#no idea if I’ll be able to do all of the prompts but I’m doing as many as I can!!

[goddessofroyalty]

hello! the fanart of Viktor with a baby you reblogged this week got me right in the soft feels u.u would you consider revisiting the Work/Life Balance 'verse? (random ideas: pregnant Viktor dealing with a minor illness (very minor, not a complication, no real threat to his health and no threat whatsoever to the baby, but Jayce is still fussing over them)? how a newborn affects Viktor's already hectic work/sleep schedule? either Viktor can't or chooses not to nurse and good papa Jayce does his part with formula and bottles?)

Kind of combined the second two parts of this into what I’ve written but more leaning on good papa Jayce helping feed their baby. Maybe I’ll figure out a quick 4th scene (to even out the POV’s) that focuses a bit more on Viktor’s messy sleeping schedule. Have also made a note of the first prompt as well to do separately.

I’ve given up and am naming this kid Naph as well. Why? Because it’s a nice easy name for me to kidnap and gods knows Arcane played fast and loose with League lore anyway. Also I like it and it has become the default in my brain if nothing else fills the space. It can be easily subbed out if I decide on something different later.

Warnings: past-mpreg, omegaverse (I refer to the baby as pup that’s literally it), some mention of after-birth pains (nothing major just a bit tender)

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

Viktor wakes to the sound of a baby crying.

“I’ve got him, don’t get up,” Jayce says as the sleep fades from Viktor’s brain and he remembers that it is their baby that is crying not just some random abstract one. Their baby that Viktor had given birth to days prior and had finally been allowed back home that day. The doctors happy with both their progress.

The bed shifts as Jayce gets up to go to their child. Viktor pushes himself up on his arms to sit up more as he does. Wincing as his weight settles on where he’s still tender from the birth.

“I told you not to get up,” Jayce says holding their son in his arms as he looks back at Viktor. It is a good image and one Viktor could get used to seeing. Will get used to seeing, as surreal as that feels.

“And I have not gotten out of bed.” Nor will he be. Not when he has a perfectly good and willing Jayce to get things for him while he still heals from the birth. To make up for you having done all the work to this point Jayce had said and Viktor had nothing to gain from fighting him on it. “What’s the time?”

“2AM. And you can go back to sleep,” Jayce says. “He just needs a bottle.”

“I’m awake now.” Viktor had never been able to go back to sleep once he woke. There always something he’d rather be spending the time doing than tossing and turning. “I can hold him while you heat up the bottle.”

“The doctors said you need rest,” Jayce says despite it being clear he needs both hands to keep their son settled which would leave none free to prepare a bottle as well.

“I am resting!” Despite how much he misses it he still hasn’t returned to the lab since he was put on bedrest in the final trimester. Working on formulas and schematics from bed can hardly be considered work. It’s just keeping his mind occupied. “Let me hold him.”

Jayce clearly wants to argue but he relents when Viktor raises an eyebrow. Carefully handing their son over and only taking his hands away once the baby is very secure and settled.

Viktor would almost be offended at the lack of trust but he all-too-well understands the impulse. It turns out newborns are tiny and so delicate. It is almost terrifying to think about all the different ways they could accidently hurt him. It is scary to even have him in Viktor’s arms but also nerve-wracking when he is not within easy reach.

“I’ll be right back,” Jayce promises, only taking his eyes off them when he physically leaves the room.

Viktor once again examines his son while he waits. He had hoped their child would have taken a little more after both of them rather than looking mostly like Viktor but it is still impressive to think mere days ago Naph was still growing inside him and now the boy is alive and experiencing the world, frowning up at Viktor as his tongue peaks out between tiny lips, followed by a small cry of impatience.

“Not much longer,” Viktor promises. If his milk had come in the wait wouldn’t have to be this long. But it is useful to know that Jayce can look after their son entirely on his own if needed.

Naph is still far too young to actually understand what Viktor is saying. Another louder cry being made as Jayce hurries back into the room.

“No, no, don’t cry, I got it,” Jayce rambles, sliding into bed beside Viktor, warm bottle in hand. He pauses when Viktor holds their child back out to him. “Uh-“

“You said you were feeding him, no?” Viktor has no problems with doing it as well but Jayce likes to feel useful. And Viktor likes to watch him with their son.

“Right, of course,” Jayce recovers quickly. Carefully taking their son back into his arms, offering him the bottle. It only takes two passes of the teat for the tiny mouth to open to let it pass.

“He is hungry,” Jayce says as their son makes quick work of the bottle.

“I suppose it was a big day for him.” For Viktor and Jayce they came home but all their son knew until the day before was the hospital.

“It was,” Jayce agrees, shifting slightly to allow Viktor to lean in closer and push the fabric from their son’s onesie down from where it had crept up to his mouth. “But we can all rest for now.”

Viktor gives a hum of agreement despite how he already itches to get back to the lab.

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

Jayce wakes to find himself alone in the bed.

It isn’t that unusual. Neither he nor Viktor can be said to have a normal sleeping schedule even before their pup was born. But Jayce still never likes it when he reaches out for his partner only to find cold bedsheets.

He pulls himself out of bed and shuffles to the main living area. There’s no point trying to get back to sleep anyway and he might as well check on Naph to make sure he hasn’t woken in the night.

Viktor had apparently had the same thought whenever he had gotten up. He stands in front of the blackboard they had set up so they can make any changes to their equations even when not in the lab, a piece of chalk balanced in the fingers of the hand resting on his cane as the other holds their son steady where he is swaddled against Viktor’s chest. A slight bounce with every move clearly to keep the pup settled.

“I put coffee on,” Viktor says, not even turning around to acknowledge Jayce. Not that Jayce wants him to – he’s perfectly happy just watching his partner and their child together.

“Thanks.” There’s an almost empty baby bottle next to the coffeepot. It’s cold to the touch so Jayce rinses it out in the sink and puts it to the side to be sanitized with the others. He makes Viktor a cup of coffee as well as his own. “Couldn’t get him to go back to sleep?”

“He doesn’t want to be put down,” Viktor says, looking away from their life’s work to their son. “Clingy. Like his father.”

Jayce can hardly blame his son for that – he wants to cling to Viktor too at times.

“I can take him if you need to write,” Jayce says as he brings Viktor’s coffee over to him. Tapping his partner on the arm with it before placing it down on the table they keep next to the blackboard almost exclusively for coffee. He picks up the old empty one and takes it back to the sink.

“It is fine,” Viktor says with a small shake of his head, his eyes flitting back to the blackboard. “I have nothing new to add to it anyway.”

Jayce would suggest Viktor go back to bed then but he knows his partner would have as much a chance of going back to sleep as he would.

Instead he joins Viktor at the blackboard. Close enough that Viktor can shuffle over and lean against him while they both try and figures out how the equations fit together and wait for the morning sun.

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

“Jayce!” Viktor calls because he is in the middle of wiring up the controls for the latest iteration of Hexgates and their son is crying. Jayce is just doing some paperwork, necessary, yes, but nowhere near as dangerous to be walked away from in the middle of.

“Huh?” Jayce asks as he sticks his head into the room before realizing why he was called. “Right. On it.”

“Up we go,” Jayce says as he picks their son up from the cot they keep in the lab for him to sleep in while they work. Out of the corner of his eye Viktor watches his partner hold their son high to sniff at his backside. “Nope. Must be hungry.”

Viktor returns his attention back fully to his work as Jayce carries their son into the kitchenette of the lab to heat up a bottle for him. He’s still at it when he two return, their son still in Jayce’s arms as he comes to watch over Viktor’s shoulder.

“How are you going?”

“Nearly finished.” The wiring had nearly taken him all day but it should be worth it.

“And then we can test it?” Jayce asks despite the fact he should already know the answer.

“Yes. They should lead to a less, uh, jolty experience when the jump is made.”

Jayce doesn’t respond, but Viktor can hear him pace around the lab no doubt bouncing their child in his arms as he does to keep the boy settled and not distracting Viktor’s work.

Viktor doesn’t alert his partner to the fact once he finishes. Instead watching the two of them for the minute it takes Jayce to notice himself. He had been told by many how lucky he was to have Jayce as the father of his child and, really, he cannot argue it.

[purplecatghostposts]

HAPPY WYLL WEEK, take my first contribution!!

The prompt I went with was ‘Body Changes’ so here’s a little Wyll Whump getting taken care of by Shadowheart and the others post-transformation, with a little Shadowheart/Wyll on the side. Are they called ShadowBlade? Because I think they should be. Anyways, enjoy!!

[juuuulez]

it takes a while for carmy to warm up to the idea of positions besides missionary.

he just loves to see you. it’s intimate, and allows him to kiss you, hold your face, lick your neck. sure, maybe it’s a strain on his back sometimes, but he loves knowing that you’re all comfortable laying there, not needing to do anything but focus on the sensation of pleasure.

one night you decide to switch it up. you tell him, gently, that you’d love for him to hit it from behind. and carmy goes all red and blushing, stammering at the idea of taking you like that, of not being able to see your face.

“what if it’s uncomfortable?” he’ll ask “n i can’t see you, i won’t know.”

and you reassure him for being so silly. “i’ll say something, obviously. don’t be a baby ‘bout it, i’m a big girl.”

his hands shake when they finally clasp your hips, big palms rubbing nervously over the globes of your ass. your back is arched in a smooth slope, face pressed into the pillow, leaving you presented for him like a cat in heat.

now carmy understands. he’s able to get deeper than before in this position, drilling straight down into your sticky cunt, the gravity helping punctuate each of his harsh thrusts.

you moan and writhe beneath him, gasping between each breath that is punched from your lungs. “o-ooh, jesus, fuck—” you practically squeak. “so good, carmy. thank you, thank you.”

the way you appraise him is incessant, causing carmen to drive into you with a newfound burst of energy. one hand holds your hip in a bruising grip, the other finding leverage on the back of your neck, which prompts another drawn-out moan.

he’s more vocal in this position, too.

“yeah? like that?”

“you needed this, huh?”

“s’okay, you can take it, just a bit more. ‘m gonna cum, okay? good fuckin’ girl, lettin’ me fill ya up.”

by the end of it, your ass is red and bruised. it usually doesn’t get this bad because carmy can’t find himself to be rough when he’s staring at your wet little eyes. he kisses it all better, promising to get some sort of cream for next time, a promise that makes you grin.

“thank you, baby.” you’ll coo after he’s done fussing, pressing kisses into his cheek. “trying new things is fun, right?”

and usually, carmen doesn’t like admitting that he’s wrong, but this was worth it. his cheeks are hot as he dips his head down, evading your kisses to instead bite at your shoulder.

“yeah, yeah.” he grumbles. “don’t get a big head ‘bout it.”

[hotshotsxyz]

doctor, doctor, give me the news

(buddie) (1.4k words) (8x05 spec) y'all i think i kind of went off with this one

Tommy flinches. It’s a quick, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it thing that he quickly turns into a playful cringe, but for a second, it was real. It was real and Buck saw it and he doesn’t know how to unsee it.

He pulls his phone out and opens the camera so he can see it for himself, and okay, yeah, it’s not great. But also—they’re both firefighters. Buck’s seen way worse than swollen, red skin, and he’s sure Tommy has too.

“Afraid of the curse now?” he asks lightly instead of voicing the thought.

“Um, yeah, I think you’ve convinced me,” Tommy replies.

Buck squints at his own image. “What do you think it is?”

“Other than a curse?” Tommy asks.

Buck nods.

“Honestly, Evan, I have no idea. Maybe we should call in some back-up.”

“What?” Buck asks, brow furrowing. “Like some kind of curse breaker?”

Tommy snorts. “Like someone with a little more medical training,” he replies.

“Oh, yeah that—that’s probably a good idea,” Buck says. He feels himself flush even redder.

“You want me to call Hen? Or Chimney, maybe?” Tommy asks.

Buck shakes his head. “They’re taking the kids to a haunted hayride today. I’ll text Eddie.”

