened I was upset, obviously. He broke up with me over text while I was at work and I went on break to cry in the parking lot." He nodded along. "And then this... Guy showed up." This was the main thing that had been on your mind. "And I didn't know him, but he like... Comforted me. Just sort of made me feel better about the whole thing. He was super cool, and genuine, and like, really hot; and I regret not asking for his number or anything."

There it was. You had just spilled your guts to fucking Spiderman. God, you needed to go back to therapy.

You waited for him to say something in reply, and for a moment he was silent.

"Well, uh..." He trailed off. Oh god, you'd overstepped. He probably thinks you're weird. "That's what you were thinking about?" He asked.

"Yeah. It's weird, I know."

"Nah, nah. I'm sure he's been thinking about you too."

"Definitely not." You chuckled.

"You never know." He said. "You seem cool, so..."

You stopped walking, finally arriving to your apartment building. You decided to be a little more weird by asking for advice.

"So, what should I do? Like, should I look for him somewhere? Should I just move on like a normal person?"

He paused. "When's your next shift?" He asked.

"Wednesday." You answered.

"I'd say just... Go into work. Y'know, like any other day. He might show up."

You chuckled. "That's wishful thinking."

"Not from me, it's not. You know why?"

"Why?"

"Cause I've got Spidey senses." He said. The eyes on his mask narrowed and you could tell that underneath, he was smiling.

You shook your head, smiling as well. "Guess it'd be dumb to not take Spiderman's advice."

"Exactly. So, you'll do what I said?"

"Yeah." You shrugged. "I guess I will."

"Great." He began to walk backwards away from you, not yet breaking eye contact. "I'll see you around, yeah?"

You furrowed your brows in slight confusion. "I mean, probably not."

"Y'never know." Webs shot out from his wrist and he swung away without another word.

You walked into your apartment building, and somehow you were glad you'd taken that shortcut.

[psychologicalwarclaire]

For the angsty ask game:

14. "You just watched them die." With Leo and Raph?

:3

Thanks @promptsbytaurie for the list!

Raph slumped with his shell to the wall. The members of the resistance gave him a wider berth than usual.

Maybe it was the way his Raph-chasm currently took over his whole face. Maybe it was the dried blood that clung to his plastron, arms, and legs like rust. Maybe it was the guilt stink that rolled off of him, overpowering even the dull bloody scent.

Or maybe they'd heard what happened.

It was a busy hallway, but Raph still felt incredibly alone.

All three of his brothers were in the medbay behind him, and as far as he knew, only one of them was conscious.

As far as he knew, Leo was doing everything to stabilize the others.

As far as he knew, the mission was a complete failure.

As far as he knew, Raph had failed.

With a hiss, the door slid open. Leo walked out, each step as heavy as the weight of the world he constantly shouldered.

Raph had had hours to plan what to say. But looking at his exhausted brother, he couldn't think of a single thing to say. He wanted to apologize. He wanted to demand how his brothers were. He wanted Leo to look at him.

But he didn't.

Leo stared at the ground. "They'll live."

The breath Raph hadn't realized he'd been holding left him with dizzying speed.

"Michaelangelo's legs are broken and Donatello's shell is... not great. But they'll both recover."

Uh oh, full names. He's upset.

Raph's heart squeezed. "That's... that's good."

Leo's eyes flashed. "Oh yeah, it's good. Just great. Peachy!" He turned sharply and took off down the hall.

Shooting to his feet, Raph took off after him. "Leo! Leo wait, please! Just--"

"Just what, Raphael? You wanna say sorry? You wanna make things right? You're not the one who has to go and give an official report to the families of the dead. You don't have to be the one to look them in the eyes and tell them that their loved one got crushed to death!"

Screams overtaken in a cloud of pulverized concrete, the dust settling over silence flashed through Raph's mind.

Horror settled in his limbs; Mikey wasn't the only one who could throw buildings.

Krang laughed and laughed and laughed and Raph merely clutched the limp bodies of his brothers tighter.

Now, in the shrinking hallway with Leo, guilt was gurgling in the back of Raph's throat. The only thing to stop it from coming up like bile was the resolute ninpo that had burned away all other options.

"Now," Leo growled, "I have to deal with this whole mess, with losing half of my best troops, with my brothers' injuries, and," his face twisted into something venomous, "now I have to deal with knowing my big brother isn't the hero I always thought he was."

The words yanked Raph's tongue out. Icy water splashed over his ninpo, and the guilt dug it's hooks behind his plastron.

"You just watched them die, Raphael."

Raph could have walked away. He could have denied it. He could have agreed and gotten things over with. But Raph was nothing without his family. He would defend them every time. And if Leo couldn't see that, well. Then he didn't know Raph at all.

"Are you callin' me a coward, Leo?" he growled.

"Maybe I am!"

Dimly, he realized the hallway was now deserted. Apparently no one wanted to be near two large, angry mutants.

Raph drew himself up to his full height. The top of his mask brushed the roof.

"I had to make a choice, and I chose to save my brothers. Are you tellin' me you'd let them die?"

"You're supposed to be a hero!" Leo yelled. "How are we supposed to save the world if you're only focused on yourself?!"

"If anything happens to Raph's family, then it means the world isn't worth saving!" Raph bellowed.

"All that talk about being a hero and you're nothing but a scared wimp! What happened to the brother who pushed us to be better? What happened to the brother who wanted to be heroes? What happened to the brother who thought he could save everyone? What happened to my brother who was strong enough to do anything?! What happened to my brother, Raph!?"

"HE'S GONE!"

"YEAH, I NOTICED!"

"No, I don't think you did. I think you want me to be infallible and perfect everythin' you can't be."

Years of arguing with Leo had taught Raph the exact right wrong wrong so very wrong words to say.

"Well I'm not. Yeah, I could have saved those people but our brothers would have died. Yeah, blood is on my hands but what else is new? Yeah, people died but all of my brothers are here. So I'll make my choices and live with them, Leonardo."

"You're wrong."

In juxtaposition with the yelling earlier, Leo's voice was deathly quiet.

"All of your brothers aren't here."

Now, for the first time since Krang had ambushed them, Raph felt true fear. "Don't," he whispered.

Rage, pain, disgust twisted Leo's face into something unrecognizable.

"You only have two brothers now. Count me out, coward."

He turned and marched away.

Raph wanted to chase after him more than anything, but he stood rooted to the spot.

Right then and there, Raph vowed that he would fix this. He would make things right. He would spend the rest of his life making it up to Leo, if he had to.

Because if they were divided like this, his family was as good as dead.

--

Raph never got to see how right he was.

Leo clutched a ragged red bandana to his chest, whispering an endless stream of apologies to it. But neither the bandana or Raph could hear him.

The longer Leo clutched at it, the more his older brother's blood oozed out onto his hands.

Leo screamed.

[blues824]

hi blue! a little late to the requests lol but your event seems so cute, i had to make sure i stopped by to drop a request lolol

could i request lilia with the dancing to christmas music prompt? he seems like a very fun dance partner so :3 take your time as always! and thank you!

You requested: Dancing to Christmas Music + Christmas Dinner

Decided to compile these two together for obvious reasons lol

Lilia Vanrouge

You had invited the Diasomnia crew for Christmas dinner at Ramshackle before they left for Briar Valley. Grim was helping you cook the food, and he was actually helping because he was able to keep the food warm as you made more and more things. Mashed potatoes, green bean casserole, stuffing, and you even prepared ham and chicken. You were not going to attempt a turkey this last-minute.

Anyway, you then started to decorate, when you heard the doorbell ring. You were thinking that it was Ace, and that he got kicked out of Heartslabyul… again… but it turned out to be Lilia Vanrouge… your crush. If you were being honest, you didn’t know what you saw in him, but maybe you were into older guys??

He had a bowl of something, and he told you that he wanted to help you make the food. The thought alone, even though you liked him, made you want to throw up. You took the bowl, and immediately the smell was overwhelming.

“Sorry, Lilia, but all the food is ready! I do need some help decorating, if you could help with that?”

“How disappointing, Prefect. But alright!”

Now that his objective was diverted, you both started putting up the many different holiday-themed decorations that were in the attic of the dormitory. You grabbed a speaker on the way down, and you hooked your phone to it and started playing some Christmas music, humming along to the tune.

As you dusted off the fairy lights that miraculously still worked, you heard Lilia singing. He started getting closer and closer, and you looked up to see him right in front of you, reaching out a hand towards you.

