#mosey screams

[mosaic-marquise]

A younger pookie <:|

[revalito]

30 min sketch Monday with @mitchmotch ! this time, I drew his oc serene as an octoling from splatoon hehe. I ran out of time but the concept was sick as hell ok. thank you

[brokeniisms]

Me missing my harvest moon au, cause yes it would be fitting for cloud and he loves playing that game. I need to write it out but yeah, need to explore it more. CAUSE CLOUD IS A COUNTRY BOII AT HEART. I wanna write headcanons about that cause I’m having feels about Cloud and his love/connections to home♥️

[probably-not-sherlock]

Me: Oh yeah, I'm really excited I'm gonna be traveling tomorrow!

My body, staring at me with froth dripping from its mouth:

Travel? You said, travel???? Sickness for caretaker, sickness for 1000 years!!!

[shojizbae]

Yeehaw!

Spencer Reid x reader

Warnings: This is spicy! Use of alcohol, behind drunk/drunk sex, Oral fem! receiving, cowgirl position

Everyone could tell with just one look at you that you were Southern. That being said, anytime there was a case in the South, everyone knew to take a step back and let you lead. This time, there was a string of murders in Aiken, South Carolina, and the team knew that you were all over it.

"Weren't you from a Carolina?" Derek chuckles as we board the jet.

"Yeah, I spent most of my time on Camp Lejeune with my daddy, then I went south for college in Charleston."

"So that means Hotch has been demoted for this." Emily snickers

"No, I just know the South, and I'll get a little gun-happy when I'm back home. It wouldn't be no different had we gone to Chicago, Derek."

"Wow, mama's go home heat today." We settle on the jet, and Hotch and Rossi debrief us. I take a nap as we head south, and unfortunately, the power of the state takes me over. I march up to the sheriff and flash my credentials.

"So, how's it happen?" The sheriff speaks in an accent so thick it makes grits look like juice. I glance at the team, and they seem to sigh in relief when they realize I can understand him. Tirelessly, we worked the case for 73 hours. We met at a fresh crime scene every morning. The unsub seemed to be in a frenzy. He was dangerous and mixed with a high concentration of amphetamine addiction in this area. It was likely he had no clue he was killing.

But, due to the trace amounts of meth, we knew that he was unstable and would trip up eventually. We got some sleep after the fourth body, and there was a trip up in the morning. A fifth, but he had left some of his powdered sugar at the crime scene.

I put a glove on and lifted the little baggie, showing it off to Reid.

"Hey, Spencer, check this out."

"Hey, I've been clean for years," He mopes

"Aw, I'm sorry, sugar," A detective approaches me with an evidence bag. "Here, swab it and run this through CODIS." Spencer and I kept sweeping the crime scene for any molecule of evidence. Nothing all that exciting. The killer left the knife in her this time. Indicative of the fact that they were out of control. I squat next to the body and ghost my fingers over the entrance wound.

"Hey Spencer," He perks up like a gopher, "If you were going to kill someone and you were going to stab them to death, how'd you do it?"

"Are you sure that's an appropriate question?"

"I'm just curious."

"I'd probably use something with a curved blade. It would do the most damage and be the hardest to remove." His eyes go kind of dead, as he explains. An awkward air hangs between the two of us as we survey the wound.

"Damn, Spence, that's messed up."

"You asked." He sasses

Not later that evening, a woman called to suspect a strange man was in her house. We move in immediately and find a man pacing in circles in the bathroom. He's violent and angry, and his nose is bleeding. He tried to swing a knife at Morgan, but I grabbed him by the wrist and slammed his head into the wall. I use my hips to push him forward and cuff him while Emily helps the woman safely out of her house.

I march him to the car while he screams that I'm a bastard whore. Finally, I shoved him into the police car and muttered a good riddance. I even patted my hands like a baker getting flour off.

"I need a drink." I put my hands on my hips

"I could use something to cool off, too. This southern heat can be beat." Derek wipes his brow

"Hotch you think we have the leeway to spend the night here?" Emily asks

"That's all up to JJ, anything pressing enough that we need to get back to Quantico?"

"Well, nothing too scary that we couldn't cut loose after working for six days straight." She smiles at the team

Hours later, we showered, ate a full meal at a steakhouse, and put on the nicest clothes in our go-bags. The team was shocked to discover I had a cowboy hat in my bag. We moseyed our way to the bar, a small dive bar with a pool table. A mechanical bull is in the center of the room, and my eyes light up at the memories. Rossie buys us a pitcher of beer, and we all unwind from the stressful week.

As we knock 'em back slowly and let college stories fly, the team starts to forget what we had seen. Rossi tells us some funny stories about going to college during the summer of love, and Reid accidentally brags about going to Cal Tech.

"Well, what about you? Didn't you go to school nearby?" Emily says as she refills her glass.

"Uh yeah, in Charleston, South Carolina." I clarify

"So you must have spent most of your nights like this." Derek motions around the bar, playing honky-tonk music. Pool balls clack around us, and there's a thin layer of dirt around the edge of the bar.

"Well, most nights I spent in my dorm or the library. Every other Saturday, my roommate and neighbors would go to a dive named Fat Daddy's. We would make bets with the alcoholic dads about being able to ride the bull, and if we stayed on longer than they said so, they'd buy us all a drink. I didn't pay for my own liquor for three semesters." The team stood in shock. Hotch's jaw was agape and Rossi just nodded his chin in acknowledgement.

"Well, now, baby girl, I have to see you in action." Derek almost commands

"No, I ain't dressed right. And ain't nobody betted me."

"I bet you won't last seven seconds on the mechanical bull," Spencer interjects "If you do, I'll buy you that coconut margarita that you've been eyeing."

"Alrght, there's my bet." I march up to the bartender "I'm'onna ride that bull." I point at it and he looks me hat to boot.

"Alright," The bartender seems disinterested. He hits a button, and lights around the bull flash like a carnival. I draw the attention of the whole bar as a pre-recorded announcer calls me a brave challenger.

Big men with fat beer bellies gather around, and I readjust my top. If I play my cards right, I might get more than a coconut margarita out of this. I'm not wearing anything too special—just one of my combat scoop-neck tees and low-rise daisy dukes. The bartender offers his hand, and I use it to mount the big plastic bull.

"You ready, little girl?" He asks

"Yes sir." I grip onto the handle at the 'bull's nape and a bell rings. Slowly the bull starts lurching forward and back while exciting music bounces around the bar.

one Mississippi

The bull speeds up

'ride it, cowgirl!" Derek yells from the edge of the bull enclosure

two Mississippi

It starts going sideways

three Mississippi

I fake with my appearance that I'm struggling and readjust my grip

four Mississippi

I use my hips to grind with the rhythm of the bull as men whoop and cheer

five Mississippi, six Mississippi

My heart starts to thump against my ribs

Seven Mississippi, I win.

The team cheers for me. I keep going, getting bold enough to grind more dramatically. I hear more whoops and hollers as I lift my arms and squee. Someone yells, and another man whistles. I hold onto my hat as the bull speeds up, and I feel my shirt lift.

'Yeehaw!' I hear, and the bar just erupts. I feel so full of life, and I jump up on the bull, riding it like a surfboard. I drop down and sit backward on the bull. I twist around and ride the bull until the bartender slows it down.

"You done broke our record. 39 seconds on the highest speed." The bar screams in glee, and the team closes in on me, handing out high fives. Reid hangs behind the group, and I see him ask Derek a question

"Did you know that (Y/n) has a stomach tattoo?"

"Wow (Y/n), that was incredible." Emily looks starstruck

"I told you I didn't pay for a drink for 18 months." I give JJ a hug, and Reid emerges from the crowd

"I guess I owe you a drink." He smiles, and I fidget with the hem of my shirt

"One coconut margarita, please, sir." He leads me to the bar, where the bartender makes one for me. I hold the glass up to his face, and Reid takes the first sip.

"No, that's fine," He pushes the glass from his cheek

"C'mon, you paid for it."

"Listen, you know that coercion isn't a great thing to do. Most serial killers are more coercive than a skeezy lawyer."

"Aw, you're using my metaphors." I coo and step closer to his chest

"When did you become so flirty?" he braces me on the hip

"All that shaking around must have got the beer movin' in me." I giggle and sip on my glass. "I saw you askin' Derek 'bout my tattoo. y' wanna see it?" I start to roll up my shirt

"No, no, that's fine," He holds my wrist to stop me. "Why don't we get you some water."

"No, this is yummy." I smile and down the cup. He grimaces at the action and tries to walk me over to our table

"Hey, Spencer, you wanna know why I'm so good at riding that thing?" I halt to play with the button of his shirt, and he stops, too.

"Uh sure," He swallows

"Ever the curious doctor," I slur. I'm good with the bull because I love riding," I whisper drunkenly in his ear. He swallows hard and tries to shimmy us back to our table. His hands shake as he grips my tricep.

"Why're you so nervous?" I ask the side of his jaw. My voice swings up an octave, but I snort as I survey the team.

"The liquor got to her quick. I'm gonna get her back to the hotel."

"Oooh, why don't you take me someplace fancy," I tease

"Well, make sure you use protection." Derek snorts as he lifts a brown bottle to his lips

"Aw, you ain't gotta worry. I've got an IUD." Spencer soothes my sentence with a pat on my shoulder, and I slide a hand down his back

"That won't be a problem. I'm just going to ensure she has water, Advil, and comfortable clothes." He jumps away as I make an attempt to grab his butt.

"You sure you don't want either of us to take her?" JJ offers and points between Emily and herself. I rest my head on his chest. I can feel his heart pounding against my temple.