Tommy’s nose wrinkles a little, and Buck can’t help but wonder which part of what he just said Tommy didn’t like. He types out a quick message.

SOS. curse real. need paramedic diaz asap

Eddie’s reply is almost instantaneous and comes in three short messages.

not a paramedic

and curses aren’t real

I’m on my way

Buck looks up from his phone. “He’ll be here soon,” he says.

“That was fast,” Tommy observes.

Buck shrugs. For a second he considers sending Eddie a selfie, something to prepare him for the not-so-pleasant sight of his face, but he—

He kind of wants to see if Eddie flinches, too.

Eddie’s key turns in the lock and Tommy shoots Buck an odd look. He’d try to parse it, but he’s really starting to feel how much his face hurts and he kind of just wants Eddie to hurry up and fix it. He stands and walks past the stairs in time to see him shut the door.

“Ouch,” Eddie hisses as soon as he catches sight of whatever it is his face is doing now. It’s not a flinch. If anything, he sways forward like he might at a scene. Assessing. Ready to jump in as soon as he’s formed a plan.

“Yeah,” Buck says. “Told you I’m cursed.”

Eddie lets out a light laugh. “Mm, I think I’m supposed to be the one making the diagnosis here,” he says.

He ushers Buck to the kitchen table, sets his med kit down, and pulls out a chair for him.

“Gee,” Buck says, “A guy could get used to this kind of medical care.”

Eddie grins. “Doctor Diaz, at your service,” he says, holding out a hand for Buck to shake.

Buck huffs a soft laugh and takes it. “I’ll be a good patient, I promise,” he says.

“Don’t start lying to me now,” Eddie replies, eyes twinkling.

Across the table, Tommy chokes.

Buck drops Eddie’s hand and looks over at him. “You okay?” he asks.

“Mm,” Tommy hums. “Just uh—got some spit down the wrong pipe.”

Buck frowns but doesn’t push it any further. He looks back at Eddie and finds him rummaging through his kit with a pen light between his teeth. He makes a triumphant noise and turns to Buck.

“Alright, let’s see,” Eddie says softly.

He steps into the space between Buck’s legs, and Buck’s brain kind of just—freezes.

“Look up for me?” Eddie prompts, and when Buck doesn’t—can’t—immediately comply, Eddie presses two fingers beneath his chin and guides it up until suddenly the only thing Buck can see are Eddie’s eyes. “Thought you we’re going to be a good patient,” Eddie murmurs.

All at once, Buck’s brain unfreezes, skipping right past calm and into hyperdrive. Because—because—he’s looking at Eddie and Eddie’s thumb is skating across the skin that’s just beneath the worst of the swelling  and Buck can feel it and surely Eddie’s touched his face before except—except—no, Buck’s pretty sure he hasn’t but now that he has Buck’s never going to be able to forget the way it feels because he knows it should hurt, it should, but it doesn’t and he kind of never wants Eddie to stop touching him and that’s—that’s—

“—hurt?” Eddie asks, only Buck misses 90% of the question so instead of answering he hums vaguely and watches Eddie’s face twist in sympathy.

Eddie starts dabbing something on Buck’s face, hydrocortisone maybe, or triple anti-biotic—whatever it is it feels cool and nice and as Eddie concentrates on his task he bites down on his lip and suddenly Buck can’t look at anything else, can’t look at the furrow in Eddie’s brow can’t look at the ceiling can’t—

“You think he’ll live?” Tommy asks dryly.

Buck feels like he’s been doused with cold water.

Eddie’s lips, those lips that he still can’t bring himself to look away from, twitch into a small smile. “Depends,” he says. “Has anyone figured out how to break the curse?”

It punches a laugh out of Buck’s chest, the kind that comes out in a single syllable and with a rush of air. Eddie takes a step back and finally Buck feels like his brain is returning from the stratosphere, back to its baseline level of chaos.

“So—” Buck tries, but it comes out rough. He clears his throat. “What’s uh—what’s the diagnosis.”

Eddie frowns. “Honestly? It kind of looks like spider bites.”

Tommy’s chair clatters back, and when Buck looks over he’s suddenly standing.

“Babe?” Buck asks, but it feels gummy and unfamiliar in his mouth.

“I, um—not a fan of spiders,” he squeaks.

Eddie blows out a soft breath that Buck’s pretty sure only he could recognize as laughter.

“You don’t have to stick around,” Buck says, and he swears he means stick around the loft, but—but—“I’m okay, I’ve got the second best doctor in Los Angeles looking after me.”

“Second!” Eddie exclaims, mock affronted.

“Hen,” Buck replies with a shrug.

Eddie heaves a dramatic sigh. “You’re not wrong.”

Tommy looks between them, a deep furrow in his brow. “Yeah,” he says. “I’ll uh—I’ll head out.” He backs toward the door, then pauses as he gets a hand on the knob. “See you tomorrow?” he directs at Buck.

“’Course,” Buck replies, and he’s pretty sure if Tommy had asked him that this morning his reply would’ve sounded soft and sweet to his own ear, but now Buck doesn’t hear much of anything at all.

Tommy nods once, and then he’s gone.

Buck looks back at Eddie, and god, he tries. He tries so hard not to notice the long line of Eddie’s legs where he’s leaning against the table, not quite sitting on it. He tries not to think about that soft curl, the one that makes an appearance more often than not these days, the one that rests against his forehead. He wants—he doesn’t—Eddie’s not—

Buck stands abruptly, except Eddie never did take more than a step back and now they’re practically nose to nose and Buck isn’t sure if he’s still breathing. Eddie’s head tips to the side and Buck—there’s not a thing he can do to stop the freight train that is his imagination, and oh, he can see it. He can feel it.

All at once he’s sure that if Eddie Diaz were to lean in and kiss him—right now, or a year from now, or a decade—if Eddie kissed him, Buck would be ruined in every sense of the word. He’d never be able to kiss another person without seeing Eddie, feeling Eddie, tasting Eddie and—

He wouldn’t want to.

Buck takes a stumbling step back and knocks into his chair, making it clatter the same way Tommy’s had. And fuck, for a second he didn’t even—

“Buck?” Eddie asks, all concern and kindness and wide brown eyes.

“Fine!” Buck says. “I’m fine. You—you, uh—do you want—” Me? Us? Something terrifying and perfect and permanent and “—water?”

Eddie’s brows knit together. “Sure,” he says. “But sit back down. Let me get it.”

“Okay,” Buck breathes. He sinks into his chair.

Eddie grabs two glasses out of his cabinet without even pausing to think and fills them with the Brita he already knew was in Buck’s fridge and snags a coaster that he bought before placing one of the glasses in front of Buck.

“Seriously,” he says, settling into the chair closest to him and leaning forward, “are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Buck says, and he’s honest to god not even sure if he’s lying.

[pathologicalreid]

hiii I love ur fics <3 I am OBSESSED with the prompt “can you come get me?” bc h/c makes me 💥💥💥 so I was thinking:

reader has been kidnapped by the latest unsub and the team is trying their hardest to find her but all the leads keep coming up empty until one day Spencer gets a call from her and the first thing she says is “can you come get me?” she sounds extremely upset and afraid so Spencer and Hotch leave to go find her. when they get there, she looks like she’s been through hell so they rush her to the hospital to be checked out, all the while they can’t seem to get any info out of her about what happened.

Spencer & reader could be platonic or romantic, whichever you like. (also I was thinking maybe hotchner!reader ? if that wouldn’t be too many things to ask for lol)

I love how you do angst and h/c, so keep up the good work and have a wonderful day <3

can you come get me? | S.R.

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: angst content warnings: kidnapping, hospitals, stitches, blood draws, catatonia, disassociation, brief mention of sa, ohio mentioned, general cm violence (let me know if i missed any) word count: 4.56k a/n: i have no idea how this got so long but i love the plot of it so much that i couldn't cut any of it! i'm such a slut for the "you came"/"you called" trope that i couldn't help myself! i wrote this with the idea that it would be in place of the m*eve storyline (which means our lord and savior blake is here)!! anyways anon i hope you enjoy this - i love you!

Any external sound was completely ignored as Spencer flipped through the same file for the eighteenth time that day. In his periphery, he saw JJ and Rossi nod at each other before Rossi split away, walking up the ramp to where Hotch’s office was.

It took him a moment to realize JJ had made herself comfortable by sitting on the edge of his desk. She had her jacket neatly folded in her arms as she eyed the file he had, grief filling her eyes as she registered what he was looking at. “What are you doing tonight?” She asked, trying to keep her voice as light as possible.

The question was entirely pointless, she knew exactly what he was doing tonight, but in an attempt to get her to leave him alone, Spencer humored her, “I’m working late tonight,” he answered simply.

JJ’s smile faltered ever so slightly before she shook her head, “You’ve been working late all week, what if you come over tonight? Will’s making dinner. Garcia’s coming after she finishes her system update,” the attempt to get him out of the office didn’t go over his head, but it wasn’t going to work. “Henry would love to see you – maybe you could teach him a new magic trick.”

Peeling his eyes off of the paperwork, he looked up at the blonde, “You know I can’t.” He felt so close to an answer, he couldn’t possibly leave.

“Look, Reid, I get it, but you’ve been working crazy hours for the past month. Maybe taking a night off would be good. You can start fresh in the morning,” she tried to coax him into leaving the case be.

It hadn’t been a full month; it had been twenty-seven days. Almost four full weeks since you were taken. It had been one week since Section Chief Cruz had told Hotch that the BAU needed to start taking new cases, as the trail to you had run cold.

Considering you were Hotch’s daughter, that discussion had gone rather poorly. Cruz had been able to give the team leeway. Both Spencer and Hotch had fully intended on taking advantage of that leeway, and the rest of the team helped when they had the capacity.

Turning back to your file, Spencer shook his head, “I’ll go if Hotch goes.” He knew there was no way Hotch would be leaving the office tonight, the only reason Hotch went home anymore was for Jack, and he was at a sleepover tonight.

JJ’s shoulders slumped in abject disappointment as her eyes followed Dave as he exited Hotch’s office, the slamming of the door enough to make the lingering BAU agents flinch. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said, defeated.

Rossi wagged a finger at Spencer, “Go home at some point tonight, kid,” he instructed.

Waving a quick goodbye, Spencer resumed making notes in the margins of the papers that were making a permanent home on his desk. He looked up when Hotch exited his office, eyes following him as he brewed a pot of coffee in the kitchenette. The two of them acknowledged each other with a nod before continuing on with the hunt.

Both of them knew the odds, that you had been gone this long and there was a good chance that they’d never see you again. Despite that, Spencer would head up to Hotch’s office in about an hour, and the two of them would confer.

Eventually, the sun set, and a thunderstorm rolled in, the flashes of light coming in through the windows as he began to consider going for another cup of coffee.

Wiping a hand down his face, he inwardly groaned as his phone started to ring. Half expecting it to be JJ, he was surprised to find that it was an unknown caller. Clicking the answer button, he lifted the phone to his ear, “Hello, this is Dr. Reid.”

There was an eerie silence on the other end of the call, if he strained his ears, he could hear the pattering of rain. He tried to greet the other person again, but when there was no answer, he started to lower the phone to hang up.

“Can you come get me?” Your quiet voice came through the receiver, effectively knocking the wind out of Spencer’s lungs.

Fiddling with his belongings, Spencer gripped your file, “Where are you?” He asked urgently.

You sniffled, “I don’t know. A payphone off of twenty-eight.” If he strained his ears, he could listen to the rain. Spencer wondered if he could calculate how far away you were by the sound of the thunder where you were compared to where he was.

His chest ached at the exhaustion in your tone, imagining you had gotten approximately as much sleep as he had recently. That is to say, little to none. Pulling the phone slightly away from his face, he called out for Hotch, getting his attention and waving him over. “Y/N, can you see any mile markers or exit signs anywhere?” Spencer asked, bringing the phone back up to his ear.

“I can’t see much of anything,” you admitted. That made sense, your glasses had been recovered at your abduction scene. Spencer kept them in his bag with the rest of your belongings that had been released from evidence. “I feel lucky enough that I was able to find a pay phone,” you said, and for the first time, he noticed that you were whispering.

