#luckily it should be relatively short

[cobaltperun]

Jerks With Hearts of Gold - Work For It

Request: Tara Carpenter x Female Reader

Summary: The first kiss should not be this difficult to get, yet nothing is ever easy for Tara Carpenter.

Masterlist / Side story of this request

Word count: 2.7k

She could no longer deny it, she could no longer fight it, and she hated every single thing about it. Except she didn't actually hate it, she absolutely loved it, only she would never admit it, especially to anyone other than herself.

Tara Carpenter was in love with a jerk.

How could this have happened? Sure, she wanted to live her life, set aside everything that's happened while being comfortably cautious about which people she let in, but she did not expect to let the biggest jerk of them all in. And if that wasn’t bad enough, she took it not just a step, but a fucking marathon further by falling in love with you. So, there Tara was, lying on her bed facing the ceiling and glaring at it as if she had your face painted right on it. She might as well have it painted there, because that's all she could see when she closed her eyes. Your smiling face, that stupid grin when you prove her wrong, or when you get the upper hand in a debate, or when you just annoy the living hell out of her.

“Jerk,” she muttered as she looked through window that was somehow facing the direction you were in. Of course, you were far away, too far for her to even see your neighborhood from her window, let alone your apartment, but just the fact that she knew she would be looking in the direction of your apartment if she looked outside her window infuriated her. Why did you have to be so good to her? You stopped smoking just for her, and that really was the true start of her downfall. But you couldn’t stop there, could you? Ever since she opened up about the attacks she survived you've been crazy attentive to everything she was feeling, noticing even the minute details about her mood shifts.

Somehow, despite only knowing you for a relatively short period of time, Tara was absolutely certain you wouldn’t turn out to be a Ghostface. Maybe worse than even that was how sure Tara was that if she confessed and you returned her feelings that the two of you would just stay together. That you would never break her trust or her heart.

And that just made her afraid that one day she would do that to you. Because there was that feeling deep inside of her, that thought that maybe she did ruin everything she touched, and that she just wouldn’t know how to let you love her.

Yet at the same time, Tara knew she wanted that kind of love, that almost unconditional love, more than she wanted anything in the world. So, Tara picked up her phone and sent you a message.

~X~

You were bored beyond what you imagined was humanly possible. You were so bored you might actually consider doing schoolwork that was still far from the deadline. That's how bored you were. You weren't in the mood for a movie or some new TV show or a new book or anything that would reasonably take more than a few hours to finish, but you also weren't in the mood to go out and have fun, or go to a stupid party if Tara wasn’t there, or anything of that nature.

Luckily, just as you were about to lament on your ruined night, your phone rang and you jumped to your feet cheering loudly that there was even a smidge of distraction to be had tonight.

You placed your palms together in front of your face praying to whatever higher being that might exist. “Please be Tara, please be Tara, please let me annoy her tonight!” because you would not be that desperate to actually send the message first. Not after sending the first message four times in a row.

You plucked your phone off your charger and the screen lit up and you pumped your fist at your side. “Yes!” you exclaimed. It was Tara. “Oh, I love this girl!” your eyes widened when you said that.

Well, you did love her, and you knew that, and you knew how you loved her, how much, and how intensely. But you haven't really said it out loud and with that sudden realization the urge to annoy her faded away and you just opened the message she just sent you.

Tara: Let's meet up tomorrow

Please I'm bored

Well, that was direct and right to the point, just the way Tara always was, and you grinned like a fool because you would get to see her tomorrow instead of waiting for the next week's classes. So, you replied with a simple ‘Of course! Usual time usual place?’

It took Tara less than a minute to reply, and you've never thought a simple ‘yes’ would make you this happy.

You walked back to the bed and just fell on top of it, still grinning. You loved this girl. You loved her so damn much and she didn't even know it and maybe, just maybe you could confess tomorrow. Just see how it goes. At least you won't be painfully stuck in friendzone and things would be clear, you would know if you should give up on these feelings or if you would just have to wait for some time until she got more comfortable. You understood perfectly well just how difficult opening up would be for Tara, and all you really wanted was to know if there was even the slightest chance that she might one day reciprocate your feelings.

~X~

She must have done something right lately because all of a sudden and without even considering all of those things Tara ended up being really lucky. First of all, she didn't have classes today, Sam was working, and all of her friends had classes, so no one was free to hang out with her. Not even Chad and he was the most relaxed about classes out of all of them. At least before the exams, once the exams were going then he was the one worrying the most.

That would probably be something you and Chad could bond over. You had the same annoying nonchalant approach before the exams only to completely flip it once exams actually started. She still smiled, because somehow, despite everything, she found that endearing.

The usual spot was your code of sorts, for a small secluded spot in the park that Tara found when she first came to New York, back when she felt the need to escape from everything and pretend she was just a normal teenager. And you came to appreciate the spot as well, so instead of hanging out in a café bar or some other place, one of you would get the drinks and the other some snacks and you just go and sit at the park. And it worked well, because not only was it a nice place where she could breathe easier, but it had designated spots for picnic, so that was just another plus in its own way.

Her heart was hammering in her chest as she walked through the park toward the place where you would meet up. The basket filled with your favorite food felt a lot heavier than it really was. You weren't really a flowers kind of girl, or rather Tara wasn't, she just felt that would be a bit too on the nose and she wants to be a bit subtle about everything. Although… There was nothing subtle about being twenty minutes early.

She picked a good spot for the picnic. The one with a nice shade, far enough from the people walking through the park, and light fresh breeze blowing through her hair bringing in the scent of the flowers blooming in the park.

“Guess we are both early,” Tara jumped when she heard your voice and flipped around to see you standing there sheepishly rubbing the back of your head, all the while holding a bag filled with a couple of bottles of probably juice if she had to guess. You were kind of boring like that, not really consuming alcohol, but she guessed that would make Sam like you more because you weren't some party animal.

“Damn it, you scared me!” Tara put her hand over her chest trying to calm her heart rate down. Getting scared was not one of her plans for the day!

Your eyes widened and immediately she could see the guilt on your face. “I'm sorry! I should have texted you or something, I just didn't want you to rush if you weren't here and-“ you facepalmed, you didn’t forget about anything, you just got eager to see her and she wasn’t expecting you. “God, I'm such a fool for scaring you like that!” there you were being the caring, gentle dumbass she fell in love with.

Tara smiled widely, unable to restrain her reaction. “Hey, it's fine, come on, let's just sit down and start this again, OK? Shit, look at us,” Tara laughed as you joined her, still looking at her apologetically. “We're like two teenagers trying to go on their first date instead of hanging out as friends,” she chastised herself and you to an extent because you were both nervous and she couldn't wrap her head around why you were nervous. She was the one who intended to confess her love for you… unless…

No, that couldn't be right.

The two of you knelt down on the blanket and began taking things out of the bag you brought, and the basket Tara brought. “You really went all out! And it's all homemade!” you commented, and Tara just knew you could see the blush on her face.

You only complimented her cooking, once granted she only cooked for you once, and ever since then has been practicing, wanting to impress you once more.

“I just grabbed the leftovers,” of course she wasn’t going to tell you the truth. She would die of embarrassment if that happened, but you knew, you probably knew every single time she uttered a ridiculous lie just to save face.

You snorted at that. “Of course, of course, I wouldn't dare to imply the great Tara Carpenter would prepare food for an occasion this beneath her,” you laughed and despite the joke you just said something just didn't feel right about it. It annoyed Tara more than she ever imagined it would. She just hated that there was a certain sense of self-deprecation within your voice.

So, Tara reached up, grabbed you by the chin and pulled you closer. “Don't you dare ever think that,” she leaned in, intending to kiss you and get all of this confession bullshit out of the way, and just show you how she felt instead. But then you smirked and pulled away from her and her hand was just left hanging in the air, empty, while her lips remained stuck, slightly pursed as she intended to kiss you.

“Work for it, Carpenter,” you did not just say that. You did not just deny her of the kiss she wanted for so damn long.

“What the fuck?!” Tara just stared. You actually did that to her. “Work for it? How do I- I mean- You know-“ she paused, taking a deep breath. “Was I reading this all wrong,” she gestured between the two of you. “And you actually don’t feel the same way? Y/N, I can take it if you don't feel the same way, I'm not some-“

You interrupted her by placing the tip of your finger on her lips and snickering and now she was just confused. “I do feel the same way, I love you too, Tara,” you said it so easily even if she didn't, even if she wasn't all that sure she could say those three words anytime soon, despite how genuinely she felt them. “I just want you to work for the kiss. You've been a pain in my eyes for so long, I deserve this!” you laughed and took a bite of the sandwich she so carefully prepared, choosing all the ingredients you loved, and here you were saying she had to work for the kiss.

“What do you even mean by work? How?! Tell me how?!” she demanded red in the face from the anger and the embarrassment and because she was denied of what she wanted and like a petulant child that was suddenly rejected she was just about ready to throw a tantrum.

And that wasn't like her. She was denied so many things as a child, it wasn't in her nature to throw a temper tantrum, yet with you she really felt like that. She felt like the way you were loving her, even when you were just friends, was allowing that child within her to come out for perhaps the first time in her entire life.

“Ask for it, you can’t just take it,” you winked at her. “Come on, now, Tara, all you have to do is ask,” oh, you were enjoying this. You got your victory. You knew she felt the same way that you did before you even uttered a single word and here you were eating it all up like the menace you were.

“I'm just not gonna do it,” Tara pouted and refused to look at you even if she knew you would just shrug and keep eating the sandwich.

“Whatever works for you,” you were being way too nonchalant about this and she should have been elated that you felt the same way that she did, but this was infuriating in so many ways. Of course it had to be like this with you it couldn't be just an easy, simple confession, followed by a soft kiss, followed by a passionate kiss that would threaten to consume both of you. No, it had to be this complicated and difficult because that's who you were and that's who she was. She was Tara fucking Carpenter and every single thing in her life just had to be complicated.

Well not this time.

“Let me kiss you,” she leaned in and you burst out laughing backing away once more not allowing her to claim her reward.

“That's not how you ask, dumbass,” you just laughed and sure, fine, she could play that game too.

“I want to kiss you,” you were still leaning away and she faked a smile, speaking through gritted teeth. “Come on, Y/N, people are watching. They're looking at me leaning closer to you and you are not working with me here,” she was working hard for it and she had the right to her hard-earned reward.

“Not the magic word, Tara,” surely you weren't going to make her actually ask for it! You loved her back, why was this so complicated! She even licked her lips to tempt you, and she saw you looking down on her lips, she knew you wanted to kiss her as well! You just weren't giving in.

Fuck…

“Please, can I kiss you?” there. She asked. You smiled and didn't back away as she leaned in and that was all she needed to just go in and press her lips against yours for a heated, passionate kiss. And when she pulled back, she truly was rewarded by getting to see you being a stuttering, embarrassed mess. “Cat got your tongue?” she asked and stuck her own tongue at you, the tongue that was mere seconds ago inside of your mouth because of course she couldn't go for a soft kiss for the very first kiss. She had to be intense with everything that's included.

Especially with this because you deserved to be loved just as intensely as you loved her.

Safe to say you failed to construct a proper sentence for the next twenty or so minutes. Frankly she was impressed it only took you that long to get your composure back and actually start putting words together in a way that made sense.

[yellowjestertfs]

Spare Parts

Al untucked his shirt, then tucked it in again, then quickly untucked it before landing on a French tuck—a mix of both that suited him worse than either. He had never been so nervous about going out with his friends. In the past, he was the life of the party, staying out clubbing until the witching hours, getting drunk, and ending up in some stranger's bed the next morning. That was before he made the fatal mistake of jaywalking drunk and got hit by a bus, which flung him into the path of another bus, which sent him off a bridge and into the water, where he was run over by a boat. Honestly, it would have been a pretty comical way to die—only he didn’t die. He should have died; he broke every bone in his body and turned his organs into a smoothie. The wonders of modern medicine intervened. He still didn’t quite understand exactly how, but the doctors had used stem cells, like those regenerating cells babies have, to essentially bring him back from the dead. A miracle, yes, but even miracles had their limits. The recovery process was long and hard, and even now, recently released from medical custody, he was not the same man he’d been before the accident.

Getting hit by two buses and a boat does that to you. His face was mangled—not to the point of being monstrous, but not attractive either. His body had also suffered from the accident, practically wasting away as he recovered. While the old Al partied with abandon, this new Al was self-conscious of his appearance and absolutely terrified to cross the street. Now, he stood at the crosswalk, fidgeting with his short-sleeve button-down shirt, thinking about why he had asked an old lady to help him across. He clutched her tightly as they crossed, ready to throw her in the way if a bus came barreling toward them—luckily for both of them, none did. Despite her age and his current condition, the woman actually made a pass at him, calling him a “handsome lad” and asking if he wanted to go back to her place. It helped his confidence, if only a little, and gave him a strange tingling feeling.

Finally, after detaching himself from the woman, he reached the club. Despite the relatively early hour, the place was bumping; the bass-boosted electronic music and a flashing rainbow could be seen and heard from the outside. A quick check of his phone informed him that his friends were already inside, so he joined the short line and waited to be let in by the bouncer. As he neared the front, he realized he recognized the bouncer. Back when he frequented this place, he was friendly with the muscular man. Now, though, he doubted the man would recognize him, and he honestly hoped to keep it that way. Back then, he was sort of a legend, a position he doubted he could live up to now. As the bouncer—Rod, he thought—waved him forward, Al couldn’t help but admire the man's physique. It seemed that while Al recovered, Rod made some serious gains. His arms were particularly impressive; Al found himself feeling bad for the man’s sleeves as they tried and failed to contain his massive arms. Their sheer size was only enhanced by the web of veins that patterned the muscles. 

“ID, please,” Rod said, indeed not recognizing Al as he had predicted. Al handed over his card, suddenly realizing the picture on the ID was pre-accident.

“Had a bit of a glow-down,” Al said awkwardly, trying to flash a smile but only managing to lift one side of his mouth—the other’s nerve endings were damaged beyond repair. Rod grunted but returned Al’s ID; even despite the discrepancies in the photo, there was little doubt that Al was of age. As Rod handed back his ID, their hands touched just slightly, and for a second, Al felt a slight tingling in his upper arms. Then it was gone as quickly as it came. 

“Have fun, man,” Rod said, “and nice guns.” Al laughed at that, thinking the man was making fun of his twig arms.

He lifted his arm, expecting the usual sight of his scrawny limb. But when his gaze landed on it, his breath caught. His bicep had swollen under the skin, somehow in the span of a heartbeat his twig arms had become tree trunks. Al’s fingers traced the now firm, rounded muscle, a mix of fear and fascination flooding his mind. The sheer size and hardness of his new bicep felt both alien and irresistibly satisfying, a forbidden thrill coursing through his veins at his arms meaty massive things they now were. They looked like almost exact copies of Rod’s, only instead of the man's olive complexion, the biceps had the pale look of someone who had spent the last two years in a hospital bed.

Al felt light-headed. How was this possible? Was he having some sort of mental breakdown, a delusion? He needed to find his friends. No, he needed to find a drink. The bar was right where he remembered—just to the left of the entrance. Unlike Rod, the bouncer, he didn’t recognize the bartender—a short, slightly pudgy man who looked to be in his mid-40s, with a strong square cleft chin that didn’t particularly match the rest of his average features. Al walked up to him, trying to hide his now-massive arms to little avail. He found he couldn’t stop flexing and feeling them, equal parts concerned and turned on by the mysterious new muscles.