"You gonna take good care of me, Doctor?" I smile up at his concerned face

"I'm not that kind of doctor." He scolds. He helps seatbelt me into one of two FBI SUVs. Slowly and carefully, he drives me to the highway motel we were placed in, and he marches me into my room.

"Alright, are you sober enough to shower?" He sits me on the bed, and the mattress shrieks beneath me

"Yeah, so long as you help me get my shirt off."

"No, I won't be doing that," He finds a glass and fills it with water. He digs in my go-bag and finds the bottle of Advil. He drops two in his hand and gives them to me as well as the cup. "Drink this," he tucks some hair behind his ears.

"My feet hurt," I whine and put the pills in my mouth.

"Well, you're wearing those ridiculous boots," He stressfully tucks some hair behind his ears

"They ain't ridiculous." Stick out a foot and twist it to see the whole design, "Maybe a little flashy." I tuck my foot in and look up at him. "Will you calm down if you held me out of these sugar?"

"Yeah, sure." He kneels down and tugs each of my boots off, and lines them up with the rest of my shoes.

"Aww, you're so caring. C'mere sugar." Reluctantly, he finds me on the mattress, and I pat it next to me. He's hesitant, but he sits, and I lean against him. "Hey, Spencer?"

"Yes, (Y/n)?"

"You wanna ask about my tattoo?"

"No,"

"Really, because you keep glancing down at my stomach. I may be a drunk one, but I am a profiler. What about it? Gets you going so much?"

"What?" He scoffs in shock "It doesn't 'get me going'." I hold onto his arm

"Really? Because I'm pushin' my tits against you, and you're still lookin' at my stomach."

"I uh I'm not." He's distracted enough that I can swing my legs across his lap "(Y/n), this is really inappropriate conduct for coworkers."

"I ain't on the clock," I slowly drag my shirt up to reveal the design. Two big blossoms of overlapping lavender and olive flowers. Any protests he tries to make are halted as he studies the image.

"These ones, "I guide his apprehensive hand as hi pointer finger traces my stomach "Are olive blossoms, they stand for peace. and these are lavenders."

"They mean feminity and grace." He clears his throat

"I've got more," I whisper playfully

"C-can I see them?" He swallows. I cross my arms at the hem of my shirt and pull it off, lifting the hem of my bralette.

"There's some text under my boobs."

"te amo para siempre." He reads without an accent, so it sounds stilted. "Did you get that for a boyfriend?"

"No, it's something my grandpa used to tell me." he runs his thumb over the cursive, "And on my collarbones." I guide his wrist to my right clavicle.

"'An eye for an eye,' I guided him across my chest, and he traced like he was reading braille.' leaves the whole world blind.' He connected his eyes with mine. His pupils were real big.

"Aw gee, I just realized I'm a little underdressed."

"Of course," he shifts around to encourage me to get off

"Uh uh, it could be you're just overdressed," I hold onto the knot in his tie

"No (Y/n),"

"You know, darling, your mouth is saying no, but your body is saying yes." I slide my hips forward and feel him suppress a shudder. I direct his head to look at me with blown-wide puppy dog eyes. "Maybe we should tell your mouth to let your body take over." I sink my lips against him, and he melts into me. Our lips smack as he pulls away

"(y/n), no, this isn't professional," he tries to disable my arms as I slide his tie knot apart

"Well, that's good. If I were professional, you get a hotel in a local jail for soliciting a prostitute." I get the knot loose and free his neck, making headway on the buttons. He shiftsbutI kiss his complaints away. Soon, sounds of complaint turn to moans as he succumbs to his body.

"Hey, Spencer," I pull away briefly and chew on my lip at the view. His hair is fluffed, and the top half of his shirt is flipped open. "I've got one more tattoo, and I think you'd really like it."

"I would?" he pushes his hair back "Why." I give him a peck as I reach for the button on my shorts. He grabs my hand and undoes the button himself. I guide his hand to the zipper, and he tugs it down. Instead of shimmying out of the shorts, I hook his finger in the elastic of my underwear. He pulls it down just enough to read the black text that slowly faded to show green.

"C6H12O6?"

"Yeah, you remember what that means?"

"It's the chemical formula for sugar." He snaps the underwear back into place, and I jump at the sensation, "Why?"

"Because I'm so sweet." I dive back in and kiss him. Heated aggressively like he's got the last cup of water on his tongue. He reaches into my hair to steady me, and with his second hand, he grabs my hip. I continue to unbutton his shirt until he shores it off into the distance.

"Well, look how handsome you are," I watch him blush, but I run my hands up his chest and over his collarbones. He blushes but guides my hand to his belt buckle. I love the sound a belt buckle makes. Before I can get his pants off him, Spencer surprises me. He picks us up and twists us, so my back slaps against the squeaky mattress.

He slithers down my body, kissing down the various tattoos. Gently, he slides his fingers into the waistband of my jeans. He slides them down and separates each of my knees. Almost entranced he licks up the gray cotton panties I wore.

"Spencer!' I moan in shock

"Please, this is my favorite part." He pulls the underwear off and tosses it to the side. I don't protest any further. It's rare to find a guy willing to go down on me, much less one that initiates. He wraps his arms around my thighs and places my knees at his shoulders. He wastes no time diving in.

With every man I've slept with, I've never felt someone go down on me with such fervor and skill. I'm taken down. He clings onto my clit with desperation. He drops my right leg so that he can trace gentle circles around my pussy.

"Spenc- Uh"

"Sh-sh -shh, just relax." He soothes me and rubs my inner thigh. I try to look down at him, but as he continues his ministrations, I lose my strength and flop my head back. Slowly, he sinks his pointer finger in, and I take a sharp inhale.

"Spe-EUUh!" His skill is shocking as he slowly moves his finger in and out. Once I was acclimated, he pulled out and put both his pointer and middle in. I do my best to suppress it for the comfort of the surrounding guests.

"Don't hide from me." He comes up and looks my face over

"There's other people around, Spencer."

"Then let them hear." He places a kiss on my forehead and sinks down to continue devouring me. I don't hold back as much as I'm embarrassed. He starts a 'come hither' motion and I roll my hips up into his face. He braces a hand on my hip.

"Sit still." He commands

Steadily, I felt a climax rising in me. I felt the muscles in my stomach clenching and tensing. I feel like yellow waves of pleasure ripple through my body.

"SPE—Spencerr, I'm gonna!" I desperately reached around and threaded my fingers into his hair. With my other hand, I felt around for the disheveled comforter. I balled my hands into a fist around what I held: his hair and the blanket. I climaxed faster than I had expected. Accidentally, I locked Spencer in with my legs. Desperate to keep the pleasure close to me.

It took me a moment to catch my breath. When I came to, I released my legs, and he resurfaced, wiping his mouth as he checked on me.

"How are you doing? Was that any good?"

"Good?" I gaped, and I saw him crumble a little in insecurity. Spencer, that was the best head I've ever had." He chuckled boyishly as I held his pants so he lay on top of me.

"Spencer?" I ask slowly

"Yeah," He kisses me on the side of the mouth

"I'm gonna fuck you now,"

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," I sit him up and unzip his pants and pull them down. His legs are ridiculously long, and it feels like an eternity to get him naked. I geek at his boxers. His cock is jumping against the fabric, and there is a small precum stain. I rub over the fabric, and he keens into my touch.

"Aww, so you're all talk," I tease

"S-shut up, you were just writhing under me." He leans back on his arms. The veins in his forearms are bulging, and I can see his stomach shift as he shifts under my pawing.

"Yeah, and now you will be."

I slide my fingers under the elastic, and he lifts his hips to help me free him. Gently, I stroke him, and he gulps back and moans. I mount him, letting Spencer guide himself into me. I sigh as I feel him slide in, and his hands gravitate to my hips.

"Woah," he grunts. It's probably the strangest reaction I've gotten, but I appreciate being such a stunner.

"How are you doing, Reid?"

"I-I'm sublime. How are you?" I shift my hips in contemplation, feeling my eyes pool in the back of my head.

"Oh, I'm doing-g just-" My sentence cuts itself off as the head of his dick kisses a sweet spot inside me. "Can you just give me a little boost?" He holds each of my hips and drags me across my lap.

"Oh fuck," I sigh, and I pick my hips up. We fall into a sensual rhythm as the world disappears around us. "Spencer, that feels so..." My forehead collapses against his collarbone. There's something about his dick that itches a scratch I didn't know I was feeling. Similarly, he mews below me.

"(Y/n)," he groans out below me "Don't stop." and I don't. Instead, I pick up the pace. I brace myself on his shoulders and slam my hips back and forth until my thighs burn. And when the sensation becomes overwhelming I keep fighting.

"Oh my- uh," He groans beneath me "(Y/n), (Y/n), I'm gonna cum." He sounds desperate. "(Y/n) you have to get off." He whimpers

"No, I'm gonna cum too. I won't-" I keep my hips galloping against his thighs, "PLEase- fuck, I'm gonna." I feel his cock twitch inside me, and warmth spreads through my thighs.

"Uh, nice and deep." I halt myself for a second," Spencer I gotta keep going."

"M'kay." I ride with such speed that I'm scared the legs on the bed will snap. Finally, I feel the point of no return—like watching a slow vase fall over, knowing you're too far away to stop it. I came. My knees buckled, and I fell chest-first onto Reid.

"Are you okay?" He holds my back steady and gently rubs my spine, and I catch my breath.

"Yeah, I'm okay." I sit myself up, and Spencer tucks some frizzy hair behind my ear. "Probably some of the sex I've had in... ever." His face lights up. I use his shoulder to stand up, and I feel it slide down my thigh.