Glancing at the inside of his wrist, Spencer checked the time. JJ had mentioned something about Garcia staying in her office for a system update – what were the odds the tech analyst was still there? Stalking out of the bullpen, he made his way to her office, Hotch hot on his heels.

After knocking on the door, her voice rang out, “Enter, mere mortal.” Once she had recognized who it was, she greeted Spencer directly, “Ah, Dr. Reid, did you need a ride to JJ’s?”

“Can you locate a payphone based on the phone number?” He asked hurriedly, the longer you stood out there in the rain, the more danger you might be in.

A confused look was plastered on her face, but she turned back to her screens and started click-clacking away. “Most def, boy genius. Run me the digits,” she responded, pulling up some sort of database that Spencer didn’t recognize – probably for the best.

She typed the phone number just as quickly as he recited it, turning around and telling him that the pay phone in question was approximately thirty minutes away. You had only been thirty minutes away this entire time. “Send the coordinates to Hotch’s phone,” Spencer instructed, stepping toward the door. “Tell the rest of the team to come in,” he continued, “it’s Y/N.”

Each stage of grief flashed across Penelope’s face as she nodded assuredly, scrambling for her phone as she took care of notifications.

Impatiently, Hotch held the elevator door open as Spencer entered, keeping the phone up to his ear, “Stay on the phone,” he told you.

A desperate whimper came from your end of the call, “I don’t have any change. I found a few quarters on the ground, but I don’t have anything on me.”

“Stay on as long as you can, angel,” Spencer amended. “We’re on our way.”

The rain was worse than he had initially thought, but Mother Nature was no match for Aaron Hotchner. They were only about five minutes from the coordinates that Garcia had shared, and the phone call had dropped off before they were even on the main highway. The dropped call certainly didn’t help the rising tension in the SUV.

“Did she sound scared?” Hotch had asked for the nth time.

Not taking his eyes off of the map, Spencer nodded, “She sounded like she was stranded in the middle of the woods in Virginia, in a thunderstorm, and was using a pay phone as a lifeline.” His entire body was thrumming with nervous energy as they sped down the road, “but she’s alive.”

He didn’t miss the way Hotch’s knuckles turned white as he gripped the steering wheel. You being alive would have to be enough of a comfort to the both of them for now, but Spencer knew what your life meant to your father.

“There it is,” Spencer said, interrupting his thoughts with the recognition of a phone booth on the side of the road, in front of a seemingly abandoned gas station. In a moment of uncharacteristic recklessness, Spencer clambered out of the vehicle before it came to a full stop, an umbrella and jacket in tow.

Hesitantly, he approached the crumpled heap of limbs underneath the pay phone. It wasn’t a full booth, it had just enough coverage to prevent the payphone from short-circuiting. You had jammed yourself underneath it, trying to keep yourself as dry as possible.

Kneeling in front of you, he swept his sopping-wet hair from his face, “Y/N.” His voice was no more than a breath, he didn’t dare reach out to touch you — lest you not want to be touched. A strike of lightning lit your surroundings enough for him to note the bruise that had bloomed on your cheek.

As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he watched as your lips parted in recognition, “You came,” you whispered.

He nodded, “You called.” His heart soared as you shuffled yourself closer to him, allowing him to wrap the FBI-issued jacket around your rain-soaked frame. “Let’s get you out of this rain, alright?”

Standing up on shaky legs, Spencer helped you walk to the SUV where your dad was waiting, shining a flashlight to help guide you to the vehicle. Based on how heavily you were leaning on him, he could tell that your left leg was injured. Despite your injury, you stepped away from Spencer to hug your father.

For a moment, Spencer felt like he was intruding on a family moment, but he recalled all of the times he had been invited to join in Hotchner festivities these last few years and allowed his eyes to meet Hotch’s.

The two of them shared an understanding look as Hotch pulled away, “We should get you to a hospital,” he said, cupping your face with parental gentleness.

Spencer helped you into the SUV, unable to put any pressure on your leg, you depended on the handles to pull yourself up. As you maneuvered yourself, he tried to determine what your injuries were. His eyes scanned your body until he made his way back to your face, “Angel, keep your eyes open.” He felt as if he was asking a lot of you, but he didn’t know if you had taken a hit to the head. Falling asleep could do more damage. “Hey, Y/N?” He said, watching as your eyes fell shut and your head slumped forward. “Hotch,” Reid said urgently from the backseat.

Understanding perfectly, Hotch hit the lights on the SUV and turned on the siren. Flashes of red and blue signaled to other drivers that there was an emergency.

You were silent.

As soon as they had gotten you to the emergency room, your entire demeanor had changed. Spencer guessed that you had been in fight or flight when they had picked you up from the phone booth, and now that you were getting the help that you needed, all of the fight had vacated your being.

In the white fluorescence of the hospital, he could see how drained you looked. Once the doctors got their hands on you, you refused to let him or your dad near you.

Hotch was in the hallway, talking on the phone with your Aunt Jessica while he tried to arrange childcare for Jack so he could stay with you - the leader of your care team estimated you’d be in the hospital for at least a few days.

While you had been mobile when they came to get you, your energy had left along with your adrenaline, and eventually, the best course of action was to just let you sleep. That was how Spencer ended up sitting cross-legged in a stiff hospital chair, watching over you as you slept.

Respectful of your wishes, he kept a fair distance from you, but you’d be hard-pressed to convince him to let you out of his sight. There were tubes and wires going every which way from your body, oxygen, an IV, and electrodes monitored your life. Boiling you down to a collection of numbers that showed Spencer just how alive you were.

The doctors suspected you had bacterial pneumonia, but they were still waiting on the results of your chest X-ray to make a formal diagnosis. Your presumed leg injury had turned out to be a bruised hip bone – part of a sickening pattern that reflected that of someone who had been thrown down a flight of stairs.

A knock on the window to your hospital room caught his attention, causing him to turn his head and come face to face with Rossi and Blake. Opening the blinds so that he’d be able to keep an eye on you from the hallway, Spencer stood up and joined his colleagues in the corridor.

“What’s the report?” Rossi asked, nodding in the direction of your room, and placing his hands on his hips.

Spencer rubbed the back of his neck before responding, “The doctor said that all things considered, she’s in good shape, but…” Shaking his head to wake himself up, he crossed his arms in front of his chest, “She’s sick and was beaten. Right now, she’s sleeping. We have no idea she was running in the woods, so it’s not surprising that she’s exhausted.”

He continued on to list other maladies that the doctors had provided, dehydration, malnutrition, one cut on your arm that needed to be stitched, and that was just scratching the surface. Dave nodded understandingly, “but the sooner we get to ask her questions, the better.”

Shrugging, Spencer looked over at your father, and then back to you, “When she wakes up on her own,” he murmured, watching as a nurse checked on your IV. He didn’t want to risk waking you up or asking too much too soon of you. “Can I ask you a quick question?” He lifted a finger inquisitively to the nurse who was walking out of your room, scribbling something on your chart.

The nurse hummed in response, raising her eyebrows as she waited for him to ask.

“Do you think the infection has anything to do with her silence? She might be hurting so she isn’t talking?” He asked, it wasn’t unheard of, when people were in a lot of pain, sometimes they coped with silence.

While the nurse might have an excellent bedside manner, the three profilers took note of the concern in her eyes. “The silence might have more to do with her psychological well-being than her physical well-being,” she responded, it was a healthcare way of trying to appease them. Really, they didn’t know much better than the members of the BAU did.

Blake’s eyebrows shot up in curiosity, “Could it be catatonia?”

“In order to diagnose catatonia, she’d need to display three of twelve symptoms. Those are stupor, catalepsy, waxy flexibility, mutism, negativism, posturing, mannerism, stereotypy, agitation, grimacing, echolalia, and echopraxia. So far, she really only meets one of twelve,” Spencer answered.

Shrugging, the nurse pointed at Spencer with her pen, “What he said.” She looked down at the chart before continuing, “Her care team leader called for a psych consult, but we won’t really know one way or the other until she wakes up.”

Nodding, Rossi nodded in acknowledgment, “What else could it be?”

Pursing her lips, the nurse tilted her head to the side, “Peritraumatic disassociation is another possibility, but again, we won’t know until she wakes up.”

The waiting game began. As luck would have it, an FBI agent being abducted created a lot of paperwork, so Hotch was holed up in a conference room while Rossi and Blake worked on the profile. JJ and Morgan stayed back at Quantico with Garcia to look back at what information Hotch and Spencer had been gathering over the past twenty-seven – now twenty-eight – days.

Spencer stayed with you, tucking your blanket around you when he watched goosebumps sprout along your arms. He paid close attention to everything that the doctors and nurses said about your condition, relaying everything to Hotch via text message. They ran a kit on you, and the only solace was that there was a chance that they could DNA match whoever did this to you.

He left that last part out of his message to your father.

As soon as you started waking up, Spencer had to leave the room, watching from the hallway as medical personnel flurried around your bed. At first, he had assumed your aversion to himself and your dad was an overall aversion to men, but you didn’t flinch when it came to the male doctor who was checking your vitals manually.

A nurse peeked out from the door, “Are you Dave?”

Furrowing his eyebrows, Spencer cocked his head back in confusion, “No? I’m not – why?” He asked, gaze flickering back into your room as you scrawled something on the piece of paper that a nurse had handed you.

“She said she’d talk to Dave,” the inquiring nurse shrugged, turning back into your room, and adjusting your pillow beneath your head.

Still confused, Spencer slipped his phone out of his pocket, nimbly typing a message to Rossi before returning the phone to its home in his slacks. Trying to respect your peace, Spencer remained in the hallway, leaning back against the wall as he heard the familiar sound of Italian leather boots turning the corner. “Are you sure she didn’t mean Aaron?”

Spencer shook his head, mirroring the older man’s confusion, “She physically wrote your name out. She’ll only speak to you,” he answered, trying to hide his own pain for the sake of ridding you of yours. If you wouldn’t talk to your father or himself, it made the most sense that you’d talk to Rossi. You’ve known him the entire time your father worked in the BAU.

Shrugging, Rossi walked into your room and approached you with the care of a man approaching a deer. He remained this way until he made it to your bed, and Spencer watched as he smoothed your hair away from your face affectionately.

You leaned into his touch, and Spencer didn’t miss the cue. When was the last time anyone had touched you with love in their heart?

He had kissed you goodbye before you went on your run, just thirty minutes before your location turned off and your usual Thursday route turned into a hunting ground. With what you did for work, you switched paths frequently, but someone had been watching you, or at least, that was the conclusion the team had drawn.

Watching as Rossi spoke with you, Spencer noticed one anomaly – you weren’t speaking to him. Instead, all of his questions were answered with blinks or scribbling on paper.

The two of you went until a nurse came in, telling the both of you that they needed to run a few more tests. Taking his leave, Rossi told you something that Reid couldn’t quite make out and rejoined him in the hallway.

“What did you say to her? Just now?” Spencer asked, his need for any sort of contact with you becoming so desperate that he’d now accept it secondhand.

Frowning, Rossi placed both of his hands on his hips, “I called her piccolina, I used to call her that all the time when she was just a little thing running around the old BAU bunker.” Taking a moment, Rossi pulled out his little notebook and read through it. “White male, late twenties to early thirties, sometimes gone for days on end citing ‘work,’ but she never figured out what he did for work.”

Spencer’s eyes burned at the realization that you had been working your own case while being victimized, he peered in through the window as a nurse drew your blood.

“She said he drove a dark American sedan, making it either blue or black,” Rossi continued to list off, eyes following Blake as she approached the two of you. “Y/N said the car was filthy like he had been living out of it when he couldn’t get to her in the woods. The car had an Ohio party plate on it with expired tags.”

Blake arched a brow at the new information, “Party plate?” She said quizzically, looking at Spencer for clarification.