“I'll take a vodka soda,” Al tried to say casually, although the words came out more as a question than a request. Luckily, the night was still young enough that he managed to get the man's attention, although the fact that he wasn’t a pretty girl kept him from making small talk. As he worked, Al saw the bartender occasionally glance up at his biceps, which he had crossed in an attempt to hide them. They looked a little ridiculous with the rest of his scrawny body. Wordlessly, the bartender placed a garnish on the drink before handing it to Al. Just as with Rod, their hands innocently touched, and again Al felt a strange tingle, this time centering on his chin. Lifting the glass to his lips, Al quickly lowered it, uneasy at how strange the sensation felt. Years of drinking had made him familiar with the feel of a glass against his lips, but something felt off now. His bottom lip somehow felt more supported, stiffer. A quick exploration with his finger revealed that his chin was causing the offense. But that couldn’t be—his chin had been round and soft even before the accident. Whatever this new chin that had somehow attached itself to his face was, it felt like a block of stone, the bone protruding in a harsh, strong way completely foreign to his face. The deep cleft was also new, creating a valley in the mountain that was his chin. Pulling out his phone, he saw what his fingers had felt: his face now somehow sported a strong, masculine chin almost identical to that of the bartender.

Al wasn’t the brightest, but even he began to put the pieces together. Somehow, he was absorbing the best qualities of every person he touched. His mind raced, trying to figure out what could be causing this. The stem cells he received might be the explanation, but why now? Al needed to get out; he needed to see a doctor. Panicked, he looked for the exit only to find a crowd had congregated between the bar and the nearest door. There was no way he could make it to the other side without touching anyone. Could he risk it? 

His contemplation was cut short as a woman sauntered up to the bar, her stumbling gait indicating she was already a few drinks deep. That was hardly the most noticeable thing about her; put bluntly, she had massive boobs—the type that could never fit in a top without being the center of attention. As she stumbled her way toward the bar, she tripped on one of her own feet. Al’s eyes widened as he realized too late that her fall would take her directly toward him. He tried to move out of the way, but as she fell, her arms reached forward for support, landing on his own. For a brief second, he hoped he might absorb her winning smile, but judging by the tingling in his chest, he wasn’t so lucky. Horrified, he glanced down, expecting to see breasts pushing out of his shirt. Instead, he found different mounds there—equally large, yes, but the lumps on his chest weren’t boobs; they were too firm and square. No, instead Al had somehow gained massive pectoral muscles from his contact with the woman. Their growth had unceremoniously demolished the first three buttons of his shirt, which was having a bad day trying to contain his massive chest and arms. The muscles looked downright strange on his body, the rest of it still emaciated from the accident. In fact, Al struggled to support the weight of his new mass, his shrimpy legs and shoulders straining under the sudden load.

The woman pulled away from his arms, drunkenly apologizing before reaching out to grope one of his now-massive pecs. Luckily, no tingles followed, confirming Al’s suspicion that he could only absorb from a person once. Now, Al felt torn about what to do. On one hand, he still worried about the changes and their possible repercussions, but did he want them to stop? If he went to the doctor now and they fixed him, would he be stuck in his current disproportionate form forever? This could be a blessing—a way to heal from the damage caused by the accident, to become the ultimate version of himself—or rather, of the people around him. So far, none of the changes had been bad. Deciding not to look a gift horse in the mouth, Al scanned the room for someone with a feature he wanted to absorb. The choice became easier when a cute guy walked right past him, his clothing tight on his lean, muscular body, and he looked well-groomed. Before the accident—in fact, before tonight—Al had never paid much attention to the appearance of other men. Maybe it was the fact that he now saw their features as ones he could have, or perhaps it was something else, but for whatever reason, he found himself checking out the other men in the club, including the one walking by. On instinct, he stuck his foot out, tripping the man, their bare ankles making contact for a second in the process. The man stumbled and then turned to face Al, his face red with anger, which quickly cooled as he took in Al.

“Hey, I like your hair, dude,” he said. Al had hoped that he might absorb the guy's cute, tight ass or maybe his strong Roman nose, but his hair worked too. It was silky, thick, and coiffed attractively—definitely an improvement over his current thinning hair.

“Thanks, man,” Al said, reaching up to find that he indeed had hair identical to the man he had just tripped. 

“Do you go to Clarice?” the guy asked. The question sparked a brief conversation in which Al lied through his teeth, pretending they went to the same barber rather than admitting that he thought his stem cells had magically copied the guy's hairstyle to a tee. Eventually, Al excused himself, claiming he had seen his friends. This was true; as they chatted, Al had located his friends huddled close to the DJ booth on the dance floor. Steeling himself, he made his way over to them, trying to avoid physical contact. His efforts were only somewhat successful. An accidental brush of a college-age girl’s hand lengthened his eyelashes, while a hip bump into a man with rolled-up sleeves thickened his forearms, so his arms were now somewhat proportional. Once he reached the dance floor, however, he lost total control. Falling arms and thrusting hips assaulted him from all sides. An accidental step on a foot caused his lips to buzz as if they had momentarily fallen asleep, puffing up to appear pillowy and soft. A hand brushed across his back, causing a tingle in his shoulders, widening them and only making his progress more difficult. The elbow wedged awkwardly into the crevice of his pecs by a sheepish-looking man earned him a short, coarse beard across his jaw—a jaw that had become wider and sharper thanks to the impatient shoving of a male model behind him. Al quickly lost track of exactly what features he had gained from whom. A sudden numbness in different parts of his body was the only indication that he continued to change. At one point, a gigantic man who had to be some sort of pro basketball player moved next to Al. Al indulged himself, letting his hand “accidentally” rub against the tall man's leg and feeling his whole body lengthen. The constant shifting of the dance floor meant no one noticed Al or the way his features shifted. As he neared his friends, a twink dressed only in a leather harness and thong approached him and started to grind up against him. Even more shocking was the rock-hard abs that formed from their contact and the boner that Al inexplicably developed from the experience. The twink started to unbutton the last few remaining buttons on his shirt, and he let him, not wanting to deprive the world of his body.

At last, Al reached his friends, finally finding a pocket of relative emptiness near the loudspeakers. 

Al reached out to tap one of his friends on the arm before thinking better of it and just stood there awkwardly, waiting for them to notice him. Eventually, the song ended, and his three friends turned to face him. Only with a pang of shock did Al realize they didn’t recognize him. How could they? He had become a sort of Frankenstein’s monster of different features from the various patrons of the club. Where they expected their scrawny, balding friend fresh out of an extensive hospital stay, instead before them stood a 6’5” bodybuilder with a face, a hodgepodge of features from various people, somehow working together to give him a handsome and exotic look.

“Hey, have you seen our friend? Short, skinny, looks like he might have been hit by a bus or two,” his friend Jordan asked. It was a simple question, but for maybe the first time in two years, Al noticed not a trace of pity in his friend's voice. No, rather it was admiration. Al’s previous intentions of coming clean to his friends and seeking help melted away as he realized the opportunity he had. He could finally escape the shadow of those busses; he could have a new start.

“Nope, haven’t seen anyone like that,” he said in a voice much richer and deeper thanks to the vocal cords of some unknown stranger. 

“I’m Jordan, by the way,” his friend said, raising his voice to be heard over the music. 

“Al.” Shit. So much for a fresh start. Jordan glanced at his other two friends but didn’t say anything. Instead, one of his other friends, Sergio, grabbed Al’s hand and pulled him into their dance circle. The contact made his whole body tingle and, glancing down, he saw that his skin had darkened to the same ruddy tan as his friend's. Luckily, the flashing lights and the general darkness of the club made Al fairly sure no one noticed the transformation.

Throughout the night, he became reacquainted with his own friends and found innocent ways of making contact with each of them. From his friend Marge, he gained her show-stopping ass, the muscular butt complementing the thick thighs he had gained sometime during his mad rush. Contact with Linsey copied her perfect Barbie blonde hair. The stylish haircut and scruff he had grown sometime during the night bleached itself instantly while all his body hair, limited as it was by various tingles, turned the same gold color. His friend Jordan took a special interest in the new Al, and Al found himself reciprocating the attention, for the first time noticing just how hot his friend was. When at long last they touched, Al grabbed the man and brought him into a passionate kiss. He swore he felt tingles but couldn’t notice any change on his body. After long hours of sweaty dancing, a round of shots, and many more kisses between the two former friends, the group headed over to Jordan's apartment. Al nearly blew his cover by heading straight to his friend's door, but the excuse of “lucky guess” seemed to satisfy his non-sober companions. After a few more hours of chatting and more alcohol, everyone left but Al and Jordan.

Jordan used the classic “let me show you something in the bedroom” line, which led to more kissing and Jordan feeling up Al’s new muscular body. Eventually, as both men removed their pants, Al discovered what he had picked up from his friend. Long and thick, Al’s penis was identical to that of his lover, which Jordan seemed delighted by, claiming he had never been with someone with a tool as big as his. It took a moment for Al to get over the surprise of his friend packing so much meat and the fact that he now did as well, but once he accepted it, he used his new member to the fullest. After hours of fucking, the two fell asleep, not waking up until the afternoon the next day. Al politely said his goodbyes and awkwardly avoided giving Jordan his number, not wanting to explain why it was the same number as Jordan's sickly friend. 

Exiting the apartment, he noticed the same elderly woman from last night and to his chagrin, she once again hit on him, asking to hold his bicep while they crossed the street. When he touched her, he felt no tingles, which he thought strange until he remembered she was the first person to induce that sensation upon him last night. Could it be that he had somehow absorbed her sex drive or sexuality? Was that why he had a sudden appreciation for men? The thought amused him as he made his way to his car. But before he could dwell on it too much, his attention was abruptly pulled back to the present.

Lost in thought, he didn’t see the bus careening down the street, heading right for him. The blare of the horn hit him a second too late, and everything went black.

The next thing Al knew, he was waking up in a hospital—a horrifying déjà vu of two years ago. A young doctor stood over him, clipboard clutched in two massive, masculine hands. His eyes fluttered as he tried to make sense of his surroundings, the cold sterility of the hospital room bringing back memories of his long, painful recovery. Blearily, Al glanced down at himself. His perfect, hunky form was now a mess—bones broken, muscles flattened. All except his hands, which looked larger and callused, suspiciously identical to the doctor standing above him. It seemed that Al’s luck with public transportation hadn’t changed, but now he knew how to build himself back up. A minor setback, sure, but nothing a few spare parts wouldn’t fix.

Wrote this a while ago but thought i would post it here with images and some small edits. Not my best but think its still a fun story.

[mochinomnoms]

PTM Question: If Yuu were actually trying to make Jade short circuit, what would they do or say?

Alternatively, PTM Yuu gets nostalgic about an old S/O from their world and a certain eel happens to overhear. Is the result an angry eel, a sulking eel, or an opportunistic one?

Being able to read minds makes these sorts of things much easier, especially for someone as secretive as Jade. Luckily for Yuu, a lot fo Jade's fantasies are relatively easy to feed into, though the more explicit ones are not viable for them most of the time.

Jade's biggest thing is being able to take care of Yuu. I feel that I've stated it so often that it's becoming repetitive, but Jade does really like being depended on! And Yuu can very easily feed into this by giving Jade a sweet tone and asking, “Jade? I'm having trouble, can you pleeease help me? You're always super good at everything!”

It's the pretty sound of their voice and the way they almost give him puppy eyes that basically turn him into this:

I'm positive that someone even edit an image of him with these quote, and it's very correct because Yuu could very much just bat their eyes and get whatever they want from him! He lives to help and serve, just like the Sea Witch! And he just happens to like doing it most with Yuu!

However, if they want to specifically make him short circuit...

“Jade?” Said young man looked up, blinking in surprise at how close you were. Not that he was complaining.

“Yes?”

You shifted in your seat, leaning closer and pushing your notebook towards him.

“Can you explain this part to me? I'm having trouble understanding it, and my potion is coming out wrong.”

Jade's breath ever so slightly hitched, before clearing his throat and moving in to look at your notes. He could smell the citrusy body wash you used.

“Let me see...what flowers are you using? Dandelions and often be confused for cat's ear.”

You leaned over to grab at your materials, though Jade swears he saw you arching your back.

No, they wouldn't, no where other than my imagination...

Jade froze as he felt you place a hand on his arm, displaying a bundle of yellow flowers to him with an innocent expression.

“These, I found them outside Ramshackle since Ruggie always says he picks them for salads, are they not it?”

Jade shook his head, brushing over your hand to bring the flowers closer to him to inspect.

“Hmm, the stems are longer and the petals look hairier, see?” He pointed at a few spots on the flower.

“Oh, damn. I was hoping I wouldn't have to buy supplies...”

Jade chuckled before contemplating if he should offer his own.

Ah, I'm more than happy to help you, my pearl! No need to be cautious, I won't hold it against you, perhaps a kiss in exchange for the flowers, fuhuh~

In the back of his mind, he knew that you knew from experience it was better to struggle a bit than to owe someone from Octavinelle. In the back of his mind, he knew you wouldn't ask him for any sort of favors. You were scared of him, understandable, he admits—

“Do you think I could use some of yours? Do you have any to spare?”

Jade paused, blanking for a moment, before looked down at you. You were awfully cute, looking at him with a pout, and you tapped your fingers together.

“Please Jade? Pleeeease?”

Swallowing a lump in his throat and attempting to fight off the blush he knew was coming on, Jade simply nodded and reached under the table for his bag of materials. As he carefully dug through it, he failed to notice you shuffling closer.

“Here,” Jade reached up with three dandelions carefully wrapped in a cloth in his hand. He felt a spark run up his arm as you wrapped your hand around his, no doubt reaching for the flowers. “I have a few extra you can—”

The moment he turned his head, he failed to realize that you'd been leaning down and had your lips purse to press a kiss against his cheek. Instead, you'd brushed against the corner of his mouth, causing you to gasp and bolt back, Jade freezing.

“Sorry! Sorry, sorry, sorry! I was—your cheek! And then you turned—I wanted to thank—GAH!”

You held the dandelions to your chest, rushing back to your desk, muttering to yourself. Jade thinks he heard you chastising yourself for not paying attention, but really he couldn't process much, still frozen with his hand hovering in place.

Kiss. That was a kiss. He slowly stood back up, turning to his desk and tidying it up.

Kiss. On my lips. Kiss. They practically kissed my lips.

Like a robot programmed to a schedule, Jade spent most of his day quieter than usual. He went to class, to his shift at the lounge, all without saying anything. Just repeating the scene in his mind.

Floyd was even getting worried at how quiet Jade was, poking and prodding at him for a reaction. His twin followed him into his room, still pushing at Jade to say something.

“Come on Jade! What happened? You're never this quiet unless something happened! Did something happen? Did Mama call about Nana? Did you lose a mushroom or something? Jade! You can't just—”

Jade let himself fall onto his bed, face first, burying himself into the soft pillow and covers.

“Jade?” He felt his bed creak as Floyd carefully crawled up and around him. His voice was much closer now as Floyd leaned down. “You okay?”

Floyd could barely hear Jade as he spoke into the pillow, voice muffled. Jade even started clenching his sheets and kicking his feet. Tilting his head and leaning his ear close to his head, Floyd listened.

“…Oh you fucking sap!” Floyd smacked the back of Jade's head, huffing as Jade finally turned his head and smiled up at him.

“You know I hate when you get quiet! All that over some accidental kiss, dumbass! I thought you broke!”

Jade sighed in bliss, ignoring Floyd's smacks on his side and back.

“I just wish I took advantage of it, but I just froze. How unfortunate...”

[itsonlyjoseph]

The First Time You Met | Joseph Quinn x Reader

synopsis: short one-shot of meeting Joe at the pub

warnings: None, English jargon

word count: 1.5k

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.

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You were sat at your desk working quietly when your co worker knocked on the wood as if it was a door, getting your attention easily.

“What are you doing tonight?” She asked you.

“Uh, nothing I guess. Go home, open a bottle of wine and watch the telly til I fall asleep.” You smiled up at her, as if that was the high life.

“Oh come on, it’s Friday. Come out for once.” She practically pleaded with you.

“I don’t know. I’d have to get home and change and then come back in. Where do you even want to go?”

“You don’t have to go crazy, we’re only gonna’ be at the Churchill.”

You thought for moment. You hadn’t been out with your friends in a while and you definitely needed a break.

Your vibrator needed a break.

The Churchill Arms was a lowkey pub that didn’t require you to dress up too much. In fact, you’d look a bit silly if you did.

“I guess I can come.” You mumbled.