"I'm gonna need a shower, but there's always room for two." I smile and trot off to the ensuite. It's not long before Spencer is chasing me behind the vinyl curtain to wet his hair and press a kiss to the back of my shoulder.

[cmdrfupa]

You sat on the edge of the bed, tugging on your socks as the morning sounds kept you awake. An unusually early Saturday morning for the both of you as Toji hummed in the bathroom while you got the last of a large yawn out.

The sunlight slanted in through the half-open blinds and the early chill to the day filled your bedroom as you moseyed to browsed over what to wear in the closet.

In the bathroom with the door cracked open, Toji’s rich, gravelly voice drifted out over the soft hum of the electric razor.

“Gonna be a long day,” he says, the razor going silent as he rinses his face. “That realtor said we’ll see, what… four or five places?”

“Four.” You glance over a skirt and hold it up to you, contemplating before looking in the mirror hanging on the wall. “But you know how it goes. If we don’t find something, we have time. Housing market should remain stable for another 6 months. There’s no rush.”

“Right. But if we don’t start wrapping things up, Megumi’ll be in college and Tsumiki’ll be visiting with a grandkid before we settle anywhere.” He lets out a low chuckle, warm and amused.

It didn’t register just how much time had passed until Toji realized he’d hit the goal amount to buy a house. 3 years of playing house and marrying turned into being worried about if a house will have proper irrigation systems that will last.

There’s a brief clatter, then the faucet comes on full blast as he rinses off the last of the shaving cream. “Speaking of which, you ready for those college visits?”

You laugh, slipping on your blouse and buttoning it up. “Ready, yes. Prepared? Not a chance. You know he wants to tour every campus in this province and a few overseas. He’s keeping you on your toes.”

“Kid’s got ambition,” Toji says, amusement lacing his voice. “Wonder where he gets it from.”

You can picture him leaning forward to scrutinize himself in the mirror, the way he sometimes squints as he checks for stray stubble along his jaw. Groaning at the small patch of gray he shaves off first every single time.

It’s one of those everyday scenes you never quite get tired of. He’s steady, predictable in his habits, but there’s an ease in the familiarity.

“So, what’s the dream house, huh?” he asks after a pause. There’s a hint of something lighter in his tone, playful almost. “Big yard for maybe another kid to practice in, good schools, fancy kitchen for you?”

“A quiet neighborhood would be nice.” you say, tugging on your jeans. “And, yeah… I wouldn’t mind a spacious kitchen.”

Toji snorts, as the idea of him caring about school districts is somehow amusing. “Skipping over the yard part? Come on, what’s one more kid? A little mini me running around. Would be nice.”

You laughed grabbing your belt, pulling it through the loops as you stepped out in the bedroom. “Let’s get the house first. Then we can discuss having a kid with your big head and features. Sound good?”

“Guess we’re going full domesticated life now, huh? Yard sales on Sundays? Book club on Tuesdays? Starting to think you’re losing your touch, pretty lady.”

You chuckle, rolling your eyes even though he can’t see it. “You’d love it. Don’t even pretend.”

A beat later, Toji steps out into the bedroom, adjusting the collar of his dark red polo. The sleeves were fitted just enough to hint at the broadness of his shoulders, the solid strength of his arms bulging. The deep red complemented his dark hair perfectly. His khakis hug his waist and tapered down, showing off the powerful lines of his legs and the definition there—he looks effortlessly good, a little rugged but undeniably refined.

He catches you looking, his lips curving into a sly, knowing grin. “Like what you see?”

“Your ass.. Jesus,” you tease back, though your eyes are unabashedly admiring. The camel colored pants fit him like a glove. The way they accentuated his thighs made you want to scream. “Since when do you go for khakis?”

“Hey, I clean up nice.” He closes the distance between you in two easy strides, dropping a casual hand on your shoulder. He gives a slight squeeze before letting his fingers trail down your arm.” I bought them from that wholesale store. You know the one with the family size peanut butter?”

“The one that you single handedly empty out for your thick ass smoothies?”

“That’s the one.” Toji squeezes your rear and winks. “Anyway, figured I’d match the high standards. Realtors are probably used to dealing with rich types. Gotta look the part, right?”

“Eh. If nothing else, you’ll charm them into knocking down the price.”

He chuckles, bending down just enough to press a quick, lingering kiss to your forehead then your lips.” I’m starting to think you married me for my looks and devilish charm.”

“For the last time, Toji,” you gently wiped his chest, loosening the wrinkles before. “Yes. I did.”

He picked you up with ease, laughing as he wrapped your legs around him. “You’re unbelievable. And I thought you loved me.” Toji laid you on the bed, kissing your neck and holding your waist letting your pleas and laughter warm him up inside. “Am I just a scary dog and eye candy for you?” He teased.

“You’re much more than that. Great support system, incredible cook, inhumanely patient.” You ran your fingers over the nape of his neck as he hovered over you. “Hefty wallet when you aren’t losing during horse racing season.”

“I don’t lose often… anymore.” His lips curled into a boyish smile as he helped you sit up on the edge of the bed. He grabbed your shoes, lacing them on you before helping you stand. “Now. Let’s go get your dream house, baby doll. It’s been a long time coming.”

“Let’s go get it, baby boy.”

There was always something grounding about the routines you had together. Those quiet moments where you planned for the future with the same unhurried certainty that he shaves with, that he presses his lips to your skin with.

The thought of the three of you wandering through endless corridors of empty houses, each one holding the promise of a new start, filled you with a gentle anticipation.

And no matter where you ended up, it was always going to feel home if you had one another.

[mustainegf]

➜ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟐 — ❝ 𝐆𝐈𝐆𝐒 & 𝐆𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐒 ❞

The afternoon was late, and finally, the house was silent. No in thewall drumbeats, no guitar riffs drowning out my own thoughts. I sat at the kitchen table, swirling a half empty cup of coffee, trying to work out how I'd survived a whole month living with four guys who seemed hell bent on driving each other crazy. I wasn't paying attention as Kirk came bounding down the stairs, that familiar wild look in his eye.

"Hey, I got an idea," he said, practically sliding into the chair across from me.

I quirked a brow, instantly suspicious. "What kind of idea?"

Kirk grinned. "We got a gig tonight. Small local bar, nothing fancy. You should come.”

I groaned inwardly, my mind flashing to say no. The last thing I wanted to do was stand amidst a sea of sweaty strangers, some guys that I lived with screaming into microphones, headbanging like their lives depended on it. I knew Metallica was on their way up to the top but I wasn't exactly what one would call a "metalhead."

"I don't know, Kirk," I said, slumping back in my chair. "I'm just not really in the mood for—"

"Come on!" he interrupted, the dramatic pout accompanying his lunge forward. "You've been cooped up in this shithole for weeks. You need to get out. Besides, it's not like you've seen us live before."

"I've heard you guys practice," I muttered. "That's pretty much the same thing."

"No, it's not," he said, shaking his head. "It's different when you're out there with the crowd, feeling the energy. It's-

"Why you forcing her arm, dude?" Cliff's tone sliced in as he strolled into the kitchen, his accompanying cloud of weed smoke entering the room a fraction of a second before he did. He followed that up by moseying over to the counter and grabbing a beer.

Kirk fell back in his chair and threw his hands up. "I just want her to come see us play."

Cliff took a sip of his drink and glanced over at me, flashing a lazy grin. "Tell you what, if you come to the gig, I'll share some of my stash with you before we head out. It'll make the show way more interesting, I promise.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Bribery? Really?"

Cliff chuckled. "It's not bribery. It's… encouragement."

I weighed the pros of his offer, the merit of the decision, for a moment. And Kirk wasn't wrong, I had been cooped up in here for weeks, and a part of me always wanted to see these guys live. Then, of course, there was Cliff's weed, which really was the opposite of something to say no to.

"Alright, fine," I finally exclaimed exasperated, rolling my eyes. "I'll go. But only because of the weed."

Kirk triumphantly punched at the air. "Yes! You won't regret it, I swear."

"Yeah, we'll see about that," I said grumbling.

By evening, it became a kind of pre gig war zone, Lars clattering about the kitchen, grumbling at something to do with his bloody drum kit, Kirk and James in and out of their bedrooms noisily tuning their guitars. I kept out of their way sat in the living room, fingers crossed they wouldn't drag me into whatever tortures they were going through.

“Hey," Cliff said, appearing in the doorway with that mischievous grin tugging at his face. He held up a joint between his fingers, wiggling it slightly. "You ready?"

"More than you know," I sighed, getting off the couch and following him out into the backyard.

It was cool outside tonight, a real break from the relentless heat inside. Cliff hit the joint and passed it over to me. I took a deep drag, letting the smoke fill my lungs before exhaling very slowly. The unmistakable warmth settled in almost at once, and I could feel myself begin to relax for the first time all day.

“You're gonna dig the show," Cliff leaned back against the railing. "It's different when we're up there, y'know?"

"I'm sure," I said, handing the joint back to him.

"Especially watching Kirk," he added, taking a hit, "That guy's in his element when he's playin’ live.”

I smiled at that. Kirk had always been obsessed with music, ever since we were kids. To see him actually living his dream, playing guitar, was actually something I was kinda proud of. He deserved it.

Cliff and I had showed up a bit later than everyone else. He gave me one last hit off the joint, his arm thrown casually around my shoulders as we pushed through the crowd.

"Relax, you'll have fun," he said, guiding me through to the side of the stage. "Just try not to overthink it."

"Easier said than done," I muttered, though I did appreciate the sentiment.

We found a spot near the stage and Cliff handed me a beer he'd picked up. I took a sip, looking around at the sea of leather jackets, ripped jeans, and wild hair. This was Metallica's crowd, and though I might not fit in, I couldn't deny the excitement in the air.