“Would you join me in a dance?” Your face and chest both felt warm, and your heart was pounding.

“I-I don’t know how to dance-” He was not going to take any excuses, much to your dismay, and he just smiled.

“I can teach you.”

And with that, he leaned down to grab your hand and pull you into him.

“Place your right hand on my shoulder, and I’ll place my left hand on your waist.” You followed his instructions, and the hand he was originally holding stayed in his grasp. Your faces were rather close, and the warm feeling that was inside you grew hotter than hellfire.

The song Let it Snow, Let it Snow, Let it Snow started to play, and it was a bit more jazzy. However, you both started spinning around the living room area anyway. The area seemed to almost transform, and it was just the two of you with the music. He let go, and he lifted your arm above you to spin you alone, and he pulled you back to him.

Your romantic dance ended in him dipping you, not even struggling a tiny bit because of the strength granted to him as a fae. Your faces were closer than ever before, and your lips were brushing against each other, your eyes were closing…

Then the doorbell rang.

“PREFECT, LET ME IN. IT’S FREEZING OUT HERE AND RIDDLE KICKED ME OUT AGAIN!”

[countrymusiclover]

2 - One Day It'll Be Just You and Me

( @beautifulguycollector - gif belongs to this blog )

Part 3

The Lion Knight and Dragon Princess

Tags- just send an ask to be added @cdragons @kmc1989 @starkleila @noirrose21-blog @lover-of-books-and-tea

Should the new couple of chapters just be Flashbacks of Aerys rule with Vaella and Jaime’s romance or Should I keep going from Flashbacks to the present timeline??? Let me know in the comments pretty please it would help a great deal 🤗

Breaking through the clouds I soar down towards the castle courtyard where we kept our dragons at. My dragons wings raised down, throwing some dust when her feet were planted and I brushed hair out of my eyes seeing my brother Rhaegar coming over to me watching with a huge grin on his face. “I assume you had quite some fun out there riding.”

“Indeed I did, brother. I rarely ever get to escape these walls flying on Amethyst.” I slid down her right wing, getting some mud stains on my boots when I landed in a puddle of water. Sticking my tongue out at him I teased. “Don't lie. I know you need an escape as much as I do.”

“I never said that I didn't enjoy it.” Rhaegar changes the tone in his voice reminding me that we still have to worry. “Regardless of how free we feel, it could be dangerous. If father finds out especially-”

“Rhaegar!” I growled underneath my breath at him.

He dropped his shoulders knowing that his tendency to worry too much would get old between him and I. I wanted him to just live in the moment with me instead of having his head stuck in a book or worrying about father’s stability as king. For he could not even ascend the throne till he died so there was nothing more for him to do. “I’m just thinking of us and our safety, your safety especially. You’ve heard how he treats our mother, imagine what he would do to you.”

“I don’t want to imagine it everyday, brother!” I raised my voice at him clutching my hands into fists at my sides. “Look if anyone asks what I was doing I’ll tell them I came to watch you fly above the Red Keep and get some fresh air. I was absolutely not riding a dragon myself. Are you happy now?”

His purple eyes lifted up and over the top of my head speaking about someone off in the distance coming over to us. “You’re my little sister and I’ll always worry about you. But I must admit I am happy to see he is coming to look out for you when I must check on my wife.”

“Jaime!” Whipping my head around his name flew from my lips with such cheer.

The golden lion gave my brother and I each a bow of respect. “Good morning, my prince, my princess.”

“I'll leave you two alone. Elia and I need to take care of some things for Dorne.” My brother disappeared, turning on his heels for the castle entrance.

Jaime tilted his head seeing the expression on my face was worrisome to him. “What’s troubling you, Vaella. It's starting to show on your beautiful face.”

“My brother's constantly worried about my father going mad. I just want to enjoy my life, for example riding my dragon without having to worry will my father ground me from riding her ever again.” Throwing my hands up from my sides I huffed.

The Lannister knight wasn't sure what he could truly do for the princess he served except to offer sympathy. “I'm sorry you feel that way. Maybe one day things won't be like this and you won't feel so um-”

“Trapped.”

He nodded back yes. “Exactly, if the old gods and new are kind to you of course.”

“If I'm ever so lucky in their favor I'll gladly accept the idea of freedom. So long as you get to join me.” Jaime smiles down at me watching me cross my arms over my chest wondering what it would be like to not be trapped inside the Red Keep.

Sitting at one of the bar stool seats I pushed ten gold coins towards the center of the table holding my cards close to my chest. I was wearing a dark red dress with a slit at my right knee that had no sigal attached to it. “Oh darn I don’t have enough for a full deck. Whatever shall I do?”

“You’re bluffing.” One man said to me with his four friends.

I clicked my tongue, throwing my hair around in my face with a flirting look. “Oh what. None of you are brave enough to fight me for my cards to prove I’m wrong.” I had two strands twisted into a braid at the front with the rest of my hair covered by a dark brown bandanna tied up into my hair to conceal my very obvious appearance of being a Targaryen.

“You haven’t lost the last two games we’ve played.” Another guy said knowing they’d soon be out of money. These four men never thought that a simple tavern bartender lady would be this good at poker. But I had been taught by the best youngest Lannister.

The man sitting in the middle scooped up his coins heading towards the exit. “I’m tired of this.”

“Wha - where are you going. We haven’t finished. You - you think I’m gonna behead you or something if you lose or win.” I slur some of my words picking up my cup of wine, downing half of it in one sweep. “I want a full table. I want everyone at this table!”

“Where is Clarrise Arther?” I recognized the male voice that came through the loud crowd of people inside the tavern.

The owner pointed in my direction. “She’s right there, Ser Jaime.”

“Excuse me jents, but it is the end of her shift so this game must end tonight I’m afraid.” Jaime pushed through the crowd with his golden armor of the Kingsguard brightening in the burning candle lights inside the tavern.

Throwing back the remainder of my drink I licked my lips feeling a little tipsy when he tried to tug me by my arm to leave the table. “You’re scaring away my opponents.”

“With your track record you would have beat them in the next three cards.” He responded by looping my arm through his seeing I wasn’t good with my balance.

I corrected him with a cocky smile. “I already had a full house in one move.”

We made our way through the tavern and upstairs to the private rooms me and the other owner had since it was where we lived. Jaime’s younger brother had made a deal for my safety in exchange for a large sum of Lannister gold at the end of every month to pay the rent. Stepping inside my small room I closed the door and locked it once Jaime had entered inside leaving the noisy downstairs voices out in the hallway. “So what is the news of John Arryn’s death?”

“There will be a ceremony at the capitol tomorrow morning. But I already told you that you had nothing to worry about from him.” He answered my question.

I throw my hands up and away from my sides whispering nervously under my breath. “We need to be afraid. John Arryn was friends with Lord Owen Merryweather.”

“I still don’t see what the problem is.”

Putting a hand to my forehead I sighed heavily. “Owen Merryweather was my fathers hand when your father stepped down. He saw you helping me escape with Tyrion once you killed my father and sat down on the Iron Throne. What if he ended up telling someone?”

“But who would he tell?”

Meeting his deep green eyes I muttered the king's name. “Robert Baratheon.”

“If he told the king both of our heads would be secured on the city gates by now.” Jaime slowly walked forward running his hands up and down my arms trying to calm my nerves. “Whatever John Arryn knew and didn’t know died with him. And Robert will choose a new Hand of the King someone to do his bidding while he’s off fucking boars and hunting whores, or is it the other way around?”

I giggled looking up into his eyes with a smile gracing my lips. “Jaime.”

“There’s my princess’s smile.” He chuckled, nuzzling his nose against my own. I raised my hand hitting him lightly across the cheek where he sent me a smirk turning his face back towards me.

“You know I hate you calling me by my title, Lannister.”

Jaime didn’t drop his smirk touching my nose with his a second time. “My princess.”

“What did I just tell you!” I made my hands into fists punching his chest thankful that he had removed his armor so I didn’t injure myself. Which left him in his light gold tunic and trousers with black boots.

Jaime allowed me to punch him lightly for a few seconds before he snagged my left wrist twirling me around where my back was to his front. “Vaella, I swear to you I won't let anything bad happen to you.”

“Mmm - you can't guarantee that.” I held back a moan when he kissed my neck lightly.

He nuzzles my hair vowing to me. “Yes I can. I did so after I had to murder your father and I will continue to do so.”

“But what if someone figures us out?”