Eleanor, your co worker, squealed at your agreement and gave you a tight hug around the shoulders.

“Oh, my god, yes! This is gonna’ be so much fun. We haven’t seen you out in actual months.”

“I’m sure it hasn’t been that long.”

“It has.”

You narrowed your eyes up at her in a mock offence.

“We’re heading over right after work so make sure you’re ready.”

“Okay…” you mumbled as she walked off.

You liked your friends and you liked going out, but you also like going home, putting on your big socks and getting under a fuzzy blanket with the fireplace going.

You weren’t a loner or anything, you were just comfortable being single and having no responsibilities other than yourself.

You’d made it this far alone and you were proud of yourself. It felt good to do whatever you wanted and eat whatever you wanted for tea and decorate your house however you wanted.

Something you never admitted, however, is sometimes on very rare occasions, you did feel a bit bored or lonely when you had no one to talk to about your day or your nightmares or the latest film you just watched.

Soon, five o’clock rolled around and you packed up your things and haphazardly shoved them into your purse, walking down to the lobby to meet the others. You were wearing your typical work clothes. Casual, black knitted jumper and brown plaid trousers with some maroon Mary Jane ballet flats that cost more than you should’ve paid.

Luckily for you, your place of work was very casual and easy going but “casual and easy going” in London probably meant something different to the rest of the world.

The pub was already relatively busy considering it was a Friday night but not so busy that it was practically a nightclub. This is how you liked it.

You got a table close to the back and sat as one of your other co workers went to the bar to get the first round. The atmosphere was easy going and after a short while, you felt yourself actually really having fun. The conversation flowed easily. You’d poked fun at your bosses and horrible clients, talked about upcoming projects, talked about guys (much to the dismay of the lone male co worker amongst the group), and everything in between.

After the third round of lager was brought back to the table, Eleanor leaned over to speak quietly to you.

“I don’t want to alarm you but there’s a really cute guy looking at you.” She giggled.

You rolled your eyes and paid no mind to her. Like you said before, you were quite content being a singleton.

“No really, I think you should probably chat to this one.”

You decided to entertain her and turned your head to this alleged man checking you out.

You made eye contact and felt your breath get sucked out of your lungs.

That’s fucking Joseph Quinn, you thought.

You turned back to Eleanor with a somewhat dumbfounded look on your face to see her clearly excited one.

“I doubt he is looking at me of all people.” You said, taking a large gulp of your pint.

“Dude, he’s not stopped looking at you. Even when you went up to the bar.”

“Surely not.” You were suddenly ten times more shy than before.

“Surely yes, go talk to him!” Eleanor urged. The rest of the group was completely oblivious to your conversation, too engrossed in their own. Not that you minded.

“I can’t just go talk to the Joseph Quinn you idiot. I’ll choke and trip and just make a fool of myself in someway.”

“No you won’t. You’re always so hard on yourself.”

You were now very aware of the celebrity and it was making you feel small… and hot.

“Okay I have an idea. Take a deep breath, glance over and smile and then grab your coat and go for a fag. See if he follows.”

“This is so stupid.” You said, taking a deep breath. Obviously you knew who Joseph Quinn was. You never really gave it much thought but definitely thought he was attractive, just like every one else.

“Just do it!”

“Fine!” You gritted through closed teeth.

You took the last gulp of lager and grabbed your coat, walking towards the beer garden, but not before shooting him your best smile you could muster up.

Your eyes connected for a brief moment and you felt your spine tingle.

The air outside was chillier than when you’d arrived at 6pm.

You leaned against the brick wall and pulled out a cigarette and lighter. Even though Eleanor had practically kicked you outside, you would’ve stepped out for a smoke at one point or another.

You were outside for about two minutes alone with the other drunks when the back door opened and out stepped Joseph. You could tell it was him even through your peripheral. He just had aura about him.

Slowly walking over to you, he pulled out his own smoke to pop between his lips.

“Hi.” He said with a sweet, bashful look.

“Hey.” You smiled shyly.

“Do you mind if I pinch your lighter?”

You didn’t say anything, just shyly getting your zippo out of your pocket and flicking it open, igniting the end of his cigarette and ignoring the thumping in your chest.

“Thanks.” He said, moving his head back slightly and taking a long draw.

There was short silence between the two of you until he spoke up again.

“I’m Joe, by the way.” You smiled down at you.

Wow, he was incredibly attractive this close.

“I’m Y/N.”

“Y/N.” He repeated, not breaking eye contact. “What do you do, Y/N?”

“I work in television, actually.”

“Oh really? That’s really cool. So do I.” He seemed rather excited.

“Yeah, I know.” You giggled.

“Yeah, I figured you probably did. I guess anonymity isn’t really an option for me anymore.” Joe seemed rather tense now. Perhaps he was hoping you didn’t know who he was and he’d have a real conversation for once.

“Probably not. But hey, it’s not like I’ve never been around a famous person before. I do work in television after all.” You reassured.

“So what exactly do you do in television.” He asked, taking a drag of his cigarette.

“I’m a production manager.”

“Oh wow, what have you worked on?” Joe asked you, gazing down at you.

“Uh, I worked on Fleabag, Broadchurch, a show called Sherwood. Couple things like that.” You began to get shy again. Here you were, telling a famous actor about your boring job, probably the pants back on him.

“What do you have to do exactly when you work on a show?”

“Well, I basically organise location, actors, crew, funding, marketing, all that sort of stuff…” you began to explain and Joseph looked actually genuinely interested. This never usually happened. Whenever your friends dragged you out and you began chatting to a guy, he always seemed so bored when you spoke about your job.

Not Joe, though. He was listening intently and asking actual questions and sometime during the time you’d been speaking, you both stubbed out your cigarettes and he’d stepped closer to you.

You only realised how long you’d been talking when Eleanor popped her head out to tell you they were leaving now.

“Oh, uh yeah. I’ll be right there.” You said to her before turning back to Joe.

“Sorry, I didn’t realise how late it had gotten.” You smiled.

“Yeah, neither.” He smiled shyly, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I actually had a really good time talking to you, though.” You said sincerely.

“Yeah, me too.” He smiled back.

There was a beat silence as the two of you just looked at each other. You gave him one last smile and turned to walk back inside to your friends, silently praying that he’d ask for your number or offer to walk you home or at least something.

You’d almost made it to the door when you heard Joe swiftly turn on his heal and call out to you.

“Can I have your number?” He asked, rather frantically, like he’d almost missed his shot.

You turned back to him with a small, shy smile.

“Yeah.” You giggled. “Okay.”

[billiesbossanovas]

Sharing is caring..

Ex!Billie x gn!reader

This is by no means proofread 🫠🫠

—

Going out wasn’t your thing anymore, it hadn’t been since you got with your new girlfriend Molly, she liked to stay in most times, watch movies, read a book, it wasn’t exactly your scene but you wouldn’t force her to go out and party if it made her uncomfortable.

Luckily, it’s your best-friends birthday party, and molly was up for going with you and getting drunk, what you neglected to tell her about the night is that your best-friend just so happened to be dating your ex’s brother, the relationship was still relatively new, only four months, so maybe you should start it off right.

So when you drive to her house, you prepared for an argument in the car, she climbed in and kissed you on the cheek. “You look gorgeous..” you mumble taking in her wearing a short dress, she looked flawless. “Listen hey.. I have to feel you something.” You start driving, eyes on the road so you don’t have to see her reaction when you tell her.

“Go on baby.” It came out quite small and mumbled as she used the mirror in the sun visor to apply her lipstick.

“You know Claudia right?” Her hand moved to your thigh as she hummed in agreement. “Well she’s kinda dating Finneas.. Billies brother.” Her hand gripped your thigh, to the point where it was almost stinging. “Babe ow.” She eased up on your leg and sighed. “Look I know it’s not exactly ideal.”

“It’s less than not ideal. Y/n how could you not tell me sooner” she huffs and takes her hand of your leg fully, you just keep driving unsure of what to say to her. The whole ride molly sits in the passenger seat with a scowl, she doesn’t speak to you. Once you get there you open her car door for her, hoping to ease the tension a little bit.

She takes your hand and gets out of the car, your arm slides around her waist. “Listen I know I should have told you but it’s not like anything will happen.” You reassure her and kiss her temple. “Let’s just go and enjoy ourselves.” She smiles at you and the two of you walk into the venue.

The second you walk in Claudia runs over to you and forces you into a tight hug, she kisses your cheek and smiles. “This must be molly!” She exclaims and steps back taking in the girl stuck on your arm, you nod. “You’re gorgeous.” She smiles towards her, molly gives a small smile back.

“I’ll catch up with you later” you give her a small hug and walk to sit down at a small table in the corner with Molly. “You know you’re gunna have to get to know my friends at some point..” you laugh, Molly just offers you a tight lipped smile. “Alright.. I’ll go get us a drink.” You stand up and walk over to the bar, Finneas stands at the bar, he waves you over, you do just that.

He slings an arm around your shoulder. “Your date.. kinda boring” you just nod and order your drinks. “She doesn’t seem your type..” he laughs and takes a sip of his own drink, he pats you on the back.

“Yeah.. I.. I don’t think it’s gunna work out to be completely honest..” you mumble with a sigh, you lean your head on his shoulder, he just laughs and gives you a hug. “God save me.” You laugh with him and grab your drinks. He wanders off to go speak to some people, just before Claudia comes up to you, she gives you another hug.

“Please don’t sit in a corner all night..” she pouts and kisses your cheek. “You have to dance with me, it’s my birthday party”you laugh and talk with her for a while, then you spot molly looking at the two after two minutes. “Do you really think she’s the right choice..?” Claudia asks looking back at her, she pulls an uncomfortable face and holds onto your arms. You just sigh and walk over to the table and pass molly her drink.

“You were talking to her for a while.” She scowls at you and takes a sip of her drink, you sigh and lean back in your chair. After half an hour of arguing with Molly Claudia comes over to pull you to dance, you spend the next hour drinking and dancing with people. Molly walks over to you, car keys in hand and her bag. “I want to leave.” You stop and look at her in disbelief.

“What do you mean? I’m not ready to go yet..” she just stays scowling at you for a while. “Drive yourself home.. I’ll be home later.” She doesn’t even say goodbye before storming away from you and out of the venue, there’s a twinge of sadness mixed with guilt that fills your stomach for a second, it’s quickly washed away when Claudia shoves a shot down your throat.

The night goes on smoothly, you start getting drunk and let yourself enjoy enjoy the night, dancing and drinking, time passes by quicker than you imagined.

Midnight hits and you stand in the bathroom, laughing to yourself as you splash water in your face, someone walks in and slides their hands over your waist, you turn and see Billie, she stands with a smirk on her face. “Hey.” She mumbles biting her bottom lip, you’re trapped between her and the sink, she just smirks at you.

“Hey..” you take her in, her playful smirk on her face, the way her eyes sparkle under the lights, there’s a faint smell of alcohol surrounding her, she’s definitely drunk, not as drunk as you, but she’s had a few. “I didn’t see you when I came in..” you mumble looking down at her hands, still resting on your waist, it felt natural, more natural than anything else that had happened in the last few months you’d been without her.

She lets out a scoff and plays with your belt loops, pulling you that little bit closer. “Well you had that thing stuck on your arm.. how could you notice anything.” She furrows her eyebrows and sighs, she leans in closer to you. There’s a low hum of a fan, over casting the rhythm of the music coming from the room just a corridor away. Her breath is hot against your cheek as she smiles “I miss this.” She whispers, her head moves to your neck she gives you a soft kiss, it makes your breath hitch slightly. “I miss us..” she mumbles doing it again, leaving soft kisses on your neck, smiling between each kiss at the way you reacted.

You push her away. “Billie..” your hands move to rest on the sink behind you, all Billie does is smirk at you, her hands staying planted on your waist as you shuffle backwards slightly. “I can’t..” you look away from her, she lets out a breathy laugh and looks in the same direction as you, her hand slides up your side, and moves to cup your chin, she moves your head and forces you to look at her, running her tongue across her teeth as she does.

“Don’t worry about it..” she whispers leaning in slightly, you didn’t make an effort to stop her as she kissed you, you don’t pull away from her either, just letting it happen, basking in the way she felt.. the way she tastes. She pulls away, you let a small groan escape as she does, her hand moves to rest in your chest. “She’s not gunna find out..” there’s moment you feel guilty, how could you do that to Molly, the guilt soon dissipates when Billie leans in and kisses you again, and again, and again. “As long as you don’t tell her baby.” She rubs your chest and kisses your cheek, working her way down your jaw and neck.

The next morning you wake up, the familiar scent of vanilla hits your nose, you stretch and yawn, ignoring the ache that pounds its way around your head, you soon come to realise you have no shirt or pants on. Your eyes are barely open when you sit up letting the blanket pool at your waist, looking on your left you see that sprawled out black hair you’d come to love, a smile flashes across your face for a second, she wakes up with a soft smile and kisses your cheek when she sits up. “Billie.. I have girlfriend” you sigh and rub your hands across your face, she takes your hands in hers and smirks.

“Well.. sharing is caring my love”

[thehmn]

Okay so chihuahuas shouldn’t be be kept as fashionable purse dogs, but then what type of person should have them?

Dogs of course have different personalities and I know a lot of people with disabilities consider them perfect because they like to cuddle and are unlikely to suffocate or knock people over, but in my experience they’re also perfect for people who like to explore both nature and urban environments. And even though they shouldn’t be purse dogs, pet backpacks with plenty of airflow that also conceal the pet a bit are a must, like these.

Once the dogs realize the backpack means adventure they’ll throw themselves into it as soon as it’s place in front of them and off you go. That’s one of the reasons why chihuahuas are perfect for all sorts of exploring. They’re easy to transport to any destination on any kind of transportation. I ride my bike everywhere and my chihuahua loves all the smells zooming by, exactly like a dog sticking its head out a car window.

We bike to forests, towns and the seaside, she’s let out and can explore either on or off her leash depending on the area, and in my experience most shop owners are cool with you bringing your dog into the shop as long as they’re well behaved and in a backpack like the ones I showed because that way they can’t touch anything, their fur wont get everywhere and if they aren’t super obvious they won’t bother other people. That’s why seeing eye dogs are allowed. They’re so well trained they won’t cause trouble. And if they won’t let you in there’s no reason to make a fuzz, you just find another shop.

The backpack also makes it easy to switch transportation. I’ll get off my bike, jump on a train, let my chihuahua stretch her legs until the ferry arrives and soon we’re on a small island.

And just like people are more okay with a feral house cat that sometimes attacks people than they would be if a cougar wandered into town, people are generally more understanding if you accidentally break a rule you weren’t aware of with a small dog. I’ve let my dog off her leash in an area for months because I thought it was allowed and luckily I didn’t get in trouble because she is small and well trained so people weren’t bothered by her and when someone finally told me they were super nice and calm about it.

I am of course living in Denmark and my chihuahua is a reasonable size which means the only predator that could possibly be a danger to her is a fox which is why I’m comfortable letting her off her leash in nature areas. Other countries would probably be less safe for her.

But overall, can highly recommend a chihuahua if you have a relatively active lifestyle and likes going on short adventures 👍

[radiance1]

A Dp x Dc idea that isn't Danny-centric!? Say it ain't so!

So I think that this'll be a relatively short one but anywho.

Pariah Dark forcing the entirety of Amity Park into the ghost zone did not come without consequences, even with the ghost shield the Fenton's put over the town.

Said consequences come in the form of the entire basically becoming a ghost portal in and of itself. It mostly happened slowly over time, with the town experiencing quakes that spread quakes that lead to the Ghost Zone.

Everyone had to evacuate when it got really bad, well, mostly everyone. You see, Sam didn't want to leave Amity Park at all so he tried to find ways to convince her parents to let her stay even if said city was basically crumbling.

Then she had an idea.

What if she became one of Undergrowths allogenes? (taken from genshin impact)

So she persuaded (read: bullied) Danny into taking her to him so they could make a deal and let her stay in Amity. Undergrowth was surprisingly accommodating to the both of them, what with Danny becoming the new Ghost Prince and Sam already leaving a good impression on him.

