#my knees are way worse too I hadn't realize that-

[heeikeuu]

In Your Embrace Is My Solitude

» how lads men comfort you during a panic attack

» pairing – lads x fem!reader

» genre – fluff, comfort, romance

» warnings – blood, panic attacks, teeny tiny angst, violence (please let me know if I missed anything)

note: my first official lads fic! Sorry for any typos in advance, enjoy!

ZAYNE:

Returning from a rough mission, you were badly injured and needed to attend to your wounds immediately. However you couldn't stop thinking about how you childishly fought with your fiance this morning because he kept telling you to not go alone on this mission but you argued back that you weren't a little girl and could handle yourself. But those words came to bite you right in the ass as you returned home at 1:30am covered in blood. It was hard to tell if it was mostly your blood or the wanderers. You weakly made your way to the hallway. You were nervous to face Zayne because you didn't want to burden your already tired and hard-working fiance, knowing he already does so much for you. What you didn't know is that he was sitting in the living room, worried sick, waiting for you. Your body froze seeing him. He looked at you and felt his heart drop. He instantly made his way to you, "What happened? Darling, are you alright? Why are you covered in blood?" His questions were rushing, but you could barely hear him anymore. Your anxiety spiked up further as you buried your face in his warmth. Zayne wasn't sure if he should hold you or not because he didn't want to make your injuries worse, but then he heard faint sobs and "I'm sorrys." Leave your lips. His heart ached, but he held back his tongue from scolding you. Instead, he gently inspected your body and held you. Your knees felt weak, and so did your entire body. Before you could collapse, Zayne carried you to the bedroom to care for your wounds and clean you up. Your body was still shaking as he wiped off the blood. Though Zayne wasn't a man of many words, he gently held your hand, "Next time, I'll be more careful, I'm sorry." You told him sincerely, "there is no need to apologize, darling. There will be no next time, I won't let you get hurt like this ever again."

SYLUS:

The night was very lively. You would argue too lively as the air felt stuffy. You had agreed to attend a charity event with your lover. However, you underestimated just how well known he would be during this event. You felt very uneasy, like eyes were on you almost as if they were trying to cut through the depths of your soul. Feeling your ears ringing as you were spacing out without realize. Suddenly, you felt a warm hand hold your own which was clamy, looking up you notice it was Sylus, he looked at you knowingly with a soft gaze and squeezed your hand twice, asking you if you're okay. You didn't want to ruin the night, so you simply nodded and flashed the best fake smile you could muster up, but he wasn't convinced. Pulling you towards his chest, he whispers to you, "Honey, if you're not feeling, we can always go home. There is no pressure to stay here, and I'm not going anywhere." His words eased your heart, making you calm down a bit more. Looking up at him, you no longer wanted to protest. Scared to use your voice, you just nodded again. He gently yet with a firm grip took your hand again and led you to his car to go home. His job was done for the night, and his wife was his top priority no matter what.

CALEB:

Waking up from a nightmare, you felt your sweaty body shake as you were trying to process that it wasn't real. Your hand instinctively reached out to your right side, expecting to feel your boyfriend next to you. However, you don't. You felt your anxiety spike up even more. You hadn't even bothered to check your phone or the time. You quickly got up from your shared bed and went to look for Caleb. You looked everywhere and couldn't find him. Tears flooded your vision further, scared that something happened to him like it did in your nightmare. What if he got into a fight with wanderers like the ones in you saw, you started pacing, heart pounding, hyperventilating now with tears streaming down your face because you remember the last thing you said to your boyfriend was that you couldn't promise to live a 100 years with him. After 2 minutes passed, you didn't seem to notice the soft click of the apartment door opening and closing, caleb came into view. Shocked at your state. Without hesitation, he immediately set down the groceries he got to make breakfast for you on the ground and ran up to check on you. Your body froze once you saw him and immediately ran into his arms. He held you protectively, "shhhh, I'm here, angel. Look at me, yeah?" He spoke ever so gently as he held your face in his hands. Looking at him, through your blurred vision, you see him kiss your tears away, his warmth a sharp contrast to how cold your body felt. "Do you want a distraction or a hug, angel?" He asked carefully, "a hug," you whispered. He held you until you calmed down and soon made you both breakfast to eat as it was 6am.

XAVIER:

You didn't mean to, but you had been spacing out too often today. You felt uneasy and kept trying to distract yourself however you could. You and Xavier were cuddling on the couch, watching old films together, but as Xavier was talking to you and explaining the movie's plot, you kept absentmindedly nodding. He eventually caught on and grabbed your chin, making you face him. "What's wrong, starlight? You've been out of it since this morning," He asked sweetly while carefully observing your body language. He noticed. He saw the way your eyes got ever so glossy, how your hands were sweaty, your fast heartbeat, and how you tried to discreetly stop your legs from shaking. You tried to speak but kept stuttering, "deep breaths, slowly." He talked you through it while holding your cheek with one hand and your waist with the other, bringing impossibly closer to him. You had trouble controlling your mind and often had panic attacks due to your intrusive thoughts. They always came unexpectedly and you couldn't stop them. You had been suppressing your feelings since this morning, but you ended up breaking down in front of your boyfriend. Tears were streaming down your face, "I-I'm sorry, I don't know what's wrong with me today," you voice muffled as he brought you to his chest, softly petting your hair and rocking back and forth with you in his arms. "It's okay, starlight. I'm not mad, I won't go anywhere, and yes I made sure to turn off the stove earlier" he joked at the last part making you giggle softly at his attempt to make you smile. You stayed like that for a while, feeling whole and safe in his arms.

RAFAYEL:

You were out with your friends having a great time after not seeing them for a long time, but you couldn't shake off the feeling of someone's piercing gaze on you. You brushed it off a few times. It's probably nothing, you thought to yourself as you excused yourself to the bathroom to wash up. Your heels clicking, but you were on high alert of your surroundings. Too high that you got lost in your mind, "going somewhere, miss?" An eerie voice spoke, flinching slightly. You look up and notice a strange man looking at you like you were deer caught in his trap. His smile got wider as he stepped closer to you. Shit what do I do, I don't have my weapons on me, you notice he had a knife, trapped between his large body, you felt your body and mind panic, you felt the cold dagger pressed closer to your pulse point drawing some blood in its awake. You tried to rack your brain on how to escape this situation swiftly, "You tell that lousy boyfriend of yours to not meddle in my business," the man threatened with a crazy look in his eyes. Rafayel? As if on que, your thoughts came to a halt as you heard his voice, the next few seconds were all a blur as you saw the man being pinned against the hallway walls with a deadly grip, "touching a woman without permission is a lousy move," Rafayel's voice said mockingly, "but touching my woman without her permission is a death wish." He spoke as the man cried in fear apologizing again and again. Rafayel wasn't having any of it. He threw the man onto the ground roughly before his gaze softened as he turned to look at you. Holding you in his arms, "shhh, it's okay, cutie, I'm here. I won't let anything happen to you, yeah?" His tone ever so sweet and soft. Your shaking body slowly calmed down afterward. Part of you knew that if you weren't here right now, that man would've been killed off in cold blood, yet you weren't scared of Rafayel. You knew he could never hurt you or let anyone hurt you.

Special tag; @imaluvsj7

© heeikeuu | likes and reblogs are appreciated ♡

[skznccmlee]

Since when I am SO ticklish on my armpits and inside of the elbow????????????????

[dyingswanpavlova]

"Your girl" - Part 2 | The Salesman x Reader

Summary: After he spontaneously abducted you, you try to figure out what his plans are for you. Is it to break your will? Your body? Or something else entirely?

Warnings: dead dove do not eat, kidnapping, violence, abuse, something I'd call mild torture, hinting at traumatic experiences, claustrophobic spaces, chains, degradation

"Your girl" - The Salesman x Reader Masterlist

The hunger wasn't the worst part.

No, you had learned to live with the hunger. You were your mother's daughter after all. You had a certain tolerance when it came to unpleasant living conditions.

No, what was far worse than the hunger was the darkness. You had no idea what time it was. Was it still night or had the sun risen already? Were the birds still asleep or were they happily chirping and announcing a new, beautiful day?

Surely it was beautiful to someone. It was someone's birthday. Someone's wedding day. Someone simply got to have a lazy morning and have brunch and coffee at noon.

Not you, though. You were still chained up, still hidden away in a dark closet. And you couldn't even tell if it was night or day.

Yesterday had been far worse though. The memory of it still made you flinch.

Instead of a dark closet, you had spent your day chained to the bed. So far, so good. Up until the point when he made you drink a whole water bottle, right before he chained you up. And then he left. Then he fucking left. You had heard the door shut behind him.

You really weren't a proud person and you had quickly come to realize that your situation required a certain...delicacy. So, you didn't mind when you had to beg. You didn't mind crying or yelling at all. That you just did, it came as naturally as the sun rises early and sets late. You had even agreed to say those damned, magical words.

"I'm your girl, please, I'm your girl!"

But no, silly. It was too late.

"I don't want that fucking, pitiful bullshit." He had spat out as he had tightened the chains around your wrists. "You will say it and you will mean it. Until then, we'll make do with what we have."

Which was exactly what had happened. He had forced the water down your throat and eventually you found yourself in, what he called, your bed. It hadn't been all too bad at first. Except for the obvious discomfort and the constant fear that nagged at you. But it got worse, the moment you felt the pressure in your bladder.

You normally had to use the bathroom about every two hours at the latest. Your urethra was quite tight - You knew that, because your mother had dragged you to a gynecologist as a teen. She had been furious, because you had to use the bathroom so often as a child. She had often snapped at you. Sometimes she even made you wait and told you, you had to wait a certain amount of time, before you could use it. It always ended the same way. You on your knees, begging and pleading with her to let you pee. You could have just let go and peed yourself. As already mentioned, you weren't too proud. But that was a sore spot. More than twenty-three years later and it still was a sore spot.

Your mother sat beside you in the doctor's office, affectionately stroking your hair.

After the doctor finished his speech about the tight urethra, he began a new speech about the way one of your kidneys seemed to be a little slow. It worked, yes. But you had to spend your life going careful around salt and peeing.

My poor darling, she had murmured. I knew there was a reason you had to go so often. My poor, darling girl.

It wasn't normally a problem. Until yesterday, when the sadistic bastard had tied you up and left you like that for nine...fucking...hours.

Your body still hurt terribly, just thinking about it.

You had been tempted to let go and make a mess of yourself. Who cared after all? It was his fucking bed, his fucking clothes, his-

But you couldn't. You just couldn't.

So you had laid on that bed, cried and writhed for hours on end. By the time he came back, he wore the most surprised expression, because he had obviously expected you to let go and pee yourself.

He found you with your eyes swollen and your face puffy, but the bed was dry.

"Such a good girl." He had murmured and tenderly caressed your cheek. "My good girl."

By the time he uncuffed you, you nearly broke both legs jumping up and rushing towards the door. But his low voice brought you back to reality.

"Stop."

You stood frozen, facing away from him.

And then the softest "Please" passed past your lips.

He had been tempted to refuse you, you could tell. He was cruel, sadistic and simply fucking crazy. But for some reason, he had sighed, the sound almost making you sob.

"Go."

And that you did. It had been so painful and so terribly degrading, but you had managed. You had truly managed.

By the time you came back to your bedroom, he still sat on the edge of the bed. Just like the night before - you had expected him to get physical. But instead he simply beckoned you to come closer and instructed you to sit down on the floor before him.

So far he hadn't gotten physical. At least one good thing, you thought. He hadn't ravished you. Yet. Hadn't even tried to kiss you. Nothing.

Hesitantly, you had approached him and sat down on the floor, your arms wrapped tightly around your legs. God, you finally felt like a human again.

"Who are you?" He had asked in that gentle, silken voice.

"Your girl." The words were an obvious mantra, easily repeated all day if so he demanded. But to your horror, he tsked again and shook his head.

He had leaned closer until your faces almost touched and whispered: "You still don't mean it."

Your heart clenched tightly and you whispered: "Please, I-"

But he interrupted you by simply holding up his hand. His fingertips ran down your cheek in a gentle manner and you almost found yourself leaning closer.

Almost.

What two days of hunger and one day of bladder pain could do to you.

"Get in the closet." He instructed firmly.

You swallowed thickly.

"Please." You whispered again. Your desperate tone wasn't for show, the crack in your voice wasn't to manipulate him. You were truly exhausted. But he simply shook his head.

"Don't make me say it again."

You closed your eyes in defeat and buried your face in your hands for a moment. Then you nodded and carefully got up. Everything was a little giddy and dizzy, since the pancakes had been the last thing you ate. But you didn't complain. You weren't that stupid.

You had just been stupid enough to take his hand.

And get in his car.

And his fucking apartment.

If you had struggled, sure, he might have gone crazy and shot you. But was that really that much worse than the prospect of spending the rest of your life like this?

You moved into the closet, a tiny room with hardly enough space for you to stretch out your legs. He made you sit down and then he cuffed you up again. Sitting down, not laying down.

All the while he was in there with you, making sure the cuffs stayed in place, you had stared up at his face with the most desperate expression in your eyes.

Once he finished with the cuffs, all he did was glance down at you, almost gently and smile.

"Be a good girl and let me sleep tonight. Don't scream and shout like you did all morning."

You swallowed again and you couldn't hide the soft tremble of your lips.

"I'm afraid of the dark." You whispered.

He tilted his head to the side, almost thoughtfully. Then he hummed. You had grown to hate that sound.

"I wasn't going to turn off the lights, but well. You may thank yourself. Good night, sweet girl."

"No! Please!"

And with that the lights went out and the door closed.

Click.

You couldn't tell if he slept in your room, to make sure you stayed where you were or if he went to the other side of the hallway and slept in his own room. Whatever it was, you couldn't tell because you didn't hear a thing. All you heard was the sound of your own heavy breathing and the way it got interrupted by a sob every now and then.

It had been a few hours. You really couldn't tell how many. And every time you were about to fall asleep, you flinched and your head shot back up, suddenly all too aware of where you were and what was going on.

Until eventually your exhaustion got the better of you and you fell asleep, your face buried against your knees.

It was a restless sleep, haunted by the memory of the man on the train lines.

But at least you hadn't dreamt of your mother ever since.

Some time later, you were woken up when you felt his hand press down on your shoulder. You flinched so hard, you immediately got a headache. He chuckled at the sight.

"Good morning, sweet girl. Did you sleep well?" He purred.

You were so exhausted and straight-up annoyed that you were tempted to ignore him or give a snarky remark. But you decided against it. Also, you felt lightheaded by how hungry you were, so you simply looked up at him with a soft, timid look.

"Awww." He smirked as he slowly uncuffed you. "I slept just wonderful. You did a good job, keeping your pretty little mouth shut."

He yanked you to your feet, causing you to stumble against him. He instantly wrapped his arms around you and ran his hands over your back. It would have come off as soothing and affectionate, if he wasn't such a twisted bastard. But again, you endured the touch.

It wasn't like you were touch-starved. Not at all. You had never been with a man before, not in that way. But you missed kindness. You missed someone smiling at you in the morning. And if it was only your boss, wishing you a productive day. You missed people.

"Are you ready for your water bottle?"

When he saw the horrified look on your face, he laughed heartily.

"I'm just playing, sweet girl. It's not funny twice."

He carefully led you out of the closet and through the apartment.

"Are you hungry?" He murmured as he gently pressed a hand against the small of your back.

You felt yourself nod. It was obviously some kind of trick, because you were certain by now that you would soon die of starvation and that that had been his plan all along. But you still nodded.

Eventually you reached the kitchen, where the smell of food immediately filled your nostrils. The table was filled with food - rice, vegetables, some meat and fruit. You nearly blacked out at the sight.

"Come. Sit."

He sat you down a few feet away from the table. Of course. A trick. He'd probably make you watch while he ate or something like that.

He sat down opposite you and looked at you for a long moment.

"I'll ask you a question. And you'll answer. Truthfully. No second chances. If you answer to my liking, you get to eat. If you mess it up, you get punished."

You simply stared at him. It wasn't a question, so you didn't answer. Also, after three days of not eating anything - were it truly three days? How long had you been in that godforsaken closet? - you didn't really care about anything else.

"Good." He said calmly. "Are you a virgin?"

That seemed to pique his interest the most, because he stared at you intently, not even smirking for once.

Immediately you felt your face flush in embarassment, but you felt yourself nod.

"Yes." You whispered.

He leaned back in his chair and hummed softly. "You're not lying to me, are you?"

You quickly shook your head.

"How old are you again?"

"Twenty-four." You whispered in the same, weak voice.

"Delicious." He purred. Then he reached over and grabbed a spoonful of rice. When he held it out to you, you choked it down like a rabid animal.

"Careful. You'll get sick." He said in a tone that resembled gentleness. By now you knew there was nothing gentle about him. Nothing good.

But you pushed the thought back, when he fed you another spoon of rice. Two questions, two bites.

"What is the reason you live and work in a country where you don't even speak the language or know the way back to your apartment?"

You swallowed. "I got a good job offer."

"Bullshit." He narrowed his eyes. "The real reason."

You considered lying. But you were sure, for some reason, he would find out.

"To get away from my family." You then whispered.

He sighed in an exaggerated manner and set the spoon aside.

"Too bad, sweet girl. You deceived me the first time. You know the rules. I need to punish you."