The lights went further down yet, and the crowd cheered as the band took to stage. First up at his drum kit, Lars twirled sticks like some sort of showman. Cliff slung his bass over his shoulder, shot a wink in my direction then started plucking out the opening notes of the first song. Kirk and James followed, guitars in hand, the spotlight catching the glint of the metal strings.

And off they went.

I was stuck on Kirk. He was so good up there, tearing through solos like nobodys business. His fingers flew across the fretboard with ease, like it was an extension of himself. Every so often he would glance up toward the crowd where this huge grin would stretch across his face, flashing those crooked teeth.

I couldn't help but smile too, proud of him. Proud that he'd made it this far. I always knew Kirk was destined for something bigger than the shitty suburban life we grew up in, but seeing it in real time was unreal.

But then there was James.

Every now and again I'd catch James shooting me a glare between verses. The first time, I was like, I’m imagining things. But no, there it was, again… and again… and again. His eyes would lock onto mine, narrowing slightly, like he was pissed off for no reason at all. What threw me off was that it made me feel uneasy, like some weird game of chicken with him I hadn't exactly agreed to play.

I had no idea what his problem was. Maybe he just didn’t like my presence, or perhaps he was still sulking over our constant wrangling back at the house. Whatever it was, he seemed pretty determined to keep the hostility alive, even on stage.

The more the night wore on, the rowdier the crowd was, headbanging and shouting their lungs out. Chaos reigned, but alive somehow.

The bar was pretty much vibrating after the show, adrenaline not quite burned off yet. The band was still busy packing up their gear and I retreated backstage to wait for Kirk and Cliff. The weed had worn off by now, well, it left me feeling a little too sober, and a little too aware of the tension in the air.

First to emerge from behind stage, James was dripping with sweat, guitar slung over his shoulder. Really, I didn't expect him to say anything, in fact, I rather he'd just leave me well alone, but this was James.

"Enjoy the show, princess?" he asked, his tone oozing sarcasm.

I gave him a look. "Don't call me that."

A smug smile crossed his lips as he mopped his face with a towel. "Why not? It fits you.”

Arms crossed over my chest, my patience evaporated. "Yeah, well, you're an asshole."

His grin spread wider, seeming to actually like the sparring. "You think I don't know that?"

I rolled my eyes and turned away from him, but he wasn't done. "You looked pretty impressed up there," he called after me, his voice mocking. "Bet you didn't think we were that good, huh?”

“Not everything's about you, Hetfield," I snapped, wheeling back around to face him. "I was watching Kirk."

That seemed to strike a nerve. His smile wavered for half a heartbeat, but in an instant, he snapped it back into place. "Of course you were. Always watching Kirk."

"What's your problem?" I exclaimed frustrated. "Why do you always have to be such a-"

"A what?" he cut in, moving closer. "Go on, say it.

I clenched my jaw. "A jerk."

James laughed again, but there was something wrong with the laugh this time; it was just a shade too dark. "Yeah? Maybe it's just what you bring out in me."

I blinked, something too much like surprise getting the best of me. What the hell was I supposed to take from that?

Before I could utter a word, Kirk bounced out from backstage, totally ignoring the silent friction. "Hey! There you are," he said, flashing me that goofy grin as he threw an arm over my shoulders. "What'd you think of the show?"

I forced myself to smile, trying to brush off whatever weird thing had just happened with James. "You were amazing, Kirk. Seriously, you guys killed it.

"Thanks!" Kirk beamed, still high off the performance. "See? I told you it'd be worth it."

"Yeah," I said, feeling James's gaze on me from a few feet away. "It was definitely something."

But Kirk didn't seem to grasp the unease, and I sure did. I could feel it by the way James's eyes kept on me, awaiting something. But I didn't give him that pleasure of showing it.

I turned back to Kirk instead, who was saying, "Let's get out of here. I'm exhausted.".

As we left, I couldn't shake the hostility from James. For some reason, that thought shook me more than it should.

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @killazilla777— comment or dm to join the taglist!

[raddelusionaldive]

A/N: Happy Halloween everyone!! Initially this was a trade piece for the lovely @nina-ya who had promptly convinced me to make it an x reader for this holiday season. 1.5k words, and some sexy songs later… [Voodoo by Plaza, etc]

CW: NSFW, female pronouns used, bathroom drunk sex, Dom Law, slight dacryphilia and degradation.

Scream my Name

Halloween is the one time of year where college students can afford to drink with half price drinks with half thought out shitty costumes on. Most all the bars in a twelve mile radius managed to run the same promo knowing it’d drive sales up on their watered down drinks, even if just for the night. The medical students finally got a reprieve from their coursework around this time as well, you and Law being no different. One fabled day off with the rest of their friends sounded mind numbingly delightful compared to the tedious work of clinicals and making runs around the hospitals where they worked part time. A much needed reminder that you’re both still alive and young, no matter how tired.

After classes and studying, you had managed to drag Law out of the library to a costume shop not too far from campus in hopes of snagging a last minute costume for a chance at cheaper liquor for the evening. Lord only knew the pair needed it after the week they had and their friends were bound to encourage it, considering the fact that the whole night of bar crawling in costumes was Penguin and Shachi's idea to begin with. As soon as a bar crawl was even mentioned you piped up mentioning how all in you were , which meant Law HAD to go in the end, much to his displeasure.

“Let’s just get something simple and get out of here. It’s stuffy as hell in here,” Law grumbled barely eyeing the options displayed. Something that could mask his lack of enthusiasm about the mindless holiday was what he had hoped for soon being dragged out of his thoughts by his girlfriend.

“How about this then? Look it even comes with a knife,” you smiled, shoving the costume into his hands before grabbing the first one she spotted. “What’s a little darkness without something light?” You said looking over what you had grabbed although refusing to show him as if not wanting to ruin a surprise. They were bound to look like polar opposites, although opposites attract.

Of course it wouldn’t be until a bit later that they’d meet up with everyone so in the meantime they moseyed back to their own separate abode’s.

“See you later, (y/n)-ya,” He said bluntly, giving you a small nonchalant wave. A tiny curt nod and smile was given from you as a response before you headed into the dorm building. Some work on last minute labs and anatomy notes later and it was about time for you to get ready before you managed to tear your own hair out. A sigh of a breath was released as your phone pinged with a notification. “Meet you out front at around 9, okay (y/n)-ya?” The message from Law read.

The clock was ticking away as she finished her makeup, wiping some of the excess gloss from her lips. She looked angelic, with the white corset tightened and tied into a breathtaking bow, her halo and wings a nice contrast to her beautiful locks, paired with a white mini skirt and perfectly white go-go boots to match. She checked herself one last time, all her feathers intact and just absolutely perfect. One way or another this girl was bound to get a treat even if she had to trick Law into giving her some sugar.

He waited impatiently for everyone, including you, as he fumbled with the ridiculous prop knife that came with the costume. “Don’t tell me a time just to not stick to it,” He grumbled, although before long everyone gathered together. One thing about college students and Halloween half off drinks meant they would be on time and all lined up at the bar without a moment’s notice or needing a reminder. It wasn’t an opportunity that most would just pass up on. Each place was packed to the brim, body to body full of different cheap costumes, body sweat, and booze. The liquor flowed faster than it took to light a candle in a carved pumpkin.

First few drinks slid down their throats, a harsh burn of liquor to soothe the mental ache of the week they had prehand. Drinks and laughter flowed naturally in the dive bar. Subtle touches and unspoken body language was not going unnoticed by Law as he watched you behind his mask. His own drink was almost soon forgotten as his golden orbs watched her behind the mask of a killer. Uncertainty sunk in, it was either the lighting or the outfit she wore but he had his eyes glued to her, a subtle game of predator and prey and he wanted his prey. Something simmered under the surface within him as he listened to her yammer on about a particularly mundane story of their friends.

It didn’t take long for him to grab her hand, swiftly slipping through the crowd and other patrons, making a beeline to the bathroom. A chain of events, subtle touches between drinks on your part, had boiled over to this steamy result. His body moved quicker than either of their inebriated minds could keep up with. Her back pressed against the door, the suddenness hitting her all at once. Law’s lithe fingers harshly gripped her cheeks, as he kissed her fiercely. He could taste the tequila on her lips, ‘intoxicating’ was a light way of putting it. He pulled back just to whisper in her ear, “d’ya really think I wouldn’t notice how handsy you’ve been? Hmm?” She could practically hear the smirk in his voice only adding to the electric buzz between them. A muffled whimper slipped from her lips, something unintelligible and needy.

“What cat got your tongue, angel,” he said lowly just before leaning back to assess the effect his words had on her, and by god was it a sight to behold. Her cheeks softly dusted pink, eyes clouded with desire, and the most adorable soft pout he had ever seen on her. Her expression practically screaming ‘no fair’ without uttering a syllable. A smug smirk played on his lips as he spoke, the deep tone reverberating through the small space, “were you looking to use the drinks as an excuse to get cheeky, angel?” It wasn’t unusual for him to tease her, or vice versa, but something about this time felt different, almost like it was wrong. Hot kisses and love bites down her pretty skin, making sure that he left his mark by daybreak. Her hands felt down to his waist before he stopped her with a soft ‘tsk,tsk’. “You had your chance, (y/n)-ya… Now it’s my turn,” Law whispered in her ear.