Nodding, Spencer looked over at his friend, “That’s the colloquial name for restricted license places. They’re given to people who are convicted of DUIs, which is actually called an OVI in Ohio. In Ohio, they’re yellow with red print, and the only state to have something similar is Minnesota where they call them whiskey plates because they all start with the letter W.”

“Well, he’s confident. Maybe too confident, driving around with expired tags and a license plate that already puts a spotlight on him,” Blake said thoughtfully, adding to the profile in her mind. “We should get this information to Garcia, maybe look for people who recently relocated from Ohio with those plates,” she suggested to Rossi.

Rossi nodded, skillfully flipping the cover back over his notepad and gesturing for Blake to follow him to the conference room, effectively leading Spencer to his own devices. When the nurse left to bring the vials of blood to the lab, he returned to your room, taking his seat on the edge of the room – as far away as he could get while keeping his eyes on you.

He looked up to your bed, catching you staring at him. As soon as you knew you had been caught, you turned your head to the other side, averting your gaze toward the window.

Every thirty minutes or so, Spencer moved the chair approximately five inches closer to you, by four in the morning, he had closed half of the space between you. He kept his eyes on you, watching as you stared thoughtfully at the ceiling. You had that crease between your eyebrows that told him you were thinking too hard, and he had to sit on his hands to stop himself from reaching out and touching it as if he could soothe all of your bad thoughts.

In the doorway, Rossi had appeared, garnering your attention as you propped yourself up on the flat hospital pillows. “We got him,” Rossi announced to the room, a reserved smile on his face.

Spencer watched as you visibly relaxed on the bed, your face softened as your eyebrows relaxed. Rossi explained some next steps, but he was only half listening, he could only focus on you.

Once Dave was gone, Spencer took a leap of faith and shuffled the chair to your bedside, “How are you feeling, angel?” He asked, taking up a muted tone.

You stared at him, blinking at him until, eventually, your face crumpled, and you leaned toward him.

Not missing a beat, Spencer stood up from his chair so that he could sit on the edge of your bed, meeting you in the middle, he gently wrapped his arms around you, rubbing small, soothing circles along your back with the flat of his hand.

In the past twenty-eight days, Spencer thought that being reunited with you could fix all of the hurt in his chest, but this, right here, was a different kind of pain. Tears sept through the fabric of his shirt just as soon as they fell from your eyes, and all of the hurt that he had felt before just morphed into a different kind of suffering.

His heart ached at the sight of you in this much pain, so much emotional turmoil that you had silenced yourself. What was he supposed to say in order to comfort you? ‘You’re okay,’ was wholly false, and ‘it’s alright’ felt like a cruel joke. You very clearly weren’t okay, and none of this was alright.

“I’m here,” he reassured you, his voice no more than a croak as he tried to swallow his own emotions. “I’m right here,” he repeated, continuing his ministrations on your back until you had cried yourself to sleep.

With your body in its weakened state, Spencer carefully adjusted you onto the bed, making sure none of your tubes or wires were kinked before settling back down in his chair and taking your hand in his.

Around the time the sun came up, your care team came through for morning rounds and woke you up to thoroughly inspect your status. Once they left you to your own devices – with the promise of food in half an hour – Spencer focused all of his attention on trying to coax you into speaking to him.

Tenderly, he dragged a finger across your forehead before continuing down the bridge of your nose, “I’d really like to hear your voice, sweetheart.” His voice was gentle, maintaining a subdued tone in the early hours of the morning.

He watched as you sighed, deflating all of the air in your lungs as you tipped your head to the side, interrupting his movements. “I asked him to do it,” you murmured, voice raspy from lack of use.

“To do what?” Spencer asked, heart beating a little faster at the sound of your voice. He watched how you nervously gripped a fistful of sheets and looked at him. Only you weren’t looking at him, it was more like you were looking through him.

You took a deep, shuddering breath before you answered, “To kill me.”

The confession weighed heavy on his shoulders, but it wasn’t regarding anything against you. It was in the realization that you had been in so much physical and emotional turmoil while in captivity that you had asked for your own death. That even for a moment, you sat in front of a killer and asked for him to end your life as an act of mercy.

Noting Spencer’s lack of response, you continued speaking, “That’s why he let me go. I begged him to just end it and that took away any appeal for him.”

Last night. You had pleaded on behalf of your own demise last night. Carefully considering his next words, Spencer met your eyes and replied, “That must’ve taken a lot of courage.”

You faltered for a moment, evidently not having expected those words from him, “What are you talking about?”

It made sense to him now, why you wouldn’t talk to him or your dad. He felt like such a fool. You had been ashamed because you felt like your abductor had diminished your worth by breaking you down. Spencer knew better, “You stood your ground. You faced your own death, and you chose that over further suffering. Dying isn’t an undignified act, no matter how it comes upon you,” he reminded you, smoothing your hair away from your face as he watched your lip quiver.

“Thank you for staying,” you croaked as emotion closed your throat.

Spencer hummed thoughtfully, swiping a rogue tear from your cheek, “You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

[jenanigans1207]

“I don’t regret it, Dean.” Cas says quietly. “Telling you I love you was the best moment of my life.”

“Yeah? Well, it was the worst of mine!” Dean yells, throwing his arms out to the side. There’s a moment of stricken silence where Cas’s face falls and Dean realizes how his words came across. He rushes to elaborate. “Do you know how many years I wondered if angels could feel love? Romantic love? Do you know how long I hoped that they could— that you, specifically, could? And more than that, that you would feel it towards me? I wondered all the goddamn time, Cas. And then you— you finally—“ Dean swallows past a lump in his throat, letting his arms fall back to his sides. “You finally tell me not only that you can love, but you love me. Me. And in one second, ten years of my wildest dreams came true and then were ripped away.”

Dean looks down at his feet. Clenches his jaw against the feelings threatening to choke him. He tries to take a steadying breath in through his nose but it doesn’t help him feel any better.

“Dean—“

“I didn’t think I was ever gonna see you again.” Dean confesses to his boots. “I thought I’d have to live the rest of my miserable life knowing I could’ve had you and kicking myself for being such a dumb piece of shit.” He swallows again and looks up. “I thought you were going to spend eternity not knowing that I love you, too.”

“I didn’t mean— Dean, I didn’t—“ Cas shakes his head as words fail him.

“So yeah,” Dean shrugs a little helplessly, his voice still tight with emotion. “It was the worst moment of my life. Except for every moment that came after— because every single moment from your death until you came back was the worst moment of my life. Every moment without you is. And you coming back could’ve been the best moment of my life if you hadn’t been such an ass about everything.”

There was a time, once, in the distant past where Cas’s face never betrayed any emotion. Dean could’ve scrutinized every single molecule of his expression and he wouldn’t have been able to read a goddamn thing from it. That hasn’t been the case for a long time— Cas took to emotions and humanity better than Dean did, and it was the only thing Dean had ever known.

Now, Dean can read a multitude of emotions in Cas’s expression: disbelief in the slight part of his lips, hope in the blue of his eyes, shock in the rise of his eyebrows. He can practically read every thought going through Cas’s mind as he tries to process what’s happened.

And then, there it is: acceptance in the way the corner of Cas’s mouth ticks up.

“I had no idea.” Cas answers after a moment.

“‘Course you didn’t.” Dean replies, his own mouth mirroring the small smile. “You fucked off before I got a chance to say it back.”

“I just assumed—“

“You know what they say about assuming, Cas.”

“No, I don’t.” Cas is full on smiling now, warm and full of the love Dean had only ever seen hidden in shadows of his expressions. Now it’s practically splitting his face open, spilling out of Cas like he’s finally filled up with so much of it that it’s simply impossible to keep it all in. “And frankly, I don’t care. I only care about what you have to say.”

Dean huffs out a fond laugh as he shakes his head. “Finally gonna let me do the talking, huh?”

“I’m in the mood to do some listening,” Cas’s grin is dazzling and a little cheeky, Dean wants to memorize it immediately.

He takes a step closer to Cas. And then another. Cas simply watches him approach, making no attempt to back away. His personal space is inviting and Dean enjoys stepping directly into it with no hesitation.

“Well, I might be in the mood for something other than talking.” Dean whispers, less than a foot from Cas now.

“Oh?” Cas prompts, his hand reaching across the minuscule place between them to settle on Dean’s hip.

“Yeah,” Dean murmurs, leaning in. “But just to make sure you get it through your stubborn head: I love you, Cas. And I’ll fucking kill you if you ever do something like that again.”

Dean kisses him before Cas has a chance to reply.

[pierregazly]

are you warm enough? ꨄ oscar piastri

oscar piastri x reader

warnings: reader has the flu, sad!reader over being sick [945 words]

request: Could I ask for a 💗 with Oscar and "Are you warm enough?" prompt?

note: oscar is def the type to take care of a sick partner?? i dont make the rules but it's true! this is part of my 1.5k celebration! feel free to request away!!

It was inevitable it was going to hit you. It had struck through your entire workplace, through all your study groups. One by one, person by person, they were taken down. By a measly thing like the flu. You knew it was going to take you out, and you were going to hate every second of it.

Selfishly, you were hoping it would strike you the week Oscar was gone, not wanting to waste any of the short time that you did have with him by being confined to bed with a sickness that wouldn’t go away. Unluckily, just hours before his plane was scheduled to touchdown in Melbourne, you felt the tickle begin to climb in the back of your throat.

By the time Oscar’s bags were tossed through the front door of your apartment, you were curled up on the couch, a heated blanket over you while a half-empty cup of tea remained on the coffee table in front of you. Your head was pounding, your nose was stuffed, your stomach was aching. You couldn’t keep any food down, and it felt like the apartment had hit negative temperatures in the few hours between waking up with a scratchy throat, and Oscar coming through the door.

“Honey, I’m home,” he singsonged, walking around the corner and stopping dead in his tracks when he observed your state.

You had told him about all the people who were getting sick at work, at school, about how you had been diligent about making sure you were washing your hands and keeping away from them. How you had told him how you didn’t want to ruin the little time the two of you were finally going to be able to spend together, so you were being extra careful.

Oscar felt the sympathy wash over him as he observed you peak out from underneath the blanket, a look of sadness etched around your face.

“Osc… you shouldn’t come close to me. I don’t want to get you sick, too,” you said.

Ignoring your words, Oscar moved closer to the couch before sitting down beside your sock-covered feet. He gently maneuvered them so they were placed over your lap, rubbing soothing circles on your now-exposed ankle.

“I’ll suffer if I have to. Can’t make you take care of yourself when you look like you might freeze to death if I even move this blanket.”

Just from the blanket simply touching his leg, he could feel the heat emitting off of it, the number ‘6’ displayed on the power screen, indicating it was at the highest level the blanket could reach. 

“Do you want me to make you another tea? Maybe go pick up some soup? I can give my mum a call, see if she can make any and drop it off? Does that sound good?”

Your only response was a nod of your head at every question he threw at you, you weren’t one to ask for help when you were sick, always able to simply take care of yourself. But the idea of getting off the couch, moving from the warmth of the blanket to go and make yourself a tea, or dig through the cupboards to find a can of soup… it just didn’t sound worth it, at all.

“I don’t want to bug your mum, if you pass me my phone I’ll just order some soup here. I can get you something too, real food. But you may not want to eat near me, I haven’t really been able to keep anything down either,” the sniffles after every few words had Oscar grimacing.

“Oh hush, mum always has leftover soup. Someone’s always sick around there, she’d be more than happy to drop it off. Let me go make you a cup of tea, and I’ll be right back.”

It didn’t take him long to tinker around the kitchen, throwing your favourite teabag into the mug and heating up the kettle; texting his mum in the process to inquire about any recent soups she may have made. Unsurprisingly, dad had been sick just days before, excess of his favourite soup in a Tupperware container in the freezer. Nicole had promised to get it thawed up and dropped off before sunset, a message of ‘get well soon, honey’ likely to be written in black ink on the lid.

Holding the warm cup of tea in front of your face, he gestured for you to sit up, a groan emitting from your body as you did so. Gently placing the cup into your hands, he sat down next to you, a small frown marring his face.