You closed your eyes, albeit briefly. It was like they had a mind of their own and you were so exhausted that you could hardly take any more of this.

"You're lucky though. You get to pick your punishment."

Your brows furrowed suspiciously and he smiled.

"No deceit, sweet girl. You get to pick between two options. I'll give you ten seconds each time. If you don't choose on time, I choose for you."

You buried your face in your hands, but eventually you nodded.

His words felt like a gunshot.

"I slap your face or I cut off your hair. Choose."

You froze.

Fuck.

Of course you knew which one you'd pick. You couldn't cut off your hair. For various reasons. First off, it was deeply rooted into your mind that you needed to keep your hair long and lush.

Or else who would ever marry you, honey? No, no. You don't get to cut it off. Not ever. You wouldn't want to disappoint mama, hm?

And then again...Your hair was one of the few things you truly liked about your appearance. You liked the color, the texture...You just enjoyed looking at it whenever you felt bad about yourself. You played with it whenever you were nervous. It was your hair.

When he shot you an impatient look, you suddenly remembered the rules.

Three...two...

"Slap." You gasped out.

He leaned back and his smile widened.

"Are you sure?"

You nodded quickly.

"Smart girl." He purred, almost seductively. "Brave girl."

He didn't give you any time or sign to brace yourself. Instead he simply reached out and slapped your face, with an intensity that made your breath hitch. Your head snapped to the side and you let out a pained moan.

The pain of the slap stung. But not half as much as it would have if you had to cut off your hair.

He hummed. Bastard.

"Very well. Next question."

He sized you up calmly.

"Why did you want to get away from your family?"

You closed your eyes. "Well, they...Well, they..."

"That doesn't count. Disqualified."

Uh-oh.

"You never explicitly specified I had to answer straight-up." You said quietly.

Very slowly he inched forward until his forehead nearly touched yours.

"Are you talking back to me?"

"No." You breathed out.

"Good." He smirked. "I punch your gut or I cut off your hair. Choose."

You had a very bad feeling, like you knew what this game was leading to. The nausea that took hold of you felt suffocating.

"Punch." You croaked out.

No one had ever punched you before. And you had a feeling today would bring many more firsts.

"Hold up your hands."

Reluctantly you obeyed. He looked into your eyes, looking for any sign of disobedience. But all he found was fear.

He tsked disapprovingly.

"Anyone with brains would have chosen the hair." He said lowly. "But you're a pretty girl. I like your long hair." He slowly treaded his fingertips through the length of your hair. "So, you better do us both a favor and answer in time from now on."

With that you felt a sharp blow of pain when his fist shot forward and punched you right in the stomach. He wasn't gentle about it.

You doubled over and nearly fell off the chair. At the same time you let out a desperate sob and gasped for air.

The only thing you could suddenly think about was your slow kidney. Oh God, what if he damaged the good one?

You tried to push these thoughts away as good as you could. It wasn't easy.

You looked up at him with tears in your eyes. And he stared right back with something that looked almost like...pride.

"Why did you want to get away from your family?"

"Because my mother abused me." You gritted out.

Surprise flashed over his features. "How?"

"She starved me, didn't let me pee, hit me everywhere no one could see the scars, locked me in my room for days, yelled at me and many more things, many many more. Dark and twisted things, things you're never supposed to do to someone you supposedly care about. I bet you and her would have gotten along splendid." You couldn't tell who was more surprised about your sudden, angry outburst - you or him. He just stared at you and you half expected him to knock your teeth out.

Instead he slowly reached for the spoon and fed you two spoons rice with vegetables.

"Good girl." He said with no hint of teasing.

You savored the food in your mouth and swallowed slowly, ignoring his words. Mostly. But a part of you was almost relieved that he took so well to your anger.

"Have you ever had a boyfriend?"

"No."

"Why?"

"Because I'm scared of intimacy."

"Do you regret it?"

"Yes."

"Good girl."

Three spoonfuls, as promised.

"When was the last time you touched yourself?"

Your face flushed instantly, but you forced yourself to answer.

"The day before we met."

One spoon.

"What were you thinking about?"

You felt yourself go pale.

"What?"

He sighed disapprovingly.

"When you touched yourself. What did you think about?" He asked impatiently.

And you were silent. For three seconds. Five. And finally ten.

He stared at you with an intensity that was terrifying.

"Play the rest of the game on your knees or I cut off your hair."

Your cheeks grew warm in shame. But immediately, you slid down to your knees infront of him. The floor was cold, but that was the smallest one of your concerns. You couldn't meet his gaze as you knelt there.

Slowly and almost tenderly he reached down and tilted your chin up. The intensity in his eyes was overwhelming. You couldn't quite detect or name the look in his eyes. All you knew was that it was intense and that it made your cheeks grow even warmer.

"Good girl." He whispered. "I'll ask you again."

At least he warned you.

"What were you thinking about while you touched yourself?"

"I fantasized."

"Specify."

You tried to avert your gaze but his grip on your chin was too tight. The expression in your eyes was pleading. But he didn't care. He didn't care one bit.

Suddenly you realized something. He didn't seem to care about the rules or the game any longer. He just wanted to know.

"I had..." Your eyes fluttered shut and your voice slipped into a barely audible whisper. "I had rough fantasies."

"Specify."

"Of being used." You finally choked out. The words felt like acid in your mouth. Never before had you told anyone about this, except for the one time when you spoke to your psychiatrist.

You had sobbed and nearly choked on your tears, claiming that you were twisted, odd, fucked in the head.

But all he had said in response was; many women have those fantasies. You're not twisted. You simply have desires which go ahead of the ordinary.

By the time you blinked your eyes open, you realized that he wasn't recoiling in disgust. He wasn't laughing at you. He didn't even flinch. He simply seemed curious.

"What else?"

"What...what else?"

"What else do you fantasize about that you consider shameful? Are your fantasies rough? Are they painful? Are they degrading? Are they-" He cut himself off and finally leaned back.

"You did good. Really good." He reached out and played with a strand of your hair. "You got lucky." He murmured. After a long sigh, he got up and said: "Eat up. But slowly. I can't have you puking all over yourself. I have plans for you."

You didn't need to be told twice. In a ridiculous speed you were back at the table and savored the food in your mouth, appreciating every bite.

He turned to leave the room, but stopped in the doorway and looked at you with a small frown.

"You got really lucky." He murmured to himself as he glanced at your form again.

"As did I."

[daisymbin]

48. "you taught me what love is, and no one else has come close." With Vernon and female

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check out my masterlist! // hansol's m.list

second chance prompt #48: "you taught me what love is, no one else has come close."

hansol stood on your porch, cradling the cat carrier in his hands, his nerves twisting into knots. the faint meow from inside didn’t ease his worry; if anything, it made it worse. he’d spent the entire night googling symptoms, wondering if he’d done something wrong, and now he was here. back where everything started and ended.

he knocked, swallowing the lump in his throat.

when you opened the door, his breath hitched. you looked the same but different—soft and familiar, like a dream he hadn’t let himself think about in a long time.

“sollie?” his nickname slipping from your lips was laced with surprise and affection he hadn't been expecting. “what are you doing here?”

he held up the carrier, feeling small under your gaze. “he’s not eating much, and he’s been acting… off. i didn’t know who else to call.”

you blinked at him, then stepped aside. “come in.”

hansol followed you into the warmth of your home, the scent of it hitting him like a wave of nostalgia. it was the same, down to the throw blanket on the couch. everything about this place felt like you—safe, steady, and a little too easy to fall into.

he set the carrier down carefully, watching as you unzipped it and coaxed the cat out. your hands were gentle as you examined him, murmuring soothing words. hansol watches as a pang of something bittersweet in his chest. you were always like this—calm, kind, and impossibly good at making everyone around you feel safe.

“hey, buddy,” you murmured, inspecting him closely. the soft tone in your voice made hansol’s chest ache. it wasn’t just for the cat—it was the same way you used to talk to him when he was tired or overwhelmed, the same kindness he never realized he’d miss this much.

you looked up after a moment, a small smile tugging at your lips. “he’s fine, hansol. just a little stressed.”

“stressed?” he repeated, relief and confusion mixing in his voice.

“yeah.” you sat back, letting the cat curl up on your lap. “all the back-and-forth between our places is probably confusing for him. cats don’t like changes, you know. he probably just needs some consistency.”

“oh.” hansol’s shoulders slumped slightly. he felt a little dumb for panicking, but mostly he felt… something else. something warm.

your teasing smile pulled him out of his thoughts. “you’ve changed.”

his brows furrowed. “what do you mean?”

you gave him a teasing smile. “you used to complain when he stole all my attention. now here you are, worried sick and showing him all this love and care.”

hansol looked down, a faint flush creeping up his neck. “yeah, well… people change, I guess.”

you tilted your head, studying him for a moment. the silence stretched between you, not uncomfortable but heavy with unspoken words.

his face flushed. “i mean… he’s important,” he muttered, avoiding your gaze. he wonders if you realise that this cat is the only thing that gives him some type of connection to you.

you laughed softly, the sound lighting up a corner of his heart he didn’t realize was still dark.

“you’ve really changed,” you said again, more softly this time.

hansol looked at you then, really looked at you, and something in him broke open. he thought he was over this. over you. but here you were, reminding him of all the things he loved about you, all the ways you made him feel like he was home.

“you taught me, you know,” he said, his voice quieter than he intended.

your brows knitted together, "taught you what?"

he hesitated, his hands gripping his knees. but then he thought about how much you deserved to know—how much he wanted you to know.

“what love is,” he said finally, his words trembling but certain. “you taught me what it means to care about someone. to put their happiness first. no one else… no one else has ever come close.”

the words hung in the air, raw and vulnerable. you opened your mouth to respond but found yourself at a loss.

“I didn’t realize it back then,” he continued, his gaze unwavering. “I didn’t appreciate what I had, and I’m sorry for that."

you stared at him, eyes wide, your teasing smile replaced by something softer, “hansol…”

“i’m not saying this to make things weird,” he added quickly, his voice tripping over itself. “i just… i realised i never told you how much you meant to me. and i should’ve. you deserved to hear it, to know."

you looked down at the cat in your lap, your fingers running absently through his fur. “we both made mistakes,” you said quietly.

“maybe,” he said. “but i should’ve done better. i should’ve fought for us.”

the room felt heavier, the air thick with unspoken words. hansol thought he might have gone too far, that maybe he should’ve kept those thoughts to himself. but then you looked at him again, a small smile tugging at your lips.

“you know,” you said, your tone light but your eyes warm, “if you keep saying things like that, i might start to think you want a second chance.”

his heart stuttered. “would that be so bad?”

your smile grew, your fingers brushing against his as the cat stretched between you. “that depends,” you said, your voice teasing but your gaze steady. “are you ready to share my attention with the cat this time?”

hansol laughed, the sound surprising even himself. it wasn’t just relief; it was hope.

“yeah,” he said, his voice soft but sure. “i think i can manage that.”

you smiled at him, your hand lingering against his for a moment longer. the cat purred contentedly, nestled between you both, as if sensing that maybe, this time, things could be different.

[eu-nicola]

sand part 2

summary: Rafe got a new haircut and that catches your attention

warnings: mentions of smut but actually nothing cus i’m to poetic

word counter: 2591

author's note: english is not my first language

tags: @juliwzy @sweetgoldwoman

The nights after the party passed in a blur, but the image of Rafe Cameron was still there, fixed in your mind like a tattoo that couldn't be erased. You had tried everything to get him out of your head: staying busy, spending time with your friends, even going surfing for the adrenaline that used to distract you from everything. Nothing worked.

On one hand, you were grateful that you hadn't seen him since that night. You didn't know what you would say if you found him or, worse yet, what you would do. But on the other hand, you wanted to see him. Now that you had crossed that line, that invisible barrier that had always kept your paths separate, you were consumed by the need to know how far you could go.

Every time someone mentioned his name, a knot formed in your stomach. On those occasions, you pretended disinterest, as if you didn't care at all what he did or where he was. But inside, curiosity ate away at you.

JJ and Pope had talked about him the day after the party. “Did you see how Rafe disappeared early?” Pope had asked, laughing. “He was probably too high to hold out.”

You had faked a smile and changed the subject quickly, but the truth was that Pope’s words only fueled your thoughts. You had been the one who had disappeared with Rafe, and even though the night hadn’t gone past that desperate kiss, the memory of it was enough to keep you up at night.

There was something about the way he had kissed you, like he was letting go of everything he couldn’t say. And there was something about the way you had responded to him, like you were finally admitting something you had been denying for a long time.

You tried not to think about it as you walked along the beach one afternoon, your bare feet sinking into the warm sand. The breeze was gentle, and the sound of the waves usually calmed you, but today it was no use. Your mind kept going back to him, to his face, to his voice, to how he had looked at you that night as if you were the only thing in the world.

You stopped and stared at the ocean, your hands clinging to the edges of your shirt. “What am I doing?” you muttered to yourself. Why couldn’t you just let it go? There was no future in this, you knew. He was a Kook, you a Pogue. Your worlds should never have crossed like that.

But they had.

And now, all you wanted was to cross that line again, to push the boundaries and find out how far you could go before everything fell apart.

You sat in the sand, hugging your knees as you stared at the horizon. Part of you expected to see him appear, his tall, familiar figure standing out among the shadows of the sunset. But he wasn't there. And, perhaps, it was for the best.

As the sun began to descend, you realized something: even if you tried to stay away, even if you tried to ignore what you felt, you knew that if you saw him again, you wouldn't be able to stop yourself. That night on the beach had changed something in you, and there was no turning back.

When you finally got up to head home, there was only one thing clear in your mind: no matter how much time passed or how wrong it might seem, you wanted to see him again. Whether you wanted to admit it or not, you needed him.

Your wishes were sure to come true, the heat of the party filled the air, a mix of laughter, loud music, and the sound of the waves hitting the shore in the distance. The lights of the torches illuminated the beach. You had arrived, trying to distract yourself, as always. But as soon as you set foot on the sand, you felt it.

You didn't know if it was a sixth sense or just your bad luck, but you looked up and there he was. Rafe.

He was leaning against one of the tables near the bonfire, surrounded by some of his Kook friends. His relaxed and confident posture made him seem completely oblivious to the chaos the party brought with it, but you knew better. You knew what was behind that facade, and that made everything harder.

His eyes met yours, and your heart skipped a beat so hard it almost hurt. There was something about that look of his that disarmed you, as if he could read every thought, every emotion you tried to hide.

You tried to look away, to feign disinterest, but you couldn’t. Your eyes kept coming back to him like they were drawn by a magnet. And the worst thing was that Rafe knew it. The slight tilt of his lips into a cocky smirk told you that he understood exactly what was going through your mind.

You hated yourself for it, for giving him the power to make you feel this way, so vulnerable and so exposed. But at the same time, a part of you wanted him. You wanted him to come to you, to take control, to end this tension that had been consuming you since that night.

You grabbed a glass of something strong from a nearby table and took a long drink, hoping the burn in your throat would distract you. But not even the alcohol could drown out the fire you felt inside you. Not when you could feel his eyes on you, following you as you moved through the crowd.

You tried to keep yourself busy, dancing with your friends, pretending that the music was enough to drown out the thoughts that filled your mind. But no matter what you did, you always felt him there, watching you. And every time you dared to look up, there he was, his eyes locked on yours, like he was waiting for you to do something, anything.

Your breathing quickened as heat crept up your neck. You couldn’t go on like this. You couldn’t keep feeling this way, like you were on the edge of something and he held the key to push you over the edge.

You took another drink, shorter this time, and set the glass down on a table. You didn’t know what the hell you were doing, but your feet carried you a little closer to where he was. Just a few steps, nothing too obvious. Enough for him to know you weren’t running away, but not so much that it looked like you were running towards him. 

Rafe noticed the movement, of course. His lips curved into a wider smile, and he left his spot by the table. He started walking towards you, with that relaxed confidence that he’d always hated and, at the same time, silently admired. 

When he finally got to where you were, the noise of the party seemed to fade away. He looked at you with that intensity that made your skin crawl, and you stood still, as if you were caught in his orbit. 

“Are you going to keep staring at me like that all night, or are you going to say something?” His voice was low, almost a whisper, but loud enough for you to hear over the music. 

“And what do you want me to say?” You tried to sound defiant, but even you could hear the slight tremor in your voice.

“Stop pretending.” His smile disappeared, and his expression became serious, almost defiant. “I know what you’re thinking. I can see it in your eyes.”

Your breathing became heavier, but you didn’t say anything. You couldn’t. Because he was right, and you knew it.

“Say it,” he insisted, taking a step closer to you, so close you could feel the heat of his body. “Admit that you want it as much as I do.”

You didn’t respond with words. You couldn’t. Instead, you stared at him, letting your silence speak for you. And before you could stop yourself, you raised a hand and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, pulling him towards you.

The kiss was like an explosion, a release of everything you’d been holding back since that night. There was no room for doubt or questions, only heat and the desperate need to feel him.

Rafe didn't waste any time. His hands settled on your waist, holding you tight against him as he deepened the kiss with an intensity that nearly took your breath away. It was like he was unloading everything he'd been holding back, and you did nothing but respond, letting him know that you needed him too.

The party continued around you, but it didn't matter. At that moment, there were only the two of you, two lost souls trying to find something in each other. And as your hands ran up his chest to his neck, you knew there was no turning back. You had crossed the line, and you didn't care where it took you.