His pants unzipped, her lovely lacy underwear now around her ankles as the sound of skin against skin resounded in the dingy bathroom. Her once pristine skirt now pulled up as he thrusted harshly into her begging core. Tears streamed down her face as the pain mixed with the pleasure, his smug expression only growing with each pretty mewl or plea that slipped from those pretty lips of hers. Law was anything other than gentle, almost like he was taking out his week’s frustrations on her welcoming slick. “You asked for this, now take it like the pathetic little slut you are,” He growled in her ear as he yanked her hair back. “Law, please…’s too much,” her pleas fell on deaf ears the way she eagerly met his thrusts halfway like she couldn’t get enough.

Disheveled, pressed against the sink, being fed deep pumps to where she was seeing stars.

“Eyes forward, look at the mess you are, so pretty (y/n)-ya,” he said huskily in her ear letting out a grunt as he drove deep into her, slamming into that spongy sweet spot that had her walls clenching around his cock. With the pace and depth he moved, it wouldn’t be long before they were both barreling towards their own release. One hand had his fingers gripping into her hip as the other kept her in place by her throat, not enough to hurt her, just enough to excite the both of them. “Fuck, if you keep squeezing me like that I’m gonna cum,” Law groaned. The way he kept steady and deep gave way to how he twitched inside her, longing for release. Mewling and moaning at the feeling, as her legs trembled. An exceptionally loud moan of his name slipped out of her pretty swollen lips like a prayer. Law felt her walls constrict, telling him exactly what he needed to hear from her body. They rode out both of their orgasms, as his hot seed spilled out into her womb.

Heavy panting from the pair mixed with the faint buzz and music from outside the tiny bathroom. Enough drunken adjustments of their own costumes and soft snickers amongst themselves ensued soon after, like they hid a dirty secret. He helped her stumble out, as she felt his warmth slowly slide down her legs. The reminder seared into her mind of the fact that she was no longer in custody of her own underwear. Nobody would be the wiser about what happened in that bathroom amongst the patrons wearing their own pair of beer goggles and possibly their friends who had been distracted at the bar by nursing their drinks all of which were very heavily attempting to get a treat on that happy Halloween.

[breakfastteatime]

And now, the final Survivor request is Twist for @believe-in-alderaan

If the knife in his thigh twists any deeper, Cal is going to be in real trouble. Serious trouble. Life ending trouble. He glares at the bounty hunter, their smirk radiating despite the helmet. It’s all Cal needs to find the strength to push out with the Force and send his would-be assassin over a cliff and into the raging river below.

Shifting his balance, Cal feels the knife twist even more. He can’t contain his cry of pain. He really, really wants this thing out.

BD hurries back to Cal from where he’d been knocked flying. He tells Cal not to pull out the knife no matter how much it hurts.

“I know, BD,” Cal says, trying to catch his breath. This is not the first time in his life he’s been impaled which is a weird thing to be able to say. Hopefully this knife is cleaner than that bit of rebar that jammed itself into his arm on Bracca. They’re not too far from the Outpost, and Cal is not looking forward to seeing Greez and showing him this latest injury. He tries to put his weight on it, sighing when it just about holds. “Okay. I can do this.”

He takes a step.

His leg holds.

A few more steps.

Leg holds…

Another –

His thigh screams for relief and his knee gives out. Cal tumbles to the ground, feeling the knife bite deeper into flesh and muscle. His howl echoes across Koboh’s plains. This is what he gets for helping a prospector – losing out on priorite and a bounty hunter’s knife in his leg.

Losing the priorite stings. There’s something about prospecting that takes him back to scavenging on Bracca, the spark of relief finding something he can exchange for the goods he really needs, and he’d prefer not think about that in too much detail right now, thank you very much.

BD skuttles around him, Cal’s ears ringing too loudly to hear what BD’s saying. He’d check in with the Force, but he’s too distracted by the pain and the hot blood rolling down his leg and staining his pants. Dammit, he liked these ones too. So rugged and practical.

Not anymore.

Digging deep – you know me; I’m persistent – Cal gets up and resumes his sorry shamble back to the Outpost. By the time he’s moving between the buildings, prospectors give him weird looks and wider births.

Except Turgle. Turgle sees him, shrieks and scarpers, massive feet flip flopping loudly. Eye-roll beeping (it’s a speciality), BD gives Cal all the encouragement he needs to just. Keep. Going and –

And Greez suddenly appears, Turgle struggling to keep up. Greez says nothing, looks terrified, and proceeds to act as a crutch so Cal can limp a little faster back to his basement room.

“Floor, not bed,” he manages to tell Greez. “Don’t wanna ruin your sheets.”

“I don’t care about the sheets, I care about your leg, you not bleeding out, and you not catching some horrific infection.” Greez takes a deep, meditative breath. “Okay, BD, go tell Monk I need the good kit. He’ll know what I mean. And if Mosey’s up there, tell her to wash up ‘cause I’m gonna need her. And – ”

Cal zones out. Or passes out. Either way, he comes to the moment the knife in his leg is untwisted and wrenched free. He cries out so sharply he feels the sound tear the back of his throat. There are voices and hands, liquids poured, bandages wrapped, and sometime after that Cal notices he’s not on the floor anymore, he’s in his bed, and he’s sporting a strange pair of long/short pants in which one leg is fine and the other has been cut into some kind of hot pant style that does not suit him at all. It might keep him cooler, but he’ll be torn to shreds by Koboh’s flora.

“How come your leg doesn’t have all those freckle speckles too?” Greez comments when he spots Cal is lucid once again.

Cal grabs a blanket and covers his legs.

BD answers for him.

“I do see the sun,” Cal mumbles. “Just not that particular part of me.”

“Humans are weird,” Greez announces.

You’re telling me, BD burbles.

[mosaic-marquise]

When folks out here change their damn name I don't know who the fuck is WHAT??? Is that there our good neighbor Ben?? HE DON'T LOOK RIGHT?! When did I start following this person!?!

[verdemoun]

timewarp at the bar on a friday night because i am being forced to leave the house against my will

it is always sean's idea and it's not just because alcohol he would just genuinely love the vibe and struggle to understand how people don't

sean buys the most expensive cocktails everywhere and thinks it's amazing alcohol can taste like fruit juice but lenny is a beer and whiskey purist as much as sean tries to get him to admit that sex on the beach is tasty (and maybe a good idea for later)

lenny never grows out of his loud silly drunk persona and is actually the life of the party he'll be standing on a table while staff scream at him but crowds are cheering as he balances a glass on a glass on his forehead. he has so many dumb party tricks like catching food in his mouth sean throws at him across the room and close up magic he learned from trelawney.

kieran shocks everyone by not hating going out. he has a sixth sense for finding the shes theys and sapphos and will get adopted before he's had two drinks. alcohol very much soothes his anxiety and he radiates so much genderchaotic the girlies drag him into the bathroom to be their hype squad while they fix their hair and makeup. he's just sitting on the sink merrily telling them they're pretty/handsome and they give him snacks

arthur never quite figured out not dressing like an outlaw or looking like he was sent to kill somebody but by the end of the night he'll have made a new friend like it was a side quest. he's the country boy version of a manic pixie dream girl the gays everywhere are left staring in awe as arthur casually 'welp better mosey on' and they never see him again

at least once isaac snuck into the bar with a fake id got caught by arthur who gave him a very firm lecture but then admittedly had a beer with his son before telling him he was grounded.

kieran sometimes gets to the classic wanders off/runs away for no reason level of drunk and the gang have come to speculate that's how the o'driscolls got him at jack's party. :c this is further supported by the fact he can get really panicky and disorientated when he's running. the positive is seeing almost any of the gang very quickly calms him down and he goes straight back to being giggly talkative drunk kieran.

arthur having caught kieran and trying to carry him home while kieran is giggling 'hey remember when you did this in colter' 'yes kieran i remember colter' 'i love you guys so much' 'you ain't so bad yourself' *delighted squee*

arthur, very drunk, trying to herd a very drunk kieran, sean and lenny home is hell. there's already buckets and towels spread out in the living room because none of them are making it to bed they're just sprawled out on the floor like there's been a shoot out hosea calmly steps over them to make his coffee the next morning.

[magnolia-among-the-stars]

fat funny friend (jake seresin pt 8/?)

PART OF MY “WHATEVER THIS IS” SERIES WHICH CAN BE FOUND HERE

PAIRING: JAKE ‘HANGMAN’ SERESIN x Female Plus Size Bartender!Reader

NICKNAME: Sunshine

Warning: A bit of self-body shaming

It goes without saying but I do not give permission for anyone to use my work or copy it somewhere else.

PLOT: Penny Benjamin’s niece works at The Hard Deck, saving the money she earns to get out of the west coast and put herself through Graduate School. What happens when a pretty boy pilot ends up as her fake boyfriend?

PART ONE / PART TWO / PART THREE / PART FOUR / PART FIVE / PART SIX / PART SEVEN / PART EIGHT / PART NINE / PART TEN / PART ELEVEN / FINAL PART

Two weeks. It had been two weeks and the pain of Jake’s absence took a heavier toll on you than you had previously expected, and you weren’t sure how much more you could handle it. Your home had become a hollow and messy disaster of a landing zone, blankets everywhere along with half eaten containers of take-out food. You hadn’t showered in a few days, your hair now only spun up into lackadaisical buns as you wiped your mouth on your sleep shirt and closed your eyes to the sound of the next rerun of Law & Order: SVU.

In the days immediately following Halloween, you were sure he was going to call, apologize for his lack of communication. You had tricked yourself into thinking perhaps he had a horrifying call to action and had been on an aircraft carrier before dawn.

But days later, you ran into Phantom and Rooster while they were out for coffee. Bradley looked at you confused, a wash of a smile etching on his face. It told you he knew, somehow and that smile made all these fantasies crumble out of your head and sent you into a spiral of pain and rejection in a way you never thought possible.