“Are you warm enough, baby? I can go pull down a few more blankets from the cupboards? Or turn the heating up?”

Shaking your head, you placed the mug down on the coffee table in front of you, before snuggling up into his side. 

“Can you just hold me? You’re always so warm, and I just want to be snuggled up with you, right now,” you said.

The arm that was pressed between your two bodies moved out of the grasp, wrapping an arm tightly around your shoulders before pulling you in closer to his body. 

“I’ll hold you whenever you want me to, even if you’re going to have to be the one to explain to the team why I have the flu next week.”

The only response you gave him was a shrug of your shoulders. You had already grappled with the fact you were probably going to get him sick, if you had to explain to the team why one of their prized driver’s was now sick… then so be it.

y'all... i didnt realize how popular oscar was until this celebration i have SO many requests for him lol. i hope everyone loves this, and as always, thank you for celebrating with me!!

[albonify]

Nevermind, Let’s Hard Launch ! - Lando Norris

SUMMERY: Y/N has been reluctant to go public with her and Lando’s relationship, until she builds up enough courage to soft launch, but she gets bored.

WARNINGS: none, reader can speak french

french mon amor - my love, ma vie - my life

Y/N scoffs, putting her phone down. She is currently sitting on a yacht off the coast of Malta, curled up with her boyfriend, Lando, looking out at the water as she gently plays with his hair. Lando, hearing her scoff, looks up

“What’s up baby?” “Articles talking about how you have a new girlfriend this weekend, her names Alice by the way.”

He chuckles and opens his mouth to speak but Y/N cuts him off.

“She’s a brunette and totally your type!” she smiles as she mocks the article.

Y/N fakes a gasp, “Lando, ma vie, did you know that you apparently have a thing for tall brunettes? Because I sure didn’t.” she feigns shock before laughing. Lando just softly laughs at the girl’s antics.

“Baby, you know not to listen to those articles, because i’m pretty sure they’re wrong anyways. Im don’t think I know an Alice” he says, jokingly putting his thumb and index finger on his chin to feign thought.

“Oh i know ma vie, but they are quite funny to look at”, she laughs, “Besides”, she smiles and leans in, kissing him, “I know the truth”.

She smiles at him and gently intertwines their fingers. Lando smiles back at her and kisses her pinky finger, interlocked with his. It’s become a common place for the boy to kiss, having fallen in love with it when he first saw her freckle there.

“Just say the word and i’ll post us Y/N , you know i’ve been dying to let the the world know about you.” he states, looking at her.

“I know mon amor but I i’ve seen how girlfriends get treated online, and i am in no way ready for that.”

She sighs as she snuggles her head into the crook of Lando’s neck. Lando puts on a sad smile as he gently brushes through her hair.

“i know baby, but i promise, when we do go public, anyone who has hate to say will be dealt with, i wont let them get in the way of me and the girl i love.” Lando says softly.

Y/N smiles into his neck and leave a soft kiss to skin, she loves kissing his neck, its her sign of affection, totally nothing to do with the fact Lando just has a nice neck…

Lando, in return, moves her hair and kisses behind her ear, another common place for the boy to kiss, before his smile turns into a grin and he starts to gently tickle Y/N.

Y/n shouts softly “Lando no! stop!” inbetween her laughs.

Lando just start tickling her more adjusting their position so he is above her making it easier to tickle her, this time less gently as it prompts more laughs.

God how he loves Y/N’s laugh. he could listen to it all day.

It’s not until she starts kicking her feet against the couch that he stops.

Y/N looks at Lando, his grin still prominent as he catches his breath, his messy hair asking to be played with, and she thinks she falls more in love at the sight.

At the same time Lando just looks at her, her hair all disheveled, slightly out of breath, her cheeks pink, and her smile still beaming, its at this moment Lando knows it’s her forever.

“I love you so much baby” He says as he kisses her softly.

Y/N kisses him back saying, “I love you too mon amor, more than you could ever know”. She smiles before her eyes drift and Lando recognizes that look, she’s in thought.

He lays down softly kissing her cheek before looking at her, “What you thinking about baby?”.

Y/N looks up at the sound of his voice, “What if we soft launch?”.

Lando lights up at the idea of finally being able to show her off, “Are you sure love? we dont have to if you dont want to”.

“Yeah im sure mon amor, t we’ve been dating since our teens and i know it’s you Lan it always has been and it always will be, not even the internet will change that. so yes Lan, im ready.” She smiles softly reaching up to touch his hair.

Lando smiles brightly, slightly blushing at her comment, “Im glad because I feel the same way” He leans down and kisses her. When he comes back up his grin has become a smirk.

“Well what are we waiting for?” he asks “LET’s SOFT LAUNCH” Y/N laughs and grabs her phone.

landonorris

liked by yourusername, oscarpiastri, and 384001 others

landonorris summer break was epic

VIEW COMMENTS

user LANDO WHAT ITS THIS

oscarpiastri great break huh? 😏

-> user OSCAR WHAT DO YOU KNOW

-> landonorris yeah, it was pretty good!

-> user why are men so dry 😐

user THE SECOND SLIDE?!!! jdksndowmendk LANDO.

yourusername 🤍🐚

user IS THIS A SOFT LAUNCH

-> user did you hear that? that was my heart shattering.

user ladies i fear this is a soft launch, we lost him 😔

maxfewtrell wtf mate, why dont i know about this?

yourusername

🎶 High by the Beach - Lana Del Rey

liked by bsf.user, friend1.user, and 209 others

yourusername 🌊🤍🐚

VIEW COMMENTS

bsf.user UHM HELLO?

bsf.user WHO IS THAT

bsf.user WHO IS TRYING TO STEAL MY GIRL

-> yourusername 🤷🏼‍♀️🤭

-> bsf.user UNACCEPTABLE.

bsf.user you look so absolutely stunning tho 🤍🤍

-> yourusername i love youuuu 🤍

friend1.user oh so we have a lot to catch up on then?

friend2.user oh youre glowing babes 💋

It’s been a few days since you and Lando soft launched. You were happy to see most people were supportive but you were still nervous.

“What you looking at baby?” Lando asks.

Right now you where tanning on the beach with a book in your hands, lando was soaked, having just came from the water. “Reading and thinking my love.” you reply.

Lando moves to lay on you, “what are you thinking about pretty girl?” he asks as he closes his eyes, joining her in sunbathing.

“Our soft launch” Y/N replies. At that Lando eyes widen, “is something wrong with it?” he asks worried.

“No my love, I was thinking about what if we did more.” “more?” Lando asks confused.

“Yeah like what if we hard launched?” Y/N said nervously picking at her cuticles.

Lando grabs her hands to stop her and looks at her, “You… want to… hard launch?” he asks her confused, knowing that she loved the privacy they had. “Yeah i know its you and i know the internet wont get in the way of us, so i want to hard launch”

“OMG OKAY im gonna go do that right now i love you” Lando quickly kisses her and runs to get his phone.

Y/N laughs at the boys excitement and grabs her phone waiting for whats next.

landonorris

🎶 Cupid’s Chokehold - Gym Class Heroes

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landonorris 5 years with you, to forever more years. i love you forever my dear 🤍

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yourusername the best 5 years of my life, cant wait for the rest. onto our forever my love 🧡.

yourusername

🎶 Always Forever - Cults

liked by landonorris, bsf.user, and 145,683 others

yourusername i’ve loved you 5 years of my life and i plan to keep loving you for the rest. toi toujours, ma vie 🧡.

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landonorris i cant wait to get married and get old with you. i love you now and forever flower 🤍.

—

🏷️’s

@fangirl-dot-com @lizzypiastri

[moonlit-imagines]

Headcanons for dating Wally West

Wally West x reader

warnings:

a/n: i was debating whether or not y/n is on the team or not n for this im going for y/n being a regular civilian but now im debating making dating hcs for a hero too 🤭

prompt: anonymous: “But if you're still taking requests (and speaking of fast haha), I would absolutely love if you could do a lil' something about Wally West ♡. I love that track star to bits and we're entering my favorite season ever : spooky season (or autumn for people who aren't chronically online like me). So if you'd be tempted to write some fluff/domestic stuff in autumn with Wally, I would be over the moon! 🦊”

wally is so annoying (in the best way!!)

you aren’t too used to the whole idea of dating a metahuman, every day is like an adventure

and for a speedster? you’d be surprised how hard it is for him to find the time

but he makes time

*doorbell rings*

“you’re twenty minutes late” -you

“in flash-time that’s early” -wally, holding a half-eaten box of chocolates “i got a little hungry”

on his “days off,” you could usually find the two of you on the couch with a variety of snacks scattered across the coffee table and crumbs peppering the cushions and floor

“the dog will get them” -wally

“hate to break it to you, but i don’t have a dog” -you

“should i get you a dog?” -wally

he was always so goofy

and affectionate, very affectionate!

he loved to give you cheek and forehead kisses, so many so fast

“how many was that?” -you after noticing repeated pressure on your cheeks

“going on a hundred. i’m trying to beat my record!” -wally

it always ended up tickling and you’d laugh until you fell over

“wally!! wally, come on!!” -you

you’d always get bummed whenever he got called for a mission

especially because it always happened in the middle of something (dinner, a movie, study date, etc.)

then when he came home he’d be a wreck and then you’d be a wreck because you’d see him like that

then he’d have to calm you down and you’d have to help him feel better

“you dont have to do that, im fine! i swear!” -wally while you panic and try to take care of him

being invited to the cave!

meeting the team!

“just because youre meeting a half-kryptonian clone, a martian, an atlantean, some girl with a bow and arrow, and batman’s sidekick doesn’t mean you get to think any of them are cooler than me, kapeesh?” -wally

“oh yes, i know you’re the coolest” -you

the team loves you!!!

“wow, wally, thanks for proving your s/o isn’t imaginary” -artemis

“youre welcome” -wally

“do you want to come bake with me?!” -m’gaan

“please say yes, y/n. i’m so hungry. so so hungry” -wally

“let’s do it!” -you

starting to camp out at the cave while wally is on missions

also once some more dangerous people figured out wally’s identity, you got your own access code to the cave. EMERGENCIES ONLY

you used it to surprise wally once and got a stern talking to from batman. never again

you dont really spend too much time with the team, but you get invited to most of their friendly outings!

and you talk up a storm with the others trying to learn about their lives, which sometimes makes wally a liiiittle jealous

but you want to live vicariously through these interesting people bc ur life is a liiiittle boring

“can you tell me what atlantis is like? what it feels like to be underwater and how your fighting style differs on land?” “what’s your favorite dish to make on mars? do you like communicating this way or the telepathic way more?” “why do you always wear sunglasses, man?” (you know this one dick is like wally’s bestie) -all you

seeing wally less than usual when things start to heat up in his hero life :(

causes some strain and you get so so sad :(

but he always calls you when he can and tries to make up for it

and somewhere down the road when he retires you’re able to spend all your time with him and he makes up for lost time like he promised

ok i’ll stop there. happily ever after.

taglist: @ravenmoore14 // @summersimmerus // @azazel-nyx // @simsrecs // @xoxobabydolls // @ravenstrueluv // @cicatraize // @captainshazamerica // @bad4amficideas // @evilcr0ne // @thedarkqueenofavalon // @elenavampire21 // @jade-178 //

[dstryvampres]

this idea for a one shot came to my mind, so, neil is the type of guy who would invite a reader to show her his collection of anything and wouldn't see any subtext in it "hey why are you naked???" (he finally gives in and she fucks him hard lol)

Drain You

THIS IS SUCH A FUNNY PROMPT !!!! honestly, you’re right he’s just the man to do that.