He gave her a task, take this seed and place it within the middle of Amity Park and watch over it until it fully grows, then, and only then, will he accept her as one of his allogenes.

So Sam very obviously took said seed, said yes, and went to plant it.

The center of Amity Park was basically a giant ghost portal, it was small, at first. But with each and every quake it expanded and expanded until it couldn't be ignored anymore, so after Danny and Sam got back and went to it, Sam just dropped the seed in the middle of it and watched it sink.

Luckily Overgrowth gave her a proper method she should follow to ensure its growth, at the very least.

It took 4 years for the seed to grow, 4 years of relative isolation for Sam. Danny was usually busy with High Prince duties, what with being summoned and the likes, while Tucker was busy with taking over the outside world.

They still made time for her however.

When it grew Undergrowth gave her praise, not many would willingly keep themselves in isolation to grow an interdimensional seed from the other world. Such, he made do on his promise and gave Sam a portion of his powers, turning her into one of his allogenes.

He did however tell her that she was only Allogene he's ever had in multiple eons. Some of them chose to reenter the reincarnation cycle, while others sacrificed themselves for the greater good and such, some of them among the living are still alive, however, so they should be at least, vaguely aware of her existence.

Sam trained her new powers, familiarizing herself with them until it was as easy as breathing, which took a few months of non-stop training. Thankfully her new stamina is leaps beyond that of her previous human self. Eventually, she was even able to create a few lotus' that acted mostly as transport around the giant ghost portal.

Oh yea, did I mention that the Ghost Portal expanded enough to take over all of Amity Park? Well, a few buildings here and there stilled survived, mostly like small islands but still.

So Sam was living a pretty fine life, all things considered. Her days were very peaceful, tending to a few plants here and there, taking care of the giant tree that sprouted from the seed she grew, training her powers and talking to Danny and Tucker whenever they dropped by.

It was repetitive, but a nice one.

Then her daily cycle was interrupted by people claiming to be the Justice League, and she honestly did not have a clue as to who they are. She didn't really keep up with the news after planting the seed, or the outside world at all for that matter, the only one she regularly kept in contact with was Tucker.

She thought back on, and Tucker did mention them once or twice. Mostly painting them as irritating individuals yet worthy of respect, not that she knew why but she wasn't going to just let them step in here regardless. It's pretty rude to just step into someone's home without permission, no?

[transfemme-shelterdog]

Something about transandrophobia.

I don’t feel comfortable sharing this off-anon or on my own account due to harassment I’ve received basically every time I even implied anything about this. But I want to talk about it somewhere.

I really don’t like how masculine trans men are treated in queer spaces tbh. I can’t go out without hearing other queer people tell me how much better I’d look in a dress or skirt, that I should try on make-up, that "if I were a real man, I’d be comfortable dressing feminine", and similar sentiments.

I’ve never been particularly feminine. When I had a choice what I got to wear pre-puberty, I already dressed more "masculine"; back then, that was fine with my mother because it was funny when I was mistaken for my brother. When I got into puberty and grew out of all my comfortable clothes, my mother went incredibly hard on forcing me into femininity so no-one would ever "mistake" me for a boy again. I’m talking shit like every single one of my bras was a push-up bra because my tits were to small from thirteen. I had to beg for summer-pants longer than those super-short barely-covering-your-ass-pants because I straight up couldn’t sit in those pants.

Now that I’m an adult and can finally choose my own clothes again, I dress masculine again. And people hate that so much. From my relatives I hear or heard all the time (some have luckily stopped now) how much prettier I looked a few years ago and shit. And then I go into queer spaces. Spaces I should be able to present how I want. And hear the same shit.

But because they add "men can be feminine, too!" I’m not allowed to say anything against it because that must mean I hate feminine men instead of, yk, "I am not feminine".

I’m sick of being treated like, idk, eye-candy. Like I have to be pretty to look at for everyone, my own comfort be damned. As if what I want doesn’t matter, only what everyone else wants of me.

"You just need to get over your childhood trauma, then you’ll enjoy dressing feminine!" Because masculine people don’t exist at all or something. And the way to "get me over" my childhood trauma is to constantly re-traumatise me and expect that to ""fix me"" and make me nicer for others to look and gawk at.

"Trans men need to embrace their femininity" all power to those who want to but there’s literally no femininity for me to "embrace". It’s never been there. All traces of femininity on me have been forced onto me; that’s not me. Shedding "my" femininity and starting to dress and present masculine again has been the most freeing thing I’ve ever done. I won’t go back, no matter how many people tell me to.

Yeah that's just gross and I hate that. I'm sorry people treat you that way Anon. Masculine trans men are just as valid as feminine ones, and you shouldn't have people trying to coerce you into being something you're not. It reeks of transphobia, if I'm being honest.

[builtbykittie]

Merry Christmas, darling

D.R.W x f!reader x J.T.K

Summary: your boyfriend Danny takes notice of how one of his closest friends have piqued your interest and gives you the perfect Christmas gift.

Warnings: 18+, some alcohol consumption, mentions of marijuana, SMUT, threesome(m x f x m), masturbation, orgasm denial, edging, fingering, oral(m & f rec), dirty talk, unprotected sex, slight cock warming, just pure filth.

Words: roughly 6.6k

A/N: happy holidays and merry Christmas to those who celebrate!!! For the holidays, I present to you a filthy Janny fic. (Disclaimer this fic does not have any Jake and Danny scenes. It is strictly Janny x reader!) Enjoy♥️

.

"Daniel?" You shout to your boyfriend from your bedroom, rummaging through your closet in just a tiny little lace bra and mini skirt.

"What baby?" Danny comes walking out from the bathroom where he was getting ready, clad in a tight-fitted turtle neck and black jeans. You flip around, your eyes widening at the sight of him "Do you know where that red-ish sweater of yours is?"

"Gotta be more specific than that babe, I own like a thousand," he snickers, languidly stepping towards you. "Oh come on. You know, the one with the dark blue stripe running through it... And it has the flower things in the stripe?" You whine, smoothing your hands over his chest as he approaches you.

"Oh yeah, it should be in there, did you look hard enough?" Danny steps closer to the closet, tossing around some hangers until "aha. Found it."

"Wow. Guess I didn't. Thanks love," you blush, taking it from him and lifting yourself slightly to place a peck on his lips before sliding it on your body. "You look gorgeous, baby," Danny tucks a loose string of hair behind your ear, cupping your cheeks and kissing your forehead. Your cheeks flush red and you can't hold back the smile growing on your lips "Daniel have you even seen yourself? You look incredible."

"What's with the good lingerie, baby?" Danny smiles "thought you only wore these for special events."

"Well, it is a Christmas party. That's gotta be a little special," you walk over to the end of your bed and grab your heels, stumbling as you put them on.

"What time does the party start again?" You slip off into the bathroom to touch up your makeup and hair. "Well," you hear Danny huff a laugh "it actually started about 20 minutes ago." Not bad, especially for you two. One of the only bad things about you two being together is that you're both bad with time.

"Okay well, I'm ready if you are," you quickly reapply your favorite lipstick and fix an awkward curl in your hair with your finger. Walking out of the bathroom, you quickly grab your purse and phone off your bed "We're lucky it didn't start almost an hour ago... Like last time."

"That wasn't even our fault," Danny laughs "You ready, beautiful?" You laugh and walk up to him, letting him sling his arm around your shoulder "I told you I was."

"Are you sure you're gonna be warm enough?" Danny pulls you even closer to him as you two start to walk out the door. "Mhm. The party is inside anyway," you lean your head into him, soaking up his warmth and breathing in his intoxicating scent.

As you two approach the car, he moves his hand to the small of your back, opening the door for you and helping you in. You quickly set up the aux as soon as Daniel starts the car, putting your playlist on shuffle and letting whatever song play.

"I have a gift for you, sweetheart. I think you'll love it," he doesn't look at you, keeping his eyes on the road. "Oh yeah? I bet I could guess," you challenge, reaching over and playing with his hair.

"Hm.. I highly doubt that," a smug smile grows on his lips, still never once glancing in your direction. A grin plays on your face "is that so?"

"Mhm."

"Is it that record I've been wanting?"

"Nope."

"The necklace?"

"Nuh uh."

"Yeah I got nothing else," you frown, turning back to face the road.

The drive is relatively short, luckily Jakes's house wasn't too far from your own. Usually, Josh would host, but the responsibility was handed to his fancy-pants twin this year.

Josh's parties were typically more put together and bustling with people, Jake's, on the other hand, were a little more reserved than that. Josh's were always packed full, from musicians he'd become friends with over the years to close friends and family. Jake's are mostly close friends and family, with a good amount of exceptions.

"I gotta talk to Jake once we get inside. You okay on your own for a little? I'll find you right after," Danny opens the door for you, shutting it and locking the car after you slip out of the seat. You quirk a brow at his words but don't think much of it "Mhm. Just make it quick."

"It won't take long at all baby, I promise," Danny kisses your head, his hand on the small of your back as he walks you through the door. Sam, standing in the hallway and talking to someone hidden behind a wall, spots you two immediately. "Hey! Look who arrived!" Sam starts to strut toward you, followed by Jake walking out from behind the wall. Oh, Jake.

Of course, you loved Danny more than anything and anyone, but every now and then you'd find yourself waking up to dreams of Jake's hands between your thighs. You're filled with guilt, sometimes to the point of going out of your way to avoid Jake. But who could blame you? You've been to a few of their shows, You've seen how Jake plays. The way his fingers dance across the fretboard, how he looks all hot and sweaty, the way he draws high-pitched wails out of his guitar.

You shake the thoughts from your head, bringing yourself back to reality. "Hey, Sam!" Holding your arms out for a hug, Sam happily accepts. "Hi, Y/N," Jake grins, taking you into a side hug. "Hello, Jacob. Merry Christmas," you match his energy with a smile.

"Well, finding him was easy, huh?" You grin, turning to face Daniel "I'll catch up with you soon, love." You give him a peck before letting them slip off to another area of the house.

"What was that?" Sam tilts his head, holding his cup up in their direction. "I dunno. Danny said he had to talk to Jake, I thought you might've known," you brush it off, seriously not thinking anything at all. "That's interesting. I'll have to get an answer out of him later."

"I can't believe your own brother didn't tell you his plans," you laugh, playfully slapping his bicep. "Is Josh here?" Tucking a piece of hair behind your ear, you scan around the room for that ray of sunshine everybody loves.

"Yeah, actually he came early to help get ready. He should be around here somewhere," Sam tries to figure out where his brother may be. "No way, Josh?" You jest "Well I'm gonna go look for him... and maybe get a drink. I'll talk to you later Sammy."

Making a beeline straight to the kitchen, you almost instantly hear that familiar voice. You're unsure where it's coming from until you hear that same voice call your name in front of you.

"Josh!" You watch as his face instantly lights up, quickly making his way through the room towards you. "It's so good to see you! How're you liking the party?" He smiles, that big wide grin you've grown to love.

"Merry Christmas, Josh! It's really nice, you guys did so good. The place looks beautiful," you take him into a hug, careful not to spill his drink on his white sweater. Josh quickly quirks a brow and looks behind you "Where's Daniel?"

"With Jake," you smile, "he told me he had to talk to him about something. Do you know what this is about?" Josh's brows knit together "nope."

"You're telling me neither of them told you or Sam?" You give Josh a dubious look, planting your hands on your hips. "I mean Jake had been acting smug but we had no idea Y/N I promise. Maybe it's a surprise," he playfully shakes your arm "You want a drink?"

"Yes please," you smile, pulling your phone from your purse and opening whatever app you set your eyes on first.

Taking a break from scrolling, you look around, searching for any sign of Danny and Jake. "Here," Josh approaches you, holding out a cup for you. "Thanks, Josh," you take it from him with a grin, bringing it up to your lips. It's not too strong, but it still burns as it goes down your throat, Josh knows you well.

You stand there and happily let Josh wrap you into one of his long and sometimes painful conversations, that is until Danny comes up from behind you, gently driving his fingers into your sides and scaring the shit out of you.

"God- damnit Danny!" You whine, slapping his chest. "Sorry. It was really funny though," Daniel laughs through his words, pulling the strap of your purse back over your shoulder.

-

Almost two hours of listening to the same couple of Christmas songs, one blunt, and three or four glasses of Jake's fine champagne and red wine later, you seemed to have lost sight of your inhibitions.

In Jake's basement, you take turns laying your head on the Kiszka brothers' and your boyfriend's shoulders as they take turns at pool.

Daniel walks up to you, that big wide smug grin plastered across his face as Jake patronizes his brothers for losing at the table. "Hey, Y/N? Can we talk, baby?"

"Uh yeah," you sit up, your brows knitted together in confusion. You let Danny take your arm and drag you through the house, sifting through every affair in your head as he takes you up the stairs.

"Daniel what is this about? Is something wrong?" He doesn't respond, taking you straight through the house and up another set of stairs, leading up to the bedrooms.

Once you realize where you're going, a smirk grows on your lips and your heartbeat speeds up significantly. Daniel backs you into a room, turning on the light just a little with Jake's fancy light 'switch'.

"Y/N, will you sit down for me?" He gestures to the large sofa chair beside the bed, you can tell he's holding back a smirk. "Danny-" he cuts you off.

Kneeling in front of you, his sweet eyes stare into yours "Y/N, remember that gift I had for you?" You nod, flashing him a confused smile. "I know you like Jake, baby," Danny reaches his arm up to move your hair out of your face and cup your hot cheek.

"What?" You feel your entire body flush. You didn't think he knew, how could he know? You don't even like him like that. "Don't act like you don't know, Y/N. I'm not mad."

A horrible feeling manifests it's way into your stomach and swirls around there. You know you shouldn't, but you can't help but feel guilty. It's just attraction, nothing more.

"Danny it's-" once again, he cuts you off. "I told you I'm not mad, sweetheart. I've seen the way you look at him. I know you want to fuck him."

"I mean yeah he's attractive but I like you, Daniel" you fidget with your own hands, trying your hardest to keep eye contact with him. "I know, I trust you sweet girl. I just want you to admit to me that you want to fuck him."

"Daniel, are you serious?" With furrowed brows, you watch him stand up and lean against the wall. "Yes. Be a good girl and tell me."

You huff a humorless laugh and drop your head to look at your lap. "Fine. Yes, Daniel. I want to fuck Jake."

"Atta girl. See how easy that was? Now tell me what about him you like," as he speaks, he removes his belt, his eyes dark and eager. You look at him with an annoyed expression, opening your mouth to protest but letting it die there once you realize he's not gonna drop it.

"Well," you decide to play into it. Have a little fun with it. You knew it was gonna lead to him fucking you either way. "You know how he gets all sweaty and his hair sticks to his neck at the concerts?"

The corners of his mouth tip up to form a smirk, nodding to tell you to continue as he starts to palm his cock through the denim. "And his hands.. the way they can move so fast across the frets and strings."

"His pretty mouth... Oh, and the way he practically fucks his-" Suddenly, the door opens. Your head instantly whips in that direction, eyes widening as you watch Jake walk through the door. With dark eyes trained directly on you, he slams the door behind him and locks it.

"Y/N, baby," Danny takes a languid step towards you, kneeling down in front of you once again. "Me and Jake have been talking about this for a while now. Will you let us fuck you, pretty girl?"

Your eyes blow wide, you want to pinch yourself and wake up, but this is all very real. "A-are you sure?" You squeak out, as quiet as a mouse. "Are you, love?" Jake leans against the bedpost, those dark eyes burning holes into your skin.

"Yes."

"Let us hear you say it, princess," Danny holds your chin with his thumb and index finger, forcing you to look him in the eye.

"Yes, please fuck me."

"Merry Christmas, darling," a sick smirk plays on Jake's lips as he slowly removes his belt. "Danny, why don't you sit down while I take care of your sweet girl here?"