He spun me around resting his right hand to my cheek. “No one will find out and if they do I'll be there to protect you. One day it'll be just you and me with no one coming to kill us.”

“Thank you, Jaime.” Wrapping my arms around his neck I buried my face underneath his chin and he buried his face in the crook of my neck doing the best he could to keep me safe.

[tarousbaby]

ONE FOR ME !

- KAGEYAMA TOBIO STORY

best friend's brother trope !

kinktober day one!

implied praise kink, oral, small age gap, penetration, pwp

masterlist <3

sypnosis

when you're spending your weekend at your best friend miwa's house, you weren't expecting your house party to be crashed by none other than her little brother. either way, you aren't complaining.

warnings: time skip! (you are 24, tobio is 20), alcohol, mentions of smoking

word count: 3973

the kageyama house had definitely seen better days, you decided, when you walked through the door.

miwa cracked a half-smile, before grimacing when she swiped some dust off the doorframe. she turns to you as you kick off your shoes, and laughs. "it just needs a bit of fixer-upping!" she argues, which earns a small giggle out of you.

"there's no task too small for me," you retort, as she leads you to the bedroom hall.

"um, so you're going to have to stay in tobio's old room, i hope that's alright," she sighs, stopping outside the farthest door. there's a few nicks in the doorframe, probably from repeated slamming of the door. it'd been a while since you'd been in there. since your senior year of high school, which was weird considering you were now throwing your graduating party for college.

"no, it's fine," you assure her, pushing the door open. it was kept clean, clearly only used on the rare occasions he chose to come home. he had a nice bed, at least, big and comfy.

you plop your bag down on his desk chair, and sit down on the bed. miwa watches, biting her lip, still unsure if you were actually okay with it. "i mean," you drawl, "it's only for a weekend, right?"

her shoulders visibly sag with relief, and she nods with a beam. "only a weekend," she assures, then her smile turns devilish, "now, i think we have a party to plan."

two days later, you're standing in the masses of people you'd met in your years of college, and some you hadn't. there's a red beer cup in your hand, and every now and then miwa pops up to thank you ten times over for helping.

you'd managed to clean the house while she went out and bought the supplies. the party had turned out just as you'd hoped, streamers and lights hanging from the banisters. miwa had even dug out her old sound system from high school.

you prefered to stand in the back, by the kitchen island, sipping on a drink and watching the partygoers around you. it was easier that way, especially knowing miwa was going to get shit-faced and you'd have to be the one to clean up the majority of things.

miwa, ever the stylist, had dressed you up in honor of the night. she'd managed to convince you into wearing a tiny black skirt and a lacey white cami. true to her actual profession, she'd messed around with your hair a bit too.

now, you watched with delight as miwa made her way through the crowd, men hanging off her arms fighting for her attention as she tried to have a genuine conversation with everyone who'd attended. it was hilarious to watch her dodge them all, knowing she had a very loyal boyfriend just a few towns away.

miwa stumbled over to you, babbling the whole time. she leaned heavy against your side, sipping out of her own solo cup. she slurred your name, heavy breaths fanning across your cheek. you resist the urge to laugh at her. "hey, how's the party goin'?"

"it's alright, miwa, are you having fun?" you ask softly, smiling at her. she nods excitedly.

"i'm gonna order some more pizza," she says, pulling out her phone, "any requests?"

you contemplate for a moment. "pepperoni and mushrooms?" she wrinkles her nose, but types it into her phone along with a long list of other foods. "do you mind waiting outside for it?"

you shake your head, "not at all. you go have fun!"

she lets out a short huff, suddenly sober. "well, i want you to have fun too," she pouts. you brush her off with a wave of your head, pressing the order button on her phone.

"it's fine, miwa, really. i'm enjoying myself. i need a little air anyway."

"if you say so," she mumbles, before perking at the call of her name. she giggles out a goodbye before running off to the person who'd called for her. you sigh with a soft shake of your head.

outside is cool, the summer air warm and hazy, but the wind cooling down the temperature considerably. it's nice against your sweaty skin, and you tie your hair up to get it off the back of your neck as you try and take in deep breaths.

the scent of smoke and alcohol was too heavy in there, it almost made you claustrophobic. you sit down on the step of the porch, the stone slab cutting into the backs of your thighs as you try to push down your skirt as far as it could go to no avail.

your head thumps with the sounds of the party inside, and you finish off your drink before placing the empty cup beside you. your hands come to rest in your lap, fingers tapping on the backs of your hands as you wait.

it's only a few minutes before a car pulls up.

your brows furrow. it definitely should've taken way longer than that, considering how long miwa's order was and how late it was. standing up, you brush off your skirt as you make your way down the porch.

a figure slips out of the car, slamming the door behind him and walks right up to you.

tobio.

"oh!" you startle, jumping as he stands a few feet away from you, "tobio, i didn't know you'd be coming home..." you say, a bit awkward as you rub at the back of your neck.

his dark blue eyes rake up your body, flashing under the moonlight. you pretend not to notice the way they catch on the edges of your skirt and the lace of your cami. eventually, they meet your eyes.

he's grown up. a lot.

you'd seen him, in photos from miwa, but nothing compared to how he looked in person. almost like a real life adonis. you can see how chiseled he is through his compression shirt and baggy sweats. his pale skin glistens, and he smells of freshly applied cologne.

"what are you doing here?" his voice is gruff, but not unkind. he looks behind you to the party, and then to the dozens of cars parked along the sidewalk. "why's half the goddamn town here?"

his tone is a little more pressing at that second question, to which you bite your lip. miwa would've told you if she knew tobio was coming home, and on top of that she probably wouldn't have given you his room.

behind you, the sound of some bass-boosted song plays.

"miwa threw a party," you say, trying not to sound stupid or awkward, "we didn't think you'd stop by." you still remember the little boy he used to be, always angry and frustrated, tossing a volleyball around in the back yard as you and miwa giggled at him when he messed up.

he never talked to you much, other than weird gazes you'd catch whenever you were over. it was no secret little tobio had a crush on his big sister's best friend. he was too young then.

he scoffed, "i didn't even think miwa still came by here."

you watch as he shoves his hand in his pockets, for some reason unable to meet your eyes now. you shrug, tucking a fallen strand of hair behind your ear. "to be fair, you don't stop by very often either," you argue.

he rolls his eyes, but it has no bite to it. he knows you're right. you beckon him forward, and suddenly waiting for the pizza floats to the back of your mind. "want a drink?" you ask.

"sure," he laughs, a little breathless and follows you inside.

nobody notices the two of you slip back in, too busy with themselves and others to be bothered. he follows you to the kitchen, always only a step behind you as you worm through the crowd. eventually, you break through to your previous spot and show him the arrangement of drinks to pick from.

you can feel him behind you, the warmth of his body heat. he leans over you, his pec pushing into your shoulder. your face alights, and he grabs a wine bottle and pops off the cork. very sophisticated.

he takes a sip from the bottle, and you watch as a bit of red dribbles down the side of his mouth. as he places the bottle down, your hand subconsciously raises and wipes at it.

tobio raises a brow, a small chuckle falling from his lips. his eyes meet yours, and you quickly look away, wiping your thumb on your shirt.

he stands there, behind you, eyes stuck on you as you rub at the back of your neck. a group of people come bustling into the kitchen, clearly drunk and cups of beer in hand.

you shrink back instinctively, and your back comes to meet tobio's chest. the kitchen wasn't very big to begin with, but with an extra seven people there was barely enough space to extend your arms.

tobio's hand rests on your shoulder, fingers digging into your flesh in an almost protective way. you can smell his cologne, stronger this time, and your lashes flutter.

you don't even know what happens next, but later you're told someone had slipped on an empty solo cup, knocking into someone else. in the end, you ended up with one whole beer cup spilled directly on your chest, soaking you to the bone.

you shriek, the stench of beer wafting up, but your scream is hidden under the layers of party sounds. but then, your whole world twists as your whirled around and buried into tobio's chest.

your brain starts to slow for a second, enveloped in his warm embrace. there's nothing you want to do more in that moment than wrap your arms around his waist and properly hug him. but your chin lifts just in time to see him shove the guy who'd poured his cup on you.

"who the hell do you think you are?" he shouts, lip curled back in a snarl, arm wrapped protectively around you.

it was nice.

but he was also your best friend's little brother.

the guy stumbles back, raising his hands as if to say, "i'm innocent" but tobio doesn't care for that. he continues to shout, and one of the guys friends looks to you for help.

taking in a deep breath, you pull yourself back from his grip, catching his attention. you place both your hands on his chest, pushing him back slightly.