The music turned into a distant murmur, a barely perceptible echo as your senses focused completely on him. Rafe didn't pull away from you, he didn't give you time to breathe or think; it wasn't necessary.

Suddenly, he stopped kissing you, just a few millimeters separating his lips from yours. His gaze pierced you like an electric shock. He leaned toward your ear, his voice low and husky, vibrating against your skin.

“Come with me.”

You didn’t ask where. There was no room for doubt at that moment. You simply nodded, and when he took your hand, you followed. His grip was firm, determined, like he knew exactly what he was doing, what he wanted from you.

He led you away from the crowd, away from the flickering lights and the bustle of the party. The sound of the waves grew louder, a steady, calming rhythm that contrasted with the chaos of your thoughts. You felt the cold sand beneath your bare feet and the brush of the wind on your skin, but all of that was secondary. The only thing that mattered was him.

Rafe stopped when you reached a secluded spot, where the darkness was thicker and the beach seemed to belong only to you. The moon hung in the sky like a silent witness, its light bathing his face in a pale glow that made his eyes seem even deeper.

There were no words, they weren’t needed. When his hands found your face, his fingers brushed your skin with a tenderness you didn’t expect. There was something in his gaze that completely disarmed you, a mix of desire and vulnerability you had never seen before.

Your hands clutched at his shirt, pulling him towards you, and when his lips found yours again, you knew there was no turning back.

The world disappeared as you gave yourself to him, every kiss and every caress erasing any doubt, any fear. His hands moved over your body as if he were memorizing you, as if he wanted to keep every detail in his mind. And you did the same, letting your fingers run over his back, his neck, his freshly cut hair that had enchanted you from the start.

There was no room for judgment, for the boundaries that had always kept your worlds apart. There, under the moonlight and the whisper of the waves, all that mattered was what you felt in that moment: the raw, intense connection, and the desperate need to be closer to him.

Rafe held you like you were something precious and fragile, but also like he wanted you with an urgency he couldn't control. And when his lips left yours to run down your neck, when his hands held you tighter, you understood that this was more than a whim, more than a simple attraction. It was something you couldn't name, something that consumed you from within.

That night, you lost yourself in him. In his caresses, in his voice that whispered your name like a prayer, in the way he looked at you as if you were the only thing that mattered. And when you finally gave yourself over completely, you knew that the line you had crossed no longer existed. It had been erased, swept away by the force of what you shared, leaving you in a place unknown but inevitably yours.

The night enveloped them in its blanket of stars and waves that whispered secrets. They spent hours there, away from the noise, the rules and the differences that separated them. The cold sand beneath your bodies mixed with the warmth of your skin, a reminder that you had crossed a boundary you didn't want to undo.

Rafe stayed by your side, his arm around your waist as if he was afraid you might disappear. You spoke in whispers, not caring about the time.

When exhaustion finally overcame you, Rafe pulled you close to him, and you snuggled into his chest. His steady, calm breathing was the last thing you heard before you fell asleep.

Morning came with the light of dawn bathing them in golden hues. You opened your eyes slowly, feeling the weight of his arm still on you. For a moment, everything seemed unreal, as if the previous night had been a dream you didn’t want to wake up from. But when you stirred, Rafe opened his eyes too, his slow, lazy smile making you feel an unexpected warmth in your chest.

“Good morning,” he murmured, his voice hoarse from sleep.

“Morning,” you replied, feeling a shyness you hadn’t experienced in a long time.

There was a moment of comfortable silence before he began tracing circles on your arm with his fingers, as if it was something natural, something he’d done a thousand times before.

“What now?” you asked, trying to keep a light tone but knowing the question carried much more.

Rafe raised an eyebrow, that mischievous smile appearing on his face. “What do you mean by ‘what now’?”

“I mean… last night was…” You paused, searching for the right words. “…unexpected.”

He leaned into you, his eyes locked on yours as his smile widened. “Unexpected, huh? You didn’t seem that surprised.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to hide the smile that was struggling to break out. “Oh, shut up.”

“Shut up?” Rafe sat up slightly, propping himself up on one elbow as he looked at you in amusement. “That mouth of yours never stops talking, does it?”

You looked up at him, feigning indignation. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” he said, leaning into you until his lips were a breath away from yours, “that you don’t have to say anything now.”

Before you could respond, he whispered against your lips, “Shut up, baby.”

And then he kissed you, his mouth taking yours with a tenderness that belied the intensity of the night before.

When he pulled away, just a little, he looked at you with that mix of amusement and something deeper that you couldn’t quite put your finger on. “You know, you talk too much. But I think I can get used to it.”

[my-writings-and-musings]

Clawing my way out of depression with some incredibly silly Bumblebee x Reader, in which our beloved Scout is shrunk down to the size of a kitten via science magic and reader must keep him warm in their coat. Reader is gender neutral beyond having titties for Bee to huddle against. Read and join me as I defeat SAD with the power of silliness.

Shrunken Earthspark Bumblebee x GN!Reader

Rated PG for silliness, fluff and booby mention

Hunkering down at the abandoned warehouse you'd been told to wait in, you kept your eyes and ears on the horizon, hoping that the hum of familiar engines would cut through the howling wind and whirling snow before long. Though the air was frigid enough to freeze your breath, the bitter cold accounted for only a small portion of your desire to swiftly reunite with the team, as you had much bigger problems that you needed help with. Well, perhaps "bigger" wasn't the right word for it...

Standing atop the opposite end of the windowsill for his own vigil, Bumblebee looked remarkably alert and well composed for someone a fraction of their natural height. You supposed that his brush with Mandroid could have gone much worse; at least the device the scientist had escaped with had only shrunk the Scout, and done no further harm. It was a double miracle that you'd managed to find his tiny form amidst the knee deep snow of the battlefield. Rubbing your gloved hands together and trying not to stare, you told yourself that Wheeljack would be able to fix everything in no time, and that a few broken laws of physics would return your beloved bot to his usual towering height. Seeing him this tiny was just too strange, and not to mention unspeakably adorable.

A kitten-sized sneeze drew your eyes away from the snowy landscape out the window, and you looked over to find the Scout hugging himself through a dramatic shiver. "Bee? You okay?" you asked quickly, unable to help feeling far more protective than usual.

"F-f-fine!" he replied just as quickly, spinning around to face you. Digits trembling, he forced a shaky smile as he attempted to pass off crossing his arms as a casual gesture, though the tiny crystals of ice you noticed spreading across his frame gave him up just as readily. The poor mech sounded like he was seconds away from turning into a tiny Autobot popsicle as he shivered through every syllable. "Just a little... ch-chilly... B-but I'm f-fine!"

A number of realizations pinged through your mind at once; Bee must have lost a considerable amount of heat while buried in the snow, he was now far too small to regain said warmth, and he had no real idea how to stop himself from freezing now that he didn't have mass to protect himself. His pride had undoubtedly kept him from voicing the problem as it worsened, leaving you with a very tiny and very frozen Scout to thaw. "You're obviously freezing! Why didn't you tell me?"

"N-never been a p-problem before..." he replied as he gave in and started to shiver. Your heart twisted in pity, and you looked about as your brain raced to think of a solution, the lack of supplies leaving you with very few options. There was no way to build a fire, nor was there any power supply to start up the building's climate control, which was probably busted anyway. If only you had a tiny jacket to share...

"I need to get you warm; fast. Let me think... oh!"

The solution that came to you was very silly, and in a less life-threatening situation you would have thought it was quite embarrassing, but the prospect of saving your beloved Scout left no room for such doubts. Unzipping the front of your coat, you offered a hand for him to climb onto.

"Come here. You'll be plenty warm under my coat." you explained, figuring he'd fit perfectly between your shirt and the ample padding. Despite the chill, Bee managed a pink blush across his frozen cheeks, optics going wide in bashful embarrassment as he put together what you meant. It seemed that his pride hadn't shrunk with him.

"Y-you don't have-"

"Shush. At this rate, you'll freeze before our ride gets here" you insisted, voice growing a tad more urgent at his worsening freeze. Just watching his wings shake in time with his shivers made you care little for any kind of pride, including your own, and you used your concern to remain steadfast. Bringing your hand close enough for him to feel the warmth radiating from your glove made his resolve visibly waver. "So for now, my heat is your heat."

"Mmm..." he hummed in uncertainty, growing more tempted by the second. No bigger than a kitten and only slightly more intimidating, he cracked after only a few additional moments of hesitation, steadying himself against your thumb as he sat in your palm. He couldn't have weighed more than a pound, and you had to stifle a reflexive squee as he instinctively pressed himself into the warmth of your hand. A drooping of his optics made resisting that much harder. "Maybe just for a few minutes..."

"Of course." you said with a knowing smile. Gently sliding him into the opening of your coat, you just managed to avoid hissing as his frigid mesh settled against your shirt, though it was easy to ignore the discomfort when the tiny bot melted against you. With the outcrop of your breasts to support him, and the... "plush" of the area in question to keep him comfortable, Bee settled down as quickly as one would on a luxary mattress. Shivers dying down before your very eyes, the Scout rested his helm against you with the tiniest sigh. You had an undeniable urge to pet him as you whispered down into the little pocket of warmth. "There. Better?"

"Much... thank you." he murmured, looking up to meet your eyes with a smile as grateful as it was sleepy. Hoping he couldn't hear the resulting flutter of your heart, you pulled the zipper up a tad to keep the heat from escaping, grateful that your mammalian physiology could come in such handy. You'd have happily watched him rest his optics for hours, but a hum in the distance drew your gaze to the frosty window. Through the thick whirls of snow, your squinting eyes made out the faint outline of a familiar truck and aircraft, followed by a number of other vehicles you'd been hoping to see. The convoy had arrived.

"I think that's our evac, do you want-"

You went quiet at the sound of the tiniest snores you'd ever heard emanating from your coat, and as soon as your heart was done with its backflip, you found yourself wondering whether or not Bee would wish to be woken before his comrades saw him snoozing atop your breasts.

[girlgenius1111]

i could change up my body and change up my face

arsenal x platonic young reader

warnings: this discusses an eating disorder. this is based off my experience; everyone's are different.

You thought you were doing the right thing. The healthy thing. You'd always been a more muscular player, and it hadn't really bothered you. Football players varied in size; it didn't mean anything for how good you were. You debuted for Arsenal at only 18, and people had a lot to say; most of it you could handle. The comments on your weight, on how if you were smaller, you'd be faster, better, were what caused the problems.

It spiraled quickly; one day you were skipping dessert, and the next you were skipping entire meals. It was hard to balance: eating enough that you didn't feel like you were going to pass out on the pitch, but not so much that you could barely look at yourself in the mirror. Evidently, it was harder than you thought. You only managed it a few weeks before people began to catch on that something was up.

Your teammates had noticed that your behavior was off recently. You were less talkative, and you saw everyone outside of training a lot less. A few of them had discussed it, and had decided to keep an eye on you, see if things got worse.

When you passed out during training, everyone thought you were joking. It had recently become a popular prank; you and Kyra pretending to be hurt, scaring everyone, before popping back up. It was a bit of a boy who cried wolf situation: when you went down, a few people glanced over, but thought you were kidding, especially because no one had been near you. It was a hot day, though, and you'd barely eaten. You were lightheaded before you got out on the pitch, but once training began it only got worse.

You managed to last through the first part of the scrimmage, before you had to stop, putting your hands on your knees and breathing hard. Black spots dotted out your vision, and the world spun gently around you. You though you heard Katie make a joke about you already being winded, but you were falling to the ground.

In fairness to your teammates, it only took about 10 seconds before they realized something was actually wrong. Katie and Lia watched you go down, and something about it just looked wrong; you crumpled too easily for it to have been on purpose. Swearing, they both rushed to your side, rolling you onto your back.

"Fuck. Medics!" Katie called, kneeling down beside you.

"Hey, y/n, can you hear me?" Lia called, lightly tapping your cheek. Your eyes were shut, and you were completely limp on the ground. At her prompting, though, you groaned, shifting slightly and opening your eyes. Both girls sighed in relief. You blinked up at them in confusion. Why were you on the ground? You tried to sit up, but both girls stopped you.

"No, stay here, we need to make sure everything's alright," Lia said, as the physios finally arrived. A small crowd had gathered around you and your cheeks flushed red at that realization. You'd messed up. No one was going to let it go that you'd passed out. None of your protective, caring, overbearing teammates would let it go until they knew why this had happened. And they couldn't know: if they knew, they'd make you stop.

That was really all you could think about: how possibly you were going to play this off. As they got you up, after you blatantly refused a stretcher, and walked you slowly into one of the medical rooms, your mind was flashing from excuse to excuse.

"What are you feeling?" John, the head physio, asked, once you'd settled on the exam table. He was looking at you carefully, as if he could see right through you; it was incredibly unnerving.

"Just a little dizzy, I don't think I drank enough water," you replied. John looked at you searchingly for a minute, before asking another question.

"Did you eat breakfast today?" he questioned, eyes not leaving yours. It was the way he asked; not what did you eat, but did you eat, that told you that you were caught. You knew they'd notice that you'd lost weight, you all had to do weigh ins to correctly meal plan. You just hadn't noticed a difference, and assumed there wasn't much of one. But the way that John was looking at you, it must have been more than you thought. Enough that they'd noted it, and enough that they seemed to know what they were dealing with.

"Yeah of course," you lied. He could tell.

"I'm gonna step out for a minute, alright?" With that, he headed out of the door, leaving you to stress in the room. You didn't know where he was going, and it terrified you that he could come back and blindside you with anything at any moment.

You heard voices in the hall, and prepared yourself for an onslaught of different physios, and maybe the club psychologist. You weren't really sure what your plan was, and you didn't have anytime to settle on one before the door was opening.

It wasn't John, or a different physio. Not the club psychologist either. It was Leah and Katie, both walking into the room with incredibly worried looks on their faces. Briefly, you thanked god that Kim was out; she had this specific look she gave, and whenever you got it from her, you told her whatever you had previously been trying to hide. The odds of being able to lie to Leah and Katie weren't great, but better than if Kim had been there too.

"Using me to slack of training, McCabe?" you tried to joke. Neither girl cracked a smile.

"We talked to John. Do you want to tell us what's going on?" Leah responded, ignoring your comment.

"I don't know what you're talking about. I just got dehydrated, I'm fine." Apparently, you'd decided to play dumb. A strategy you weren't so sure of as you tried to hold eye contact with Leah.

The blonde sighed, taking a seat in one of the chair in the room. Katie remained standing, arms crossed over her chest. You were expecting tough love; harsh words that told you to get your shit together. You weren't expecting Leah's voice to soften, for her to look at you like you were fragile.

"Y/n, we want to help you."

"I don't need help with anything," you insisted.

"Then why have you lost a significant amount of weight in the past 3 weeks? Why did you just pass out on the pitch? And why haven't we seen you at any team dinners recently?" Katie replied. Her expression was hard, but you knew it was masking her worry.

You didn't know what to respond to that, honestly. You'd been expecting them to tiptoe around the issue for a while, try to get you to admit to it. In the back of your mind, you wondered if maybe you weren't in trouble. Maybe what you'd done was wrong, was bad, but it didn't mean they were mad at you, like you'd expected.

"Listen kiddo, we know there's a problem. There isn't anything you can say that will make us think there isn't."

"I don't know what to tell you. There isn't anything going on. It's not on me if you guys are seeing things that aren't there," you replied, crossing your arms. Both girls sighed, and exchanged looks.

"Okay, y/n, if that's how you want to play it. If everything is fine, you can come over for dinner with me and Lia tonight." Leah told you.

"I can't-" you began.

"Be there at 6," she interrupted, her tone leaving absolutely no room for argument.

-----

You took a seat at the table, putting your hands underneath to hide how much they were shaking. You really didn't want to be here, but there was literally no way to get out of it. If you didn't show, you expected Leah, Lia, Katie, and probably half the team to show up to your house. You didn't want to draw anymore attention to the issue that you already had, so you just needed to get through this dinner, eat the food, and go home.

How hard could it be?

"We made your favorite," Leah told you, setting down a full plate in front of you.

"We?" Lia questioned, smirking at the other woman.

"Okay, Lia made your favorite, I sat nearby and kept morale up." You only weakly smiled in response, your attention still on the seemingly massive amount of food in front of you. If they noticed, they left it, taking seats on either side of you.

They kept the conversation going, with you contributing very little. Instead, you pushed the food around your plate, taking bites every so often. You weren't saying anything, forcing every bite down your throat. Lia and Leah watched you carefully, seeing the way every time you brought the fork to your mouth, you looked like you were in pain.

You could have done this meal normally. It was just that you'd had to eat lunch with the team after training, and the food in front of you was food that had practically haunted your nightmares in the last few weeks.

By the time you'd gotten halfway done with your plate, you were close to tears. The conversation had died out, and the older women were watching you as the fork shook in your hand.

"Y/n," Leah said softly, placing her hand over yours to stop it from trembling.

You let out a deep exhale, putting your face in your hands.

"I'm sorry," you said, voice muffled. You felt horrible. Truly, completely, horrible. All you could think about was the calories you'd consumed, and the fact that there was literally no way for you to deny this anymore. It was terrifying; the recognition from the others that you had a problem made it all the more real to you.