Pairing: Neil Lewis x Reader

Warnings: smut, p in v, creampie, unprotected sex, neil is stupid, very brief nipple play, Neil bites you like once

Word Count: 1.9k

For weeks you had been trying to hint to Neil Lewis that you were into him, like really into him, and each time he would miss it completely. It seemed to him your weeks of walking into Gumshoe wearing the shortest skirts you owned and bending down in front of him so he could get a glimpse of the panties you picked out that morning, or wearing shirts that show an unnecessary amount of cleavage and then pressing your breasts into Neil meant nothing to him. You thought he would finally get the hint when you went over to his house and picked out a DVD from his porno collection, but he immediately redirected you to some stupid noir film. Neil makes you want to rip your hair out, how can a man miss an opportunity that has essentially been served to him on a silver platter. The most this man has given you has been a makeout session in the back of Gumshoe that stopped before you could even start feeling him up.

So now here you are, standing in front of the mirror applying a final coat of mascara to both of your eyes before Neil shows up in a last ditch effort for him to finally understand that you just want to fuck him. Tonight you plan to make absolutely none of your gestures able to be interpreted as anything other than the burning need for you to be dicked down by the loser who owns the indie DVD rental place.

The doorbell rings.

You rush over to the door to your apartment from your room, almost tripping on the hardwood due to a mix of your speed and socks lack of grip. Patting down the pink, almost see-through, and overly short dress you decided to slip on tonight, before opening the door.

“Hello,” Neil greets, a bottle of red in his hands.

He seemed to not pick-up on the fact that you thought this was a date just by his clothes alone. A Neil classic outfit of a wife pleaser underneath a short sleeve green button-up and jeans, in stark contrast to your own outfit curated to make yourself irresistible. It was nothing offensive, but it wasn’t like he was going out of his way to look his best tonight either, coming in the clothes he likely wore to work today. 

“Come in,” you say, moving over to the side and prying the door open a little more.

Neil takes your invite, slipping off his shoes before looking around. Taking in your apartment like he hasn’t been here before.

“I’m always amazed by how you keep your place so clean,” Neil jokes, following you into your living room.

“Thank you,” you purr, taking the bottle of red from him and placing it on the coffee table, extending yourself a little more than needed in order to expose the bottom of your ass to him.

You want to pounce on Neil as you catch him, out of the corner of your eye, staring at your ass as he drops himself onto your couch. Instead you settle on sitting right beside him, pressing yourself up against his side.

“Do you still have that new wave film I brought here last time?” Neil asks.

Fuck, he just can’t get a hint.

“I think so.” You do not want to watch that stupid fucking new wave film.

“Perfect!” Neil cheers, “Can you go get it? I’ll pour us some wine.”

You turn your head and frown before getting up and going through your DVD collection. Honestly at this rate you’re not even sure if Neil has a sex drive, all he ever wants to do is watch movies and talk about them. If this was any other man you would’ve already had your panties around your ankles. There it is. You insert it into the DVD player and walk back over to the couch, situating yourself a tiny bit further from Neil than before. He doesn’t seem to care, wine glass in his hand, taking a small sip before setting it down.

“This film is really amazing, it details a young criminal waiting out in Paris for fate to catch up with him,” Neil starts as the opening sequence starts up. You barely listen to the rest of his rambling, too focused on the way his lips form the words than the actual words. 

Eventually Neil shuts up, just smiling at you for a couple seconds before turning his attention towards the film. You do the same, not like you care at all for anything being said. The whole things in French and you’re way too hot and bothered by the build up of wanting to be fucked for weeks on end to read the captions. The movie is boring, and you don’t understand anything, resorting to entertaining yourself by drinking and ogling Neil. You have to fuck this man tonight, or you’re sure you’ll go crazy.

“Neil,” you whine out halfway through the film, only earning a hum in response. “I want to show you something in my room, I was going to do it later but…”

“Yeah? We can do that. Like now or after the movie is done?” Neil asks, turning his attention to you.

“Now.”

You get up, grabbing Neil’s hand and leading him over to your bedroom. You let go of his hand as soon as you step into your bedroom, already feeling your wetness on your thighs.

“What did you want to show me?” Neil asks, smiling a little bit. He’s so stupid.

“Look at the bookshelf behind you,” you suggest.

He actually turns around, looking at the trinkets, books, and CDs you have accumulating on your shelves. Maybe he comments on the vast amount of objects you have gathered in your room, you don’t really care all that much as you slip your dress and bra off.

“What in particular did you want to show-” Neil turns around, cutting himself off as he finds you bare beside your lacy pink panties and socks. “Why are you naked?”

Neil’s eyes rake over your body with hesitation, taking everything in slowly. By the time his eyes reach your panties he audibly gulps. You can't help but smile, slowly walking over to him and placing his hand over your clothed cunt.

“Neil, I want you to fuck me,” you state, looking into his eyes. His pupils, already wide from both how dimly lit the room is and also from your previous actions, grow once again.

He stands there, dumbfounded, before diving in to kiss you. Lips pressing onto yours, as he pushes you back into your bed. He slips his tongue into your mouth as his hands find your breasts, massaging them gently. He moans into your mouth, hips rutting into yours. You feel his hard-on straining inside of his jeans. You rake your nails on his clothed back, causing him to hiss out slightly.

You reach down to take off Neil’s wife pleaser, having to break away from the kiss to fully get both the button-up and wife pleaser off. Reaching your hands out over his chest to finally feel his bare skin, then bringing him down into a kiss to press his bare chest into yours. The sensation making you moan out. Neil takes the small break from your lips to trail kisses down your neck towards your breasts. Leaving feather light kisses in between your breasts before, trailing over to one of your nipples. He laps his tongue over the bud before slipping it into his mouth and sucking on it. You sigh out, lacing your fingers into his hair and wrapping your legs around his waist.

“I’ve waited so long, please, just touch me,” you sigh out, bucking your hips up into Neil’s.

Neil detaches his lips from your nipple, the remaining spit heightening the chill of the air causing you to whine out. He kisses down from your breasts to just above your panties, hooking his finger into the lining and dragging it down your hips. He hums at the sight of your cunt, slick and warm, just for him. Kissing your clit before stepping away and taking off his pants and boxers. His cock springs out, slapping his stomach. It's not the biggest cock you’ve had, but it’s still above average and, if you might add, quite cute. You don’t get much time to admire his dick before he’s climbing on top of you and leading you back into another heated, sloppy kiss.

Neil gathers your wetness up on the tip of his cock, slipping his tip up and down your folds teasingly. It’s not like he knows just how long you’ve been waiting for him to finally fuck you(3 weeks and 2 days to be exact), but he could spare the teasing just for a second. You whine out, moving so the tip of his cock catches on the sopping wet opening to your cunt. Just that alone is enough for you to moan out and clench around nothing, digging your nails into his biceps.

Neil breaks away from the kiss, lining up his cock with your cunt, and watches himself push into you. You could cum just from the initial intrusion alone, having to squeeze your eyes shut and bite your lip to stop yourself from doing so.

“You take me so well baby,” Neil whispers, coming back to leave sloppy open mouthed kisses on your neck.

Neil pulls out before pushing in again. Fuck, is loser cock good. It was worth listening to all that useless, benign movie knowledge for three weeks for this. His cock stretches you out, wide. Everytime he pulls out of you so he can push back in, you can feel your insides pulse with desire. When he pushes into you, his cock rubs along the sweet spot in your cunt, making you whine out with each thrust. 

Neil’s hands come back to your nipples, taking turns tweaking and pinching them as he fucks into you. Your eyes roll back into your skull as he starts to speed up.

“I can’t believe I waited this long to fuck you,” Neil whines out, his breath tickling the juncture of your neck.

You’re telling me.

Neil’s hands trace down from your breasts to your hips, stabling himself out with his grip there before increasing the speed of his thrusts. He’s going to cum soon if the erratic pace of his thrusts is anything to go off of. He leads one of his hands down to your clit, tracing circles into the nerve with his thumb. 

“Where can I cum?” Neil asks, breath hitching briefly.

“Inside,” you moan out, wrapping your arms around him to claw at his back.

Neil mumbles a quick fuck under his breath, before biting down on your neck.

In mere seconds you're cumming around his cock. Letting out a loud moan, clawing into Neil’s back so hard you’re surprised he doesn’t start bleeding. He follows shortly after, burying himself balls deep into you before spurting his hot cum inside of you. You squeeze his cock with your velvety walls, milking his cock, before you’re both finally coming down from your highs.

Neil pulls out of your cunt, and drops down on the bed beside you. His cum dribbles out of your cunt, but it seems you are both too spent to care. Neil lightly brushes some hair out of your face before pulling you into him.

“I’ve been trying to get you to fuck me for over a month,” you say, closing your eyes and burying yourself into Neil’s chest.

“Really!? I thought you were just being friendly with me, and cared about the movies I showed you,” Neil says, genuine shock in his voice.

You start to laugh, because you never thought a man could be so oblivious. Neil eventually starts laughing too. Both of you are now laughing at just how clueless Neil is.

taglist: @paradiseprincesss @luluartpop

[heartpiratedrabbles]

An Interesting Wager

Prompt: You go to the casino for the first time and catch the eye of a particular person

NSFW

Crocodile X Fem Reader

You walk into the bustling Casino. It was different from what you had expected. Plenty of machines filled with patrons wasting their money away. Your friends had convinced you to test your luck after beating them a few to many times at cards between all of them. Honestly you didn’t think the games were too hard but you couldn’t back down from a bet to see if you could double the money, they’d given you.

         Talking of bets, you’ll admit it was hard for you to back down from a challenge, it’s a part of the reason you had avoided casinos in the first place. You push your thoughts to the back of your mind as you sit in an open seat at a table. A rather tall man in the seat next to you glances down, a cigar hanging from his mouth, “You seem new around here.”

         It wasn’t a question, it was a statement and you straighten your back. “First time actually…” A soft chuckle escapes your lips as you glance up at him, “How could you tell.” You brush some hair behind your ear to distract yourself from the eyes boring into you.

         The man, who has a scar stretching across his face smirks before leaning back, “It’s always easy to spot fresh fish in the pond. Do you know how to play the game or are you here to enjoy the view?” The smug attitude struck a small nerve with you but you pushed it to the side.

         Sighing as you realized you’d have to interact further, although he was nice eye-candy, “Blackjack isn’t that hard of a game to understand…” You smile getting a small idea to test your luck, you glance up and down at the man seeing how lavishly he is dressed before meekly saying, “Although I’ll admit I’m not the best.” You lean forward on the table as you watch the dealer shuffle the cards, keeping an eye on the man beside you.

         You see him quirk an eyebrow up, an amused expression on his face, “Not the best huh? Well it does take some practice…” The man leans closer to you, before he whispers, “Unless, of course, you’d like me to teach you?”

         You hold back a smirk as your mind rejoices at hooking him on before putting on a gentle smile, “I could never ask you to help me Sir…”

         “Crocodile”

         Your mind gently recalls the owners of the casino being called Crocodile and races for a second as you think about maybe you’re taking on a large enemy. Glancing up at him, his eyes amused but seemingly aloof, “Sir Crocodile. You must be a busy man; I couldn’t distract you like that.” You display an innocent tone, if he doesn’t leave after this than that’s on him.

         Crocodile chuckles, shaking his head slightly, “Don’t worry about that. I like the company. Now then… should we start the game Miss…”

         “Y/N.” A smile plays on your lips as you notice the dealer hadn’t started handing out cards until Crocodile motioned for the game to start.

         “Y/N… A lovely name,” He sultry voice rings through before turning his attention to the table. He leans over a bit though to continue the conversation, “Let me give you a little tip since this is your first time. Start small, don’t go too big too soon.” His voice sounded daring, “Unless of course, you’re feeling lucky.” A small chuckle leaving his lips as though it’s some sort of inside joke.

         You swallow a small lump forming, ignoring his warning as you laugh a bit with him, “Lucky huh?” You stay still, thinking of your options, if you continued, you’d wouldn’t be able to turn back, “Maybe I am… Why don’t we make this a little more interesting? Just between the two of us yea?” You glance up at the casino owners face with a smile played upon your lips.

         He raises an eyebrow at your words, a barely-there smile appearing, “Interesting you say? What do you have in mind?” He leans back in his chair, smoke billowing out from his cigar as he stares down at you, almost like a predator staring at their prey.