"hey, shh," you coo, "it's fine, it's just a shirt."

"no!" tobio shouts, "that guy's a douche and you deserve an apology."

you look at him weakly, unable to find the words to fight back. he breaks then, shoulders sagging upon seeing your expression. he grabs your hand, and trudges towards the bedroom hall. "c'mon," he huffs.

he stops right outside his room, and you don't even get the chance to protest because he's pulling you inside in under a second. he falls short though, upon seeing it.

in your sleep the night prior you'd managed to kick his blankets all the way to the end of the bed, his pillows displayed messily across the top. your bag was open at his desk, some of your clothes hanging on the back of his chair. you wince. "I didn't get to clean..."

his lips part, and he blinks a few times, still staring at his bed. "you stayed here?"

you sigh, "yes, and i'm so sorry. miwa said it was fine, so i assumed she texted you. again, so so sorry--"

he cuts you off, "no, it's fine. just surprised, that's all."

you purse your lips. "you sure?"

he nods, and he turns to you. you immediately notice how glued his eyes are to your breasts, your white shirt soaked through to openly show the fact you hadn't worn a bra.

your nipples peak through the shirt, and shame courses through you. you shy away, arms crossing in front of you as you look to the side. you shuffle off, overly aware of his eyes on you, as you begin to dig through your bag.

"fuck."

tobio frowns, "what's wrong?"

you run a hand through your hair, pulling out the tie. "this was my last clean shirt."

you can practically hear tobio's heart skip a beat with how startled he looks. you look at him helplessly, still attempting to cover up. you move to leave, an excuse of stealing something of miwa's when he blocks you with an arm.

"you can take something of mine," he says, biting on his lip as he stares away, "i...i don't want you going back out there looking like that."

you almost want to roll your eyes and say, "looking like what?" but you don't. you knew after years of growing up with him that he was naturally protective. he steps away once he's assured you won't make a break for the door and digs through his drawers until he comes up with a simple navy-blue t-shirt.

you don't even need to try it on to know it's going to be huge on you.

he hands it over to you, to which you thank him gratefully. he turns around, but you don't miss the way his cheeks tint pink as he stares at the wall. you peel off your beer-soaked cami and slip his on top, shuddering at the friction.

it smelled like him too.

you even dare to wiggle out of your skirt, tossing it into your bag. you clear your throat, a sign that he can turn around. he doesn't say anything, and you try not to look too awkward.

pinching the sides of the shirt and pulling out, you give a little twirl and say, "how do i look?"

it was intended as a joke, an attempt to cut the thick tension, but he takes you seriously.

he coughs, and stares at his hands, "you, uh, you look good."

complimenting was never his forte.

you can't help it, a small snicker escapes your mouth, and soon enough your full-heartedly laughing at him, trying to cover your noises with a palm to your mouth.

he huffs, but you can see the smile tugging at his lips.

you sit down on his bed, and your body feels warm. you can't tell if it's from the heat of his shirt, the bed, or even the alcohol. he comes to sit next to you, falling back into his rustled sheets with a sigh.

you settle down next to him, and count the cracks in the ceiling in order to ignore the burning in your core. you seriously needed to calm down.

"does miwa always throw these parties?"

you hum. "sometimes, though this was the first one here since high school. uh, after your grandpa passed she didn't do a lot in college for a good while. usually she hosted them on campus or something."

he nodded. the silence fell heavy again.

you turn your head, taking in a deep breath and try to give him a smile. "do you go to parties?" you inquire, "you're in college now...your first year, right?"

he clicks his tongue. "i've been to a few," he scratches behind his ear, "mostly ones i get forced into going to. i never found them very fun."

you get warmer. maybe it is the alcohol, but you scooch a little closer and rest your head on his bicep. you've never seen his eyes widen that much, but he looks at you, eyes flickering from your eyes to your lips.

"me neither," you whisper, "don't tell your sister."

you don't let tobio get the chance to understand the double meaning of that, because some surge of confidence pushes through you in that moment. all logical thinking flies out the window, becuase who cares? you're an adult, he's an adult, miwa's partying. he clearly wants you.

you kiss him, a hand placed on his chest, and your hair seperating a curtain between the two of you and the outside world. he tastes of wine, almost bitter, and you love it.

he's still for a moment, but then his lips move against yours and suddenly your flipped onto your back. his hand his on your shoulder, his other on your hip as he stares at you with husky eyes.

your shirt--or well, his shirt--has been pushed up to show your exposed abdomen but more importantly, your lack of skirt. tobio takes a particular interest in your lacey white panties, thumb rubbing over their hem.

he contemplates for a moment. "are you sure you want this?"

you don't waste a single second.

"yes," you nearly plead, and pull him down by the neck for another heated kiss. you can feel him rock up against your core, painfully hard already. you whine into the kiss, wanting to feel more of him.

his hand moves from your shoulder to push up your shirt, and your back arches upon the cold air blown across your skin. your nipples harden, and goosebumps rise on your skin.

tobio's warm hands rub up and down your sides, tracing the line of your ribs. he breaks the kiss, mouthing down your jaw onto your neck and sucking a deep red mark into the flesh of your skin.

you cry out, legs wrapping around his waist, back still trying to pathetically arch into his touch.

"tobio," you pant, "i need more."

"patience," he chastises, but you can tell he speeds up. his lips move a little faster, sucking lighter marks across your neck and collarbone. you're about to sit up to take off the shirt when he stops you.

"keep it on," he pants, "you look so pretty with it. all dressed up in my clothes."

now, that does things for your ego and for the heat growing between your legs.

his lips latch around your right nipple, and his hand comes to twist and play with your left. his tongue is so warm, lapping up at your sensitive nub.

your hands come up to tug at his hair, curling in inky black locs. his eyelashes flutter when you give it a small tug, his teeth scraping against your nipple in a way that made you hiss pleasurably.

he peppers kisses along your breasts and ribs, and you can feel the slick beginning to stain your panties.

"please," you mewl, pushing up against him. he chuckles and presses a quick kiss to your lips before ducking down between your legs. his grin is devilish, and you can't help but shiver in anticipation.

he takes your panties, and pushes them to the side, revealing your pussy. "so wet," he whispers, almost amazed. he takes one finger and runs it through your folds, collecting your slick and smearing it across your thighs.

quickly, he leaves a few love bites along the smooth expanse of your thighs, making your breath catch in your throat. everytime you think he's about to finally touch you, he goes back to your knee and works his way up again.

he admires his work, and you tighten your thighs around his head as a sort of warning to hurry up. he wraps his arms around your waist and tugs you closer to the edge of the bed. your back arches, and you try to resist the urge to buck your hips.

you aren't ready for when he finally makes one long stripe through your folds. it feels like a hundred electric shocks are coursing through your body, lighting you aflame. you let out a hitched cry of pleasure, hands curling in his hair, pushing further into his face.

tobio eats you out like you're his last meal. you don't know where he learned how, but it's genuinely shocking. the same boy who you taught how to properly serve a volleyball, was now eating you out like your life depended on it.

you couldn't help the symphony of noises that escaped you. the heat of his tongue made you clench around nothing as he sucked your clit into his mouth, moaning around your flesh. you never striked him as the kind of guy to be a service top, but you were enjoying it, nonetheless.

he sucks against your skin, trying to get every taste of you he can, openly groaning at the taste of your slick. your legs twitch and shudder, and you try your hardest not to clamp around his neck. "need to feel you, tobio," you moan, pulling his head up. he looks at you, eyes heavy-lidded, his arousal clear as day.

"i don't have a condom," he stutters, and you shake your head.

"i don't care," you whine, pulling him close, so his torso is flesh against yours, "need you now."

you sound horribly pathetic and he must find it cute or he doesn't care because he's complying to your whiney demands with no issue.

he fumbles with the string of his sweatpants, pulling them and his boxers down to his knees. you feel your mouth salivate at the sight of him. he's long, not the thickest you've ever seen, but definitely the longest. you know he's going to hit all the right spots.

you reach forward, taking him into your hand and giving him a few long pumps. his tip is a cute flushed red, veins tracking up his cock. "so pretty, tobio," you slur, to which he blushes bashfully. "this is the kind of dick girls brag about, y'know..."

he presses a kiss to your cheek. "will you?"

you giggle, "not unless you give me reason to."

that ignites a flame in him. ego was one thing tobio took very seriously.

he drags his tip through your folds, lubing himself with your slick. occasionally, his head will catch on your clit and elicit a whimper from you. he aligns himself with your hole, leaning over you, and pressing more kisses to your breasts to try and ease you and get your muscles to relax.

you breathe in and out a few times until your body properly relaxes, and you're melting wax into his hands.

you take back everything you said about him not being big. tobio fills you up like he was made for you. as if your pussy was molded to fit the shape of his cock. he curves in just the right spot, and after a few testing pushes, he manages to hit your g-spot with every thrust.

it's no surprise you're cumming only minutes after he starts.