A hand was on your arm, pulling you away from the table. You went with it, standing and following Leah out of the kitchen. She led you to the couch, sitting down in the armchair across from you. Lia came in too, placing a glass of water on the table, before sitting down on the next to you. You were staring intently at the rug, following the pattern in it across the floor, instead of looking at either of the other people in the room.

"You don't need to apologize, y/n. You're not in trouble, and we're not mad at you." Leah stated cautiously. You remained quiet. "Can you tell me when this started?"

You bit the inside of your cheek, thinking for a minute.

"Neither of us are going to judge you for anything you tell us. And we aren't going to tell anyone what you say, as long as you let us get you help," Lia promised, and you found yourself looking up at her, blinking back tears. Her face was open, kind, and you felt yourself opening your mouth and beginning to talk.

"It's only been like a month."

"Did something happen that caused it?" Lia questioned.

“I'm not really even sure what happened. I know I shouldn't read comments on social media but I did and I couldn't stop and all of a sudden..." you trailed off.

Both girls sat in silence for a minute, clearly thinking hard about what they wanted to say.

"We'll talk to the club psychologist, and we'll get you in therapy. We'll get you better, and everything will be fine," Leah said, trying to project confidence. You knew she was just trying to help; outline a plan for you, let you know that there was a fix.

It wasn't that easy, though. The way she said it, like it was just a matter of going to therapy, and then it would be all better, made you inexplicably angry. Clearly, she didn't understand how hard this would be.

"It's not that fucking simple Leah," you said bitingly, and both girls looked at you in surprise.

"Y/n, I know it's not-"

"No, you can't just say that. List out 2 steps and make it seem like it'll be easy. It's going to be impossible, and I don't even want to-" you cut yourself off, jaw snapping shut.

"You don't even want to what, y/n?" Lia asked, eyebrows pinched in confusion.

"I don't want to stop. I don't think I can, I don't think I'm strong enough," you said, voice cracking over the last few words. Just as quickly as it had arrived, your anger had disappeared, leaving your eyes stinging with tears.

Before you knew what was happening, Leah was crossing the space in between you, sitting down on your other side, and pulling you into a bone crushing hug. The force of it knocked the air out of you slightly, leaving you to hold tightly to the stability that Leah brought.

"I'm sorry, buddy. I didn't mean to make it sound like it would be easy; I know it won't be," she paused. "Alright, I don't know what it will be like, because I haven't gone through this, but I promise you, you are strong enough to get better.

"And you don't have to do it alone; we'll be here, whatever you need," Lia cut in from your other side, sounding earnest. They wanted to help, so badly. It shouldn't have surprised you, how much they cared, but it did. It always did.

-----

Lia had told the truth. Every member of the team, even if they didn't know exactly what was going on, helped you in some way.

Leah and Lia had you over for dinner most nights; their support was silent, but there all the same. They didn't make a big deal of it if you finished your meal, or if you didn't. They trusted that you were trying.

Katie took your phone one day, wordlessly grabbing it out of your hands and disappearing. When she came back with it, you found the comments on all your posts limited to people you followed.

Alessia ate lunch with you, every day, no matter how long it took. She talked to you to, about her experience, but never made you feel like you had to tell her anything in return. It helped more than you could express, knowing that you weren't alone, that someone knew what you were going through.

Viv grocery shopped for you, when she figured out it was something you struggled with. She always bought too much, but she always gave you options. When things started to get easier, Viv still took you grocery shopping. It was her way of checking in without making you talk, seeing how you were doing by how overwhelmed you got.

You were partially right; it wasn't easy, but you were strong enough. And when you weren't feeling like you were, your teammates stepped up and were strong where you weren't. You could do it, you could recover. You weren't sure if you would have been able to by yourself, but it didn't matter, because you weren't.

-----

[floweycidal]

do you think when flowey was a wee weed and just got into calling himself flowey that he had a kind of embarrassing stage he does not want to talk or even think about where he tried too hard to be the opposite of asriel and it was so obvious everyone could tell it was asriel

BAHAHAHAHA, YOU BET I DO! this is probably going to be as headcanon-y as it gets (kinda), sorry in advance. but really, making him a total sopping wet soggy loser is the best part of writing him. it's my favorite angle, no doubt.

the first month of being "flowey" was an exercise in second-hand embarrassment, except the person you're embarrassed for is yourself. and you can't even leave the room to escape it, because surprise! you are the room. you're a flower. stuck there. living it.

he had it all planned out. goodbye asriel dreemurr, the prince of crying-at-literally-everything, hello to... whatever cool and clever thing he was supposed to become. the details were fuzzy, but he figured being soulless meant the whole "evil" thing would come naturally.

it did not come naturally.

the cracks showed almost immediately. everything he tried just came out wrong. his threats sounded more like worried suggestions. his evil schemes kept accidentally making things better. his idea of entropy was essentially community service with attitude.

he couldn't even get the basics right. he'd tried tossing out sick burns, but they'd just hit with all the impact of a wet napkin. they weren't even insults half the time—just weirdly specific observations that petered off awkwardly.

he sucked at it. no way around it. he sucked ass.

so, he worked harder. determined to sound edgy, bad to the stem—whatever that meant—but it didn’t seem to take. every affront felt more like an accident than an attack. 

and the laugh. god, the laugh. he practiced it, forced it, tried every variation. dry chuckles, derisive cackles, even an exaggerated villain’s howl. none of them worked. what kept slipping out instead was the exact same dorky laugh that used to bubble up when #she would do silly voices during storytime.

this was the worst. he was the worst at being the worst.

his own body double-crossed him at every turn, still running on years of ingrained kindness his mind was trying to stamp out. he'd be right in the middle of his most "menacing" speech yet, really getting into the whole eternal suffering thing, when someone would sneeze.

"bless you!"

every. time.

the number of “villainy” monologues ruined by his automatic politeness was actually impressive. really, it was almost a talent.

it was a drawn-out process, this transformation. no guidebooks or cheat sheets. however... i’d argue the closest thing he had to a mentor here was toriel.

she didn't know it was him. obviously. somehow that made it worse, because she kept almost-recognizing things. little stuff he hadn't managed to burn away yet.

a familiar turn of phrase. how he'd end sentences. that godawful giggle that still sounded too much like pillow forts and frolicking in the mud. how he’d fill glasses, just enough to make them brim above the edge. the efficient way.

each time her eyes would catch on these moments, these tiny betrayals of self, he'd slam that reset button with all six petals. nu-uh, no buckaroo.

her reactions were the compass he followed, pointing to what needed to be carved away. reset after reset, he got better at it. harsher. finer. a little less like the kid who used to run up to her with flower crowns and scraped knees. 

the kindnesses got rarer; the callousness came easier.

never easy enough, though.

she'd still tilt her head sometimes, something glittering in her eyes like she was hearing the first few notes of a song she’d once known by heart. and he'd realize he'd effed up again, let some stupid little piece of asriel show through.

she’d never know she was teaching him how to stop being her son. to her, he was just some weird flower guy that occasionally felt eerily familiar, though she couldn’t quite put her finger on why.

every time she almost intuited something in him, he'd reload, desperate to finally become someone she wouldn't know at all.

ahhhhh. and so it came full circle. in his frenzied bid to unlearn being her child, he was still (by the most bruisingly contorted logic) turning to her for guidance. still just a kid, looking to his mom for answers. just… not in the way either of them would’ve wanted.

[uas-fics]

Title: Tripping into Friendship

Rating: E

Summary: Leshy trips over a cat in the dark.

Ships: LeshyCat can be read platonically.

Warnings: Spoilers for the post-game,

Other Information: I was gonna wait to post this but I think people needed a distraction today.

Read on AO3

---

The air smelled pleasantly of incoming rain. The clouds had to be obscuring the moon. Not that it matters at all to Leshy whether the pale face in the sky showed its light down on the cult grounds. He couldn't see it anyway.

Leshy counted under his breath as he picked his way carefully back from the outhouse. He sniffed the air to ensure he could still find his scent from his earlier trip.

...thirty-three steps, thirty-two steps, thirty-one steps...

He tripped over something large and soft and stumbled face-first into cold dirt.

Leshy swallowed a mouthful of earth and cringed. The dirt in this horrid place was nothing compared to the potent and complex flavors of his Darkwood. He ran his tongue around his mouth, gathered the remaining pieces of bland dirt then spat them out.

Whatever he tripped over stirred and started to grumble.

"Huh? What...Oh, my Lamb!"

Soft paws touched Leshy's shoulders as a vaguely familiar voice apologized.

So it was one of The Lamb's little followers he had tripped over. Had he taken a wrong turn heading back towards his shelter, or had the follower moved to sleep in his path? Either answer, Leshy hoped this fool knew how lucky they were. Had he had his crown and power still, their blood would be watering the flowers of Darkwood and their flesh feeding his army of devotees.

The follower attempted to haul Leshy to his feet, but Leshy threw his arm out, pushing them away. He did not need help!

He stood and wiped the inadequate dirt from his knees.

"Again, I am terribly sorry, Mr. Leshy," The follower continued, and Leshy finally recognized the voice:that one yellow cat—well, Narinder told him this follower was a yellow cat, anyway. He didn't know for sure.

He hadn't bother to learn any of The Lamb's precious little flock's names or voices. They were unimportant. The only reason he remembered this one in particular was the cat's act of disgusting kindness in giving him a flower and reassuring words that, of course, Leshy did not need or want.

"You had better be," Leshy snapped. "What are you doing in my path, anyway?"

"My tent collapsed," the yellow cat explained. "It happens sometimes. Usually, The Lamb fixes it but they are resting after their crusade, so I thought I could sleep outside until morning."

"Oh, no, you should definitely go and wake them." Leshy smirked. "They are a god now. They do not need sleep." The thought of ruining The Lamb's slumber tantalized Leshy, but before he could continue to goad the yellow cat, a fat drop of water hit the top of his head. He turned to face the sky as more droplets fell.

The yellow cat sighed. "So it is supposed to rain. I was worried about that."

Leshy took a deep breath. He liked the rain. The humidity it brought with it freshened his leaves.

His favorite part, however, was the sound that came with a downpour.

The sound of heavy raindrops hitting the leaves of Darkwood was like music, a primal drum beat only found in his lands. His heart sank. It was a beat he would probably never hear again.

He took another breath to shift his attention away from his sorrow and homesickness.

"Son of a--!" Leshy jumped in realization.

"W-what?" The yellow cat gasped.

"My scent trail!" Leshy gritted his teeth. The downpour had already started to wash away his lifeline back to his shelter. What was worse, he'd forgotten what his step count was, too. Great! Now he would have to spend the rest of the night trying to find his way back in the rain!

"Do you need help to your shelter?" The yellow cat asked. "I can take you!" He sounded cheerful as if helping a dethroned god back to his humble shelter was something he looked forward to every day.

Leshy should have told the him to leave, but he was tired and wanted to get back into his shelter. He needed his sleep for when he inevitably had to deal with The Little Lamb and his brother bossing him around.

"I will allow it, but put your hand down. I will not take it."

The yellow cat made a noise of confusion, and Leshy gave a cheeky smile. He didn't need eyes to predict what someone like the yellow cat would do. While his realm had been the constant change of chaos, Leshy had a good mind for order and predictability, as well.

"Just take me back," he ordered.

A pause—Leshy guessed he probably nodded—then the yellow cat hastily said, "Of course! Follow me."

---

Leshy almost regretted not taking the offered paw as the two made their way back to his shelter. The rain drumming against the ground made it nearly impossible for him to hear the cat's footfalls—if he could have heard them at all in the first place.

He remembered all the times he would watch Narinder sneak up on Kallamar, walking casually with those silent feline feet of his, just to make their older brother jump when he tapped his shoulder.

Leshy almost smiled at the memory but pressed his lips together to force it away. Narinder wasn't fun anymore. He was boring and bossy. Go do this, Leshy! You can't eat that, Leshy! The Lamb says, Leshy...

He couldn't wait until The Lamb brought back Heket. She wasn't boring, just bossy, but Leshy had grown accustomed to her ordering him around in the thousand years he, Heket, Kallamar, and Shamura had ruled the lands.

And when she gets here, I will not have to feel so alone

Leshy scowled into the darkness at the uninvited thought.

The Lamb's flock didn't like him. Most seemed scared of him, as far as he could tell. Those who weren't rightfully scared only spoke to him with anger and resentment. Unless prompted by necessity, the followers did not interact with him. They didn't invite him to sit during dinner or join in a dance circle. He could not entirely blame them. Outsiders in his own cult were treated with the same level of suspicion, even the ones from his siblings' cults.

The only follower who treated Leshy with warmth seemed to be the one leading him, and Leshy could not understand why.

The two made it to his shelter without Leshy tripping on anything or anyone else. Even with the heavy rain, the strong smell of camilla that circled the shelter wafted to Leshy. He had planted the flowers as part of his claim to the shelter from seeds The Lamb brought from Darkwood.

Leshy felt along the side of the thick wooden shelter until his fingers brushed the canvas door. He pushed it open and stepped inside the warm building.

"Are you coming in or not?" he asked, keeping the grand shelter's door open with one arm.

Though he loath to admit it, it would not be a bad idea to make some...alliances in the cult now that he was stuck here. He smiled to himself. Shamura would be so proud of his forethought.

The yellow cat muttered his thanks before slipping under Leshy's arm. Leshy dropped the canvas closed then shook the water from his body. Drier now, he moved forward until his feet hit the nest of mostly ill-gotten blankets he called a bed. He flopped down to his back.

The rain beat against the roof in a steady rhythm as the wooden structure groaned against the weather.

"Wow, this shelter is really nice. It's warm and sturdy!" The yellow cat complimented, sitting down at the edge of the blanket pile. "The Leader must like you to let you live here."

"It is unworthy considering my past station, but it will do."

The Lamb had not given Leshy the roof over his head. In actuality, Leshy claimed the shelter when the previous occupant dropped dead near the shrine one day. Leshy made sure both his brother and The Lamb knew he would bully anyone who tried to take it from him. His threats were enough to make The Lamb relent and allow him to move from the pathetic canvas tent he had been sleeping in.

Leshy took a blanket and wrapped it around his shoulders, careful not to get it stuck on his branches. He yawned and leaned with his back pressed against the wall.

"Sleep wherever. It does not matter to me."

Leshy listened as the yellow cat shuffled around his shelter for a moment. It had to be dark, so, like Leshy himself, the yellow cat was blind to his surroundings. He brushed his fingers against Leshy's tail, only to jerk away and mutter an apology.

Leshy would roll his eyes if he still had them. He took the blanket from his shoulders and tossed it to where he thought the yellow cat was. A muffled 'oof!' confirmed he hit his target. He pulled a second blanket from his nest and returned to his cocoon of warmth.

"Thank you. Um, good night, Mr. Leshy."

Leshy grunted in response and drifted off to sleep.

---

It wasn't quite morning yet when Leshy woke again, as he couldn't hear the bustle of The Lamb's flock or the smell of breakfast cooking. The rain hadn't stopped, but it had faded to a light drizzle.

From beside him, something breathed deeply. Leshy nearly pushed it away before remembering the events that unfolded a couple of hours earlier. He slowly reached his fingers and brushed warm fur. The yellow cat was pressed against his hip, sound asleep.

Well, Leshy had told him to sleep wherever.

Leshy ran his fingers along the fur until he found a particularly soft spot near, what he assumed, was the yellow cat's ear. He absentmindedly stroked the spot, enjoying the warmth under his fingertips.

The yellow cat began to purr, a resonating sound that filled the shelter. He stopped, startled. He had forgotten that cats did that when they were comfortable. More than a thousand years had passed since he'd had a cat purring so close to him.

He pulled his hand to his chest. What was he doing? He didn't know this cat.

What if he woke up angry that Leshy touched him? If Leshy was going to gain favor with this cat, he had to...oh, what was it The Lamb had said? Oh, yes, Leshy would have to 'put his divine entitlement' to the side.

Though thousands of years protecting Darkwood earned him that 'entitlement', Leshy knew The Little Lamb had something of a point.

The yellow cat shifted and Leshy stiffened. Had he woken him?

The yellow cat yawned and squirmed around until his head and arms rested on Leshy's lap. He released a heavy, contented sigh.

Leshy cautiously put his hand on the top of the yellow cat's head and petted the space between his ears.

The yellow cat began to purr again, vibrating against Leshy's lap.

As Leshy began to nod off, he decided since the yellow cat laid on his lap, the petting wasn't 'entitlement.' It was just being fair.

----

The warmth around Leshy was suddenly pulled away, leaving him cold and annoyed.

"Get up," Narinder ordered, dropping the blanket he'd so cruelly taken with a soft plop. "The Lamb says you aren't allowed to keep skipping morning sermons, Leshy."

Leshy groaned, covering his head with his arms. He didn't want to listen to The Little Lamb prattle on, He wanted to listen to--

Leshy pushed himself up and started feeling around for the yellow cat.

"Where did he go?" He demanded of his brother. "Where is he?"

"He?" Narinder asked. "Whom do you mean?"

"You know, him! Ah, um, that—the yellow cat! He was just here!" Leshy threw his hands up in exacerbation. Nothing else lay in the bed beside Leshy.

"Yellow...cat?" Narinder echoed. "Oh, the one I saw sneaking out of your shelter this morning? What was it, Cornelius, Cathleon, Consus? Something with a 'C,' anyway, I think. Or maybe a 'T'? Thornton? Thimothy? Mmm, I cannot remember. If you are bedding him, should you not know?"