"So this was that gift you had for me?" You grin, standing up and kissing him before walking over to Jake, standing pretty by the bed. "Hey princess," Jake grabs your waist, pulling you into him and instantly laying kisses to your neck.

It feels wrong, yet so right. You reach your arms out, grasping onto his hair and pulling him into you with a breathy moan. "Fuck, you see that, Daniel? So eager..."

A deep groan rumbles up from Danny's chest as he continues to tease himself, running one hand up and down his thigh while he palms himself with the other. "Come sit on my lap, baby," Jake sits down on the bed, rubbing his palm against his thigh, signaling you to sit.

Following him, you sit on his lap, now facing your boyfriend. Jake's calloused hands snake around your body as he nips at and places open mouth kisses to your neck. One of his hands sneaks under the hem of your sweater, his rough hand moving up your abdomen.

Jake's other hand runs up and down your thigh, teasing you as it comes so close to your heat. He could tell you wanted it, the way your body stiffened once his hand just grazed against your panties under your skirt while the other cups your breast.

"Y/N, baby, how bad do you want me to touch your wet little pussy? Tell me, darling. Be honest," his rough fingers kneading the meat of your inner thigh. "Please touch me, Jake. I need it so bad," you practically moan, your hips involuntarily jutting forward once his fingers just barely touch your wet panties.

"Oh yeah? You wanna fuck my fingers, doll?" Jake's hand runs along the damp lace, applying almost no pressure. You manage to mumble out an 'mhm' bucking forward into his touch, your head dropped low and your eyes clamped shut in anticipation.

Jake's hand comes out from underneath your sweater to assist you in shimmying off your panties from underneath your skirt, throwing them over to your boyfriend. Suddenly embarrassed, you try to close your legs but Jake prys them open, hooking your legs over his thighs to keep your legs apart. "Oh Daniel, look at your sweet girl. So fucking wet..."

You give your boyfriend a small smile, watching his eyes darken as he stares at your glistening core, still teasing himself. "M'gonna touch you now, okay?" Jake speaks lowly into your ear, his hand slipping back up into your sweater and pushing your bra up past your breasts.

"Please..." You moan, grasping onto his thighs for dear life. Without hesitation, his hand meets with your clit "god you're so fucking wet, Y/N. Such a pretty little cunt."

You throw your head back with a moan, resting it against Jake's shoulder as his fingers speed up, rubbing tight circles over your weeping clit. "Let yourself feel it, pretty. How good does it feel sweetheart?"

"So good, Jake. Don't stop. Please don't stop," an embarrassingly loud moan escapes your lips as he slips his ring and middle fingers into you, his thumb flicking over your clit. You start to roll your hips into him, pushing yourself down onto his fingers harder. "Fuck," you whine "Oh Jake- fuck."

"Feel it, sweetheart. Just feel it," Jake whispers in your ear, curling his fingers up into you and hitting a particularly sweet spot. "Why don't you tell your boyfriend how good my fingers feel in you, darling?" The pace of his thumb flicking over your clit significantly speeds up, his fingers sweetly fucking into you. "I've heard that you like them."

You try to speak, but as you open your mouth a pornographic moan rips through your chest. He was taunting you. Every time you went to speak he would drive his fingers deeper into you. "Well? You gonna tell him?" Jake takes your jaw in his hand, lifting your head and forcing you to look at Danny, now slowly stroking himself.

"Jake's fingers feel so fucking good," you cry, continuing to fuck his fingers harder. "Do they feel as good as they look, baby?" Daniel growls, swirling his hand around his cock as his lust-blown eyes stay trained on you. "Mhm. So fucking good," Your hand moves from Jake's thigh to his incredibly hard bulge, palming him. "Careful," he drawls out, ramming his fingers into you and pressing down on your clit with his thumb in retaliation.

"Oh, Jake! " You cry, grasping onto his wrist. "Hands to yourself. Are you gonna be a good girl? Huh?" Jake slaps your hand away from him, grabbing both of your wrists and holding them tightly behind your back with one hand.

"Hm? Maybe if you're good I'll let you cum," his fingers slow down, languidly curling up into you while his thumb presses down against your sensitive bud.

You let out a huff, your eyebrows knitted together and your eyes clamping shut. You were there. The pressure building up in your stomach grew more and more intense with each second "Jake I'm- I'm gonna-"

Just as the band in your stomach is about to snap, Jake pulls his fingers from you. You let out a weak whimper at the loss of contact, dropping your head and accepting defeat. You knew if you said something you'd be robbed of another orgasm.

Jake lets you sit there and breathe for a moment, running his hand through your hair and rubbing your thighs. "On your knees," Jake growls, gently pressing his hand against the small of your back and gesturing to the floor. "From now on you call me sir."

A grin plays on your lips as you drop to your knees, facing your boyfriend and taking your bottom lip between your teeth. "Got it?" Jake grabs your hair, pulling your head back and forcing you to look at him.

"Yes, sir," you mutter, your cheeks flushed bright red. "Good girl," Jake smirks "Why don't you touch him, darling?" Jake grabs the back of your head, gently pushing it towards your boyfriend's cock, sitting up nice and pretty.

Without hesitation, you reach up and grab his cock, placing tiny pecks to his tip before slowly stroking up his length. Jake kneels beside you, holding your chin and placing kisses to your neck, his other hand sneaking around to hook under your sweater "arms up."

Jake helps slip your sweater off your body after you lift your arms, throwing it across the room. You quickly go back to stroking your boyfriend, chewing on your lower lips at that familiar feeling of his cock in your hand.

"Use that pretty mouth, sweet girl," Jake takes your hair in a ponytail, open mouth kissing your shoulders. A deep groan rumbles up from Danny's chest as you take him almost fully in your mouth, your hand tightly grasped onto the base of him.

You whine against Danny's cock as Jake's other hand snakes around your body and his fingers come into contact with your clit. "Just keep going, be a good girl and don't stop," Jake whispers in your ear, his raspy voice sending a shiver down your spine.

"Shit," Danny bucks his hips up, pushing himself further to your mouth with a groan. "You're doing so good," Jake praises, his fingers dancing over your sensitive clit. Tears form in your waterline and you moan against Danny's cock as Jake's fingers press against your clit.

The vibration of your voice against his cock paired with the feeling of your soft tongue dragging up & down his length is quick to bring him to the edge. On the other hand, Jake is killing you. His fingers dance along your clit, then quickly pull away as his lips drag along your neck. He repeats that sinister cycle over & over, driving you absolutely crazy.

Warm tears fall from your eyes as you try to ignore both your gag reflex and Jake teasing you. "Oh fuck," Danny groans, his hips jutting up and his cock twitching in your mouth. "You gonna let him fill up your pretty little mouth?" Jake speaks in between sloppy kisses to your back and neck.

Your eyebrows knit together, humming against your boyfriend and frantically nodding your head. "Shit Y/N- fuck," your hand squeezes around him and you take him deeper in your mouth, as if that was even possible. A harsh groan rips through Danny's chest as warm ropes of ivory paint your throat, instantly swallowing it all down.

"Fuck, Y/N you're so good," Jake takes your hair in his hands, forcing you to look up so that he can attack your neck. He stops at a soft spot behind your ear, babying it for a moment, eliciting whimpers from you before moving further down. "So sensitive.." Jake brings his arm around your body, toying with your breast.

"Get on the bed, princess," Danny slowly rises from his seat, Jake following after him. You wish you could sit there and admire the way they look hovering over you, their masculine statures making you feel so tiny.

"Aw she's all intimidated," Jake smirks down at you, resting his hands on his hips. "Are we making you nervous, love?" Danny leans down and pets your hair before grabbing your arm and pulling you up.

Jake takes you in his arms and practically throws you on the bed, quickly climbing on and spreading your legs apart. "You gonna let us use you? Hm? Like our little toy?" Jake purrs, flexing his fingers into your thigh. "Please..." you practically moan, the near animalistic way he's acting makes your cunt throb, begging to be touched in any way possible.

Your boyfriend sits beside you, his lips instantly finding your necks as Jake draws a slow line of kisses up your leg. "Please," you whine, leaning your head back, granting Danny more access to your neck and spreading your legs even further for Jake.

"Poor girl wants it so bad," Jake mutters "and she's been so obedient." You feel Danny snicker against your neck, his hand coming up to knead your breast. "Please what, my girl?" Danny's kisses go lower and lower, his hands snaking behind your back to unclasp your bra.

You start to get fed up. "Please just fuck me. I don't care which one of you it is," you whine, grasping onto Danny's hair. "Oh sweetheart..." Jake smiles up at you, flexing his hand into the meat of your thigh "you can't always get what you want, y'know."

"Jacob, I have been nothing but submissive and sweet for you both an-" you interrupt yourself with a moan as Jake's fingers just barely come into contact with your needy clit. "Aww, can't you wait just a little longer, darling?" Jake lays kisses near your heat, kissing everywhere but the spot where you're aching for him.

"No, Jake. I-I can't," you whine and buck your hips up after Jake lays a kiss to your clit. "You're forgetting something, Y/N." Jake's cocky tone makes you roll your eyes, your hands massaging Danny's scalp as he continues to suck hickeys onto the skin of your clavicle. "You call me sir."

Jake's lips attach to your clit, a loud, desperate moan flying past your lips at the contact. "You gonna be a good girl and stop whining now? Hm?" He speaks between kisses to your soaked cunt. "Y-yes, sir," one of your hands let go of Danny's head to grasp onto Jake's hair.

"Oh fuck," you cry, involuntarily jutting your hips against Jake's mouth. "Mm, does that mouth of his feel good baby?" Daniel asks just before taking your nipple in his mouth, circling it with his tongue. "Mhm. So good," you breathlessly moan, rolling your hips into Jake's tongue.

Without warning, Jake slides two fingers into you. A loud, almost pornographic moan rips through your chest at the feeling. "She's so noisy," Jake chuckles, sharply curling his fingers up into a sensitive spot. You feel Danny snicker against your breast in agreement, sucking the supple skin of your breast into his mouth.

Jake finds a spot that makes you cry the loudest, babying that area until you're nothing but a sweaty, whimpering mess. "Oh god Jake please," your back comes up off the bed, squeaky breaths and moans flying from your open mouth. "That's not it, doll," Jake sends a sharp thrust of his fingers into you before sucking your clit into his mouth.

"Please sir," you cry, on the verge of tears. You feel Jake snicker against your heat, rewarding you with a sweet curl of his fingers up into you. Your eyes roll back into your head, your hands flying to Danny's back and digging into his muscle.

"Holy shit. I'm gonna- oh fuck," your thighs tremble and your fingers dig so deep into Danny's back you fear you might've broken skin.

For the second time, Jake completely pulls away from you. "I'm sorry sweetheart I promise you can cum soon. Just be patient love," Danny hums, pressing a sweet kiss to the base of your neck.

"Such a good girl," Jake praises, smoothing his hands over your thighs. Jake and Danny switch places, Danny settling in between your thighs as Jake's lips smash against your jaw.

"You ready, princess?" Danny grasps the base of his cock, pumping at a painfully slow pace. "Please fuck me, Danny," you moan, reaching down to toy with your clit. Jake chuckles against your neck at your response to Danny, sitting up to unbutton his pants.

As Danny teases your entrance, you reach over to unbutton Jake's shirt, your hands shakily fumbling the buttons. Jake gets his pants down, revealing the incredible tent in his boxers.

Jake juts his hips forward and pets your hair, silently telling you to touch him. Just as you grab his cock, Danny slowly starts to sink his tip into you, a whimper falling past your lips and your hands growing even more shaky.

"c'mon sweetheart. Just focus," Jake runs his hands through your hair, his hips slightly swiveling. Taking your bottom lip between your teeth, you pull Jake's cock from his boxers. You marvel at it for a moment, taking in all the veins and admiring how hard he is in your hand. He's even bigger than you'd expected, and not to mention, deliciously thick.

"She's in awe, Daniel," Jake snickers, moving a damp piece of hair that was stuck to your face. You hear a low laugh come from Danny's chest as you start to stroke Jake's cock.

Your hands tremble around Jake as Danny continuously teases your cunt, desperate whines falling past your lips. "Let me feel your pretty little mouth, darlin," Jake purrs, his hips jutting forward.

Without hesitation, you take him in you mouth. At the same time, Danny slides into you and stretches you out with one painfully slow thrust. You mumble and moan against Jake, one of your hands finding Danny's locs of curls.

Jake grabs the back of your head, holding you still and forcing his cock down your throat, repeating the action as Danny starts to unapologetically thrust into you. An advantage Danny had that Jake didn't, was that he knew every one of your spots. He knew what would have you falling apart in front of him.

Your eyebrows knit together as you look at your boyfriend, moaning against Jake's cock. "Eyes on Jake, baby," Danny growls, sending a sharp thrust against a sweet spot.

Your eyes clamp shut at the feeling, but when you look back at Jake, he's got a sick grin on his face "Hi princess." Jake pets your hair before his hand snakes down your abdomen, your body covering with goosebumps at the feeling of his rough fingertips dragging down your bare tummy. An embarrassingly loud moan escapes your mouth and vibrates against Jake's cock once Jake starts to toy with your clit.

"Danny, you never told me this sweet girl of yours is so damn filthy," Jake rasps, rubbing sweet circles over your clit. Your eyes clamp shut, you were already almost there. The repeated loss of every orgasm so far has reduced you to nothing but a whining, sensitive mess.

"Oh baby," Danny purrs, thrusting so deep into you as you squeeze and quiver around him. Deep groans rumble up from both Danny and Jake's chests, the feeling of Danny ramming into you mixed with the sweet feeling of Jake's fingers against your needy swollen clit brings tears to your eyes. Not to mention the way Jake's cock is nearly going down your throat.

Jake lets go of your head to wipe hot tears from your cheeks, almost instantly returning the hand to where it was and thrusting even further into your mouth. "So so good for us," Jake whispers, punctuating his words with thrusts into your mouth. Danny doesn't fail to hit every single spot inside of you, you wouldn't be surprised if he'd found a new one.

Moans rip through your chest and you writhe beneath both of them, serving as a warning that you're close. Your eyes clamp shut once again, you're unable to keep quiet against Jake's cock, moans falling from your lips like a waterfall. "Fuck Y/N," you hear Jake groan above you and you open your eyes, watching him as he sends one final thrust into your mouth before his warm release spurts into your mouth.

He keeps you there, forcing you to swallow down every last drop of his release. "So good, Y/N," Jake runs his hand through your damp hair as he pulls out of your mouth. "Oh fuck. Danny!" You cry, grasping onto Jake's wrist for support.

Danny grabs the back of your head, pulling you up by your neck and smashing his lips against yours before dropping you back on the bed. "Oh- I'm close Danny I'm gonna-" you interrupt yourself with a loud, squeaky moan as Jake continues to rub circles over your clit and Danny babies a sweet spot deep within you.

You go to speak, but all that comes out is a high pitched squeak. Your eyes clamp shut and your nails dig into the flesh of Jake's arm "oh fuck- oh my god." Your orgasm creeps up on you, your head going blurry and your body shaking.

For the third time straight, you're robbed of release. Jake moves his hand and Danny pulls himself from you, grasping his cock and stroking it. With one final tug, warm ropes of ivory paint your throbbing heat and tummy. Tears swell up on your waterline and you cover your hot face with your hands, so overwhelmed by everything.

They let you lay there for a moment, collecting yourself as they smooth their hands over your body and wipe away your tears, telling you how good you are.

"c'mon baby, it's Jake's turn," Danny sits on the bed beside you, pressing a kiss to your cheek. Jake moves to be where Danny was, a sick look in his eyes as he looks down at your unfortunately soaked cunt.

Without warning, he flips you around, pushing your cheek into the warm sheets and eliciting a small giggle from you. His rough hands smooth over your ass, flexing his fingers into the meat before his thumb comes down to toy with your entrance.

"Fu- Jake please," you whine into the sheets, swiveling your hips for him. You're sure under normal circumstances he'd continue to tease you and make you suffer for longer, but he probably pities you.