         You choke on your words for a second, “What if…. If I win, you give me anything I want.” A smile falling back on your lips as your display an innocent look. If your friends wanted you to double your money, imagine their looks when you come back filthy rich.

         Crocodile cocks an eyebrow at your proposal, intrigued by the idea, “Anything you want…” He thinks about a second smiling, “And what do I get if you lose?” The curious sharp look pinning you in your spot, his low tone giving clear enough warning.

         You let out a small gasp, bringing your hands together nervously, you aren’t sure if you’re acting or genuinely nervous anymore but continue regardless, “Well then. I’ll, do whatever you want…” You voice turning to a small mumble as you turn your head away, your cheeks turning slightly red.

         You feel his eyes watch you closely, his lips curly into a smirk, “Intriguing. I do like a woman who knows how to make an interesting proposal.” He leans forward, swiping the hair away from your neck as his voice becomes a husky tone, “I’ll accept your challenge Y/N. You win, and I’ll give you anything you want. But if I win…” His eyes trail over your features before continuing, “You’ll have to do exactly as I say. It’s only far. Wouldn’t you agree?”

         You swallow again, regaining your voice as you nod your head in agreement, “I don’t intend to lose.” The attempt to show your prowess making Crocodile chuckle slightly as the game begins.

         Small remarks are exchanged between the two of you as you continue to play until your chips have run out. Crocodile seemingly reading the dealer’s movements and anticipating the cards as they come. But as your last chip is spent you straighten your back, embarrassed at losing so easily.

         Crocodile smiles, seeing the last of your bets disappearing, a predatory grin taunting you before he leans in close, “It seems I’ve won our little wager.” You suck in a breath, your head hanging down as you ignore the blush falling on your face, “You promised anything, and I intent to collect.” He laughs at your timid reactions now that you no longer have anything to bark back at, “Don’t tell me you’re were jesting.” His voice low and dangerous.

         You suck in some air, your hands gripping the fabric of your dress, “I don’t go back on my words Sir.” It’s brings a spark of life to you, insulting at the idea of you not being serious of your bets. Crocodile watches you closely, taking note of the nervous seriousness of your tone.

         “I must say, I’m quite impressed by your demeanor,” His low whisper hitting you as his hand slides up you arm for a second, “It must takes a great deal of courage to make a deal with me.” His tone turns slightly sour as his eyes narrow when your body shivers slightly, “But remember this. I won’t take kindly to anyone who goes back on their words.” You straighten your back, looking up at him with a small gasp as his hand grips your shoulder firmly, your face turning red from embarrassment.

         He watches your subtle movements, enjoying the effect he’s having on you before grabbing your chin to point your face towards him. Despite the gentle touch, enough for you to shrink away, you stay, not wanting to be proven a liar, “I’m glad you understand the gravity of our wager.” His low dangerous tone sends a child down your spine before glancing around. He stands up and starts walking away a short command telling you to follow him hitting your ears.

         You quickly take your place next to him, keeping up with his pace. He places his hand on the small of your back, leading you down a maze of hallways until you come upon a secluded room that seems like a private lounge. Crocodile closes the door behind you before taking a seat on one of the couches, lighting another cigarette as he gets comfortable.

         You glance around the room before your eyes land on him staring at you. Timidly you go to sit next to him as he gestures you to do so, “So, what is it you want?” Your question coming out as a meek whisper, playing with your hair until it’s over one shoulder to distract yourself from the intense stare.

         Crocodile’s eyes glance down at your exposed neck, your hair no longer covering the soft skin, a little lower your cleavage seemingly an open invitation to him. He notices you biting your lips as your eyes go to anyplace that isn’t him. Leaning back, his hooked hand wrapping behind the couch and around you, “What I want.” His voice low and husky as he blows smoke out, “Is to see if you can keep up with me.” The smirk on his lips intensifying as your face turns a darker shade of red from the implication.

         Turning slightly to face him more, “And how should I keep up with you?” The innocent enough question as you decide to place a hand on his knee, ignoring the burning heat building up in your body.

         He smirks at your timid eagerness, his gaze flickering to the hand now placed on his knee before they drag themselves back to your face. His hand slipping under your chin to point your face towards him as he leans in. “All you have to do…” the brush of his lips barely ghosting yours, “Is to do as you’re told.” A soft kiss falls on your lips before he leans back just enough to say, “And believe me Y/N. I fully intend to test your limits.”

         You gulp, your mind racing at what he could mean before glancing at his lips again, deciding to initiate it yourself. A gentle hum to acknowledge his words as you squeeze his thigh slightly. “Just like that. Show me you want this.” The soft command hitting your ears, melting you as you shift your body to kneeling on the couch, deepening the kiss. Hungrily devouring what he’s giving you as your hands roam his chest before you fully straddle his lap.

         You feel an arm wrap around your waist, pulling you closer to him as a hand gently travels up and down your back, caressing you. The soft approving growl erupting from his throat as you wrap your arms around him, your chest flush against his while a hand tangles its way into his hair.

         The battle on tongues drowning out your senses with soft moans from the excitement of such a gentle yet fierce kiss coming from Crocodile. His hand coming to rest on the back of your neck before you decidedly take an experimental grind into the lap beneath you.

         A low growl erupting from the man beneath you, feeling his arousal grow as he tightens his hold around you, keeping you close to him. “You are something else…” The lustful voice making you moans slightly as he trails his lips down your jaw and neck before coming back up to meet your lips once again.

         You feel yourself growing impatient, wanting more than just to make out, your hands travel down, attempting to unbutton his shirt. A soft chuckle rings through the air as he leans back, allowing you to undress him. His own hand sliding to your thigh, hitching your dress higher and higher. Lifting your hips enough for him to rip the dress off you so he can take in your body.

         His lips travel to your clavicle, nipping at the skin, “You’re mine,” soft murmurs hitting your ears, “I’ll make sure you remember that.” You moan at the claim, grinding down once again to feel the cock that is only blocked by a few layers of clothing between the two of you.

         His relentless touches to explore your body slowly, each touch leaving a trail of heat in its wake. Soft grasps at your breast as the metal of his hook sends shivers wherever he touches. “Such a beautiful woman.” The praise sending your mind to heaven, “And you’re all mine, tonight.”

         Your mind perks up at his phrasing, is this really how he treats a single night? This soft, tantalizingly slow pace of getting to know every inch. Admiring every part of you with deliberate touches. The thoughts quickly disappear from your mind as you’re brought back to the present, his thumb running along your panties. One of your hands going to your mouth in an attempt to muffle the noises you are making, as buck your hips for more.

         Crocodile looks at you with a predatory grin, enjoying every response coming from you before he leans to your ear, “Don’t hold back Y/N.” The whispers driving you crazy, “Let me hear every beautiful sounds you make.” You can only nod your head as his thumb ghosts over your clothed clit.

         The soft mewls escaping your lips the more he teases and touches your body before you feel his hook dip into your waistband, tugging slightly as he kisses your lips, “Shall we continue my dear?” His voice low and seductive and making you want to follow every wish he could ever ask of you.

         You bite your lips slightly, leaning into his touches as you feel him tear the thin material off you, “W-what would you like me to do?” The breathing question escapes your lips as you stare into his eyes.

         A dark smile plays onto his face as he looks watches you, his fingers dipping between your folds, gathering your wetness before slowly dragging them to your mouth. The gentle press enough of a silent command for you to wrap your lips around his fingers, tasting yourself as your tongue swirls around his digits, “Show me how much you want this Y/N.” His low tone hitting your ears as you go to suck more of his fingers, “Make me believe you’re completely mine.” Closing your eyes as you flatten your tongue against them, lapping them clean.

         The moans revibrating through your mouth as his hook ghosts over your thigh. Crocodiles dark, lustful gaze taking in your seduction as you explore his fingers with your tongue. A soft growl of pleasure and desire leaving his lips as you pick up your pace, “You’re so eager.” Your hands ghosting over his arm as you spread you legs wider, any attempt to feel more at your core.

         A sad moan leaves your lips when he pulls his fingers out of your mouth. But you quickly forget of the lack of something to suck when you feel him gently touch your slick folds. Crocodile reveling in how wet you truly are as he teases your entrance. Leaning forward he takes your lips in a passionate kiss as his hooked arm brings you closer to him. A surprised gasp allowing him to shove his tongue down your throat when he finally plunges his fingers into you. You can feel yourself pulse around his digits as he brings you closer to the edge.

         Bucking your hips eagerly, you find yourself wanting for more than just his fingers. Tears prick your eyes just as Crocodile finally pulls away, his thrusts stopping, “Sir P-please. Crocodile I want more” The first plea finally leaving your lips cause a grin to appear on his lips. His own arousal almost overwhelming as he feels your body react to his touch.

         He adjusts you off his lap, removing his fingers from your wet warmth as he towers above you. “Your wish is my command,” The dangerous glint in his eyes flicking over your body, “But know that there is a price to be paid.” With that he releases himself from the confines of his pants, readjusting you by pulling you closer, your legs willingly wrapping around him.

         He kisses your pleading mouth as his tip aligns itself with you, your nails gripping into his back as he presses into you. You open your eyes to see a glint dangerous glint in his before becomes flush against you, the sudden fullness and extreme stretch that you let out a muffled scream. You feel him growl into your mouth as you attempt to catch your breath and relax, slowly getting use to his size. Your nails breaking the skin on his back.

         Crocodile feels your body relax beneath him after a while, seemingly use to him before he starts a brutal pace the overwhelming pleasure erupting from you as you arch your back. You pull away from his kiss, instead pressing your forehead against his shoulder while screaming his name.

         A hand stroking your hair, soft grunts and coos filling your mind as you hook your ankles together around him, staying as close to him as possible, “You love this don’t you?” Crocodile slightly taunts, taking pleasure in your shaking form sticking close to him, “Love being taken like this, used for my pleasure.” His lips finding your neck, nipping at the supple skin.

You cry out in pleasure, agreeing with him as you buck your hips in an attempt to meet his thrusts. You feel the pressure building, your thoughts filled him only him, “Cro-ocodile. Please, please can I cum?” You beg and plead, leaning back in an attempt to look him in his eyes.

         Crocodile stairs down at your fucked out face, grinning at your pleas as he continues to pound into you relentlessly. Leaning closer his lips brush against your ear, huskily he whispers, “Cum for me.” The single commands cause your body to convulse, “Cum for me and know that you are mine.” The claim falling on your ears he presses his hand against your womb, a scream erupting from you as you feel how you tighten around him, how he forces you to stretch.

         His hips flushed against you as your body tensing and convulsing around his as you see white as he holds you tightly in place. His own body finding release as you let out a scream of ecstasy, all while he marks and claims you in the most intimate of ways.

It isn’t until you feel your body relax that you truly realize your position. You chest heaving, arms wrapped loosely around Crocodile as his smug face is staring down at you. The immense feeling of being full. You remember his words halfway through, and let out a small chuckle, “Was this the price to be paid?” Your voice hoarse as you rotate your hips, still feeling him inside you and a low mewl escaping your lips as you let your body fall back fully to relax.

         You hear him chuckle softly, fingers running through your hair as he holds you close. “This, my dear.” His lips gently kissing your ear before he continues, “Was merely the beginning.” He lips trail down your jaw, “I’m afraid you’ve caught my attention.”

         You twist your head, attempting to meet his lips with your own, “Oh? That wasn’t apart of the deal.” A chaste kiss landing on the corner of your mouth as he lets out a growl.

         “Deals can be re-worked.”

[hauntedhowlett-writes]

𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐄𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓

support for palestine | masterlists | joel miller masterlist

PAIRING: JOEL MILLER X FEMALE READER

RATING: EXPLICIT (18+ MDNI) | WORD COUNT: 2.1k

SUMMARY

Joel wants to go camping for his fiftieth birthday. He makes it worth your while. Part of the Cruel Summer series, but can be read as a oneshot.