He had a sneer in his voice that graded against Leshy's nerves. Leshy clenched his fists. He knew his brother was trying to make him mad—and it was working!

"Do not speak on matters that do not concern you," Leshy grumbled.

Narinder snorted a laugh. "He will be at the sermon. You can go and ask his name there." The shelter's canvas flapped as his brother left. "Or not. It does not matter to me."

Leshy bristled. He stood and his side felt suddenly cold as he recalled the yellow cat leaning against him in the night. He lashed his fist out, hitting the wooden wall in anger. If he ever became a god again, he was going to cull the cat population, or at least any that acted like his damned brother!

He swore under his breath as he headed towards the door. He threw open the canvas. The scent of rain still hung heavy in the air. The wet grass brushed droplets on his ankles and feet as he stepped out. The cult was alive with morning activity. The smell of cooking food made his stomach grumble.

He opened his mouth to shout for his brother when another voice cut him off.

"Mr. Leshy, you are awake!" The yellow cat chirped.

The scent of fresh bread and warm berry jam filled Leshy's nose as the yellow cat pressed a leaf bowl into his hands. "I got you something to eat, as thanks for letting me stay with you last night."

Leshy felt the skin under his leaves heat up at the kind gesture. Before he could answer the yellow cat, from beside his front door, Narinder called, "Why, good morning there."

"Oh, ah, um, good morning, Disciple Narinder," The yellow cat greeted with a touch of embarrassment in his tone.

Narinder chuckled darkly and a shiver crawled up Leshy's spine.

"You know, Leshy was just telling me," Narinder put his hand firmly on Leshy's shoulder and squeezed, "that he was so excited for you to escort him to the temple for the morning sermon."

Leshy started to snap, "I said n--" when he smelled the yeasty bread and sweet jam in his hands and stopped himself. He gritted his teeth. He didn't want to hear that vile creature spew lies and false promises about the afterlife, but, hadn't he decided allies would be useful last night?

He sighed. "I said...I would like to sit in the back. In case, it gets so boring I fall asleep."

Narinder patted his back while chuckling. Leshy whipped his head around in an attempt to take a bite out of his brother, but his teeth snapped against empty air.

With one last, victorious laugh, Narinder whispered in Leshy's ear, "Too easy." before he took his leave.

Leshy threw some of the jam-covered bread in his mouth and chewed loudly, annoyed that he walked right into Narinder's trap. Despite their thousand-year rift, his brother still knew him too well.

The yellow cat covered a laugh with a cough. "You two don't look alike, but I guess you two are really brothers, aren't you?"

"Unfortunately," Leshy muttered. He stepped backwards until his tail brushed the camilla plants around his shelter.

The yellow cat wandered closer to continue their conversation.

"I know he was putting words in your mouth," The yellow cat said. "You should go to the sermon, but I won't drag you if you don't want to go."

Leshy took another bite, chewing slowly as he thought. Finally, he swallowed and asked, "Why are you being so nice? What do you gain from it?"

"'Gain'?" He repeated. "I guess I'd be gaining a friend—and a friend who is an ex-god at that."

"An ex-god who put your god's throat to the blade," Leshy pointed out before he could think better of it.

"But they came back, so it doesn't matter, does it?"

Leshy nearly choked on his food. He had heard rumors that orange cats were as smart as a stack of rocks, but it seemed yellow ones didn't even have that.

The yellow cat patted his back as he coughed. Once he could breathe again, Leshy chuckled with a shake of the head. This cat was something else, and Leshy was starting to like whatever that something was. This cat was no Heket, of course, but he would not be so bad of a friend to have around.

Leshy finished up the last of his breakfast and started ripping up the leaf bowl.

"Well, Let us get this over with," he said, spewing half-chewed bread as he dropped the leaf pieces to the ground.

He held out his hand. When the yellow cat didn't take it, Leshy asked, "Are you going to lead me there or not?"

After a heartbeat, the yellow cat placed his palm against Leshy's, and the two headed toward the temple.

----

AN: This one-shot is dedicated to my cat, Morwen, whom I tripped over and is the reason I have a carpet burn scar on my knee months later. Love you, boo!

[apocalypseornaw]

Real or Not (Pt 1/5)

Dean Winchester x Reader

When Dean starts mentioning his ex it makes you start doubting how stable your relationship is

@lacilou s idea

You were half asleep, curled up to Dean's chest. His fingers were slowly tracing patterns on your bare back as he sung along with whatever was playing on the radio, the light rumble of his voice was nearly lulling you back to sleep. The bed was warm and soft, his body against yours was an added warmth and comfort. You'd known the boys most of your life, the perks of hunting but you and Dean was a development that had just happened a few years before.

Him and Sam had discovered the men of letters bunker and as a byproduct had extended an invitation for you to use one of the many extra bedrooms. You weren't sure how the line between friends and lovers was crossed between you and Dean.

The first time you saw a spark of what could be was when a guy had gotten handsy with you in a bar after a hunt. You were sore after all three of you had gotten tossed around, the bruising on your side was already multiple shades of purple. You'd left the boys to go to the bathroom and hadn't noticed a guy watching you.

When you walked out the bathroom he'd grabbed you rather roughly. Any other time you would've kicked his ass with no problem but his fingertips had dug into the bruise forcing the air out of your lungs and a gasp of pain to escape your lips. "Hey asshole" You heard Dean's voice a half a second before the guy was ripped off of you.

You watched as Dean hit him and felt some sense of vindication when the guy went down but when Dean moved to hit him again you grabbed his arm, the bouncer was headed your way and not to mention you knew Dean.

He was strong enough to take down monsters on the daily, if he went off on this drunken asshole he could kill him. The anger in his eyes quickly dissolved when he realized it was your hand on him "Sweetheart he hurt you" you smiled slightly "I've had worse dee. You probably broke his jaw as is. Let the bouncer handle it, let's grab Sam and head back to the motel"

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

From that day on any time the three of you went out Dean would stand outside the bathroom and wait on you. You'd felt guilty for a while that his chances of hooking up was cut down extremely by every woman in the bar seeing him waiting on you but when you'd finally brought it up to him he'd simply said "You're more important to me"

The first time Dean kissed you was late one night. You and him had been dancing around feelings for each other for a while.

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

You'd been in your room, laid across the bed listening to music when he'd knocked on your door. "Come in!" You called out turning to sit up instead of being sprawled out. Dean walked in and a smile pulled onto his face "Were you asleep?" Your eyes widened when you realized how your hair probably looked. Not that he hadn't seen you at a worse time but nonetheless you smoothed a hand over your hair "No, was just listening to music" he nodded slowly but you could tell he hadn't just come to your door to see what you were up to. "Something wrong Dee?"

He motioned down the hall "There's a um meteor shower tonight. Sam told me about it, I know you like that kind of thing and there's a few clearings not far from here if you wanna take a little ride?"

You nodded "Yeah let me get my boots on and grab a hoodie" the smile he gave you made your heart flip "Take your time sweetheart"

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

About half an hour later you were laying across baby's hood next to Dean, watching the night sky. His hand found your leg, squeezing gently before he sat up "Y/N, can we talk?" You sat up too and took his offered hand to get off the impala. Once you were both standing he gave you one of those smiles that made your knees weak "Can I just kiss you and stop this dancing around? I know how I feel about you and I'm fairly certain how you feel about me"

"I'd like that" you admitted and next thing you knew his lips were on yours. Kissing Dean was better than you'd ever imagined and you'd imagined it plenty. The way he made you feel from just a kiss was dizzying. When he pulled away he slid his arms around your waist pulling you even closer "I could get used to doing that" you laughed "I could get used to you doing that"

The two of you had ended up watching the sun come up before going back to the bunker. You'd never admit under threat of torture but you were half in love with him then.

You felt his fingers hesitate just a moment before he said "I know you're awake" you cut your eyes up to see green eyes watching you closely. You smiled "I was enjoying the song" he leaned down to press a gentle kiss to your lips but when his hands moved to your hips rolling you over on top of him the kiss deepened. When you had to move away from each other to catch your breath he grinned at you "If I get that for a song what do I get for a few?" You raised an eyebrow rolling your hips down against his which made him choke out a groan "I'm sure we can come to an agreement"

Yeah you'd never admit it but you were head over heels for the eldest Winchester.

You were moving through the bunker, humming to yourself. You'd just gotten through with laundry and was headed to see if Sam needed help with research.

You were almost to the library when you heard Dean and Sam both laughing. The sound warmed your heart, they rarely genuinely laughed. "Man you remember how Mila lost the cop that was chasing her, met us back at Bobby's and cooked breakfast" Sam said and you felt yourself falter.

Sam was one of your closest friends and yeah him and Dean had hunted close with Camila for a while especially while her and Dean were a thing but as far as you knew they hadn't talked to her in a while. Why were they reminiscing about Dean's ex? Your stomach dropped to your feet when Dean's voice was the next to say "Mila has always been a force of nature"

You knew when it came to these two your poker face was shit so you stopped dead in your tracks unsure what to do next. When they started into another story starring none other than Camila Paulso you spun on your heel and headed for the garage. You hadn't realized you were crying until your vision went blurry.

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

This wasn't like you. You weren't the overly jealous type and getting this upset over something so trivial as them reminiscing? Because you had fallen in love with Dean and honestly had no clue if he felt the same. Every insecurity you felt from when you first got with Dean came rushing back. Every little voice that said you weren't his type, that you weren't good enough for him, that he'd never love you blared through your head.

You walked over to one of the older cars you always liked and sat down next to it, forcing yourself to calm down. They were just talking. Maybe you needed a break, you could go visit Jody and the girls. A few minutes passed before your phone went off with a text from Dean "Where are you at?"

You pushed yourself to your feet, checking your reflection in the window of the car before texting back "Garage" you needed to get a grip. Dean wasn't the type to not say what he wanted. He was with you, that counted for something right?

About the time you heard his voice ring through the garage calling your name a small whisper flashed through your head saying "What if he's passing time until he can get her back?"

Why the hell was your own brain working so hard against you?

@lacilou

[xjulixred45x]

This is my last request and I hope you enjoy your holiday. May I request for more Yandere platonic Nanami wherein he yells at their darling one day and so they decide to hide from him inside the house and Nanami foolishly thinks they escaped. They only come out after hearing the commotion

Ohhhh great! More characters! I like this, thanks for the Request!

Platonic Yandere Nanami and Reader: Hide and seek

Kento had had a bad day, a pretty bad one, leaving him irritable and definitely not wanting to do much. Simply arrive and spend time with (Reader).

But that was no excuse for what happened next.

(Reader) had already become quite accustomed to the... lifestyle that Kento forced made them maintain for their safety and protection, however they was still a young person, they was still learning things--

So there was no way they knew that resuming a small argument they had earlier and that they WANTED to finish(about the sorcery academy, above all.Even after the events in Kyoto and Geto, they wanted to return to the academy when what was the point? Those from their year had been expelled. Did they expect them to be sent alone? no way) would have been the straw that broke the little calm left in the man. Ending the interaction with a single, forceful scream at them.

Kento didn't mean to yell or sound abrupt, but all the built-up tension of the day, the overtime, and the fact that he just wanted to rest and not deal with anything else made him not realize that Reader was not only startled, but was made backwards, in fear...

no again...

Kento had already been through this at the beginning, when he first brought them home, how they would stay away from him, how they would be startled when he tried to get close or give them affection, how many times they tried to escape from home...the punishments that followed--

Everything had been worth it until now, they were finally accepting him as a father, loving him back, seeing him in a similar way to when he supervised them at the academy--

and he ruined it.

and now he paid the price.

He promises himself that when he returns from this shift, he would make it up to them for yesterday (already hoping that they would want to leave their room by that time) and thus fix things and not start from scratch again.

What he didn't expect when he returned was to realize that he had left the door unlocked... and he felt the little color he had in his face drain away...

He quickly entered and checked readers's room, it was open, there was no one, he went to his room, nothing, he left his bed, nothing, there was no one in the kitchen or the living room, he removed everything, he made a big mess and nothing.

and since they had behaved so well he had turned off the security cameras for a while. so if they had left he had no idea where they went....

Reader had fled, all because of him.

All the possible scenarios began to appear in his head, what would happen if they ran into some curse? They had gotten too used to fighting because they were living with him, they would be defenseless! They hadn't even properly healed from the events of last year! or being alone out there, in Japan, hungry, cold, with all the depraved people out there...

Should he ask the other sorcerers for help? But what happens if they see the relationship he has with Reader in a bad way? Or what if Gojo found out that he was keeping them locked up when he told him to stay away from them? What if he told the normal authorities? They would misinterpret everything and want to take them away from him! Or worse! Return them to the academy where they would run more danger!

Kento started to panic, he got on his knees, pulled his hair and, like yesterday, let out a scream of pure frustration at the situation, but with many more emotions than just anger.

despair, sadness, fear, uncertainty--

That's when he heard it.

like something was moving in his room.

Even if he searched for Reader in depth throughout his entire apartment, he did not search in places that, out of mere habit, he did not see because they were obvious, such as the closet. and now he heard someone walking from his room to where he was (the living room, in a mess) and when that person appeared he realized... it was Reader.

They stared at him before letting out a small "I heard a lot of noise..."

Nanami was perplexed, but tried to compose himself quickly and act "normal" as he stood up and walked towards them with a slow step. He scared them once, he wouldn't do it again.

Kento was amazed that Reader had decided to just hide. Had they realized that the door was open? Was it some kind of plan? Or was it sincere? It didn't matter now.

Nanami could hardly hold back his tears when he got closer to their level to give them a hug while whispering what he feared most "...I thought you were gone...".

Fortunately, as they hugged him back, he realized that he wouldn't have to worry. They wouldn't leave.

He got them used to depending on him a lot, they love him, he knows it, deep down they love him as much as he loves them, they know that it is better here, that he does this for their own good, like a good father would. They won't leave him because they know there's no point in doing so...he will find them sooner or later...they didn't go through so much misery together to stop now...

They will be together.

He would make sure of it, from now on, no matter what happens.

Shares, reblogs and comments are very welcome!

[erzsebetrosztoczy]

For your wounded heart

Pt.1

Pairing: Mizu x reader

Word count: ~2k

Notes: If there will be interest for it, I'll continue the story, because so far there isn't really a Mizu x reader going on lmfaoo but we'll seeeee

Ps.: Mizu's pronounce is he/him in this part

Here's Part 2

The molten gold disc of the sun slowly crept up the horizon, pouring gray onto the world from the darkness. It rose drowsily, languidly among the tall canopies, leaves lighting up as it projected onto them as thousands of thalers appeared next to the shining disk.

The songbirds ruffled their feathers — ready for the challenges of another day, and sang happily to their companions.

A strong draft escaped from under the wooden door, making the embers of the flickering fire dance before running through your covers.

The sudden cold bit into your skin; grabbing you from the realm of dreams, dragging you back to the world of the living with its icy fingers. You opened your eyes with a terrified sigh; waking up from the warm and caressing dream you pulled yourself under the covers.

Another day, another task ahead of you.

Wearly, you dressed up before trying to gather your belongings, which you would need shortly.

A scalpel, a knife, gloves and a deep basket soon graced your side as you set off into the awakening forest.

Three days ago, you were approached by one of the most influential merchants in town. His wife caught the chills-fever, which her priests had not been able to cure with any of their treatments. Realizing that needles, prayers and incense would not help here, the nobleman visited you the day before, when the noises of the market in the main square seemed to dull down, when you started packing your goods to go home.

It had been a long time since you were last offered such a sum - too long for your liking. Short of money - and because you would have faced the wrath of a powerful man if you refused - you accepted his offer to heal his spouse.

Early in the morning, when the rooster hadn't even crowed, you were already ready to go collect the ingredients for the potion.

The sharp autumn air crawled over your skin, penetrated your bones and breathed newfound strength into your heart. Listening to the soothing soft melody of the forest, you set off towards its thickets, hoping that you would find enough ingredients for your tonics today. Everything was ready to take care of the sick wife- all you had to do was get the hojicha flower, of which you had run out of stock a while ago.

Pulling your cloak tight around your shoulders, you stepped on the wet moss carpet, careful not to slip on the rutted ground. Soon the ground would start to freeze- you thought as you tried to remember which tree trunk you marked, where you should turn right or left to reach your usual harvesting location.

"If I want to have everything in the winter, I have to collect them in time..." You sighed, stepping over a taller ditch. "Maybe I should look at the market to buy seeds and-"

"To the best of my knowledge, you have to go the other way to the nearest market." A harsh, sharp voice spoke from your left.

You immediately screamed and if the cold didn't do it until now — the stranger who suddenly stumbled here had certainly frozen your blood. The pounding of your heart only made it worse as you spun backwards, trying to face the source of the sound. Your foot slipped and you fell to your knees, hitting a wet log while you turned your head trying to find the source of the sound.

After a while, three men appeared in front of you; one from the nearby bushes, while two crept out from behind the cover of the trees; like wild dogs lurking in wait for their prey.

"The lady must be lost, people can disappear quickly in the forest..." The other man nodded with a vile grin, rubbing his palms together while approaching you.

"Certainly, it is not recommended to walk alone in such remote places at the crack of dawn." The third man took over, turning his attention to the basket lying on the floor next to you. “It's better if we accompany you… so no one attacks you.”