With a low chuckle, Jake grabs the base of his cock and drags his tip through your arousal drenched folds. That alone elicits a whiney moan, so when he thrusts into you and stretches you out with one swift movement an incredibly loud moan rips through your chest.

"So fucking tight," Jake groans, pulling nearly all the way out of you before coming back down and hitting a sensitive spot. "Oh Jake!" You cry, pushing yourself back further onto his cock as Danny runs his hand along your back.

"Does it feel good baby? Does my cock feel good in your sweet little pussy?" Jake growls, his fingers digging into the flesh of your hips, pulling you into him to go even deeper. You frantically nod your head, moans falling from your lips in strings until you can finally moan out a 'yes'.

Jake lays a slap against your ass, the sting eliciting a breathy moan. It's clear he loved whenever you would make the loudest noises, especially when he got you to moan his name. "So fucking filthy," Jake's arm snakes around your waist, pulling you up to be flush against his chest. "Letting us use you like our little fuck toy."

The hand not holding you against him finds your clit, rubbing tight circles to the swollen bud. "Oh fuck- oh my god," you whimper, writhing against Jake's body and struggling to keep your composure. "How good does he feel, love?" Danny tucks a piece of your hair behind your ear, cupping your sweaty cheek and stroking it with his thumb.

"So fucking good. He feels so good," you moan, grasping onto Danny's wrist. You hear Jake snicker by your ear, sending a particularly rough thrust into you. "And here I thought you were all innocent," Jake punctuates his words with sharp thrusts, letting go of your waist and grabbing your hair in a ponytail, holding you against him by just your hair as you grasp onto Danny's shoulders

You look at Danny, your incredibly fucked-out expression causing him to snicker. His hands reach up to cup your face, taking you into a sweat kiss in contrast to the rough, unapologetic way Jake's fucking into you.

Jake's cock has completely robbed you of every one of your remaining thoughts, the only thing on your mind being how good he feels. You pull away from Danny's sweet lips, gasping for air as Jake steals the air from your lungs.

"Oh god-" you cry, letting go of Danny's shoulder to grasp Jake's wrist, the feeling of his fingers against your clit becoming almost too much. Danny reaches up to toy with your breasts, taking your nipple in his mouth and taking the bud between his teeth.

Jake's fingers speed up around his clit, his hips rolling into sweet spots and his tip brushing against your cervix. "St- too much," you cry, your orgasm creeping up on you and making itself present. Your hands pull on Danny's curly tresses of hair, your eyes shut so tight it would take a crowbar to pry them open.

You never thought of yourself as a screamer, that is until you feel your orgasm approach. Disgusting strings of profanities and moans erupt from your mouth, you make noises you didn't even know you could make. Jake slows down a bit, making sure he doesn't hurt you or overwhelm you more than you already are, if that was even possible.

"Holy fuck! Jake I'm gonna- I'm," you're unable to finish your sentence before your orgasm shakes your body, rushing through every limb and vein. It's something you're sure you've never felt before, nearly 10x more intense due to the repeated loss of release leading up to now.

Jake's hot release spurts inside you, painting your walls with ivory slick. As Jake lowers you back down to the bed, Danny takes your face in his hands, holding your forehead against his, helping you come back down to earth with a soothing touch.

You go to open your mouth and say something, but all that comes out is a squeaky breath. Danny's unable to hold back the small laugh at your current state, his thumbs caressing the warm surface of your cheeks.

You open your eyes, offering a weak smile to your boyfriend and pressing a kiss to his pretty red lips. "Ready?" You hear Jake behind you, his hands smoothing over the raw skin of your ass. "N- not yet," you breathlessly whisper, cuddling up into your boyfriend's warm body. "Just tell me when, sweetheart," Jake leans over, kissing the skin of your back.

After enough time passes, you give Jake the yes to pull out. Jake's hands dig into the meat of your ass, bearing himself as he starts to pull himself from you. You suck in a breathy moan, a mix of both yours and Jake's juices dripping down your thigh almost instantly after he pulls out.

Danny settles into the bedpost, helping you flip back around and letting you lay on him as Jake gets a cloth wet to clean you up. "You think people are worried?" You giggle, looking up at Danny and reaching for his cheek.

"Well, you were pretty loud," Danny huffs a laugh, his hand running through your hair "but it is a party. It's bound to happen." Your cheeks burn red in embarrassment, knowing people definitely heard just how loud you were being.

Jake comes back with the cloth, his pants loose around his hips and his chest glistening with a thin layer of sweat. "Poor girl," Jake settles in front of you, bringing the damp cloth to your thighs. "She looks so fucked-out," Jake chuckles, paying extra care to make sure not to bother you as he cleans you up.

"Thank you," you smile, taking the back of Jake's neck in your hand and pressing a kiss to his cheek before attempting to stand up.

"You ready to be interrogated?" Danny jests, helping you slip your lingerie and clothes back on your body. "Really funny," you roll your eyes, your cheeks still flushed red with embarrassment.

"Yeah you might be joking but you forget how nosy my brothers are," Jake drives his elbow into Danny's side as he buttons his shirt.

"Yeah well if I get asked one question I'm jumping out of the window," you move your damp hair away from your neck, tying it up with an old hair tie you had on your wrist.

"Thanks Jake, I had fun," you smirk, standing on weak legs and pulling him into a hug before grabbing your boyfriend's hand and leading him out, Jake following suit behind you.

[whereianonymouslypostfics]

Out of Commission

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x reader

Word count: ~500

Summary: Wanda’s broken her wrist..

A/N: I don’t know what corner of my mind this came from. Short and sweet(ish) 

Warnings: fluff, mentions of injury, smut-ish

“Yes, Y/n! God, please keep-.”

You and Wanda had been stuck in your rooms at the compound for nearly a week. Wanda had broken her wrist last week during a fight and you’d forced her to take time off to let it heal. You’d even taken the days off of work to keep her company. You initially spent time watching television while talking and eating, but this had turned into another way to kill time relatively quickly. You’d been reluctant at first because you didn’t want to hurt your wife, but Wanda started to get desperate and you were only so strong.

You set rules of course to minimize chance of injury, and Wanda couldn’t really complain when she benefited from each and every one. The first rule was that she wasn’t allowed to use her right arm at all. She could use her left but that wasn’t easy for her and it turned cumbersome. Whether it was your turn or hers to take charge she wasn’t allowed to touch you at all with that hand. She’d hated it at first but now that she was on her back and rolling her hips against your face with her left hand buried in your hair, she didn’t mind at all.

“Oh fuck. Oh god!”

“Oh god!”

You stop cold and hurry to sit up at the sound of the door slamming shut. You realize that was Pietro’s voice as Wanda jerks up and turns toward the door with a scowl.

“PIETRO!”

Pietro had been looking for his sister to see if she finally wanted to get out of her rooms. It had been a week since she’d gotten hurt and she’d barely left her room since. This was mostly due to your desire to get her to rest and make sure she doesn’t injure herself further. He wanted to make sure Wanda wasn’t going stir crazy because he was well aware that his sister needed to keep busy in order to not get bored. He’d been looking out for her when he went to find her and invite her to lunch.

He failed to realize that you were the one eating out at the moment.

When he hears his sister yelling for him, he considers fleeing. He actually starts to back away toward the door when the one he’d just slammed opens, and you come hurrying out with a harried look.

“Piet, you really should knock you know!”

You stand in front of him with your hands on your hips hoping that you don’t look as embarrassed as you feel. You’d just been caught in the act by your brother-in-law, and you don’t think you could be any more mortified. Luckily Pietro looks a little shamefaced too and he just nods in agreement before scratching the back of his neck with an awkward smile.

“Yeah, I should. Didn’t really want to see you with your face in my sister’s-“

“Pietro!”

Masterlist

[frozenjokes]

honestly abysmal hurt/comfort

convex week day 6 - natural/artificial - prev/next

@convexweek

For the most part, the comings and goings of the celestials in Cub’s system were pretty hands off. If he wanted to know whenever a moon came or went, he could, but typically these things weren’t strictly necessary, the relatively small size of his system making it reliably self sufficient. But there were ways to reach Cub if need be; most celestials that did reach out were asking for special permission to see the Earth, requests that were denied 99.9% of the time. Honestly, Cub wouldn’t even bother checking his mail if not for the extremely important mandatory random check in events, surveys put in place specifically to keep lazy suns like Cub on top of their messages. He was only allowed a few accidental misses per every dozen years or so, and failure to comply indicated a possible case for negligence and subsequent removal from the position. Annoying, but not anything life ruining; truthfully, it was probably a good thing to keep suns on their toes in case of an emergency.

Luckily, there were certain barriers Cub could put in place to keep just anyone from piling up messages in his inbox, but that didn’t stop him from sifting through (throwing out) hundreds of requests a day. You’d think this number would go down in the immediate aftermath of the Earth system being open for an entire month, and you would be wrong.

Cub rarely got past the names before setting nuisance letters aflame, but just as he was getting in his groove, there was one name that stopped Cub short. He held the message for a long while, just held it, he couldn’t bear to read it yet. He set it aside.

Cub did not know what to expect from Scar. Cub didn't want to see him, and simultaneously needed to, because fuck, right? Cub was beyond embarrassed, humiliated, he’d lost his fucking mind in front of a stranger and for what? He supposed he got what he wanted. You can’t fake that kind of distress. It’d just been so long since..

It didn’t really matter now, did it. The request had been granted, so now all Cub had left to do was wait.

Why did Scar even want to come back? Cub didn’t really believe Scar cared if he’d let this happen in the first place. He’d extended zero sympathy for Cub’s pleas to remove the training aids from his sentencing. Did Scar only change his mind when he saw the consequences for himself? Would he have changed his mind on the entire sentence when Cub inevitably lost it regardless, likely in front of a crowd of hundreds of stars. Cub was honestly shocked he’d lasted so long, but it was surely the aids that suppressed him; the Cub in front of the crowds was just a robot, the real thing hiding away deep within his own subconscious. He couldn’t remember a single conversation he’d had. He didn’t even remember being taken away by Scar until he was free, and even after he’d run, Cub was left with only the vaguest memory that something was wrong on Saturn.

Cub huffed a small breath. It didn’t matter. He would let time pass.

…

Cub did not want to initiate the conversation here, but Scar was really really bad at seeing him. Cub had been borderline trailing him for a few hours now, but Scar only looked directly through him, impressively unperceptive.

Wait, was Scar blind? Had Scar been blind this whole time? His whole face got blown up, it would make sense if he was blind, but Cub didn’t even know celestials could have those kinds of disabilities, it wasn’t like their forms were static or anything. Well, in that case, he should probably say something.

“I’m over-“ Cub didn’t get to finish before Scar screamed, fuck- “Can you fucking stop doing that! It’s fucking obnoxious and fucking scary when you just start yelling, fuck!”

Scar stood like a deer in the headlights, blank eyes wide and hands tight over his heart. “You just- you just scared me! You come out of nowhere every time!” Cub bristled, about to snap back before Scar raised placating hands, lowering his posture. “I’m sorry. Wasn’t trying to be loud, I just spook easily.” Scar pursed his lips, drawing a hand to the back of his head. “You’re not the only person who’s fed up with it.”

Cub wished he would stop shaking. He wished he didn’t feel so fragile. “It’s fine..” he mumbled, “I’m just. Recovering.”

“I’m sorry.” No space was left between Cub’s last word and Scar’s first, the words falling like an uncoordinated attack. “Cub, I’m really, truly sorry. The damage was done, I can’t take it back or make it better, but that- that section of the sentencing, the training aid, that was-“ Scar’s hand moved to one of his temples, and he seemed to need it to support his head, “I honestly don’t know what to say. In all my years, I never knew what those aids actually were. I’d heard of them, but I never-“

“You didn’t know?” Cub’s suspicion was blatant, and Scar shrank back.

“It’s okay if you don’t believe me,” Scar said it like this was very much was not okay, and Cub got the sense he hadn’t prepared for this to be the part of his ‘apology’ that got rejected, “But I- I just wanted you to know. I think- I mean, seeing what it did to you-“

It was Cub’s turn to flinch, his breath quickening. He didn’t want to be here, he didn’t want to be here, why had he let Scar come back?

Scar must have noticed, continuing on like a bomb laden timer was locked around his neck, “Regardless of the purpose, I wanted- I wanted to start some kind of investigation, one I highly doubt anything will happen because of it, but I think it’s important, important to try, right? Obviously yours is an extreme case, those chips aren’t meant to be used in that way and the neglect made everything worse, but the whole idea- it’s barbaric, isn’t it? That’s terrifying! And it’s making me wonder about how many modern issues in sun management are shaped by the way suns are trained- I wanted to ask you, I want to know everything, and most sun-stars won’t talk to me for obvious reasons, like, I could disguise myself like I did before, but it’s such- Cub-? Cub? Are you-?”

Lightheadedness brought Cub to a sitting position, and it wasn’t long before his head was between his knees. He was full, too full, the walls of his form were bursting, he could feel it, energy, pushing at the top of his head and especially behind his ears and his stomach, his hips, his knees, no, NO, this couldn’t be happening again!

A fierce cold seized his hands, and Cub gasped real air he’d been failing to breathe. He gaped at nothing as his mind blinked, then quieted, leaving behind the phantom trace of pressure, and little else. Stupidly, he looked at his hands. Scar’s own were locked around them.

Violently, Cub yanked himself away, scrambling unsteadily to his feet. “Don’t touch me!”

“I’m sorry!” Scar jumped back in turn, looking as frightened as Cub felt, “I’m being insensitive.”

“You are.”

“I’ll go.”

“No. Stay.” Cub put his head in his hands, not recognizing the words coming out of his own mouth. “I’m very- very hot. Too hot. I need to cool off.”

“Oh! Oh! I can do that!” Scar puffed out his cheeks, squeezing his eyes shut and blasting Cub with a wave of ice so strong it nearly knocked Cub off his feet. Maybe Cub made a noise, because Scar startled, reaching to steady him until Cub batted him away.

“Stop fucking touching me! Go away! Leave me alone!”

Scar didn’t need to be told twice, and Cub didn’t wait for him to scamper out of sight before collapsing in on himself with a hoarse sob. Why was Cub like this. Why did he have to be so stupid, little more than a breeze knocking him off balance into a complete breakdown. And he was cold, now he was so cold, whatever Scar had done made the frost stick to Cub’s form like a stubborn stain, just another terrible feeling to add to his mounting list of positively wretched sensations.

Cub wasn’t sure how much time passed when he sensed someone near, looking up from his stupor and freezing at the silhouette of a human, black as night. It waved, quiet as a ghost. Tentatively, Cub waved back. Hallucinations were a new one, a little concerning, but Cub didn’t find himself overly alarmed. It was odd, yes, but strangely.. peaceful. Somewhere to rest his eyes.

Slowly, it crept closer, though not in any ominous sort of way; it moved almost like it was playing a game, like if its steps were small enough, Cub wouldn’t notice it was trying to sneak closer. Cub could’ve been amused. It was easy to be amused with a shadow.

And then the shadow got closer and its shape got clearer and any gentle amusement drained out of Cub when he realized this was just Scar. Well, a Scar shaped hallucination more likely. Cub had never known a moon to change this color.

“I’m sorry,” the Maybe-Scar whispered, “I panicked. I wanted to help. I did not help.”

“Are you real.”

“What?” Maybe-Scar seemed to be shocked out of its commitment to whispering, “Oh- Yeah! I thought you might find this cool since you like the dark spots. I kinda broke when I got blown up, so I don’t really generate cold in the same way other moons do. I can keep frost for some time! I can also expel it! I thought you might find that cool. You did not. I’ve always kinda wondered if I would catch fire if I stayed on a sun long enough, but I don’t generally spend a lot of time on stars if I can help it. Not that I don’t want to be here of course!”

“I told you to go.”

“I was going to!” Scar gave no other explanation.

“Great. Then do that.”

“Well, but then I heard you crying..” Scar pursed his lips when Cub frowned, but did not stop, “and I thought, hey! Cub likes all those dark spots that won’t take on frost anymore, I bet he’d love it if I was all dark!”