You’d let Jake in, all the way. Something you had vowed to yourself that you wouldn’t do again without great sacrifice. Instead, you were met with resistance and insecurity that bubbled through your chest and burned your esophagus raw as you wept and screamed out into the abyss of your lonely apartment. You took a few days off work, Penny texting back with a knowing ‘Take your time.’ You felt sick, throwing up in hopes that the weight in your tummy would dissipate but to no avail.

            A knock on your door startled you awake out of a groggy fog, a numb vibration coming over you from your spot on the couch. You groan a little, turning away from the door to rest your face against the fabric with a heavy sigh. The loud banging continues on, and you grunt again, turning back to roll off the couch. You mosey over to the front door and check the window, only to pull the door open. “Nat, now isn’t a good time.”

            “What the hell happened?” she demands, stepping inside and past you without hesitation. Her harsh tone takes you by surprise and your shoulders push back as you find energy for the first time in weeks.

“What the hell happened?” you repeat with an almost mocking tone. “Well, let’s see,” you cackle with a bitter wave rushing through your body. “What happened is that Bagman did what Bagman does best. He hung me out to dry.”

“What?” the word falls out of Nat’s mouth in a way she can’t help. “That’s impossible.”

“Well, if you’ve come here to mock me Nat, you can fuckin’ go because I've had it with Naval Aviators fucking destroying my subconscious so,” you pace over to the front door and swing it open. You stare expectedly at her as her stance deflats suddenly, her gaze downcast as she starts to swallow down what you’ve just blurted out.

“No Y/N, I’m not trying to,” she takes a slow and heavy breath before glancing back up at you. “Hangman is miserable. He’s a hollow shell of himself...I figured you’d stomped all over his heart because I’ve never seen him like this before.”

The mention of Jake’s state should tug at your heart strings. It should make your heart flutter that he’s so lost without you, and he’s so desperately broken that the absence of your presence was the clear notion to Nat that something must’ve happened. But you’re too bitter. Too broken to even have the slightest bit of sympathy for the piece of shit. A heartless, venomous cackle bubbles out of you in a way you’ve never experienced before. This is what he’s done...look what he’s turned you into.

“That’s hilarious. He’s a fucking wreck? Serves him right,” you slam the door shut and walk past her to the kitchen to get a bottle of water, your mouth going dry.

It’s the first time that Nat is finally taking in your figure, taking in the state of you as you move to the kitchen and tug the fridge door open. You’re less round than she remembers seeing you at the Halloween party weeks prior. You’ve got dark circles beneath your bottom lash lip and your stomach isn’t poking out as much as it used to. It worries her. “Y/N,” she tries again, her tone much softer this time as she approaches you. “What happened?”

You chug down the entire water bottle, letting the flush wash away any of the burning hunger in your stomach. Avoiding her gaze, you lean against the counter for support and take slow and steady breaths. Underneath all the feminine rage and anger, there’s insecurity ripping through your veins and cursing every inch of your body. You wish it into submission of a quiet hum as you glance up at her, wet lashes distracting her from the sniffle you make.

“What do you think?” Your sour tone isn’t directly for her; Nat knows that now as she steps closer.

Her arms are slowly approaching you as she tries to gently collect you into her embrace as your knees wobble, so shaky that you crumble to the ground as your mouth quivers and the dam breaks. She’s cooing as your ass meets the tile of the kitchen, your loud wails filling the quaint kitchen as she tries to hold you tight enough that the pieces of your soul don’t shatter.

“He left Nat,” you whimper, “He left me after we slept together for the first time. It took me so long to let someone in and,” you inhale the wet snot dripping from your nose. “I feel so embarrassed and so ashamed.” Your voice came out in slow, aching weeps as you looked down at your thighs.

All the body positivity, all the confidence in who you were faltering at the loss of a man who you weren’t even in a real relationship with. You were angry at yourself for even letting the thoughts to climb into your mind and rot your empowerment. “The man saw my body and then left…it really can shatter a person’s self-esteem if they aren’t careful,” you admitted and suddenly, Nat sees red. Nat sees this beautiful and vibrant person withering away in her arms and she can’t handle that. She won’t allow it when she’s grown so close with you.

So, she calls for re-enforcements, hatching a plan for the next evening to re-introduce you to bar life and get your mojo back. At 6:30 PM promptly the next day, she shows up as promised with Gemini and Aries in tow. Bags are tossed over their shoulders, and they’ve got bottles of Patron in hand as they grin lovingly. “Let’s ruin the fucker’s birthday,” Aries smirks as she places her bag down on the couch.

            Hours later, Nat leads the way as you approach the porch of the Hard Deck and friendly, familiar faces greet you in excitement. “God damn Sunshine,” a kind firefighter from town hollers, eyeing your short black top and daisy dukes. Your toes are freshly painted, and legs moisturized, you’d felt like a real person for the first time since that night on Halloween. And now, three weeks later – you had just begun to smile.

            “Thank you so much Benson,” you tuck a loose curl behind your ear and keep moving, the momentum bringing you through the door and into the Hard Deck. It’s in full swing when you glance around, slightly hoping that you don’t even notice him for the night. There’s a knot, continuing to twist and wind itself up and you find it a bit hard to breath just as you get to the bar top.

            “There’s my girl,” Penny calls out, rushing around the opening to wrap you in the tightest hug she can muster up.

            “Hi Pen,” you mumble back, enjoying the warmth of her embrace and pulling back to smile genuinely at her.

            “Nat told me the gist of everything,” she pursed her lips with a nod to your friend, a mischievous glaze to her wise eyes. “You give me the look and I will ruin that man’s whole life, starting with his wallet.”

            “That won’t be necessary Pen,” you squeeze her arms and pull back, “But I’ll take a tequila sunrise instead.” She nods with a wink, returning behind the bar to mix up the cocktails for you. You slide into one of the stools beside Aries when you hear it. The hoot of a Texan man gone wild. Him. You take a heavy breath, letting your gaze wander to his usual spot. Scratch that…your usual spot. And you wished you hadn’t because there he was with the men of the squadron, arm draped lazily over some skinny brunette’s shoulders as he pressed up against her ear.

            “He looks real torn up Nat,” you seethe, turning back to your friend and pushing off your stool when she pushes you down.

            “He only found the girl after he found out we were coming tonight,” Nat promises, taking a sip of her beer. “It’s sickening but I’ve got something to keep your mind off him,” she nods in the direction of the booth again. The weight of your purse burns against your hip when you square your shoulders and ready yourself to vomit when you turn back to the table. But your view is blocked by the frame of another man walking toward you, bright pearly whites gleaming as he approaches with an innocent smile.

            “Just play along and watch the magic of a fury,” Nat’s voice trails off as you sit up a bit straighter and tilt your head.

            “Hey Fanboy,” you greet the man a bit louder than your typical tone and he picks up the pace until he’s in front of you. He doesn’t stop his momentum though, not in the slightest as he leans forward and collects your cheeks in his hands to tug your mouth to his. His lips are silky smooth against yours, fresh minty breath refreshing as you breath him in. You cup the back of his head, nails scrapping against his scalp as he situates himself between your thighs.

            Slowly, ever so slowly, he’s leaning back as he rests his hands on either side of you, caging you in. You’re left trying to catch your breath as you smile widely, enjoying the sensation of his mouth over the expanse of your neck. This is a show, and you are a reoccurring main character. You’ve played this game before and now more than ever, you need believability. So, you wrap your hands around his slender waist and giggle slightly as his teeth drag along the column of flesh. “Fanboy, stop mauling my niece,” your aunt quips playfully, in on the gag as you slot your hands into the back pockets of his jeans.

            “Sorry Penny,” he pulls back, gazing at you lovingly. “She’s just irresistible.”

            “Well, take your asses away from my counter. You’ll scare off customers,” Penny calls, her voice carrying easily over to the table in the back where there is a booth tucked away from the patrons. Your booth. Your booth that is now occupied.

            “Want to take this party out to the bonfire?” Fanboy’s voice is low in your ear, causing you to shiver slightly and nod, bottom lip tucked between your teeth. Eat your heart out Jake Seresin.

            “Are you fuckin’ serious?” Speak of the devil. You peer around Fanboy’s shoulder to see the blond seething, fists balled up at his sides. His jaw is clenched so tight you though the muscle there would snap from any further tension.

            “Can we help you?” you ask slowly, blinking at the man you had hopelessly fallen in love with. The man who slowly gained your trust and then ripped everything you knew out from under you. Fuck him.

            “You serious Sunshine?”

            “Don’t call me that,” you snap, eerily sharp. Your tone forces him back, hitting him square in the chest and a small flash of hurt creeps through his green eyes. Fuck him. “You don’t get to call me that…are you fucking serious?”

            Anger ripples over Jake again and suddenly, Nat’s shoulder to shoulder beside you while Fanboy still hovers to your front. You feel their strength building inside of you as you stare at Jake’s strong and broad chest. “It’s my birthday.”

            “And?”

            Jake scoffs at you, his hands sliding over his sharp hipbones. His fingers flex and it takes every ounce of will power to not think about how they felt against your cunt. “And you are making out with Fanboy right in front of my face. On my birthday,” his hand goes up in emphasis as if it isn’t perfectly clear what the two of you had been doing.

            “You’ve got some nerve.”

            “Me?” he sounds shocked.

You scoff, “Yes, fucking you Bagman.” You’re shaking now. How dare he. How dare he show up to your side of the bar months ago and be charming. How dare he flirt hard enough and still be so sweet and unassuming that you let him take you on a terrible date and then save you from your horrible ex. How dare he take you to your favorite bookstore, let you share all your favorite tropes and stories with him while he just hummed along and happily held your selections until you reached the counter. How dare he told you about his home life, about his sisters. About his mom, about his tough relationship with his father and the vulnerability they’d earned from each other over the years. About his fears of flying in a tin can in the sky at trillions of miles an hour. How dare he let you down when you tried so hard not to let him in.