"tobio!" you cry out, gripping onto his shoulders, "'m gonna cum!"

he huffs, burying his face in your neck, "cum for me, baby, i wanna hear you. show those assholes what they're missing out on."

sparks alight along your spine, and you're arching into him, screaming his name as you cum. it might've been the biggest climax you'd ever had.

you're shivering and whimpering, letting him pound into you until his own release. he finishes soon too, having been hard for way too long. he's trying to muffle his grunts, but you know they're clear as day to anyone who's in the kitchen. you'd be surprised if the whole house didn't hear you.

eventually, he finishes in you, pumping his seed in with a few slow thrusts. he sits there for a moment, still inside you as he takes deep breaths to recollect himself. eventually he slips out, but he plugs you up with two of his fingers to keep his cum from dripping out.

tobio lays down next to you, his head resting on your shoulder, heavy pants fanning across your breasts.

"was i good?" he asks weakly.

"you were wonderful."

the next morning, you wake up to a string of texts from miwa.

oops.

[sinning-23]

My Latest crush is an alien car from space

SO this is the quick 1-3part fanfic I wrote in reference to the little post I made about mirage a couple days ago! Only a couple things changed and the stuff mentioned in the post prior will come up in later parts (here's the link to that if you didn't see it)

Okay so let’s just push all the events of the movie…now lmao I use a lot of current terms that would t have been used in the 80’s so let’s just keep everything the same…accepts it’s 2020-2023 yeah? Great! Fantastic! Uhhh enjoy shawty!

(heres the link to pt2 hotties <3)

Intro/Pt.1

Hot girl summer postponed 

“How am I supposed to do hoodrat things with my friends if you won’t fix this already!” You whine, resting your hip against the side of the beat-up Porsche. The paint was chipped and scraped, the seats were old and dusty and the oils it leaked stained the garage floor and the damn hood wouldn’t close. 

In short, it was kinda shitty. And a stick shift? Who the fuck drove the stick anymore?

Your dad only dusts his hands in his pants and sighs. It’s his fault for spoiling you rotten that you’d beg for a car now, and it was also his fault for promising it in the first place. 

“First of all, there will be no hoochie mama floozy business in my house.” You roll your eyes at the outdated term and shoot back with a reply.

“That’s fine! I said hoodrat anyway!” 

He interrupts you, pinching the bridge of his nose, great hair practically springing out his head. 

“NONE of that either. Tell you what, if you can apply for two more apartments it’s yours. 

You throw your hands up.

“Dad, what?! You know I hate being alone and you’re getting old! You’re gonna need a caretaker.” You reply with a bit of sarcasm and he raised a brow and the not-so-subtle insult.

“I’m not a senior citizen y/n. Just do it.” He replies back, ending the conversation with a peck to your forehead. 

“Not with the way your knees popped earlier!” You call back as he closes the door on you. 

You groan, pushing off the car you were leaning against and tabbing the roof, an audible ‘thunk’ sounding. 

“Soon shawty, you’ll be taking me shopping and clubbing in no time.” You chide, fingers dancing on the slightly lifted hood before you exit.

And before the garage light shut off, the Porsche purred, engine smoking. 

____4 months____

It was go time. You’d applied for about 3 more apartments just to appease and overachieve for your father. And on top of that, your girls decided that it was finally time to get you absolutely shit-faced in late honor and celebration of your graduating med school! The only problem was the mode of transportation.

Most of the girls weren’t going to be able to get you and an Uber wasn’t really what you wanted considering there was a perfectly good Porsche sitting in the garage collecting dust. According to dear old dad, he’d already tried time and time again to fix the damn thing but it wasn’t budging, every screw being too tight and every wire seeming to short hit it under his touch. It seems like no use. 

“Are you serious? I kept my end of the bargain.” You groan, rolling your eyes at the inconvenience 

You’d dad shrugs, throwing the dirty, oiled-up towel over his shoulder. 

“Unless you want to try, I  suggest you find another means of transportation.” He suggests, leaving you and the busted car alone. 

You sigh heavily letting your girls know a reschedule may be on the rise. You pull your French curl braid half up with your alligator clip and lift the hood, the engine was seemingly new, and the design seared into it looked a bit creepy. After brushing your fingers over the symbol, you tighten the hood screws to test if it’d close and sure enough, the problem solved ...kinda.

 You still weren't sure this thing started up. That was the main issue. You sigh, pulling the driver seat open and plotting down, dust making you fan your face and try to blow the particles away. The same symbol from before was engraved into the wheel and you brush over it again. 

“What a funky-looking symbol. I'm sure nothing a little sparkle won't fix, looks cool tho. Like an alien car thing? Wouldn't that be so silly?” You think out loud, looking in the back seat to see a tattered bomber jacket with silver and blue. Maybe it belonged to the previous owner?

You gasp when the driver's seat scoots forward, keeping you from reaching the jacket. Your chest pressed to the wheel making the horn honk. Gasping you throw your shaky hands up and swallow hard. 

“What the fuck…” You whisper out, eyeballing the symbol once again, trying to sneakily reach for the door to make an escape. 

It locks, The radio and lights inside flashing off and on as the engine revved filling the garage with smoke and the sound of your panicked screams. 

You try and pull the door open but fail again and when the radio buzzes to life you're met with a single song. Taylor Swift was amongst the madness just moments ago.

You need to calm down

You're being too loud 

You managed to throw yourself out of the car and scatter back into the house, coughing up the smoke that had still lingered from before. What the hell was that? So maybe it was an alien car. What was meant to become of your hot girl summer? Were you doomed to figure out this possessed car on your own? Exorcise it mayhaps? You stumble up the stairs and pull out your phone. Evidence that's what you needed, evidence. 

You stumble back down the stairs, Snapchat fully functional and ready to catch any evidence, and you'd be damned if you didn't go viral without a filter. 

Swinging the garage door open you point your camera to the dormant Porche. You're more so angry that you were so scared and you were NOT about to let some poltergeist punk you in the comfort of your own home. 

“Yeahhhh motherfucker where all that noise now? HUH? Flash some lights now bitch!” You yell, feeling only slightly insane talking to the inanimate object. 

You were met with silence, circling the vehicle with the flash on. Now narration of the prior events, you try to open the driver door only for it to lock. Oh this mf was playing with you. You yell in a fit of rage, smacking the hood. 

The car revs and honks at you, the door swinging open to hit your backside, making you trip. 

“HA! I GOT YOUR ASS ON CAMERA!” You yelp, camera rolling the entire time. Your breaths are raged but soon become hollow when the car starts to……change.

Your camera hand is shaking and parts of the car begin to shift into legs…waist...torso…arms…. Breath is caught in your throat as the damn near 10 ft tall figure standing before you with its hand in a more so ‘what gives’ position. 

“You are so aggressive, lil mama! What’s the deal?” It speaks, and before you could muster a response, your eyelids shut, and your brain powers down. 

Its eyes widen at your unconscious state and it sighs. 

“All that talk and she faints. Great.” 

____________

A breeze hits your face, the sound of traffic slowing to a haunt as does whatever you’re traveling in. It’s a bit easier to breathe now, but your breath is still shallow and your head is somewhat aching. What even happened before this? You were messing with the car and it was..possessed? No no, it was. 

You shoot up, head hitting the ceiling. In a panic you try and tug at the seatbelt and escape this demon car, breath bringing to pick up again. 

The voice from before speaks over the radio 

“Whoa whoa ok calm down I’m just taking you to a friend of mine! I’ll explain everything calm down.” 

And surprisingly enough, you do just that. In hindsight, if this thing wanted to kill you it probably would have done it already. You click the seatbelt off, crawling to the front seat. You take a deep breath, manicured fingers ghosting over the wheels before finally gripping it and tracing the symbol again. 