“You feel guilty.”

“..Unusualy perceptive of you..”

“Don’t think I haven’t seen the aftermath of a guilty moon thousands of times. It’s obnoxious, and I don’t care. I’ve had enough of humiliating myself in front of you, stop fishing for ammo to use against me for round two.”

Scar cocked his head. “What? Cub, I’m not taking you back to court. I can not like you while also recognizing that what you were put through back there was cruel. Honestly, the vulnerability I’ve seen out of you makes me feel a lot better about how things shook out- it terms of you not having your position stripped, I mean. Sometimes I see a sun go back to their system and I just know they’re going right back to their old ways- it makes you feel so hopeless.”

Cub whirled on him, seething hot enough to make the last of the frost melt away, “What a relief that you were at your highest when I’m at my lowest, you fucking piece of shit.”

“I- Oh god, that was a pretty horrible thing to say, huh. I really- I just wanted you to know I’m not coming after you anymore. I don’t want to hurt you even if- even if I’m doing a pretty bang up job right now.. Listen, my bill is piling up for the list of things I don’t have a way to compensate you for, but I think.. I don’t know. A favor. I owe you a favor, more than one after today. I can’t make any of this right, but I want to make it better. I thought maybe- maybe you’d be interested in investigating those training aids, those chips, working to get them taken out of the sun program altogether, even if that’s a bit of a pipe dream I know.. I think maybe you also know by now I get a little caught up in the things I want for the reasons I want them. But I really- I want to know what you want.”

“I want you to go away.”

“Anything else?”

“I never want to see another star as long as this sun lives, and when it burns out, I want to die with it.”

“Well then, it’s a good thing I’m not a star!”

“Stars, and moons with names that rhyme with ‘star,’” Cub amended, and Scar stalled for a moment, looking at his fingers as if counting on them would aid in processing which moons had names that fit the bill.

“Hey!” Scar declared, belatedly, “I can’t think of a single reason you’d never want to speak to me again.”

“Seriously.”

“I was joking.”

“Oh.” Cub paused, squinting. “I was also joking.” With Scar only being a silhouette, it was impossible to tell if he bought this, but Cub chose to believe he did.

“Y’know, you might want to reconsider the rhyming thing, there’s a whole bunch of moons called Scar out there, you might be ruling out some really awesome celestials to watch over your system!”

Cub shrugged, “They can work here, but they can’t talk to me. I prefer this tenet apply to everyone, actually.”

“What if there’s an emergency?”

“I will make an exception for emergencies.”

“What if they’ve grown up learning about the brilliant sun, Cub, and think you’re super awesome and mysterious and have been wanting to meet you their entire life so they work super hard to climb all your weird barriers and get put on the worst waitlist of all time just to find out they missed a rare once-in-a-hundred-years window of opportunity to be a moon in your system for the sixth time and they’re really losing their cool and tempted to quit but they don’t because they love you so much and then they finally get in and find out you don’t speak to moons whose names rhyme with ‘star’ but surely you’ll see them because they’ve been dreaming of your their whole life?”

“That sounds like my worst fucking nightmare. Absolutely not.”

Scar laughed, slapping his knee, “You’re terrible!”

“Do you ever stop talking.”

“I’ve been told not.”

Cub huffed a sharp breath through his nose. “Have you gotten the hint that I want you to stop talking and also leave me alone forever.”

“What!? Cub! My feelings, you’re hurting them! And here I thought we were growing to be friends.”

“I seriously have no fucking clue where you got that idea from. You have been at best unbearable this entire visit.”

Scar shook his head, sheepish and somehow just as nonchalant, “I was like, half joking.”

“Explain.”

“I was joking about being friends, but not joking that I kind of like you. At least a little bit. Maybe I don’t like you, I just find you utterly fascinating, like life on a planet I’ve never seen before. You’ve got so many walls up all the time and you’re firing cannonballs at the people who knock on the outer ring, but when you get through that outer ring you’re kinda like yeah it was obvious before that this guy is deeply, deeply miserable, but he’s also really fucked up in all kinds of magical ways. How’d he get like that? You, me, kinda want to know. He’s also kinda funny, and he’s always been kinda funny, but he’s so miserable he doesn’t have any idea. Maybe he’s not funny, but he just has a way of delivering sentences that’s very silly especially when he’s not trying to be. Not that I think you have any silly inside of you. Maybe like. Deeeeeep down. Deep.”

“Great. I can’t stand you. Leave forever.”

“Y’know, you keep asking me to go, but I can’t help but notice your ass is planted right here next to me, no signs of going anywhere. If I was a betting man, I just might say you’re enjoying my company!”

Cub blinked. He’s forgotten that was an option. Not a moment later and he was gone, relishing in the immediate, exquisite quiet.

He squinted. His eyes returned to their strain. Damn. In the distinct lack of Scar’s mindless chatter, his thoughts returned to their dark, his skin reverting to its typical itch of constant irritation. Damn. This sucked. Too bad it was going to suck forever and there was absolutely zero things Cub could do about it.

[whencyclopedia]

The Iraq Museum & Three Wars: Three Steps from Hell

This article documents and elaborates on the many critical behind-the-scenes events, unknown to the public, before the history leaves us.

The author

The bulk of the “the land between the two rivers” lies in what we call today the Republic of Iraq. People have been living there, around and between the Euphrates-Tigris system for thousands of years. The earth of this land has been irrigated by these two rivers and throughout several millennia, a multitude of cultures, city-states, and empires flourished in Mesopotamia, resulting in a gradual development in each and every aspect of human life. However, the interaction between them was not always peaceful. Wars, military confrontations, and political coalitions, driven by the perspective of “the victors and the vanquished”, have made the land ever eager for blood instead of water. Throughout the history of the region, no one knows how many people have been killed in clashes between countless different rivals. The last actor in this continuous black comedy was the so-called Islamic State in Iraq and the Levant, which has been irrigating Mesopotamia with different types of blood, from all around the world.

Wars and blood, instead of peace, doves, and flowers, dominated and shaped Mesopotamian history. Iraq, the legitimate heir of this legacy (by the order of destiny), the core of the Cradle of Civilizations, still bleeds. The Iraq Museum in Baghdad was officially opened on June 14, 1926 CE. The current building in Al-Salihiyyah District was completed in 1963 CE. Located within the heart of the Republic of Iraq’s capital city, Baghdad, this great Museum of the human being and humanity’s history has sustained several “life-threatening and function-threatening” events. The Iraq Museum’s existence and persistence have been punctuated by three devastating wars within a relatively short period of time.

The Iraq-Iran War, 1980-1988 CE

A military conflict erupted in September 1980 CE between Iraq and its neighbor, Iran, resulting in the longest war in the 20th century. The war lasted for 8 years and ended on August 8, 1988 CE. These 8 years left their thumbprint on Mesopotamian history and resulted in a negative impact on the Iraq Museum. According to Iraqi laws, museums should close in wartime. At the beginning of the 1981 CE, the contents of the galleries of the Iraq Museum were packed and stored inside the museum itself. The large Assyrian stone slabs and several statues were left in situ, protected by foam and sandbags. This had rendered the museum virtually inactive; however, it was not closed officially. People simply ceased visiting the museum, as the galleries were somewhat empty. In 1983 CE, the construction of a new wing had increased the number of the museum’s halls and galleries from 13 to 23; the Babylonian-Chaldean, Hatra, Islamic, Manuscripts, and Coins halls received the bulk of this expansion. Some of the stored contents were re-displayed again and the new galleries were filled in with many artifacts. However, this short period was terminated rapidly with the escalation of the war. Once again, the relics were packed and stored and the museum’s halls were lifeless. Luckily, the Museum escaped damage incurred by the so-called “War of the Cities” between 1984-1988 CE (where both Iraq and Iran bombarded different cities haphazardly, resulting in the deaths of thousands of non-combat civilians and wide-spread civilian infrastructure attrition. When the war ended in August 1988, the museum’s day-to-day operations were mainly administrative; the public was not here.

Continue reading...

[storiesbyjes2g]

3.122 Sweet potato

I bought a robe. Since there'd be three of us soon, I figured my days of walking around half naked in the morning were over. It's strange that this piece of clothing, not my wife's growing belly, made me feel like a dad. I wasn't the most stylish dresser to begin with, but I'd never owned anything so...mature looking. Not that maturity was a sign of fatherhood. Maybe it just reminded me of my own dad. Sophia entered the second trimester late last night, so we decided to go to the doctor and make sure everything was okay. We also opted to discover the gender, if possible.

We ate slowly, gushing and speculating about what our child would be and what we should call it. Like me, Sophia wasn't concerned about the baby's gender and just wanted a smooth pregnancy and a successful birth. Part of me wanted a boy just to add more male energy in my life, but I would be totally happy with a girl. Mama gave Less and I our grandparents' names, and while that was an honorable thing to do, I wasn't sure I wanted to repeat that. Not saying my parents didn't deserve to have anyone named after them, but I didn't want my child to be haunted by relatives it hardly knew. My sister was named after Gammy, but she had no memory of her and never showed an interest in learning about her. My grandfathers, Luca and Winston, passed on way before my parents even met. I barely knew anything about those guys. Hopefully, my parents would be around long enough to develop lasting relationships with my children, but they're running short on days and won't be around forever. I think it's best to just give our kids their own names, but we'll see. It's not completely off the table.

At the hospital, we arrived at our appointment early, but just like always, we sat in the room and waited an eternity for the doctor to arrive. The room was cold and had colorful medical posters plastered over the bland beige walls. Some of them made me laugh because they were so corny, but I suppose corny art was better than boring, authoritative posters. Finally, the doctor hurried in and introduced herself. Dr. Kira McKnight was her name, and she was gorgeous with long, thick hair, just like Sophia's and smooth looking cocoa skin. I could be wrong, but she looked to be maybe just a few years older than us.

Before she turned on the machine and showed us the magic, she and Sophia chatted about the pregnancy. Sophia said she'd been feeling great and hadn't been sick at all. Dr. McKnight was surprised and said she was a blessed woman. From the sounds of it, Alessia would agree. Overall, the doctor seemed very satisfied with Sophia's answers to her questions, and that relieved me. I didn't expect that anything would be wrong, but we couldn't take anymore bad news.

She fired up the machine, put the cold jelly on Sophia's womb, and invited me to come watch the show. The wand glided back and forth across Sophia's belly, searching for our little celebrity. Finally, Dr. McKnight said, "there you are!" She pointed at a certain part of the screen, saying that was our baby. It didn't look like much, honestly--just a big ball of goo. But it was my ball of goo, and I loved it. Luckily, she zoomed in so we could see the details, and I saw a head, fingers, and toes! It was my baby!! After taking some measurements, she said the baby was a good size, probably about the size of a sweet potato.

"Awwww," Sophia cooed. "Our little sweet potato, Luca!"

I could tell from her puppy dog eyes and the way she said it, sweet potato was definitely going to be a thing. It was a cute nickname; I guess.

"Can you tell what it is yet?" I asked.

Dr. McKnight wielded that wand, fishing around for something. Probably the thing.

"I'm looking. It hasn't shown me yet." She kept moving the wand back and forth until she found what she was looking for. "Ah ha! I just needed her to move that leg."

"Her?!" Sophia and I both shouted.

"Yep! It's a little girl."

A little girl. Finally, we could stop calling her "it!" I'm a girl dad!! That news filled me with so much joy. A smile spread across my face, and happy tears glistened my eyes and rolled down my cheek. The anxiety I had felt earlier disappeared, leaving only immense love for my daughter. Love and excitement and relief, that is. Every cell in my body seemed to jump for joy as a warmth came over me. If Dub's baby is also a girl, maybe our kids would also be best friends.

"I would tell you the worst is over now, but you've been on easy street already," the doctor said. "You still may experience fatigue, but it won't be so bad. The baby has all her organs and systems now, so she's gonna start growing, getting longer and heavier, so your back might bother you from time to time. She'll start moving around soon."

"That sounds so magical," Sophia said.

"Oh, and you also may start feeling contractions."

Even though I knew that was part of the process, something inside me just panicked.

"Contractions?!"

She giggled.

"Don't worry. It's completely normal. They'll be mild and won't last long, but it's important to know it's normal. The baby isn't trying to come early. No need to panic, okay?"

"I understand," Sophia said.

"Now, I don't like this next part, but I have to tell you," the doctor continued. "I see you just had a birthday yesterday?"

"Yes."

"Okay. You're still young age-wise, but your body is not. Adult pregnancies can be hard. You seem to be doing great so far, but if you start experiencing other symptoms, just know it comes with the territory. There's nothing wrong with you. It just is what it is. Relax as much as you can and keep stress as low as possible."

She asked if we had questions, then left us to await the nurses to run additional tests. Now that Sophia was pregnant, our lives could go back to being more joyful and carefree, so I wasn't concerned about the stress part. But of course, I would do everything within my power to make sure Sophia's life was as easy as possible. The only problems she would have during this pregnancy would be within her own body on my watch.

[film-in-my-soul]

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Summary: He knows that in order to get James back, he must first deal with Bond.

just a number in your mind | 1,822 | skylights / @frijae

Summary: “I’m a grown man, 007, not a teenage girl that you need to wine and dine.” “And if I want to wine and dine you regardless?” Bond is a dark silhouette against the window, leaning against the glass. Q inexplicably feels something inside him shift, subtle yet axis-tipping in its enormity.

Impulsion | 1,904 | beaubete / @beaubete

Summary: Before he leaves, Bond makes a request of Q. A silly request, and it's all well and good until it comes in the post.

Pet | 1,958 | beaubete / @beaubete

Summary: Q is learning something important about himself, albeit slowly.

Afire | 2,147 | beaubete / @beaubete

Summary: From a prompt on the 00Quties Kink Meme - Q unexpectedly goes into heat whilst his mate, Bond, is away on a mission. Luckily it's a relatively easy and short mission, so Q feels only a small amount of guilt when he calls Bond in the middle of it. Give me lots of desperate phone sex and Bond rushing home to take proper care of his omega

a bloodless coup | 4,334 | Ark / @et-in-arkadia

Summary: If Q is being truthful with himself, he's expected this for a while. Near everyone who's anyone has had a turn with James Bond. He imagines it's a bit like an initiation, the final stamp of welcome into the MI6 fold.

a rank above | 5,040 | thestalwartheart / @thestalwartheart

Summary: “You can look,” Bond says, with soft amusement. “I won’t bite your head off. Everyone else looks.”

The Haunting of Skyfall Lodge | 36,517 | BootsnBlossoms / @bootsnblossoms & Kryptaria / @kryptaria

Summary: All his life, Q has seen ghosts. For years, he's searched for scientific proof to back up what he knows to be true. Finally, he starts a YouTube channel to chronicle his adventures of exploring haunted sites. His latest location: Skyfall Lodge.

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[hibiscesque]

// A short ficlet with some thoughts abt SKK & dreams (or lack thereof); CW for hand-wavey trauma mentions.

After the tenth time Dazai revs up the volume to blast Crazy Frog on his headphones after Chuuya had—way more patiently than he should have, by the way—requested that he turn it the fuck down, Chuuya is done.

They say it's better to ask for forgiveness than permission, an adage that leaves him genuinely contemplating the merits of breaking Dazai's bones in alphabetical order now and apologizing to Mori-san for murdering his executive in cold blood later for a few moments. Luckily for Dazai, Chuuya is both an incredibly magnanimous partner and a little bit terrified of Mori-san when he's angry, so he settles for storming over to the other bed, ripping the headphones from Dazai's ears, and summarily snapping the cord over his knee.

Dazai, for his part, seems enragingly nonplussed by the turn of events.

"You're paying for that," he chirps, tossing the cord over into the trash and pulling out his handheld to start again on that dumb 1v1 he was playing through the entire meeting with their contact earlier today.

"God," Chuuya rages as the telltale automated beeping and imitation punching noises begin echoing through the room, "don't you ever sleep?"

"Nope!" Dazai informs him cheerfully, popping the P.