"I didn't, I just-" You stammered, but your voice got stuck in your throat as the three strangers walked closer and closer. Their ragged and dirty clothes, their darkly glistening dreadful eyes ruled out that they were simple wanderers.

You ran into bandits on the road, alone, in the middle of the forest. Your heart was pounding in your throat and kept yelling for you to move, escape, run — otherwise you will take your last breath here forever.

Your eyes darted to your overturned basket – deep inside your knife was glinting in a cold light. If you could be fast enough to get it out of there...Fight for your life. You fight or you die.

But instincts were stronger than reason; the Gods opened a third way for you at that moment.

You pushed yourself away with your hands, your heels digging into the ground hard, almost scraping it up as you jumped up to run away like a chased deer. You could barely feel your legs, could barely breathe as you ran through the trees with all your might, jumping over bushes, rocks, and pits. With your heart in your throat, with the sound of the bandits' steps and shouts in your ears, you kept going forward, not even daring to look back.

Your ability to navigate had left you, you didn't even know if you were running towards or away from them, there was just the feeling that you still had to go, still run, still fight. If you stopped you were dead, if you fell you were dead, if they caught up you were dead.

A huge thorn bush appeared in front of you, too high and wide it would have been almost impossible to jump over it, to get around it; so for lack of a better option you tensed your muscles, pulled your neck in, closed your eyes and ran into the branches, shielding your face with your arms.

The pain that ignited in the darkness flashed through you as a hundred and a thousand spikes dug into your exposed skin; then you felt the ground open under your feet, suddenly you began to fall.

You didn't even have time to cry out when you hit the hard ground with your side.

Lying there injured and exhausted, with a bursting heart, you realized that it was all over.

You just sealed your faith.

Panting and choking from crying, you heard the rustling of the bushes behind you, then the trampling of feet.

"Here's the little slut" One of the men chuckled, but the cheering stopped almost immediately.

You did not dare to look up from the ground, did not dare to move; you were left lying on the ground trembling, awaiting death...

But nothing happened.

Another second, but there was only silence, no more footsteps, no giggles, no shouts.

Blinking away the dirt and blood, you looked from behind your lashes and then realized why you were still breathing.

The attention of the three thugs no longer plagued you. They turned almost motionless, to the left, watching ahead of them.

You followed their gaze and saw that you had fallen on a road. On a road where a fourth stranger was now standing in front of you.

A tall, lanky stranger in blue traveling clothes, the bamboo hat he wore pulled low over his face, obscuring his features.

A stranger with a sword in his hand.

Suddenly everything around you seemed to be silent; the chirping of the birds died away, the trees and twigs no longer creaked and cracked, as if the wind itself had stopped to watch the unfolding scene.

Not wanting to break the silence, you stared at the fourth stranger, holding your breath, wondering what would happen now.

Was that your savior ahead of you? Or was he just a wanderer who didn’t care what troubled others, who would only solve his own problems, regardless of if he made others ill-fated? Maybe you got out of the frying pan into the fire?

"There's nothing to see here." The nimblest bandit growled, a rusty knife in hand. "Everybody's minding their own business, right?"

"This matter belongs only to us and this woman, there is no need to cause difficulties for anyone." The largest one with a long mustache spoke slyly, the one closest to you clutched a heavy cudgel in his fist, his knuckles white from the force with which he gripped it.

The blue-clad stranger didn't answer immediately, instead tilting his head to the side, he peeked out from behind the brim of his hat, flashing his yellow-tinted glasses in the light.

"Looking at you, I suspect you are road thugs." The sword bearer spoke, his voice softer than you would have expected. "You rob those who come here." His words didn't seem like a question.

At this, the third man - the fox with a smile, who had a katana, spat down his side stepping forward in front of his companions.

"If you want good for yourself, you turn back or walk past us without another word." He snapped in his raspy voice, grabbing the hilt of his sword as the other two tensed with their weapons as well.

Barely able to handle the shaking and the hitching of your breath, you lifted your torso off the ground with challenge, turning to the blue-cloaked stranger desperately.

"Please…" Your voice trailed off as sobs broke from you. "Don't let me die, please!" Your voice cracked; hot tears washing away the mud and blood from your face. "Help me, please!"

The lanky stranger moved his arm back, revealing the hilt of his sword as he reached towards it with his right hand.

You inhaled through your teeth when you heard the deep clang of metal and clattering footsteps as the bandits charged towards him.

You dropped back down, pulling your knees to your chest as the battle began. Only daring to watch the scene from the cover of your arm.

The swordsman reached first the blue-clad savior, swinging an upward blow from the left, but his sword met another steel.

The man in the hat drew his sword from the sheath with the speed of a viper, breaking the first attack with almost no effort. Before the thug could react to it, the man was already flying to the ground, his legs entangled as the blue clothed one pushed him away to answer the next blow.

The rusty knife reached him second, and while his companion seized the stranger with his blade, he thrusted his knife towards your helper's neck. The cloaked man shoved the katana wielder away with his foot as he turned his torso to the side, the knife still flying towards him mid air.

Taking advantage of the movement, he turned to the right, placing one raised foot in front of the other, cutting across with his blade in front of him.

In a blink of an eye, red rain shot from the arm of the knife-wielding bandit - the sword almost cut his arm off. He staggered with a sharp wail, then fell to the ground, where he continued to shriek.

The one with a cudgel on the other hand did not attack yet, instead he stopped from a decent distance so the sword of the man in blue could not reach him, seemingly considering his next moves.

But this proved to be only a distraction when the first attacker reappeared, this time springing into action behind your savior's back.

The one in blue could hear this, as he turned to the side keeping an eye on both of his attackers, but then the largest started to move suddenly in order to attack at the same time with his other partner.

Seeing the impossible situation, you already had the mental image of the swordsman slashing your savior while the other beat him to death with the heavy club — you whimpered in terror, burying your face in your arms to shield yourself from the sight.

You heard a shout and the clang of steel meeting again, something heavy falling to the ground. A dull, more watery pounding - the cudgel! Bubbling, frothy snoring- a moan of agony and then silence.

You were next, you were sure of that.

Sharp cuts, bone-crushing blows and then slow, lingering death awaits you.

But there was no movement, not even a single grunt from the fight.

Panting, you raised your head to shorten your wait, but you did not find yourself facing the person you were waiting for.

You caught the gaze of the blue-cloaked stranger. You watched with a dry throat and roaring head as he stood over the three bloodied, dying bandits, his sword still clutched in his right hand.

The bamboo hat was no longer on his head, it probably fell off sometime during the fight when you weren't looking, and now was lying at his feet, waiting to be dusted off and put on again.

But instead, the stranger staggered, his knees buckling as he took two steps forward, finally slumping forward onto the ground, leaving you alone in the field of vigilance.

[centuryberry]

LMK Fic To-Do List (2025)

So, I recently ordered these delightful bundle of AO3 Tags as drinks stickers that kyri45 made and they came in a couple days ago. Getting them inspired me to challenge myself by writing fics with themes surrounding an Ao3 tag. I mean, I was already planning on working on a couple of side projects, but this is a fun way to get most of them out!

Found Family - "Queen of the Mountain"

Idea: We all know this one. While I was tempted to assign to tag to a completely different idea, I decided to reserve this tag for my main fic since it's a good reminder that QotM needs to be prioritized above all of the other projects below.

Enemies to Lovers - "Like Salt on a Scraped Knee"

Idea: When they first met, Xiaotian was a young celestial guarding the sealed Monkey King and Yue was a desperate daughter trying to free her father. In present day, their relationship hadn't improved at all. Actually, it became worse. Tired of their constant squabbling, Lady Guanyin forces them in a celestial equivalent of a get-along shirt. They now have experience being in each other's shoes.

Angst - "Accidental Necromancy"

Idea: This is a Thrall/Mensheng-centric oneshot that I wanted to get out at some point. It expands on his backstory and focuses on the indignity of being brought back to life (in more ways than one). It's all set in his POV and is filled with a lot of identity issues, the idea (or unidea) of personhood, and the slippery slope of accidental fatherhood.

Fluff - "In One Basket"

Idea: The story of how Louhou and Jidu came to be. Shadowpeach and Iceflower wanted kids to fill the empty nest Yue left behind when she went to school. Heaven forbade them from carrying any children to term or else they'd "confiscate" the babies. Made an entire law about it too. Yue finds a loophole. I originally wanted to write it into Act II as a cute little story that Yue tells Xiaotian and Xiaojiao at a campfire. It was also supposed to serve as one of the many examples of the Celestial Realm being control freaks.

Smut - "Send Noods"

Idea: Yuetian fic exploring the physical side of their relationship as they learn together. Set post-QotM, so I won't be working on this one until the end of QotM. (Will include Yuetian from different AUs too.)

Canon Divergence - "golden, sweet, and just for me"

Idea: A series of drabbles focusing on the alternate universe Yue dreamed up in "sweeter than apricot honey". Focuses mostly on Yuetian's life as they move out of FFM and into Megapolis. (Title still undecided.)

Mutual Pining - "A Winter Garden for Us"

Idea: A oneshot focusing on Iceflower's pining and subtle romance while Yue remains obvlious. It starts when Shanzha pulls RinRin out of Diyu and ends when they exchange their marriage vows in the same temple. Also, the Hot Springs Scandal will be featured in here.

Slowburn - "The Longest Dance in the World"

Idea: A oneshot focusing on Shadowpeach's relationship throughout the centuries. How Wukong met Macaque and practically dragged him home. How FFM grew to accept and trust the Warrior. How Wukong fell first (but never realized it until way way later) and Macaque fell harder (and was painfully aware of it). Will include the Closet Makeout Scene from their POV.

Hurt/Comfort - "Secret Keeper"

Idea: A oneshot focusing on Red Son that jumps between the past and the present. An insight to what he endured while Yue was sealed away and how he tries to heal after everything he's lost.

[darklinga]

Ross Humboldt x F!Reader

|18+| MINORS AND THOSE WITHOUT AGE IN BIO, PLEASE DNI!

Author's Note: I really got inspired on this one, I put so much effort...I hope you all like it! I had to change some things but it is actually the movie's plot. (Patrick Wilson is so hot on that movie, not only in that movie lol.)

Word count: 4.5k

Warnings: smut with plot, breeding kink, gore, violence, swearing, voyeurism? (Idk rlly), deaths, movie spoilers, oral receiving (female and male), giant rock lol, reader has stretch marks.

•SPOILERS AHEAD!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Shit." It was the only word that managed to come out of your mouth as you supported yourself on your slightly bent knees, trying to catch your breath.

You didn't know how long you had been in that place...In that damn field of tall grass.

You only knew that when you entered, it was still morning and that the reason for all this was because you had heard a boy named Tobin screaming for help, claiming that he was lost in the field.

"Okay, now me, this Tobin and God knows who else, we're trapped in this field." You comment to yourself, placing both hands on your waist, staring at the floor as you tried to think, but no ideas came to mind. "We're all screwed..."

You return to walking, looking at the sky that was now night and cloudy, threatening to dump heavy rain on the area as you adjust your tank top and pants.

"Great, and now it's about to rain...Can it get any worse?" Well, it seems like you asked this question at the wrong time.

You hear someone moving in the grass behind you and reluctantly, you look back, trying to see what or who it was.

"Look, I really don't have time to play hide and seek, there's something really wrong here so...Just show up." You sigh, breathing heavily, having no weapon to defend yourself.

Ross's figure appears, brushing away the grass with his hands as he smiles slightly at you, sweat covering his face and chest, which could be seen as the top of his pink shirt was unbuttoned.

"Hi...I heard your voice and managed to track you." Ross looks at you, breathing heavily as he places his hands on his waist.

"W-Who are you?" You move away from him, taking a few steps back.

"My name is Ross, I'm looking for my wife Natalie and my son Tobin, they are also lost in this field." Ross sighs, looking around. "I don't even know how long I've been here... If that dog hadn't come in...

"The dog?" You thought and looked at the floor. A few minutes ago, you had seen the body of a dog in an advanced state of decomposition, indicating that a lot of time had passed. "So you're Tobin's father..."

"Have you seen my son?" He raises an eyebrow, looking at you waiting for a positive response.

"No...But I heard his cries for help. The moment I entered in this field, I didn't hear him anymore." You sigh, scratching the back of your neck as you look away from him.

Ross looks down for a moment and then looks back at you.

"We can get together and try to find my family, then we get out of here, what do you think? Ross smiles at you, trying to cheer you up.

You nod, still reluctant but to tell the truth, you had no alternative but to unite with the only person you met in this place.

Ross leads the way, pushing aside the plantation with his strong hands, clearing the path for the two of you.

"Fuck..." You curse as you realize you've sunk your sneakers into the mud, earning a small laugh from Ross. " That's not funny!" You scoff, pulling your dirty shoes out of the mud.

"Somebody help me, please!" Tobin's voice echoes through the leaves, the same voice that is the reason you are here.

"Tobin!" Ross starts running, leaving you behind, trying to follow his son's voice.

You try to follow him but it was too late, the field had already changed your position.

"WHAT THE HELL?!" You stamp your foot on the floor, clenching your hands as you try to control the anger inside you. "When this kid and I get out of here, I'm going to beat the shit out of him...With all due respect, of course."

The rain starts to fall, increasing in intensity as you walk through the grass, trying to find Ross and Tobin.

"If I hadn't taken a vacation, everything would be fine..." You mutter, trying to look up, but the rain only made it difficult for you to see.

You decide to sit on the wet grass, hiding your head between your legs, hugging them in an attempt to keep warm and protect yourself from the rain.

Falling asleep without realizing it, you look up at the sky, noticing the rain had stopped and it was dawning.

"And here we go." You get up with a slight pain in your back, stretching yourself trying to alleviate it. "Besides feeling alone, I feel like an old woman..."

Starting to walk again, you look around, hoping to find something or someone to help you.

Your vision is tired of seeing only grass and daylight, the scorching sun slowly burning your skin, sweat sliding down your forehead and neck, your body warning you of dehydration.

Suddenly, you hear Tobin's voice and two other people, a man and a woman, who you hadn't heard before.

"Hey, can someone help me? I'm lost here!" You look up, your ears focusing on the screams of others.

"That's nothing new since we're all stuck here!" Cal sighs and rolls his eyes.

"Guys, my dog ​​is dead..." Tobin says in a crying voice, not knowing what to do.

"I have an idea! Tobin, keep talking loud so we can all reach you!" You start running in the direction of Tobin's voice, everyone running in the same direction.

You meet Tobin, who was looking at his dead dog in a state of decomposition, Cal and Becky, who appeared to be brothers and who were also lost there and then another man appears, Travis.

"Thank God." Becky smiles, feeling relieved in a way, as she looks at the rest of the group.

"Who are you?" You raise an eyebrow, breathing heavily as you recover from the run you had just done.

"I'm Becky, this is my brother Cal." The woman points to her brother, who was looking at you with a suspicious look. "And this one is Travis...my...ex."

You noticed the change in tone in her voice as you discreetly looked at her pregnant belly, the pieces of the puzzle quickly falling into place inside your mind.

"And you?" Becky looks at the blonde boy while rubbing her belly.

"I'm Tobin..." The boy looks at Becky, Cal and Travis, then turns to you. "I heard your voice, you were with my father, weren't you?

You nod, looking at him. "I thought your father found you." Frowning, you cross your arms.

"I had heard his voice approaching me but suddenly, he disappeared and I remained alone." The boy's loneliness was like a stab in your heart, no one deserves to be alone, especially at his age.

"I'm very sorry." You sigh, lowering yourself to his level as you rub his shoulders in a comforting, almost maternal way. "We're going to find him and when we do, we'll all get out of here."

The tension in the young boy's muscles eases as you comfort him. "Thanks." He waves and smiles.

"Okay, which way?" Cal looks around, looking for a way out.

"I have an idea...Tobin, get on my shoulders." Travis bends down, giving Tobin access to his shoulders. The boy sits on them and slowly, Travis stands up. "Okay, now...Do you see anything?"

Tobin looks in all directions until his gaze finds the church which was on the other side of the road, in front of the field.

"The church! I see it!" Tobin points in its direction and Travis starts walking, followed by the others. "Don't separate from us, not even for a minute."

You nod and the others do the same, following Travis and Tobin as they think about why this strange field exists.

Your mind browsed through your memories, more precisely in the brief moments you had shared with Ross.

Damn, the man was married and already had a son, but oh...He was so handsome. It was as if he were a Greek God...That shirt he was wearing, open on the upper part of his chest, giving access to his curious gazes, those lips that were just the right amount of flesh and his penetrating blue gaze, which seemed to drown out all your thoughts everytime you looked at him. (Aquaman reference, got it? Because Patrick Wilson is Orm and...Yeah, you got it AHEM.)

Your thoughts were interrupted by a loud thump behind you, making you jump and quickly turn around to see what had happened.

Becky had passed out, being surrounded by the group while Cal tried to save her, pressing both hands together on her chest repeatedly.

"What happened?" You ask, not moving closer to give her brother and ex space as they both tried to save her.

"She just fainted, fell..." Travis' chest was breathing heavily as he felt sick.

You looked at her belly, worried about the safety of the baby and the mother.

Suddenly, Ross appears in the tall grass, bending down and trying to save her, successfully.

Becky takes a deep breath and coughs, sitting up and looking at the man in surprise.

"Dad!" Tobin runs into Ross' open arms, who catches him and holds him in a tight hug.