“O-Okay. I’m terrified right now. I’m in hella far from my house I’m assuming-“ You’re cut off by the voice again. 

“You’d assume correctly.” It speaks 

You blink your hand and take another breath. Lil shit had personality. Nod in defeat. 

“So…you’re an alien…but also like…a robot? What are you? And why are you a car? And why are you BLUE?” You question, calming down enough to exit the car and wait for a response from the culprit. 

It transforms again before your eyes, and you finally have a chance to examine him more. Instead of being afraid and shocked now, you’re more so intrigued. Curiosity engulfs your mind as you ponder its biology. Sure finishing med school required you to know the human body, but the anatomy of an alien and more mecha was intriguing. 

You circle it, a newfound confidence flooding you as it tried to explain itself.  Manicured fingers can’t help but reach out and touch the smooth-looking metal, the once dusty and scraped not nonexistent over his exterior. Perhaps that was a part of its species' biology, some sort of camouflage. You trace over the license place which appeared to look like more of a tramp stamp given his current transformed state. It reads, ‘MIRAG3’ and you can't help but let your hands wander around and underneath it. It twitched at the sudden touch, arching away from where your hands had touched in protest. 

“Can you stop poking around!” It yips, shooing you back. 

You scoff rolling your eyes, still observing. This was definitely a scientific breakthrough. No wonder it’s been hidden in its car disguise, you were sure there were plenty of people that wanted to dissect and use it for maybe not-so-good reasons. 

“So, do you have a name? Is it Mirage? I can’t keep calling you it in my head, feels rude.” You question, finally taking in its full frame. 

It gasps in fake hurt, placing the back of its, hand. Against its forehead? Damn, you needed to learn its anatomy so this would be less of a guessing game. 

“Call me Mirage doll.” He flirts, jutting his fist out to seal some sort of camaraderie. 

Reluctantly accepting, your plush fist touched his metal one, the metal warmer than you initially expected. Was there more of him? Why was he purposefully blowing his cover? Maybe he was just not as well thought out as the others if there were others. 

“Here come inside you should meet everyone else, Noah can explain this better to you too,” Mirage explains, scooting your forebears into the large storage facility as your shoes drag against gravel. 

Noah? Like the one that worked at your dad's shop sometimes? Like the one that sold the car in the first place? Your brows furrow hoping that maybe it was a different Noah considering how damn big Brooklyn seemed. The chances of that were slim though with the given information. 

Sure enough, walking into the facility was that same Noah, about to speak to Mirage but paused when he realized you were there, and…not panicking? You squint, arms folded over your chest. This mf had a lot of explaining to do and fast. 

“Noahhh, wanna tell me why you sold me and my father an ALIEN AUTOMOBILE?” You tell, poking your finger to his chest as he throws his hands up in defense. Time to explain and quickly.

____________

To say you were exhausted was an understatement. Your calves are killing you due to being practically kidnapped before your outing and now your head was throbbing over how much information it just revived. According to Noah, Mr. I sell alien cars here for himself into this mess because he tried to steal Mirage out of a parking lot way back when for a quick cash grab. There was this whole fight with some bad guys? Yeah someone called Unicorn? Unicron! Right, and he was gonna like blow up the world or something but he’s gone now…temporarily-

The point is, you didn’t need aliens right now you needed a margarita and some music to shake your ass too but NONE of that was happening any time soon. 

“So, feel like your brains gonna explode?” Mirage jokes, sitting against the wall of the facility and you nod, now sort of comfortable with the idea of, we’ll him in general.

 It’s not like you weren’t into conspiracy theories and whatnot, but for something like this to ACTUALLY be real was beyond you. You sigh and run your hands down your face, more upset you missed your one night out more than anything. And it was getting late, and that early shift you picked up definitely was gonna be a no-go if you didn’t get to bed soon. 

“This had been fun truly, but I need to get back home because I actually have a job and not one that involves OUTTERSPACE CAR PEOPLE.” You groan, seeing Mirage stand and get ready to go back to his, auto mode? 

Note to self, learn the terminology sooner rather than later. 

_________

It’s about 4am when you finally make it home, the car ride silent for the most part. Mirage had decided you’d had quite enough excitement for the night and just needed a lil tote quiet, but not before teasing you a bit about missing out on your ‘hot girl hood rat’ activities. 

You sigh once he parks, rubbing the sleep from your eyes, still too high off adrenaline to sleep. Maybe now was a good time to ask about that anatomy part? Getting the car your somewhat befriended sounded like a nice suggestion until sleep creeps up on you. 

Of course, sensing your curiosity, mirage transforms and lays in front of you, resting on his stomach while he kicks his feet. 

“Whatcha thinkin' abouttt?” He asks, more sing-songy than anything. 

“I want to study you actually, your anatomy, I’m sure it’s much different to a human but similar in the important areas.” You hypothesize, seeing his eyes widen. 

“Important areas? Damn girl we just met.” He teases, making you shake your head. 

“Not what I meant- I mean inside!” You respond back as a boyish grin crawls over his gestures 

“You’ve been inside too. Wow and you didn’t even take me to dinner first!” He jokes again, more so enjoying your reaction. 

It was going to be a longggg night and looking at it, a long day too.

[fountainpenguin]

Liveblogging Grian's Session 3 Secret Life POV:

slkdjfsldkfjslkdjfslksdjf-

Grian, who is now soulbound to Joel, rushes over and pines for him in a needy way. Joel brushes him off because "One second, I'm bonding." Grian: "I might need you to un-bond. Joel..."

Joel really did take one look at Grian's task and immediately throw himself off a cliff so Grian took damage.

Grian adopts the role of Joel's bodyguard.

Joel runs to his wife who calls Grian creepy. Joel and Lizzie start fighting and Grian just stands there like "... Aren't you married?"

Scar asks Joel to undress in front of him and Grian screeches.

This all happens within 5 minutes.

Grian: "I'll be a good friend and just shut up."

Joel left Grian to his own devices and he immediately went home and burned down his staircase base.

Me, still playing the video while typing this liveblog: "Lol, I know this isn't the vibe, but you could spin this around and interpret it like he's lonely and wants to move in with Joel." Grian, immediately: "My house is on fire, Joel! Now I can move in with you! <3"

sldkfj the irony of Grian saying "I don't want to be friends with Tim; I did that last time" (Bad Boys in Limited Life) while hanging out with Joel, the other Bad Boy.

Joel: "I might just re-roll for a hard task. For one thing, if I fail and lose 10 hearts, then you lose them too-" Grian: "WHAAAAT???"

Joel chilling and watching Grian fight a zombie: "Protect me Grian."

Jimmy: "He seems to be following Joel around a lot." Grian, dying inside: "We're not that close."

sdkjflh Grian mocking Mumbo like "How can you be so into cars and not know how to drive a camel? It's only a few letters' difference!"

I love Grian and Mumbo crawling and Grian turns around and kicks Mumbo in the face like "Can you feel the Feather Falling IV on those babies?"

I've only seen Tango's and half of Grian's POVs so far, but I'm guessing Mumbo's task isn't necessarily to kill the camel, but to prevent Scar from riding the camel? That's hilarious. Can't argue with the logic that Scar cannot ride a dead camel.

Obsessed with Joel and Grian standing under the cherry tree as the blossoms fall around them and Grian's like "My best friend!" and Joel just leans in and says "I demand your heart."

Grian: "... Maybe we should go somewhere more private for that? Your wife is right there." sldkfj

I appreciate Joel towering up while Grian starts screaming that the Yellows are coming and he needs to keep going higher, all while Martyn is trying to scramble up to him. I presume the rule is that if you're calling someone out on their task, you have to do it face to face, so you can avoid this by running away? That's hilarious.

Joel looks so comfy in his hoodie skin. Good for him.

Grian, chasing endermen and trying to hit them with boats: "Not even this enderman wants to be my friend!!"

Grian: "I have an idea. If I want friends, I have to make my base friend-shaped."

Cracking up at everyone in the courthouse getting jumpscared by the dramatic music sting. Grian cackling and clapping down one hand like "I lay down the rules in this server!"

I feel like we can definitely run with Scar watching Mumbo face the Secretkeeper, which puffs out its little red dust clouds, and muttering to Grian: "I just had a vision of Mumbo's eyes turning red for a second." </3

sldkjf Scott's task being to get people to say "Love you" back to him. He starts listing off people who said it back, then says "Pearl didn't say it back." The divorce quartet drama continues.