You slide of your stool, suddenly exhausted. Suddenly deflated and with no burning fire in you to fight back. You felt small again and you hated feeling small, especially here in public. You were tired of hiding, tired of pretending.

Maybe that was what got you here in the first place. And he sees it and he’s got this burning in his chest that feels like acid reflux but worse. He watches as you slowly dig through your purse, saddling up until you were right in front of him. You tug your hand free of the contents within the bag to reveal a small box, black leather smooth to the touch.

“I hate that I did this but I know how much you said you would only get a new one if it was the exact one,” your words are so gentle, he’s not sure you said anything really…not sure if he imagined it. You couldn’t be this gentle with him, not after what Jake had done. “I hate that you make me feel this way…and I hate that I still don’t hate you,” you confess, pushing the box into his hands with a mumbled Happy Birthday.

And then he no longer feels your warmth in his space, feeling vulnerable and insecure all over again. But this time, he’s in front of an entire bar of people who definitely prefer you to him and he’s feeling self-conscious, so he rushes to the bathroom, out of the view of patrons. His hands fiddle with the box, unsure if he should even open it. That burning in his chest is getting worse and he’s pretty sure it would be better if he just cut out his throat to save himself.

But curiosity is a killer and Jake Seresin is weak, so he pries the box open only to immediately let out a whimper at the contents inside. Nestled between the velvet material is a 1942 Hamilton WWII wristwatch, just like his grandfather’s that he lost on his last tour. The very watch he cried about the first time the two of you drank a bottle of red wine on his porch, wrapped up on the swing under a blanket. Fuck.

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[taetaespeaches]

“I thought you were cold.”

jungkook x reader (oc) genre: fluff word count: 1.4K

a/n: Hi lovelies! Here’s just a little scene in which Jungkook comes home all cold from the winter weather and finds that reader/Holly is wearing his hoodie all cozy on the couch. I hope you all enjoy and thanks for reading! :)) 

The moment Jungkook barged into your apartment, carelessly dropping his bag to the floor, he let out an exaggerated shiver. You stared at him as he shed himself of his coat, once again letting it drop to the floor. Only then did he look at you, his bambi eyes pleading with you to understand his pain.

“It’s so cold out there,” he exclaimed, his eyes only widening when you didn’t give him the response he wanted. “It started snowing.”

Glancing over your shoulder to the window, you noted the flakes dropping from the sky. “Well look at that,” you simply stated in an effort to tease the man, looking back at Jungkook. You found him on his knee as he unlaced his combat boots, peering up at you underneath his fringe with a boyish smile on his face.

“Don’t you feel bad for me?” He quizzed, an edge of flirtiness coating his tone.

“I’m sorry, am I not giving you the attention you want?” You teased, smirking at him as he kicked his second shoe off and rose to his toe sock-clad feet, a mischievous smile on his face.

“More like empathy,” he countered, eliciting a playful scoff from you.

As he stepped toward you, you snorted at his presence. He looked so good with his baggy black tee and loose black cargo pants, cool from his head to his ankles, and then… “Those socks clash with your fit,” you noted, making Jungkook pause as he looked down at his feet.

“What do you mean?” He asked in amused defense. “White goes with black.”

“It’s not the color, Jungkook, and you know that.” Raising your eyebrows at him, you barely bit back the smile that threatened to spread across your face in response to his giggle.

“One of these days you’re gonna jump on the toe sock train,” he assured you, making you roll your eyes as he moseyed closer. “They’re like gloves for your feet.”

“I thought you were cold,” you questioned, cocking your head as you carefully watched him approach the sofa.

“I am but my feet are warm,” he beamed, just before stopping right next to the couch where you remained lying across. Jungkook eyed up your frame, taking note of your leisurely outfit, lounge shorts and a hoodie. However, it wasn’t in the sexy way you liked but rather in a much more strategic manner, as though he was plotting against you.

Pulling your eyebrows together as you studied him, you realized a moment too late what he was up to as he quickly bounded atop you and trapped you under his freezing form, his arms instantly slipping beneath your top to press his icy hands to your warm tummy, the chilly material of his pants frigid against your legs. You screamed in protest, but your writhing was to no avail, the man relaxing against you with a sigh of content as he nudged his cold face against your neck.

He left kisses to your skin as you shoved at his shoulders, finally going limp beneath him as you accepted your fate with a whine in complaint. “Koo,” you mewled, his warm breath blowing against your neck in puffs in accordance with his entertained laughter. “You’re so fucking cold, you jerk!”

“I told you,” he reminded you. “Should have doted on me when you had the chance, now I’m your problem.”

Rolling your eyes at him, you found yourself giggling at his dumb antics. “You’re always my problem,” you pointed out, Jungkook lifting his face to smile at you.

He prepared to speak but stopped himself as his eyes lingered on your chest. Again, not in the sexy way but rather in the accusatory way. “Is this my hoodie?”

“No,” you instantly denied, a bald-faced lie.

Pursing his lips, his eyes met yours. “I think it is.”

“You’re delusional.”

“You’re a gaslighter,” he shot back, twirling one of the strings of the hoodie around his tattooed digit. The little crown between his knuckles caught your attention, as his ink so often did. You could gaze at the art forever, all of it an actualization of Jungkook’s passion and creativity.

“Am not,” you defended, your eyes bouncing back to meet his.

“And I wanted to wear this today, you’re the reason I froze out there,” he whined cutely, a small pout forming on his lips.

Rolling your eyes, you tugged the string out of his grasp. “You have a closet full of hoodies.”

“So it is mine!” His eyes were so round and pretty as he watched you, anticipating your next defense.

Sighing, you internally scrambled for your words. “No,” you started, Jungkook’s cocky grin just barely making an appearance on his beautiful face. “I’m just saying even if this is yours,” you started to rant, Jungkook catching your choice of words, raising his eyebrows expectantly. “Which it’s not,” you added with a smirk. “It still wouldn’t matter because you could have easily chosen a different one.”

“But I wanted this one,” he spoke, giving you that boy-like charm once more. It was unfair that he weaponized his cuteness like that.  

“It’s not yours!”

“My reality is real,” he teased, calling back to his gaslighting comment, making you giggle. The man nuzzled his head against your shoulder, his forehead resting against the side of your jaw.

“How was your day,” you whispered to him. Your fingers worked through his strands, combing his hair away from his face in a soothing repetition.  

“Good,” he muttered back, wrapping an arm around your body, allowing you to eye the colorful ink that decorated his forearm. He was so cool. So pretty. “Got some recording done,” he then added, giving you the tiniest detail from the events that filled his day. Before you could ask him more, he was directing the questioning to you.

“How was your day, baby?”

Smiling softly, you told him the same. “Good. Got home from work and haven’t moved from this spot since.”

“Good,” he giggled, lifting his face to look at you. “You know, I’ve been looking for this hoodie for two weeks, actually,” he circled back, drawing a groan in response from you.

“Oh my god, enough with the hoodie,” you told him, acting annoyed and exasperated that he would dare accuse you yet again.  

“But it’s mine,” he giggled, making you hold back your own laugh of amusement.  

“Jungkook, if you want this hoodie you’re gonna have to pry it off my body,” you ordered him, immediately realizing you misspoke. A smile overtook your features as you tried to stop him before he could respond. “Wait, wait-”

“You- wait- is-” he stuttered, making you stall your own backtracking, too amused and endeared by him. Then a beam spread across his face. “You know I’m happy to do that,” he finally got out, a flirty smirk replacing the adorable smile.

“Do not,” you lightheartedly and unseriously warned.

“Are you flirting with me, Holly?” He had lowered his tone to sound more sexy, and you hated how easy it was for him to appear that way. Damn him.

“No,” you said shortly, trying to bite back your growing grin but failing as you beamed up at him.

“Was this your plan all along?”

You couldn’t hold back the giggle he triggered with his playful comments, that is, until he winked. Rolling your eyes and shoving at his bicep to try to push him off of you all while you wore a smile, the man giggled adorably, only moving his arms to cage your head between his body and the couch cushion below you. Before either of you could say anything, he slowly lowered his face toward yours, his eyes bouncing from yours to your lips. He placed one kiss to your lips, soft and lingering, but one that didn’t last near long enough for either of you. He pulled away, teasingly, trying to trigger you into taking control or at least some kind of action.

“You know what?” You smirked at him, Jungkook letting a lazy smile spread across his mouth in response.

“What?”

“It’s very bold of you to think I need a plan to get you to remove my clothing as though you’re not so obsessed with m-”

Jungkook, giggling cutely, cut you off by pressing his lips to yours once again, meeting you in a messy kiss full of smiles and laughter. You easily fell into it, into Jungkook, smiling and laughing along with him as you wrapped your arms around the back of his neck. You kissed him for as long as you could, until the giggles and grins stopped, until you were breathless, and until the hoodie was finally removed from your body and discarded on the floor, far away from Jungkook’s attention.