"My son...Are you okay?" Ross looks at the smiling boy, stroking his blonde hair.

The boy nods and looks at the others. "They helped me."

Ross smiles and looks at everyone, his gaze meeting yours, a moment that seemed to pass much slower than usual. "You...Thank you for taking care of my son."

Nodding, you look away as a blush takes over your cheeks. CONCENTRATE!

"I ended up getting to the road but I wasn't going to leave my wife and son here." Ross smiles, hugging Tobin.

"How?" Travis raises an eyebrow, sighing.

"I can only say that it's not a straight line. Where were you all going?" Ross looks at the group, directing his gaze once again to you.

"In the direction of the building." You smile at Tobin's father earning a smile in return.

"Building?"

"We were close..." Cal helps Becky to her feet, looking around.

"Come up again, Tobin." Travis kneels, allowing the blonde to sit on his shoulders again.

He rotates 360°, unable to find the building.

"It disappeared." Tobin continues searching, without success.

"That's how it works around here, but I have a lucky ticket for anyone who wants it." Ross opens his arms, smiling widely at the others.

"You had the chance to get out of here, why didn't you do it?" Travis narrows his eyes, crossing his arms.

"I wasn't going to leave my wife and son here, considering that now, I have you all to save too." He laughs lightly, shaking his head. "Come on, I'll show you the way..."

Ross begins to lead the way, being followed by the others.

Something didn't feel right...The fact that Ross knew how to get out of that place was very strange, but there was nothing you could do but to follow him.

You continued to follow Ross, watching the sky darken quickly, the orange color of the afternoon turning into the dark blue of the night.

Humboldt began to sing, his voice resembling the song of sirens, drawing you more and more with a dangerous melody.

"You have a beautiful voice." You look at Ross, who turns to you, nodding.

"Thanks, I used to be in a band when I was young." Ross smiles and returns to lead the way.

Suddenly, you come across a large black rock in the center of the field, with several drawings contained on it, as if they were describing a ritual.

"We're here." Ross smiles, but this time differently...A mischievous smile.

"What is that?" You ask, pointing to the rock.

"This...It's the stone of redemption...Touch it and you will know everything." Ross moves closer to you, his breath hitting against your cheek. "Touch it."

You swallow hard, approaching the stone, reaching out your hand until...

"STOP!!! DON'T TOUCH THE ROCK!" Natalie shouts, appearing in the center of the field.

"Mom!" Tobin runs towards her, hugging her.

"I don't know what he told you, but it's a lie!" The mother looks at Ross, narrowing her eyes.

"Honey? What happened?" Humboldt tries to get closer.

"DON'T COME CLOSER!" Natalie places Tobin behind her, taking steps back as her gaze shifts to Becky. "You..."

Becky raises her eyebrows in surprise, not recognizing Natalie.

"I saw...I saw...She was...She was..." She breathes heavily, holding back the tears that were about to fall from her eyes.

"She was...She was what? Just say it." Ross's smile gets wider and wider as he looks at his wife.

"She wasn't alive." Natalie turns away, hiding her face with her right hand. "And you were going to hurt me..."

"Hurt you?" Ross frowns. "How can you think something like that? I would never do that, we're together...We're a family, aren't we Travis?" Ross opens his arms and turns to the man.

Becky suddenly begins to feel severe pains in her stomach, squirming as Cal and Travis rub her back.

An image comes to her mind, Ross was in the middle of the grass, his eyes were completely white as if there was no soul there, as if he was being controlled by the field, a wide smile spread across his face as he lowered his head.

Becky comes back to reality, looking at Ross.

"Let's go." Her gaze becomes serious, taking steps back. "Now."

You frown, looking at everyone there. Certainly, something wasn't right there and the only thing you wanted at that moment was to get out of there.

"Want to come with us?" Travis looks at Natalie and Tobin, who nod but don't move when they see Ross has positioned himself in front of them.

"No...You don't understand...You have to touch the stone!" Ross smiles, trying to mislead them. "But I just don't understand one thing...How did you find us? Why are you here?" Ross narrows his eyes, frowning as he points at Natalie. "The field wouldn't let you find us...Unless..." The pieces fit together in Ross's mind. "This isn't about you..." He opens his eyes wide in realization. "It's about me."

He turns to the stone, his breathing increasing more and more.

"You want the hard sell? Sure, that's fine with me." He shrugs and is then surprised by Travis, who jumps on him, punching him in the face.

"Run!!!" Travis screams as he continues to punch him.

Tobin runs ahead of Natalie, managing to get away from his father, but it was too late for his mother.

Ross elbows Travis in the face, making him fall and then grabs Natalie, who screams as she tries to escape her husband's hands.

"MOM!!!" Tobin tries to go back to her, but is held back by Becky.

You stand there, motionless next to Cal, looking at Ross in shock.

Ross begins squeezing both sides of Natalie's head, causing her to bleed as she looks at her son.

"No...Son, don't worry...It's just grass and all flesh is grass." Ross increases the strength in his hands, crushing Natalie's head, causing blood to spray everywhere.

Ross's face was covered in blood, as were his clothes, mixing with the mud and sweat present on his body.

"RUN!" Travis manages to get up and starts running, Becky; Cal and Tobin leading the way.

You look at Ross, your gaze focused on the blood present on his face. Humboldt noticed your gaze and smiled at you, licking his lips, savoring the taste of iron and then, winking at you.

"Let's go!" Travis pulls your arm, making you follow him as you all ran away from Ross, not knowing where to go.

"You have nowhere to run!" Ross shouts, still standing in the center of the field, not even bothering to follow you all.

You find an abandoned store and decide to enter it, trying to hide from Ross, but deep down you knew there was no way out.

Tobin hugs Becky, looking at the ground. "He's right, we're all grass."

You look at the boy, thinking about what you could do to help them.

"If we stay here, he'll find us and it'll be worse." Travis sighs, placing his hands on his waist.

"And what do we do?" Becky looks at her ex, waiting for an answer.

Freddy, Tobin's dog, passes through an isolated patch of tall grass, then disappears.

"What? Where did he go?" Cal asks, still looking out the window.

Seconds later, Freddy appears on the road, heading towards the church.

"There's a gap there, like a wormhole. That's where we have to go, let's go!" Travis smiles, feeling a twinge of hope in his chest.

You had stopped paying attention to others a long time ago, as your mind was focused on something else: Ross.

That moment when he licked his lips and winked at you flirtatiously kept replaying in your head. The way he breathed, the way he spoke, the way he smiled... Oh, how extremely delicious he was.

And the blood giving a final touch to that man's personality, an aggressive but erotic touch at the same time, how could that be possible? You thought.

Is this unhealthy? You questioned yourself. The fact that you were attracted to a person who had just killed their partner in front of you and everyone but who smiled and winked at you, especially you...Was it a bad thing?

You stopped and thought, wondering if it was the field that was making you think these things.

You snapped out of your trance when you noticed everyone leaving the store, heading towards the "gap."

"Hey, wait for m-" You froze as you felt a strong hand grab your shoulder, forcing you to turn around.

"Do you know what your mistake is?" Ross looks at you with a calculating look, his breath hitting your lips. "It's the simple fact that you all think that one day you will leave this place." He smiles menacingly, stroking your cheek.

You start to run as fast as you can, pushing through the tall grass with your hands, reluctantly looking back and realizing that this time, Ross was running after you.

You try to speed up your steps, running tirelessly, the dose of adrenaline increasing within your blood.

You look back again, Ross was no longer there. When you turn around, you are surprised by him, who jumps on top of you, pinning you to the ground with his weight while holding both your hands together above your head.

You squirm, not noticing that your movements caused Ross's erection to grow inside his brown pants.

"I'm impressed." Ross smiles widely, referring to the race. The moonlight hitting your skin, highlighting every detail of your bodies.

You can't focus on anything other than Ross's bloodied face, which was very close to yours.

"I noticed the way you look at me, you're attracted to me, aren't you sweetie?" Ross kisses your neck, making you sigh and close your eyes for a brief second.

"The grass knows everything, and it told me that you want to feel me inside you." He licks a stripe that starts on your neck and ends on your cheek, leaving a trail of saliva mixed with blood. "You want to be mine, don't you?"

You swallow hard, your chest going down and up repeatedly in a short period of time.

Ross's gaze goes lower and lower, stopping at your breasts, noticing your hard nipples from the contact between your two bodies.

Ross continues to trap your hands with his left hand and with his right, he lifts your tank top, causing your breasts to pop out.

"Round and perfect." He caresses your belly, his hand exploring the small stretch marks on your waist, then going higher, caressing your breasts and feeling the stretch marks also present there and squeezing your nipples, playing with them, making you moan and arch your back.

Your mind becomes empty, being once again filled entirely by him.

Humboldt lowers his face, licking the place under your belly button, moving up while his tongue tastes your soft skin until he reaches your breasts, taking one nipple in his mouth, caressing the other with his free hand.

You moan louder, arching your back and grinding against him, yearning for more.

He separates his face from your breasts, looking back at you.

"So beautiful." He kisses you fervently, as if he’s needy.

Your tongues mingle, a strange feeling in your stomach area taking over you as you feel his erection get bigger and harder.

He kisses your neck again, giving small bites there, intensifying the pleasure.

You could swear he would make you come right there, without even penetrating you.

He kneels down next to you, stopping his grip on your hands to see if you would react, but you didn't.

You did absolutely nothing, just stood there...Waiting for him to continue.

Ross seeing this, took off your pants, looking at your panties, completely wet. He smiled and positioned himself in front of her face, unbuttoning his pants, releasing his cock wet with pre-cum.

"Be a good girl and help me with this." Ross began to masturbate in front of her face, placing the tip of his cock between your lips.

You took his cock in your hands and started licking the tip, eliciting a loud moan from Ross, who looked at you while stroking your hair.

Your tongue began to work at the base, sucking the man's balls and caressing the hair on top, tracing a path over the veins that ran from the beginning to the end of his dick.

Oh, and his dick was huge. It was full of veins, with some hair at its base, it was...perfect.

Your mouth opened and you sheltered him in your heat and wetness, the sensation sending shivers down Ross's spine as yet another moan escaped the man's lips.

You knelt as you worked on his pleasure, the head of his cock hitting the back of your throat, making tears run down your cheeks as you tried not to choke.

Ross wiped one of her tears with his thumb, taking it to his mouth and sucking it, feeling the salty taste.

"Mmhm, keep going baby...I'm about to come." He throws his head back, his hips start to move at the same time as he fucks your throat.

You stay like that for a few more seconds until he comes and spills his hot seed inside your mouth.

Before you could do anything, he lifts your chin with his fingers and smiles.

“Swallow~” He licks his lips, waiting for you to do as he asked.

You swallow, closing your eyes and opening your mouth, sticking your tongue out, showing that you've swallowed.

"Good girl." He kisses your cheek, feeling proud.

He pushes you to the ground again, your back meeting the muddy grass as he takes off your panties and drops his mouth onto your wet pussy.

You moan at the contact of his tongue with your clit, sinking your hand into the mud that surrounded you.

"Mmhm, how delicious." Ross opens your pussy with his index and middle fingers making a "V" shape, penetrating you with his tongue.

Your back arches unconsciously as your loud moans echo over the plantation.

You hear the strong wind blow over the tall grass, which was moving calmly, hearing voices that seem to whisper in your ear phrases like:

"You belong here."

"You are his now and his alone."

"You are grass, all flesh is grass."

Ross lifts your legs, making your lower back rise as well, giving access to your ass.

He licks and bites one of your cheeks before sinking his lips to your other hole, his eyes focused on your face.

You close your hand in the man's brown hair, moaning and moving your hips to match Humboldt's actions.

After a few minutes, you end up squirting into his mouth, making him laugh lightly and swallow your juices.

He pulls away from you, breathing heavily.

"This way, you'll finish me off." He smiles and gets up, putting his dick inside his pants then picking you up in his arms and carrying you to the rock.

You rest your head on his chest, closing your eyes as you try to recover.

"I'm not done yet, honey." He kisses your cheek as he continues to carry you.

You return to the center of the field, the grass stops moving.

He gently puts you on your feet and holds your hands, bringing you to the stone.

"Touch her, baby." He whispers in your ear. "And we will be one, forever." He nibbles on your earlobe, playing with it with his teeth.

You move closer to the stone, extending your hands until they meet the cold surface of the rock.

The sky turns crimson, as if there were an eclipse, you feel the grass embrace your arms, slowly consuming you.

Ross hugs you from behind, one hand goes down, passing over your breasts, feeling your belly and reaching your pussy.

You moan again, rubbing your bare ass against his clothed cock.

Ross's skilled fingers begin to work on your intimacy, providing you pleasure at the same time that your hands remain connected to the stone. After a few seconds, he takes his dick out of his pants, pulling them down.

He turns you around, lifting your legs, resting them on his forearms while his hands find the stone behind you, each on the side of your shoulders, making your pussy exposed as your back meets the surface. ice cold from the stone.

He gives you a long kiss, your tongues battling for territory, mixing blood and saliva as he begins to penetrate you with strong thrusts.

The sudden entrance made you scream and close your eyes tightly, resting your hands on his shoulders, the sky was completely red and the grass was laughing, witnessing the intimate moment shared between you.

He continues to give strong thrusts inside your pussy, your ass slapping against his hips, making wet and erotic sounds, feeling you close around him while your moans mix in the air.

"I will fill you with my semen, you will have my child and we will be a happy family." He whispers in your ear as he continues to penetrate you.

You caress both of his cheeks as you nod, closing your eyes as you both reach your peak.

"Oh my..." You roll your eyes back, feeling his warm seed fill your insides, the promise of a new life being made.

He takes a deep breath, resting his forehead against yours as he smiles.

"My dear..." He kisses your forehead, leaving another trail of blood on your face.

"Now you are mine."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thanks for reading!

[swiftsdelucaa]

❛ 𝑻𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒌 𝒚𝒐𝒖 ❜

𝙋𝙖𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜: Jo Wilson x f!reader ♡

𝙍𝙚𝙦𝙪𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙙? Yes, by @itsdelicates-blog !

𝘼/𝙣: Again, sorry for the wait, hope you like it bella <3

"Yes, your surgery will be scheduled today" you repeated to your patient. For a moment she couldn't believe that, but then her face lit up. She was always so determined, at every step she never gave up. She was suffering from a cancer that would normally destroy anyone but her. She had a strength that everyone would envy, including you, it was hard to understand where it came from and you couldn't help but admire her. Sometimes she reminded you of Jo.

And finally today all his efforts could be reciprocated. You had followed her case for so long that you were happier than her. And to be honest this was absolutely the best thing of the day since everything has been just so shitty.

You couldn't wait to be a part of that surgery, after lunch you told everything to your girlfriend Jo, she knew about your patient too, so she was very happy for you. She was always so supportive for you in everything.

"Ok, I should go now" you said all elated. "I needed some joy in all this shit"

She smiled at you pressing a little sweet kiss on your lips. "Good luck baby" you gave her one of your best smiles before walking away.

The surgery had started. You started listing everything you knew, going step by step. It was quite difficult, everything was going well. But suddenly something went wrong. You didn't know what was happening, you didn't know why, all you knew was that you were pushed aside to proceed the attending who was with you. The sound of the monitor was the only thing playing in your head, until that sound became louder. The line went flat. You wished with all your strength that wasn't true, you weren't even able to declare the time of death. It was your patient, so you're your duty. But your body froze, and you said nothing. As soon as possible you left the room, you threw away your surgical gloves, your mask and everything else to get rid of that moment. You walked as fast as you could to get away from everything and everyone and find a place where you could be alone.

Jo knew you had been in the room for a long time, she had found time to manage to go and have a look in the gallery, but when she arrived no one was in the room anymore. The fact that it already ended and you hadn't told anything to her was weird, so she realized that unfortunately it hadn't gone as you hoped. She walked every hallway and checked almost every call room, until she found you.

You were sitting with your knees together and your head between them.

Seeing you like this was even worse for Jo, without saying anything she closed the door and came in sitting next to you. You tried to hold the tears but it was too difficult in that moment. She knew that words couldn't make you feel better now, so she just put an arm around your shoulders getting you closer and waiting for you to start venting.

"Why is everything so... wrong?" you said. "I- I do my best but... this is just so wrong..." your voice broke at the end. Jo held you more.

"How can we do this everyday? How?" You continued. "Every fucking day there's always something wrong, I just- I just don't know if I still can handle this..." at this point your tears increased. Jo placed her hands on your cheeks, turning your gaze towards her.

"Hey" she whispered. "Look at me. It's not your fault. It's no one's fault, things are so unfair, I know. But we can't do anything to change it" she said softly drying your tears.

You looked at her, all those feelings and shitty moments and day you had were pouring out of you, you couldn't stop it.

"It really hurts. All this hurts in a way I can't stop" you said continuing to fret.

"Yeah, yeah, I know. We can't stop that pain, we just have learn to live with it.." she gave you one of her sweetest smiles. "You're strong Y/n" you took a deep breath and dried away your tears. "Now you should go home and have some rest, ok?" she said. "I'll go with you" she helped you up.

"Thank you" you said softly still trying to calm yourself down. She smiled taking your hand.

"You don't have to thank me" she pulled her lips on yours softly before leaving the room together.

The two of you left the hospital together, going home. All this time Jo didn't leave you alone, you couldn't help but be grateful to her for being your girlfriend and for everything she did, you loved this girl more than everything else.