Grian: "I've got Feather Falling IV! Watch this!" /takes fall damage.

Wheezing at Grian watching BigB run off like "I don't know game BigB's playing, but it's not Secret Life."

Session 3 Grian POV <3

[captainnameless]

with all the charlos stuff you’ve reblogged lately, i am craving some soft carlos & charles thoughts, possibly something angsty about carlos leaving ferrari, or something softer like them getting in some quality time together after a long day of ferrari filming? no pressure, absolutely adore everything you write <3

i’m not quite sure i can make myself suffer through angsty charlos thoughts, although the itch to write a ferrari no bye bye’s is definitely there. for now,

soft thoughts:

“Nap.” Charles’ whining is becoming harder to ignore, the younger no longer kept docile with Carlos’ hand scratching the bag of his neck gently to try to keep him in place.

Carlos tuts softly, hand dropping to Charles’ lower back and gently tapping his hip, trying to continue his conversation with Andrea.

There’s another whine as Charles sags his body against Carlos, the sudden weight throwing Carlos’ balance off for a split second as he grabs onto Charles to stop him from sagging onto the floor. “Charlie,” he admonishes gently, heartstrings tugged on when Charles looks up at him with those puppy dog eyes. He is tired, Carlos can tell by the way his eyes are ever so slightly more droopy and the red that’s dusting Charles’ ears.

“Amor,” Carlos continues as he pulls Charles up, letting the younger bury into his chest. “Just a moment.”

Charles must be trying to merge their bodies together with how he’s pressing himself into Carlos, the elder semi surprised Charles hasn’t tried fitting himself under Carlos’ hoodie yet. There’s a fond smile that spreads over his face as he looks down at Charles, and he almost forgets he’s supposed to be having a conversation, looking back at Andrea who’s watching the scene unfold with the same fond smile.

“Go,” Andrea says. “Tu vai. Il bambino deve dormire.”

Charles makes a noise at “bambino” and Carlos shushes him, giving Andrea a look. He’s not entirely fond at letting Charles get whatever he wants whenever he wants it, especially when, when it comes to Ferrari, this usually is the case for the boy. But Carlos is not heartless, Charles is obviously in need of a nap, the conversation they were having was far from important and right now Charles is still in the “cute brat” stage, Carlos would like to keep it there.

Carlos sighs a bit before nodding. “Bene, we’ll catch up.” Carlos says. “Ciao.”

Carlos doesn’t make Charles say bye, instead tries to pry the younger out of his chest so they can start moving.

“Tesoro.” Carlos hums, swaying them gently when Charles refuses to give up an inch. “We have to move, amor. I promise I’ll lay down with you, ok? We can cuddle in your room.”

“No.” Charles’ voice is muffled from where he is pressed into Carlos’ hoodie.

Carlos sighs a bit, looks around for Pierluigi and when he is nowhere to be seen he reaches down for Charles’ thighs and hoists him up, in shape enough to be carrying Charles the short distance to his drivers room.

Charles makes a content little noise at getting what he wants again, and Carlos mentally wonders how he’s managed to let another thing slip by again.

Charles still doesn’t let up when they enter the room, snuggled comfortably into Carlos’ chest with his legs wrapped around his waist, face now nuzzled into his neck.

With only minor struggle Carlos manages to get Charles’ shoes off, and then his own before plopping down onto the couch, kicking his feet up and only then Charles relaxes, making himself comfortable and bringing on of his hands up to suck his thumb.

“Yea?” Carlos asks, amused as he brushes a hand through Charles’ hair. “This what you wanted?” He asks, reaching for the blanket and throwing it over the both of them.

Charles hums around his thumb. “Mhm.” Carlos even gets a little nod, and Charles’ eyes blink open to give him a hint of that mischievous sparkle.

Carlos smiles, and he supposed letting Charles get what he wants isn’t so bad after all, cause he wants this too.

[tartarusknight]

King of the Freaks | Part 7

Ao3 Link | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15

Steve had the guys over maybe twice a week as time went on, and Thanksgiving was just around the corner. Some days when they were over, Steve stayed out on purpose on others he curled up on one of the couches to watch them. And for the first time, he finds himself with others more than he is alone. Monday and Thursday are Hellfire. Steve still has swimming on Tuesday and Thursday but they already stopped doing Hellfire on Tuesday for him, he wasn’t going to let them shift to another day than Thursday. Most Wednesdays he spends with Dustin at the least. Sometimes more of the kids tag along but he doesn’t mind. He’ll give Max a ride home if Billy drives off without her. And he’ll babysit Will if both Jonathan and Joyce are busy.

 Weekends are still quiet but sometimes they radio him and ask for rides. But they’re generally quiet. He tries not to hate them but he does. He tries to stay busy by trying out recipes Jeff gave him or doing homework with the radio playing loudly but it never works. The sun goes down and Steve ends up next to the pool. He’ll sit and hug his legs to his chest. He’ll spiral until he’s shaking from the cold and barely awake. The sun starting to light up the sky. Then he’ll head in and head down to the couches in the basement. The radio on the floor next to the sofa as he passes out. Using the small throw pillows and blankets as he falls asleep.

 Rinse and repeat. Well, for the most part.

 Steve woke up from a pounding on his door and groaned. “Steve! I know you're in there!” Dustin’s voice called through the house and Steve stumbled up from the couch. He stopped at a mirror and ran his hands through his hair a few times before the pounding truly annoyed him. He pulled it open and on his steps were Dustin, Max, Lucas, Mike, and Will.

 He crossed his arms and noticed Will murmur, “told you he wasn’t going to be up yet.”

Lucas glared at the other, “everyone’s up early on Sundays.”

Steve ran a hand over his face, “nope. Now, what do you gremlins want? Please tell me that Tews hasn’t been eaten this time.” He sighed and got a few snickers but Dustin huffed.

“My mom has brunch with her friends,” Dustin starts.

“Our moms,” Lucas adds.

Dustin shoves at Lucas, “and we wanted to go shopping for Snowball.”

 Steve blinks but then Dustin’s pushing his way inside. “So, come on and get dressed.” He stated, heading up towards where Steve’s bedroom was.

“Hey, dipshit,” Steve calls and waves the others in before jogging up the stairs to see Dustin pulling out a sweater and jeans for Steve. “Wow, Steve I would totally appreciate it if you spent your Sunday taking me and my friends shopping. Would that be alright with you?” Steve said in a mocking, high-pitched tone.

 Dustin rolled his eyes, “why’s your bed made? Did you make it before answering the door?” He asked instead. Steve groaned but changed into the clothes Dustin grabbed.

“I fell asleep on the couch,” he shrugged and headed into his bathroom. Brushing his teeth and grabbing a few things for his hair.

As he multitasked, Dustin snooped. “Is this car your dream car?” Dustin questioned and Steve shook his head, mouth full. “Has your room always been this color?” Another shake of his head. “I always wanted to repaint my room, you think I could convince my mom? Is it hard? What did you do?”

 Steve didn’t want to say that his mom goes through phases about every two years where she redoes the house to her liking. The old furniture goes to the basement or is tossed out. The walls whatever design she saw in the magazine. That his dad lets her do it to keep her happy. That Steve had never once picked out anything for his room, not even his sheets. He just lets his mom toss everything out of his room and redo it however she wanted. Hanging up a stupid car because it’s a boy's room, Stephen.

 He rinses his mouth and moves on to his hair. “Your room looks nice,” he says instead and Dustin sighs before launching into why he wants something new. Steve stays silent, just listening. Then he hears rustling and looks over to see Dustin pulling out the nail bat. The one he hid under his bed but apparently not enough if Dustin was able to find it that easily. “Do you play baseball?”

Steve washed the products off his hands, “Not with that." He jokes but at the glare he answers, "yeah. Baseball, swimming, and basket- and I used to be in basketball.” He fixes his hair up a little more before turning to see Dustin swing the bat with no proper form. “Come on,” he motions Dustin out of his room before tossing the bat back under his bed.

 The others are all over his living room and Mike is snacking on some of the chips Jeff left. “Hey dumbass, those aren’t yours.” He glares and plucks the bag from his hands. Folding it and moving to put it away.

“Why do you have chips here if you don’t eat them?” Mike questions and Steve pauses, looking back with a confused face. “Nancy told me that you don’t eat junk food.” The words feel like ice flowing through his spine. Of course, Nancy noticed how little he ate… she just didn’t see the truth.

He clears his throat, “their leftovers from the other night. My-” Friend? He shrugs and shoves them into the pantry.