[meatmensch]

"you are NOT a good driver you make so many fuck ups on the road" but have we died???? are we dead???? no???? then shut the fuck up. know your place. be grateful. you're welcome. come on let's go *puts the car in reverse instead of drive and hits a babushka* man i can't wait to get to in-n-out *i switch into drive and mosey on down the road* i think i'm gonna get a double-double. *sirens* what about you? bro stop screaming

[amhrosina]

Little Talks (Namor x f!Reader)

MASTERLIST // JOIN MY TAGLIST

A/N: It's currently 20 degrees in Texas with a windchill that makes it feel like it's below zero. SOS y'all, Texas wasn't made for this weather. Also patiently waiting for Wakanda Forever to come out on streaming platforms so we can all be blessed with HD gifs of Tenoch as Namor <3

Request: Hii can you please write a namor x fem avenger reader where he’s yelling at her for being reckless during missions and he’s doing this because he cares and worries for her safety

Summary: You get hurt during a mission with SHIELD, and Namor is pissed at you for putting yourself in danger.

(Warnings: nothing crazy, minor descriptions of bruises/cuts, Maria is reader's unofficial adoptive parent, angry Namor, but he's only angry because you're an idiot and not taking care of yourself, fools in love, fluffy Namor, etc.)

Translations: 

in yakunaj – my love 

in ch'ujuk – my sweet 

The sky shook with thunder, and you braced yourself against the sides of the hangar as it began its slow descent towards Avenger’s headquarters. Every muscle in your body ached with fatigue and you were sure you’d be covered in bruises the next morning. You weren’t injured anywhere specific, but it hurt if you breathed too deeply and every time you tensed your jaw, you were reminded of the teeth-rattling punch you’d taken to the face earlier in the evening. 

Everything went according to plan, sort of. You weren’t technically supposed to be in the line of fire, but you realized halfway through the plan that it would never work if you remained hidden, so you’d moseyed your way right into the den of thieves you were supposed to be quietly subduing. It wasn’t like you were an amateur. You’d been training all your life for situations like that one, and you’d be lying if you said the thrill of a physical fight didn’t get your blood pumping in excitement. 

Unfortunately, the aftermath of your hasty decision had left you completely spent, covered in cuts and bruises, and if you twisted your body a certain way, a bone-deep rattling ache would claw its way through your ribs. You were alive, though, and you’d completed the mission, so you were content with calling it a win.  

Agent Hill, on the other hand, had begun ranting in your earpiece about safety and backup the moment you’d stepped onto the hangar, and she wasn’t anywhere close to being finished. You listened intensely, unable to get a word in to defend yourself even if you wanted to.  

The clang of the hangar hitting cement rattled through your body and you tried not to tense up too much as the aircraft landed. The sudden whir of the rear hatch opening had you moving, albeit slowly, towards the exit, eager to wash the dried blood from your skin. Agent Hill’s voice carried on through your earpiece, and when the hatch had fully opened, her voice flowed both in your ear and in through the air in front of you. You slid the earpiece out of your ear and watched as she stomped up the ramp, stopping in front of you.  

“You’re lucky to be alive, girl.” She pointed her finger at your chest, grazing the material with the curve of her nail. Her tone was vice-like, a certain finality flowing through it, but the furrow in her brow revealed what she was trying so hard to hide – concern.  

“Maria, I-” You lifted your hands in an innocent gesture as she cut you off. 

“You not only jeopardized yourself, but also the mission. And for what? So you could get a few punches in? If you’re itching for a fight, I can get an intern to go a few rounds with you in the training arena, but you cannot just rush into dangerous situations with no backup. I trained you better than that.”  

You nodded, agreeing with her in the hopes that she’d let you go shower and get the much-needed rest your body was screaming for. It probably should’ve bothered you that Maria treated you so differently than the rest of the Avengers. You were just as trained as they were, more versed in hand-to-hand combat than any of them, and you’d been smack dab in the middle of the battlefield when the Avengers had fought Thanos. But Maria hadn’t unofficially adopted any of the other Avengers when they were toddlers, so it didn’t bother you when she expected more from you. Maria had saved your life, raised you to live with honor, and personally trained you to be one of the most skilled Avengers on the planet. Letting her yell at you when you messed up was the least you could do for her. 

“Go clean yourself up.” She muttered, shaking her head.  

You stepped around her, intent on doing just that when her voice stopped you.  

“He’s waiting for you over by the river.” 

You swung around, studying her figure as she tapped away at her tablet, no doubt arranging the next set of missions you’d be sent on.  

“You told him?” You groaned, palming your face. The ache in your jaw made you wince and rub the area more gently.  

“He overheard mission control when you decided you wanted to go all Mission Impossible on those guys. I didn’t have to tell him anything.” 

“Shit.” You shook your head. You’d thought you’d heard the last of it from Maria, but Namor knew what you’d done, and you knew he wouldn’t be happy with you. You slumped towards the elevator, realizing you would not be getting that rest you so desperately needed anytime soon. 

After you scrubbed your skin raw in the shower, cleaning up the dried blood and dirt that had quite literally gotten into places it should never be, you stared at your reflection in the mirror. If you were being honest, it looked worse than it felt, but even you couldn’t ignore the steady drum of adrenaline that had yet to leave your body. Your jaw was slightly swollen, a purple bruise blooming from its underside. A cut along the line of your cheekbone was sure to leave a small scar, and you could physically feel the ache in your ribs every time you inhaled. Everything would hurt tomorrow, and you were not eager to feel the consequences of your ridiculously stupid actions. 

You glanced toward your bed, so perfectly soft and comfortable and warm. You ached with desire to jump in it, to ignore the world for a few hours, but you could feel his call, deep in your bones, and it was something you’d never been able to ignore. He was waiting for you, and he would not leave until you showed yourself. 

Come to me, in yakunaj. Show me what I almost lost tonight.  

You trembled with anticipation. His voice, usually so soft and caressing, boomed with anger as he beckoned you to the river. You were left with no choice but to head down the elevator and out the door, towards the man who had stolen your heart and soul. 

Namor met you on the riverbank, storming out of the water at a pace that would’ve been alarming to anyone else. His hands cupped your jaw tightly, and you winced when the ache in your jaw increased to an unbearable throb. He immediately moved his hand to cup the back of your neck, resting his forehead on yours. An apology, even though you didn’t feel like you deserved one. 

He was quiet for a few minutes, homing in on the steady drum of your pulse beneath your skin. You leaned into his hold, wrapping your fingers around his wrists in a fierce hold. 

“Do you not understand the depth of my love for you, in ch'ujuk?” He asked, pulling his head away from yours to look into your eyes.  

“What?” You stuttered, unable to comprehend where he was going with his question. 

“I have dedicated my life to protecting you, and you repay me by playing the fool?” 

“Namor,” you furrowed your brow, shaking your head in confusion, “my love, what do you mean? I know that you love me. I don’t underst-” 

His tone turned fierce, laced with a rage you had rarely seen before. “Then why do you throw yourself into such reckless situations? Do you not understand how terrifying it is to hear you struggling when I am so far away? When I cannot help you?”  

An annoyance sparked in your chest, and you couldn’t help the anger from seeping into your tone in response. “It is my job to eliminate the enemy, Namor. I can take care of myself.” 

Namor shook his head, clucking his tongue in anger. “Do not act like my anger is unwarranted. You made a reckless, stupid, decision tonight, and you could have died. Did you stop and think about where that would have left me? Without you, I am nothing.” 

“You cannot ask me to give up the Avengers, Namor.” You jutted your chin out in defiance.  

“I would never ask you to do that.” He replied in a hasty, ferocious tone. “But you cannot act like you are immortal, in yakunaj. You bleed like every other human being on the planet. You could have died, and that would have destroyed me. And Maria.” 

“I’m fine,” you groaned, suddenly so sick of being coddled that you felt like screaming. “I wish everyone would stop treating me like I’m some fragile little flower. I am more than capable of handling a few bad guys who, I should add, didn’t even have guns!” 

“In yakunaj,” Namor’s voice had cooled to a gentle caress, “You misunderstand me. I know, more than anyone, the power you hold. You are strong and you are used to being independent, but you cannot behave so recklessly when you have a family waiting for you at home.” 

“A family?” You blinked back tears as the realization washed over you. Namor considered you his family, and you suddenly felt like an idiot for rushing into your mission so blindly. 

“I love and protect you. You love and protect me. Is that not what makes a family?” He asked, slightly grinning. 

“It is.” You murmured, leaning into his hold even further. You nestled your cheek against his chest where you could hear the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. “I’m sorry for worrying you.” 

Namor wrapped his arms around you and rested his chin on your head. 

“You are my life, in yakunaj. I would never forgive myself, or you, for that matter, if you got hurt.”  

A laugh stuttered out of you, but it quickly evolved into a wince when you realized just how sore your ribs were. Namor wrapped his hand around yours and tugged you towards the water.  

“Come, in yakunaj. The water will heal you.” 

“I don’t think that’s how it works.” You giggled, kicking your shoes off. 

“Don’t argue.” Namor grinned, watching as you stuffed your socks into your boots. “At the very least, it will soothe the ache for a while.” 

You couldn’t help yourself. Before he could make it any further in the water, you jumped into his arms and planted a kiss on his lips. Your toes barely scratched the surface of the water as he held you up, smiling into the kiss. Your family was small, and rather unconventional, but you wouldn’t trade it for the world.  

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[trailandkale]

august! “The light in the trees full of fury!” and humidity in the air full of impact! the last summer month. I’m not ready. I want to scream. I want to run around in circles. I want a good sunburn. A tall drink. I want sweat and aching muscles and happy smiles. A big storm, strange skies, cracking thunder. A big book and nowhere to be. I want a cool breeze and to mosey around outside like a kid out of school. I want my toes in the nearest water. I want to bike on an adventure with a friend and spend a day writing pages in my journal. I want to draw under trees and pick ants off my ankles. I want to eat an entire watermelon and a whole bowl of cherries, bloody, breathless and dripping. Count fireflies and wish on stars and play with flowers. I want to match the last summer month blow for blow. I want it to linger.