[smiley-mcdoggington]

Omega Stan omega stan omega stan

THIS TOOK WAY TOO LONG TO WRITE TW STANCEST TW MPREG TW DUBIOUS MEDICAL PROCEDURES KINDA TW MENTIONED SA TW A/B/O

It was absolutely no fair that Stan still had to do the heat thing when he couldn't even give himself a reach-around. He was sweating like hell, his teeth were chattering as if it weren't 100-something degrees and Ford was still out on his fucking nerd quest to write about mushrooms for another 16 hours.

At least he didn't have to build a nest all at once while he had the physique of a boiled egg. He'd been slowly building it up for the past two months and yeah Ford had bitched he was running out of slacks but Stan would like to see him try resisting the urge to nest when he had two future boxers dukeing it out in his guts and keeping him from being comfortable for weeks.

He used the side of the bed to help him get on his knees before crawling to the nest on the floor - his belly button grazed the floor with his pathetic maneuver but if he fell when Ford wasn't home it would probably turn into a flipped turtle situation and he liked to pretend he still had dignity.

His palms sank into pillows and he pressed his face onto a small wall of Ford's soft sweaters over slacks and once again thought about that portable lightning rod Ford had in his study. Yes, it was lab equipment and he would probably get shocked straight to hell but the ribs on it. The way it kinda shook when it was powered on. The solid 10 inches. But Ford would kill him for cramming any of his stuff in the ol' prison wallet even for sex reasons, so he refrained. (also because he didn't wanna crawl that far and he refused to be bipedal again until his body stopped trying to boil both him and the future rugrats)

And the cruelest fate. He couldn't reach his dick. It was hard as a rock, digging into his overlarge stomach and he couldn't reach it. He could put his fingers on it, kinda, but jacking off and dusting off were so painfully different and he blamed Ford. Ford who left him alone to take care of himself when he didn't even remember what his feet looked like. Ford who was off crouching and standing up unassisted, getting another 20000 spore samples, then touching his toes just because he could. Ford was definitely doing that. Toe-toucher.

Then the front door opened - the door opening could be heard from the whole house, Ford had spent good American dollars on worse hinges specifically for it. Stan moaned loudly and pathetically because Ford should feel bad for making him egg-shaped.

Ford's boots thunked up the stairs hurriedly, and then the door was flung open. "Stanley?!"

Stan gave him a sour look. "Why do I even have heats - I already got the gold, stop making me run the race." He bitched. "And you! I can't touch my dick because of you!"

Stan made the effort to shift himself just enough to see Ford's expression.

That man was laughing in his hand. That dickhead. That jerk. That fucker. Why did every insult have to relate to sex, Stanley would be clawing at the walls if they would just get closer. "Stanford." He said.

His brother walked closer - he hadn't been wearing those fucking scent pads since they got the house, now that cocksucker just had to go around in his loose button up making the whole house smell like Stan was about to get lucky. That fucker. That cunt. That asshole. "What do you need, Stanley?" Ford asked like he wasn't fully fucking aware, little smile on his lips and rolling his sleeves up like something was gonna get messy. He really fucking hoped it was him.

Stan heaved himself onto his back, head resting in Ford's dirty sweaters, buck naked because he gave up on the idea of getting his tent-sized pajamas on the second he realized his heats didn't stop for anything, not even when he was about to pop. Ford was looking down at him expectantly, and Stan would have probably squirmed under that look if he wasn't so exhausted.

Stanley was practically panting. "Would'ja just get on with it?" He grouched, because Ford wasn't an idiot and Stanley wasn't being subtle.

Stanford stepped into the nest, Stan didn't know if he'd kicked off his boots first, he probably didn't because he was a dick. A cock. A fat cock. Stan was going insane. Then Stanford took a knee, one wide, cool plam resting on the stomach currently cockblocking him. He really needed to stop thinking about cocks. Ford leaned forward just a little, his voice smooth and quiet. "Do you want me to take care of you--?"

"Yes!" Stanley barked, because he would probably say yes even if Ford tried calling it 'Fornication' again even though he'd sworn he would never. He was cold and he was sweating and all his stupid soupy pregnant brain could focus on was tracing the outline of exactly where the six fingers on his stomach laid.

His brother snorted, leaning forward until his own stupid tiny stomach laid against Stan's beach ball and their noses were just barely touching. Stan didn't want a kiss, he wanted Ford to get to business. But then their lips met and Ford's cool hand was brushing the sweaty hair off his forehead and they were breathing the same musty air and Stan felt himself relax for the first time in hours. The kiss was soft, because Ford had learned quickly that if he started too fast and got the kids kicking it would ruin the mood because Stan would start hurting and Ford would start looking at his body less like an unstoppable sex machine and more like an ant farm.

Stan hummed, both hands on Ford's shoulders both for support and possible pushing-down leverage while Ford started sucking on his bottom lip. He really needed Ford to get his head in the game, the teasing was cute when they were nineteen in the back seat after Ford got a power boner from glaring down some fucking scuzz trying to get to second base with Stan in the showers - but that was four years ago, when Stan was sexy and topheavy and way too patient. Stan pushed Ford away just slightly. "D-Didn't you say you was gon-na take care of me?" He murmured.

Ford hummed. "There is something I read recently," He said, but Stan didn't care because Ford's hand was sliding lower. "About this." He said measuredly, and his hand skipped Stan's dick (Stan was gonna start throwing shit) to run his thumb over the slit between it and his hole, his newest source of aching to go with everything else because Stan couldn't catch a break.

Stan sighed. Ford was in one of his moods. No quick jerk for Stan, the man carrying his children, oh no, that would be too easy. The only reason Stan didn't kick Ford out of his nest and start riding that portable lightning rod until he got turned into a frankenstein was because he was weak and Ford's hands were giving him that stupid drunk giggly feeling and that was the most energy he'd had all morning. God he missed being drunk, he felt so hot when he was drunk, not like a boiled egg at all.

Ford was still talking about something. Stan was no longer paying attention. The thumb on his slit was slowly rubbing up and down and it wasn't really doing much for him but also Ford was so close to his leaking hole, or his leaking dick, he just had to fixate on the one dry part of his body.

"Stanley?" He prompted. He had probably asked Stan something.

Stan huffed. "Sure, Six." He said and Ford started moving. "Could you just hurry up and touch me where it-- counts--" His sentiment was lost when his throat tightened until he was whining - Ford's tongue was on his slit and it was weird but Stan would take weird, weird was almost like getting his ass eaten, weird was so close to good, close enough to good for him. His hips rocked down and sounds kept slipping out of his tight throat that made him sound like a teenager.

Ford looked up at him - which took some effort on account of mount everest - silently asking for approval, which was even weirder. "Whats'a matter?" Stan asked.

"Tell me if it starts hurting, okay?" He said, a little undercurrent of anxiety leeking through. Stan probably should have been paying attention to whatever Ford was planning on doing down there but it was too late and Stan was not in the mood to prolong sex things. He nodded and Ford sank back down.

Then Ford's tongue was on the least fun part of his genitals again, slowly lapping at the space, pressure just enough to sooth the ache he hadn't noticed the severity of until it was gone. One hand on his inner thigh, thumb rubbing circles into his skin. Then there was a hand around his dick and he yelped - he couldn't see a thing going on down there, Ford could have brought a book and if he still had a hand around Stan he really wouldn't care.

Then his tongue slipped inside and Stan cursed, immediately having to jerk his legs open to keep from boxing Ford 'round the ears. Ford's tongue wasn't as warm as his insides and the lack of moisture just made it feel so wet and weird and then Ford' s hand started moving and suddenly he didn't mind the feeling like there was a tiny cold tentacle in the nebulous space under his dick as long as Ford kept up the pace. Ford was always doing odd shit, at least for this one Stan didn't have to piss on some newspapers.

Ford was kinda kneeding more than jerking, hand tightening and loosening around his dick and Stan was reminded of how Ford would open and close his hands over and over when he was focused. One time he was doing it while talking to Cathy Crenshaw and she thought he was making the 'honk' gesture and smacked him. As if she even had anything to honk. Ford usually got a little too focused when he was in one of his weird sex moods but Stan didn't really get why this of all things was setting off his nerd brain. Yeah it was odd, but more like in a 'it's not you it's me' kinda way than anything.

Stan started lightly rolling into Ford's hand, and Ford took that as an invitation to completely take it, and his tongue, away, because he was mean and awful and cruel to his poor poor brother.

Ford poked his head up again, and Stan thought this might be the most Ford has ever consulted Stan on sex stuff ever. Ford's lips were bright red and hanging slightly open, spit shining on his cleanly shaven chin and panting just a little. He was gorgeous, Stan wanted nothing more than to get up and make Ford look even more fucked-out, but Stan could barely lean up on his elbows.

Ford swallowed thickly. "Yours-s or mine?" He asked, eyes continuing to dart between Stan's face and that new part of him that just fascinated Ford so much.

"Your what?" Stan asked, tracking every twitch of those bruised lips.

"Male omegan pseudo-vulvas don't self-lubricate with arousal." He huffed, ever the nerd. Ford's gaze burned into him. "Who's slick are we using?"

"Yours." Stan said immediately, even though he was probably making a puddle in his nest just from existing in heat, he didn't care. He wanted Ford's.

Ford nodded, undoing his belt. Stan strained to see over his own stomach, and Ford, the most beautiful, amazing, wonderful person in the world, stood up. He was looking smug, because of course he was when he slowly, slowly pulled his belt out of the loops of his slacks (he kept buying more, he had to be, no man had that many pairs of the same dark gray pants) turning around to put his belt on the dresser and giving Stan a full view of why he needed those pants in his nest. Ford had been doing a lot of filling out since they got the house, and slacks that used to fit him like any good dweeb now stretched obscenely over his rear and Ford fucking knew it. It was almost as bad as when he started wearing a pair of Stan's old green middleschool gym shorts in college, before they somehow went missing.

Ford bent low to get at the laces of his hiking boots, and Stan groaned. He was doing it on purpose, torturing the man carrying his children for his own sick kicks. From the new angle Stan could see a little dark spot where Ford was leaking. Stan needed those pants for his nest.

Ford stood back up, stepping out of his boots and turning back around, he still looked like the smug bastard he was but he was still flushed down his neck at the attention. "How the hell'd a fox like you manage to come from the same stuff as me?" Stan muttered, just to see Ford chuff a little.

"I suppose it's hard to miss, what with you being so perfect." Ford said back, unbuttoning his shirt smoothly, his fingers hypnotic as they worked down, revealing more and more chest hair.

Perfect, though. That was a word Ford always used for him. When they were little, Ford used to say that "Perfect is impossible, improvements can always be made" whenever Stanley tried using the word. But now he used it for Stanley, and Stanley's never been perfect at nothing, not even really good, either, and Ford had to know that, he was always correcting Stan. But then he called him perfect anyway. It turned Stan's heart inside-out.

"Its definitely you that's the perfect one, Sixer." He murmured, and Ford's smug smirk melted into a serene smile.

He walked back into the nest, in those fucking pants but nothing else, and straddled Stan right where his stomach ended, that little wet spot on his pants directly against Stan's dick. "Of course I am." He said as if Stan even remembered the conversation over Ford On His Dick. Ford laid his hands on Stan's stomach. "I'm the only one for you, that makes me perfect." He said, no doubt at all in his tone. "That's also why you're perfect, Stanley." His voice dropped, leaning forward until his lips were brushing Stan's baby bump. "You're mine."

Stan felt dizzy, fingers digging into Ford's cable knit sweater behind him and feeling Ford slowly grind into him. Ford was making these short hums every time he rolled his hips just right, and Stan was huffing through noises he couldn't help at this point.

Ford started going faster, his little hums speeding up to match were music to Stan's ears as he slowly got them both closer and closer, brows pinched together, mouth flexing into a tense little frown, hands beginning to tense and loosen against Stan's skin, Stan rocking back as much as he could. Stan could feel himself start to tense - he was so close, but Ford was in one of his moods and he really didn't want him to stop for whatever kind of edging-related kink testing he was up to today. "C-cah--" He had to ask, Ford usually let him when he asked. "S-Sixer can I? Can-n I?"

Ford's eyes snapped open with a short gasp the moment he comprehended the question, looking right at Stan when his body started trembling over Stan's, a thin wail leaving his open mouth as he nodded frantically just in time for Stan to snap, fingers burying into and possibly through the sweater behind him, riding out the shocks with Ford until they finally stopped to catch their breath.

Ford kissed Stan's baby bump again before easing himself off of Stan, the wet patch in his pants now so much bigger and more steal-able. He quickly undid his pants, shucking them without his earlier flare and kicking them away and just in Stan's reach, who snapped them up and started clinging to them like a kid clung to a toy because dignity was for losers anyway.

Ford was wearing his little space-themed briefs with little cartoon stars and planets and rocket ships that Stan got him as a gag gift two years ago. Stan's stupid mushy pregnant brain tried to make him cry over how cute it was, but then Ford got rid of those, too, leaving them out of snatching range.

Ford sat back down on the nest's floor of soft blankets, hands on Stan's knees. "Are you ready to continue?" He asked, and Stan had nearly forgotten his fixation on Stan's new hole.

Stan nodded. "Go nuts - but don't touch my dick yet, gimme a minute for that." He said, opening his legs for the love of his life who was way too interested in what was really just the temporary baby hole.

He could hear Ford wetting his fingers with his own slick, his eyelids drooping in a way Stan would recognize before his own name. Then he shifted, and cold, wet fingers were against his slit. A finger slipped in like nothing at all, then two with only a slight burn. Ford peeked up at him and Stan just nodded, not sure what to say. The burn was familiar, a little duller at the VIP access than at general admissions, but similar enough that he started warming up again.

Then Ford hooked his fingers, and Stan's whole body tensed up. If his prostate was like rubbing the inside of his dick, this was like a good scratch to his urethra - it was sharper, and very, very weird. His mouth was hanging open a little and Ford was looking worried again - seriously, it was unlike him. "Stanley, are you still okay?"

"Are you?" Stan huffed. "You're acting like your defusing a bomb here, Six, we can stop whenever you want."

Ford's brows furrowed. "I already explained exactly why I'm being cautious, Stanley." He snipped - and he probably did, right around that time Stan stopped paying attention. "Apologies if it's inconvenienced you." He said harshly, shoving a third finger in with the first two, the anger and the pain doing things to Stanley he refused to admit.

Ford was thrusting shallowly with his fingers when he crooked them again, and Stan gasped. The feeling wasn't really absolutely good the way his prostate being hit was, but it was intense, making Stan feel the flush on his forehead and his shoulders as Ford tapped the spot again, and again. Maybe the only reason it was good was because Stan was already getting worked up. Soon the fingers were moving freely and quickly.

Then Ford was touching himself again, he knew without seeing it, and then Ford's wet off hand was spreading slick next to his fingers. And a fourth finger was pushed in. Stan keened at it, hips rolling down to prolong the burn, stomach tense just to bring that weird spot closer, make sure Ford couldn't stop brushing against it. He felt a dribble of slick roll down onto the bed but he kept going, humping his brother's hand as much as he could.

Then Ford was touching himself again and touching Stan again and was he planning on adding a fifth? Stan has never taken five before, Ford only went to four on special occasions, three was always enough. Stan couldn't even panic about the thought, too busy feeling like someone put a pipe cleaner in his dick in a good way (somehow).

Then the fifth pushed in, and Ford started slow again, gently pushing and pulling, but it didn't matter because he could feel his prostate. From the wrong side. Pressure was still on the weird spot but now it was on his prostate too and Stan could feel them both. At the same time. Stan's mouth was perminantly hanging open, but then Ford's fucking knuckles pushed into him and Stan couldn't help the loud, pathetic noise he made, one hand onto his newly stolen pants and one hand in his own hair, rolling down on Ford's fingers like it was his last day on earth - with the way he was heaving, it actually might be.

Then Ford kissed the side of his knee. "You're doing perfectly, Stanley." He muttered, and the only sound that could come out of Stan's tight throat was a whine. "Just one more, Stanley." He said and it sounded fonder than any nickname.

Stan started rolling faster, making the kids kick but he could barely notice at that point. Ford's thumb started burrowing in with the other five and That was his whole hand holy fucking shit--

Ford kissed his knee again. "Good. Now you asked earlier, ask again." He said and Stan didn't have the time to consider telling Ford to fuck off before his mouth started trying to make syllables.

"Stan-n-ford I gotta - can-can I? Plea-se-"

"Go ahead, Stanley. Come for me." He said, and Stan's whole body erupted in static, his vision blurring out while his front spot and his back spot got milked by Ford's entire fucking hand, he could have been gone for an hour and he wouldn't'a noticed.

When he finally came back down, he was still in his nest, but now he was propped up on his side with pillows supporting his mass, and Ford was at his back, nose on his shoulder, one hand on Stan's stomach like the kids might disappear without him there.

Stanley turned his head a little. "That was great - dunno what you were even worryin' about, Sixer." He murmured.

Ford hummed. "Well sue me for being cautious, I didn't want to force labor a week before you're due."

Stan's body went cold, and he heaved himself into a sit. "You was risking making me labor early, Stanford Pines?!"

Ford looked like a deer caught in the headlights. "You said it was fine."

"You Almost Made Me Labor!"

He was leaving him for the lightning rod.