 “Let’s get a move on,” he orders and the kids shuffle to the car. Only for Steve to realize there’s not enough room in his car. He looks at the car and the group of kids who decided to make him a babysitter. Sure, he could make them squish but it’s more than just an arcade run. “Fuck it, I’m gonna call a friend, then we can use their van.” He sighs and the kids complain that he’s taking forever even though he’s sped through everything this morning for the little shits.

 He goes to the phone and stares at it for a long moment. What if Eddie was busy? What if he didn’t want to deal with Steve today? What if-

“Are you going to just stare at the phone or use it?” Max snarked and Steve snaps into motion. Dialing Eddie’s number with far more ease than he should have. He’s called the man a few times. And sure Eddie’s been calling him most nights to say good night but he shouldn’t be so used to calling.

 It rings and he is almost ready to give up when it clicks and he hears a gruff, "hello?"

Steve freezes, Eddie's Uncle must have answered. Fuck. "Uh, hi Mister Munson, is Eddie there?" He asks awkwardly and shifts, watching the kids pile around his island, watching him. 

Then a muted yell then another before he talks into the phone, "he's coming."

 There's shuffling, then a tired “yeah?” Then a big yawn.

Steve glances at the time and feels bad, 9:07. He clears his throat anyways. “Hey, um, it’s Steve?” He says awkwardly and gets a snort from Max. All the kids waiting impatiently next to her. He glares over at them and flips her off before he makes a big shooing motion. When none of them move he looks to Lucas and Will who take pity on him and shove the others out of the room.

 There’s a pause before a smack and “Steve? Hey, what’s up?” Eddie’s voice sounds cheerful and it’s a giant leap from earlier.

“Uh, yeah, I was- well the kids I babysit were wanting to go shopping for Snowball, you know the dance? And my car can’t fit all of them. I was wondering if you wanted to join me. Or if I could just borrow the van. You don’t have to waste your day on me. I just- It’s not safe and I-”

“Slow down, sweetheart. Of course, I want to spend the day with you.” Eddie cuts in and Steve’s chest does something funny.

 Steve blinks, trying to shake off the weird feeling, “right. Yeah, great. Uh, I can meet you at the trailer. Sorry it’s so early, they literally woke me up knocking on my door. They’re little shits,” he tries to laugh but he’s too tired to get it perfect.

“No, problem, Stevie. I’ll have enough time by the time you get here to get ready.” There’s muffled noise on the other side before a laugh from Eddie. “Yeah, Wayne told me to get out and get some sun so, sounds like a perfect thing to do. See ya soon, darling.” Then the phone disconnected and Steve was left with Eddie’s laugh in his mind. An echo of sweetheart, Stevie, and darling in his mind.

 He scrubbed a hand over his face before marching the kids out and letting them squish in with Max in the passenger seat. Max fiddles with the radio until she’s satisfied with a Blondie song. “So, this friend of yours…” Dustin drawls out and Steve glances back at him in the mirror.

“What?” Steve questions and Mike scoffs.

The little asshole looks disappointed before they even see Eddie. “We’re not gonna have to deal with another jock, are we?”

“I didn’t think you had any other friends,” Max said and Steve’s gaze snapped back to the road.

 His hands tighten on the wheel but he can’t get mad. He doesn’t even know if he and Eddie are really friends after all. Maybe Jeff is his friend but the rest of them… well, all of them could be pitying him. “Yeah, I get it. Laugh it up,” he says sarcastically. “Just behave, I don’t need you scaring him off before we even get in the van.” He states and puts on a mask that is well-worn.

 The kids complain and argue but when they come to a stop in front of the Munson trailer they do quiet down. They let Steve walk up to the door alone and he knocks softly. The door swings open and an older man stands there in a flannel and jeans. “Uh, you must be Wayne, er, Mister Munson, sir? I’m Steve, uh, Harrington. It’s nice to meet you, sir,” he says awkwardly and Wayne raises an eyebrow at the hand Steve offers before taking it.

“Just Wayne’s fine kid.” He says and waves Steve in. Steve glances back at the kids and makes an I’m watching you gesture before he slips into the trailer. “Ed’s just finishin’ up. He’s not an early bird,” Wayne muses and he picks up a chipped mug from a fishing tournament it seemed.

 “I’m so close to being done,” Eddie calls from the room in the back and Steve can’t help but smile.

Wayne clears his throat, “so, Harrington, huh?” He questions and Steve goes rigid. He looks over at the man and he seems to be looking for something. He must find something because he frowns a little and takes a sip from his mug. “I didn’t care for your daddy.”

Steve smiles weakly, “You wouldn’t be the only one.”

The older man nods and waves him towards Eddie’s room, “go hurry my boy up or you’ll be here all day.”

 Steve nods sharply and goes to head back but Wayne stops him one more time. “And kid, you’re always welcome here.” He states and Steve knows who Eddie got his sheep herding habits from. He smiles and nods before he knocks on the frame of what had to be Eddie’s room. The door swings in from the knock and he leans in the doorway, the perfect image of calm and cool.

 He takes in the mess, the posters, the guitar, and the fucking handcuffs. Steve swallows hard and looks at Eddie who’s digging through a pile of clothes. “Sorry, I’m not finding my wallet. I think it’s in a pair of jeans or maybe a hundred different places. I’m not actually sure. Like I’ve tried going back from when I last remember having it but…” Eddie groans as another pair of jeans is empty.

 Steve moves further into the room to offer a hand but when he clears his throat, something else comes out. “Can you not say anything about Billy?” He blurts out instead of an offer to help look or a joke. It comes out all nervous and awkward like it couldn’t be stopped.

Eddie pauses and looks over at Steve, “yeah, course. I wouldn’t make you seem uncool or-”

 Steve laughs a little dejected, “dude. Trust me when I say they don’t think I’m cool. They watched my ass get beat by Billy already. I just- I don’t need them to know that he’s still, you know?”

Eddie stands and looks like he wants to pull Steve into another hug like the other day. (A hug that Steve still didn't fully understand but liked anyways.) But he doesn’t, he just nods. “Don’t worry, you’re secret’s safe with me,” He promises.

 Then he leans in close to Steve, arm brushing Steve’s neck until he pulls back with his wallet in his hand. “My backpack,” he grins and Steve glances back to see the bag hooked on the back of the door. Steve can only nod, his mouth dry as Eddie heads back towards the front door. He shakes himself and follows after him.

 When they get out they see Lucas and Mike arguing, Max and Dustin looking into Eddie’s van, and Will awkwardly watching it all. Steve clears his throat loudly and puts his hands on his hips. They all give him an innocent smile that only Will makes convincing. “Dipshits, meet Eddie,” he gestures to Eddie who’s got his black ripped jeans, an iron maiden shirt, a red flannel, and his leather jacket over it all.

 Mike blinks and immediately is bitchy, “wow. I didn’t think you’d have non-preppy friends.”

Steve snaps his fingers and points at him, “Wheeler you’re on thin ice.” He states and glances over at Eddie with an apologetic face. “Eds meet Max, Dustin, Lucas, Mike, and the only nice one, Will.” He points them all out and Eddie’s face goes through a few different emotions.

 “Okay, so let me get this straight,” Eddie starts and glances over at Steve, then the kids, then back to Steve. “You babysit Nancy’s younger brother, Jonathan’s younger brother, and Billy’s younger-”

“Stepsister,” Max interrupts with a sour look on her face.

“And Steve’s our friend, not just a babysitter,” Dustin adds looking a little annoyed to be labeled as a kid Steve babysat.

Steve moves and ruffles Dustin’s hair, “course, Henderson.”

 Eddie nods and tosses the keys up into the air and catches them. “Well, little ones I believe it’s time to embark on our adventure.” He says in his DM voice that has Steve smiling. The kids perk up and once the doors are unlocked, they scramble into the crowded back. It's messy back there but Steve knows Eddie keeps it clean enough for the boys to fit in when they need to.

 Steve sits in the front seat and jumps as the van starts up with loud music blaring. Eddie swears and quickly turns it off. “Right, yep,” Eddie gives Steve a small, embarrassed smile. “Uh, where to?”

However, it’s not Steve who answers but Dustin. Dustin’s head peaks out from the back, “we’re looking for stylish dance attire.”

Steve mouths stylish dance attire to himself as Eddie glances at the kid with a smile of approval. “You know Dustin Henderson, I think you and I are going to be good friends.”

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