Chuuya breathes in. He breathes out. He tries not to burst every blood vessel in his brain out of sheer doneness with the disruptive, obnoxious, and downright diabolical creature who he has the misfortune to call a partner.

"We've been on this job for three days now," Chuuya points out, trying so hard to keep his voice even. "And you haven't so much as closed your eyes for more than ten seconds at a goddamn time."

Dazai raises an eyebrow at him as if he's just asked him to discuss the relative merits of licking up Vaseline like it's frosting.

"Yes," he says, like his actions over the last few days are perfectly reasonable and Chuuya is the crazy one. "Do you have a point?"

"You need sleep!" Chuuya snaps. "I'm not your freaking mother, I shouldn't have to tell you this!"

The other eyebrow artfully ascends to meet the first. "And you, former king of a gang of orphans and runaways from the slums, are telling me this because you're some kind of expert in what mothers tell their children."

Chuuya splutters, red hot piping rage squishing his heart like silly putty and shooting nitrified sriracha up his veins. "For the last time, I wasn't their ki—oh, FUCK you!"

"Sorry, not interested," Dazai trills, clearly only half paying attention to the conversation at this point as he mashes his fingers into his controller buttons.

"You know that wasn't what I—you know what? Nevermind. I don't even know why I try with you." Chuuya huffs and throws himself back against the bed, mashing a pillow into his face and letting out a groan so heavy-hitting it's almost a scream.

"I'm a saint," he muses, though the only response Dazai gives to that is the continual fighting noises from his game. "I'm a motherfucking saint."

He lets his breaths come in and out in a meditative pattern for a few minutes, trying to ease his nerves and burning rage for despicable mackerels enough to drift back into another couple of hours of uneasy sleep before rendezvous tomorrow. Infuriating beeping aside, he's almost managed it when a series of expletives hits the air in artful semantic form.

"Dammit!"

Chuuya turns just on time to see Dazai chuck his gaming machine to the side and groan a groan of the weary wicked.

"I'm going to regret asking this, but what?" Chuuya prods.

"My Nintendo died," Dazai mourns, starfishing across his bed—being the gangly sonuvabitch he is, all four of his limbs stick off the bed like candles out the sides of a cake.

"Good," Chuuya grumbles. "Now maybe you'll finally go to sleep."

He starts to roll over to try and catch whatever ZZZs are still possible at this point, but an even louder ruckus than before makes itself known on Dazai's side of the room and Chuuya hears his socked feet begin to pad toward the door.

"What is it now?" Chuuya demands.

"I'm going for a walk."

Chuuya thinks it is quite magnanimous of him not to scream like a banshee and tackle Dazai American football-style upon the registration of those words.

"It's three in the morning," Chuuya points out incredulously.

Kouyou had told him once that the most important part of keeping control of an argument is to make sure you remain calm. To make her point, she'd showed him some not-so-friendly repartee between two billionaire tech moguls—Bill Gates and the late Steve Jobs. As Jobs grew angrier and angrier through the course of their conversation, Gates remained calm, level, composed. By the end Jobs was all but screaming, sweating buckets and face ripe as a tomato, while Gates looked just about like he was out on a casual stroll smelling the roses.

"Who do you think won that argument?" she'd asked.

Chuuya had gotten the point.

He tries to remind himself of Kouyou's words now. Calm on top, he repeats to himself. Calm on top, calm on goddamn top.

"Just going to stretch my legs," Dazai titters a little too casually.

Fuck it.

"What the hell is up with you?" Chuuya demands, fists clenched as he shoots up in bed to bear his teeth at Dazai. "Why are you so fricking averse to sleeping, of all things? I know you think you're further along the evolutionary chain than the rest of us, but you still need to rest, you dolt!"

When he catches Dazai's gaze he is not expecting what he sees at all. Dazai has gone so stricken he's all but ossified, staring at Chuuya with an indescribable war in his burning dark eyes.

There is silence, for several moments, so loaded that Chuuya almost regrets his words. But then...

"What do you dream about?" Dazai blurts out.

Chuuya is so struck dumb by his question that his fists uncurl and his mouth drops open, a little.

"What?"

"Nevermind." Dazai huffs. "I'm gonna go on that walk." He begins to turn toward the door, but as Chuuya comes to himself a bit, he realizes he can't let that happen.

He's not—he's not stupid, you know, no matter what Dazai says. He knows why Dazai wants to know.

Very few people know— knew, in the Flags' cases—about Chuuya's little dream secret. And Dazai is, quintessentially, exactly the kind of person Chuuya would never want to let it slip to on both a personal and theoretical level. But whatever haunts Dazai at night is apparently horrid enough that he's pulled three all-nighters to avoid it, and that... doesn't sit right with Chuuya. If a moment of vulnerability, though Dazai's surely going to use it against him later, would be valuable to him in some way, make him feel better—or whatever the equivalent of feeling better is for a miserable creature like Dazai—Chuuya would be an asshole not to give it to him.

"I don't dream," Chuuya blurts out. 

When he's met only with silence, his lungs grow desperately uncomfortable in his chest, almost like his ribcage has grown a size too small. A little heady on the feeling, thirsty to stop it, he continues to run his mouth.

"I think it's… a side effect of whatever they did to me in the lab. I can't remember having a single dream, ever, in what I can remember of my life. Not while I was with the Sheep, and not now with the Port Mafia either. Not even after the whole N stuff. I thought—" 

Chuuya chuckles, and it feels more like an ache than amusement.

"I thought maybe all that electricity would have knocked something loose, but it didn't."

He looks down. Laugh-wheeze-chokes. "I shoulda been the one with an ability called No Longer Human, I guess. What kind of person doesn't even dream? Heh. Those, those sixty seconds you gave me, with Guivre. My choice. It wasn't me being selfless. I just already knew the answer. So yeah. Now you know. Make fun of me or whatever. I can take it."

He scrunches his eyes shut, preparing for the worst, because honestly, despite what he said, he's not sure if he can actually take being called inhuman by someone who somehow, despite being the least human person Chuuya knows, is also the most human person Chuuya has ever known. It would feel like a death knell, or something. The fall of a guillotine blade. The first shovelful of dirt tossed onto a coffin.

He'd told himself, when Mori had told him that story about the lead, when he'd driven by his parents' house, after everything with Verlaine, that he didn't need that answer either way. Because whether he was human or not, the Chuuya he was before the lab was dead. Because he's learned that there's more to being human than having once been a zygote. There's no one that's better proof of that than the people he's met while he's in the mafia.

But hearing that he's nothing but whatever whatsit lines of code from whip smart, fierce, brave, angry, apathetic, cruel, kind, hungry, unsatiable, childish, thousand-year-old Dazai would kill him, he thinks.

"No," Dazai says, right when Chuuya is about to implode with anticipation, and though Chuuya doesn't quite understand what he's talking about, he's surprised by the intensity. The lack of caustic mockery in his voice.

"'No' what?"

"You're so stupid," Dazai informs him.

Chuuya's eyebrows scrunch. "That is… not the reaction I was expecting."

"Dreams aren't what make us human," Dazai informs him, bowling over his words as if he hasn't spoken at all. "Dreams are just your subconscious' license to make you process your life in the cruelest and most awful way possible. Chuuya probably doesn't dream because he's so straightforward that he scares rulers. I promise you you're not missing out on—on humanity because you don't."

Chuuya stares. And stares. And stares some more.

Dazai scoffs. "Doesn't think he's human. I promise you if someone was gonna make a human they'd make sure to make them smarter than you. Your clone probably had double the IQ points."

"Fuck off," Chuuya snaps immediately, but maybe his chest is a little warm. Perhaps.

Then, because maybe he's also a little bit sadomasochistic, "What do you dream about anyway, Dazai?"

That gets the bastard. Dazai goes absolutely still.

"Come on." Chuuya scoffs. "You're not telling me that you're not going to spill the deets after making me pour my heart out. And don't tell me some shit like 'I dream about my perfect suicide' or 'I dream about you slipping on a banana peel and snapping your neck like a cheap pencil', because I'll actually strangle you if you do."

"Kinky," Dazai says, but his heart clearly isn't in it. He lets out a scoff of his own, rolling not just his eyes but his whole head until his neck pops with a snap. "Fine. I'll 'spill the deets', as you say." He plants himself crisscross applesauce on the floor like the obnoxious leech he is.

"I dream about things from my past."

Chuuya waits for him to go on, but he is only met by the sound of first crickets and then the world's tiniest violin.

"I kinda figured that," Chuuya points out dully. "Care to share any more?"

Dazai scoffs again, wetting his lips with his tongue carefully as he challengingly meets Chuuya's eyes.

"If it so pleases his highness. There are lots of things, but mostly it's about thieves."

Chuuya raises an eyebrow. "Thieves?" he prods.

It seems whatever Dazai is about to say causes even his spite to not be enough to give him the wherewithal to continue looking at Chuuya. "Yes. People taking something from me that I don't want to give. There. The end. Can I go on my walk now?"

Oh. Oh.

There are attoseconds in the back of Chuuya's mind where he tries to convince himself that he's misinterpreting, reading too much into those words, but the part of him who's known Dazai long enough to know that he would never let an implication like that into his words if he didn't mean it, if only because he believed it would make him look weak, knows he's not.

Chuuya desperately steadies his face so Dazai doesn't see it cracking in the way it so badly wants to. 

He, he wants to be sick, he wants to punch a wall, he wants to—something. He doesn't know. He's always been an action, action, action guy, but for the first time since he can remember—since ever, maybe—he doesn't know.

Chuuya's met dozens of people with stories like that, in the Sheep and later, his dear late friend Lippmann, even, but Dazai was somehow the last person he'd ever expect to have something like that in their past.

"A fly just flew in your mouth," Dazai informs Chuuya.

Stopping himself from shrieking is a near miss. "Wha—whaaah?" He begins hacking and coughing, trying to spit it out. "EGH! Da'ai, Da'ai is ih gahe? 'I 'ou 'ee i' 'eae?"

It's only when he hears the first pitchy giggle that he realizes what's happened. 

"You asshole," Chuuya says in realization, so shocked it's almost reverent. He glowers. "You know, normally when people want people to stop gaping they say, 'Close your mouth; you'll catch flies.' They don't tell someone that there is a fly in their mouth!"

"Love you too," Dazai enthuses, causing Chuuya to devolve into another round of spluttering. By the time he's remembered what they were talking about moments ago, he's gotten enough distance from the immediate emotional overwhelm of Dazai's confession to remember that this is Dazai and pigs would fly before sympathy would be allowed on the table in their relationship.

"Yeah, whatever," Chuuya mutters, rolling his eyes. "Gonna regret asking this in about two minutes, but room for another person on your walk?"

Shocking Dazai twice in one night should entitle Chuuya to some kind of trophy, he thinks.

"You're not going to try and make me go to bed?"

"Hey, hey, don't get me wrong," Chuuya insists quickly. "Tomorrow you're not getting a fucking option. But I'm tired enough that I pity your dumb ass right now and I'm not gonna make you tonight. Look—" Chuuya hesitates, wondering exactly how to word this. "—I wouldn't want to sleep if that was what I was dreaming about either, OK? So this is your one-time get out of jail free card for basic human bodily functions."

When Dazai doesn't respond right away, Chuuya feels anxiety begin to stir up in his gut, wondering if he's said something wrong.

"You good, bastard?" he asks cautiously.

"Yep!" Dazai chirps cheerfully. "Just trying to figure out a way I can make you regret asking to come with me in less than two minutes. Chip, chip, cheerio, let's go, puppy-o!"

"Go die in a hole," Chuuya snaps, but maybe he's smiling a little.

[it-was-all-a-beautiful-dream]

When sparks fly

Hi Guys, this is an idea for a 911 fic ft Buck and Eddie x reader, let me know what you think and if I should actually make it into something...

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The bustle of the city was something you were still trying to get used to. It was a complete change from the small village you had grown up in, gone were the days where you’d say hi to everyone who walked the streets, now you had to dodge the onslaught of the morning commuters to avoid being burnt by tall steaming cups of coffee.

You had officially become a needle in a very, very large haystack.

You checked your phone again, triple checking you were headed in the right direction even though you’d only been there a few days ago collecting your key card and other essential items to start your new job as an LA emergency dispatcher.

You stomach did summersaults as you pushed through the wide glass doors and into what would be the start of your new life.

Luck was on your side today; you were buddied up with a woman called Maddie who took you under her wing almost instantly. Showing you the ropes, getting you settled in and introducing you to all your new co-workers.

Maddie never left your side, not even when she had to speak to Howie, who you found out was her husband, or when she got a phone call from Buck, her brother. She explained that Howie and Buck were firefighters with the 118, one of the crews who you’d be working closely with.

The days went on like this for a couple of weeks. Call after call, you finally felt like you were making some sort of difference, and every day on the job you seemed to get closer and closer to Maddie.

You were both about to clock off for the day when Maddie turned to you, inviting you to the bar where she’d be meeting Howie and the rest of the 118. Shuffling your feet nervously you glanced at your phone, one drink couldn’t hurt? It wasn’t like you had work tomorrow.

“Do we have time to swing by my place so I can change quickly? It’s not far… I could meet you there if you don’t want to wait?” You looked down at your dispatcher uniform and grimaced. Probably not the best look to go with to make a good first impression.

“Of course we can Y/N, let me give you a ride then we can drop my car at the station and walk to the bar with Buck.”

Buck. You’d heard his name so many times, yet you still hadn’t met him. According to Maddie he was a few years older than you, he was goofy, caring, charming and you could tell by the way Maddie spoke about her little brother that he was a good person.

It hadn’t taken you long to get ready. Maddie had come up to your apartment with you and you grimaced when she noticed the still to be unpacked boxes. You didn’t like to get comfortable, that’s when something bad normally happened. Unpacking was tempting fate. Luckily your friend didn’t pry.

Your apartment was relatively close by, the fire station only a few blocks away. Butterflies erupted in your stomach as you walked into the building with Maddie by your side. She said some of the others would already be at the bar, but Buck was waiting so he could walk us over.

In the short space of getting to know the women you worked with you’d learnt about her past and her ex, Doug. In a way it hit close to home. Having to run from something, fearing for your life everyday…never knowing what tomorrow could bring. You could understand why Buck would be protective.

The warm glow of the lights from overhead illuminated the fire trucks, gleaming beasts sitting pride of place at the forefront of the firehouse. You would have been able to take in your surroundings a lot more clearly if it wasn’t for the man leaning against one of the trucks in question.

He must be at least 6’3, short sandy coloured hair, kind eyes, a red birth mark just above one of them that looked almost like a scar. His lips were plump and parted as he looked down at his phone. His shirt tight across his chest and his biceps. He looked up when he heard the approaching footsteps, his mouth stretching into a wide smile and his eyes twinkled.

“I was about to send out a search party.” Maddie playfully smacked the man on the arm as he pulled her into his side for a hug. His eyes never left yours.

“Buck, this is Y/N.” Buck let go of Maddie and took a couple of steps toward yo. You had to look up to take him in, being only 5’6 had its disadvantages.

“Evan Buckley, pleasure to finally meet you.” He stuck out his hand for you to shake and you timidly put yours forward. Your palms touched; it was a good thing you were in a firehouse because the sparks were out of control.

You were both snapped out of your daze as Maddie coughed beside you. Her eyes glinted with mischief, and it was hard for her not to smile. Your cheeks were probably the same shade as the engine you stood near to.

Footsteps clanged against the metal stairs making your jump slightly.

“Sorry guys, ready to go? Just had to phone Carla and check in on Chris.” The man stopped short when he caught a glimpse of you behind Buck. If you had to guess, this was Eddie. Bucks’ best friend.

Tan skin, dark brown hair and eyes to match, chiselled jaw with a hint of stubble and the muscles that rivelled Bucks, not to mention the thousand-watt smile. His voice was familiar, just as Bucks had been from the countless of calls you’d handled in the short time you’d been a dispatcher.

“You must be Y/N, I’m Eddie.”

Another hand to shake, more sparks.

You were screwed.