AUTHOR'S NOTE

This is my (late) entry for the Summer Lovin' Challenge hosted by @chaotic-mystery , @pedgito , and @amanitacowboy. This prompt had me spiraling with like five different drafts but in the end, it actually got me thinking of Cruel Summer, which is one of the first fics I wrote for this fandom and holds a very special place in my heart. If you've read that fic, I hope you enjoy this little glimpse into their lives. Please consider leaving a comment or reblogging 💕

WARNINGS

explicit sexual content (18+ minors do not interact), established relationship, age gap (35F and 50M), able bodied reader, no use of y/n, camping as a plot device, brief mentions of their relationship history as written in cruel summer, semi-public sex - tent, vaginal fingering, oral - female receiving, unprotected p in v, creampie, dirty talk, pet names. please let me know if there are any that i missed!

When you agreed to go camping, you didn’t think it would be this miserable.

“Joel, where’s the bug spray?” You call from inside the tent. “I’m getting eaten alive out here!”

“It’s ’cause you’re so sweet, darlin’,” Joel replies. He pokes his head inside the tent flap. “Try the side pocket.”

You check the pocket in question, mumbling under your breath as you finally locate the bug spray. Joel backs up to allow you outside to douse yourself in the spray until you’re coughing from the fumes. When you’re done, you hand the bottle to Joel with a glare. He grins at you.

“Think you might have missed a spot,” he jokes, spraying himself with a more conservative amount.

“Very funny,” you reply. “Is it time to go home yet?”

“Not even close.” 

You groan. “Fine. What do we do now?”

“We enjoy what nature has to offer.”

“We could have done that with air conditioning. Have you watched Animal Planet?”

Joel reaches for your hand, pulling you close and wrapping his arms around you. “I know it ain’t your idea of a vacation, but it’ll be fun. I’ll make it worth your while,” he says, his hands sliding down your back until they rest on your ass. He gives one cheek a rough squeeze that makes you gasp. “If you behave.”

“Define behave,” you reply. He laughs, head thrown back with the force of it. 

“As little whinin’ as you can manage,” he says.

“I’ll do my best.”

“That’s my girl.”

You kept your word throughout the hike Joel leads you on, only complaining about the hills once. It all becomes worth it when you break through the tree line and find yourself on a cliff overlooking the canyon below, the scene so picturesque it takes your breath away. 

“It’s so pretty,” you say, breathless from the view and the hike in equal measure.

“Sure is,” Joel replies, but when you turn to look at him, you find he’s watching you. The attention makes you feel warm and giddy. “Was it worth the bugs?”

“Maybe. Jury’s still out,” you tell him. He wraps an arm around your waist and presses a kiss to your temple.

“Thanks for comin’ out here with me.”

You kiss him back, his beard rough beneath your lips. “Of course. It’s not every day you turn fifty.”

“Don’t remind me.”

When you first met Joel twelve years ago, he’d been hired by your parents to work on their house while they were off on a cruise and you were home from college for the summer. The start of your relationship was rocky at best but now the two of you have managed to build a life together despite the early hurdles. 

“Let’s get back to the tent before it gets too dark,” he suggests, bringing you back to the present. “I got a surprise for you.”

“Is the surprise your—“

“Don’t be a little devil,” Joel says, cutting you off as you laugh.

Back at the campsite, Joel drags the cooler out of the tent and opens it, gesturing to the contents like he’s on a game show. Inside you see a stack of chocolate bars, a box of graham crackers and a bag of marshmallows. 

“Are we making s’mores?” You ask, unable to hide your glee. 

“Yep. But first, you’re goin’ to build a fire.”

You stare blankly at him. “Come again?”

“I’ll make sure you do,” he says with a wink. 

“I can’t build a fire.”

“You can’t build a fire yet. I’ll teach you. Come on, let’s find some kindling.”

Joel leads you around the campsite, helping you collect dry twigs and leaves. At the fire ring, he guides you through the steps of setting up the tinder before handing you a box of matches. You strike a match and attempt to get the kindling to catch, but the flame almost reaches the tips of your fingers before it can and you drop the match in panic.

“You’re gonna hurt yourself if you keep that up,” Joel says. 

“Then why don’t you help me?” 

“Where’s the fun in that?”

Despite his joke, Joel kneels beside you and takes the matches from your hand, lighting one. He holds the flame to one of the dry leaves in the pile and once it catches, he leans in to gently blow into the building flame until it’s strong enough to sustain itself. He leans back and gives you a smug smile that makes you roll your eyes. 

“There. Now you’ve built your first fire,” he says. 

Joel brings the cooler and the roasting skewers he packed over to the fire and begins arranging the supplies on a plate while you sit nearby on the log bench. You tip your head back to look up at the sky, the last remnants of the sunset fading and the stars beginning to blanket the inky darkness. There’s a tranquility out here you’re not used to, not with your busy schedule at the hospital and the chaos of having a teenager and a pre-teen at home. 

Joel taps your shoulder for your attention and hands you a roasting fork loaded with a jumbo marshmallow on the tip. You take it from him and lean closer to the fire, sticking the marshmallow straight into the blaze.

“That’ll burn it,” Joel warns, keeping his further away.

“They’re better crispy,” you argue. When the marshmallow catches fire, you pull it back out and let it burn for a moment, watching the exterior turn black before you hastily blow out the flame.

“That just ain’t right.” Joel continues to slowly roast his, turning the fork periodically. 

The two of you spend a few hours enjoying the s’mores and each other’s company. When the fire dies down and you run out of supplies, you lean your head against Joel’s shoulder.

“You ready to admit that campin’ ain’t that bad?” Joel asks. 

“I don’t know. I could still use a little convincing,” you reply, lifting your head to look at him.

His warm, broad palm settles on the back of your neck, pulling you in for a kiss that makes your toes curl. It’s slow and deep, none of the rush you feel back at home because the pace of your lives calls for it. This moment, under the stars and in front of the fire, has you feeling like you’re twenty-three again, jumping head first into what would be the best decision of your life.

You’re breathless when Joel pulls away and brings his hand to your cheek, his thumb swiping across your kiss swollen lips. 

“Why don’t you go get comfortable in the tent for me and I’ll take care of puttin’ out the fire?” He suggests. 

“You don’t have to ask me twice,” you reply, standing up so quickly you nearly knock your husband off balance. He smacks your ass as you turn to leave and the sound of his laughter follows you into the tent.

Once inside, you turn on the little battery powered lantern Joel hung up and find your bag, rifling through the contents for the lingerie you brought along for the trip. You quickly strip yourself of your clothing from the day and change into the matching set before settling on the pile of sleeping bags with your feet towards the entrance.

You hear the zipper on the tent flap and your heart races as Joel comes into view, pausing to look his fill and whistling lowly. He crawls inside, hovering over you on his hands and knees.

“All this for me?” He asks, ducking his head down to kiss your collarbone. “How’d I get so lucky?”

“You just couldn’t keep your hands to yourself,” you joke. Joel laughs, warm hand cupping your breast and his fingers pinching your nipple through the fabric. Your back arches at the sensation.

“Some things never change.” 

Joel’s lips meet yours in a languorous kiss that pulls little moans from you as it progresses into something heated and urgent. You’re arching beneath him, demanding more touch, more attention, and he’s never been one to turn you down. One of his hands traces the length of your body until his fingers dip beneath the elastic of your underwear, immediately tracing through your wet heat.

“Goddamn,” Joel says, voice dark and eyes darker with lust. “Already so wet for me, huh?”

It’s not a question to be answered, not when he dips two fingers inside of you and curls them with an expert precision that makes you gasp. His thumb circles your clit each time his fingers draw back. 

“So pretty,” he murmurs. “Always so fuckin’ pretty.” 

He keeps the perfect rhythm with his fingers until you’re gasping his name and he’s talking you through your release with whispered praise and dirty words. When you’re boneless and breathless, he withdraws his hand and lifts it to your face, pressing his fingers to your lips. You open your mouth and he slips the digits against your tongue, the distinct taste of yourself exploding across your tastebuds.

“That’s it, sweetheart, clean ‘em up,” Joel commands. His eyes are fixed on you as you obey, his jaw tense as you put on a show for him, licking and sucking his fingers like you would his cock. 

Joel pulls his hand away and makes quick work of removing your underwear, sliding the fabric down your thighs and tossing it aside. He spreads your legs wide enough to settle on his belly between them, face inches from your now bare pussy. 

He kisses the inside of one thigh, then the other, repeating the attention until he’s so close to where you desperately need him that you can feel the warmth of his breath and you shiver in anticipation. When the heat of his mouth envelopes your sensitive clit, the sudden stimulation has you thrusting your hips against his face. His grip tightens on your thighs, holding you in place as he lavishes your cunt with messy attention.

You reach down to tangle your fingers in his dark hair, the strands now streaked with more gray than they have been in the past when you’ve been in this exact position. Joel groans against you, the vibration making you whimper and beg for more, more, more.

He’s a man on a mission, not stopping for breath or pausing to tease and taunt you with pet names and dirty words. His tongue circles your clit in broad strokes that has another wave of release cresting and crashing over you in record time. Your thighs shake in his grip and your fingers tighten in his hair to a point that you know must be painful but you just don’t care, and neither does he.

Your muscles finally relax and that’s when he sits up, frantically unbuttoning his flannel shirt with uncoordinated fingers and wrestling his boots and jeans off with equal fervor. His cock stands at attention and your mouth waters at the view, the thick head flushed and glistening with precum. You’re close to offering an equal exchange, his mouth on you for your mouth on him, but he has other ideas.

Joel’s hands paw at your hips, turning you over so that you’re flat on your belly. You lift your head to look over your shoulder as he shoves your right leg up with a bend at your knee, baring your pussy for him. He settles between your legs and takes himself in hand, running the head of his cock through the mess he’s made of you.

“You ready, baby?” He asks, slipping himself inside of you the tiniest bit, just enough to feel the stretch of him and want more. “Tell me you’re ready.”

“I’m so ready,” you moan, lifting your hips to take him in deeper. He wraps both hands around your bare hips as he sinks inside of you with one smooth thrust that leaves you gasping.

Joel lowers his body on top of yours, his chest to your back and his lips on your shoulder as he starts to thrust his hips, the angle deep and perfect on every slide inside of you and his cock dragging against your g-spot each time he draws back. He takes his time using your body for your shared pleasure and you relish the way he’s taken over every one of your senses.

“Gonna come,” he murmurs against your neck before biting at the skin over your pulse. You tighten around him and he groans, hips growing erratic in their movements. It’s only a few more sloppy thrusts before his hips are pressing tightly to your ass and he goes still, warmth flooding you as your pussy clenches around his cock.

You whine at the loss when Joel pulls away but he’s quick to return with a wet wipe that he uses to clean you up a bit before settling back down beside you. You rest your head on his chest and his fingers trace patterns on your shoulder as the sweat cools on your skin. 

“You ready to admit campin’ ain’t so bad?” Joel asks. 

“Consider me convinced.”

[hom3landr]

For your dark prompts: HomelanderxFem!Reader

"Do it or I'll make you," + Stalking/Obsession

The Butterfly Effect

Alternate Dark version of Tea and Honey

18+

CW: DUBCON

What if the mug broke? What if one tiny hiccup changed everything? An alternate version of Tea and Honey where one small accident changes Homelander’s and Baker’s stories forever

Homelander’s eyes land on a lone mug on your counter. It’s colorful and chipped and so you that the unexpected rush of endearment he feels helps direct him out of his rage for a moment. His brow furrows as an idea begins to form. He can fix this. He just needs to do what you would do. But his hands are still clumsy with emotion and when he reaches for the mug, his grip causes the pottery to shatter. The noise is so loud in his ears and his chest heaves. What if that was your favorite mug? He imagines that’s what your skull would feel like crumpled between his palms. He digs his palms into his eyes and he can feel the heat from the glow of his lasers.

“Listen to me. C’mon Tiger, when have I ever let you down?” The familiar voice cajoles him. Homelander turns teary eyes to the glass at last and finds his old friend looking back at him. He shrinks back from his condescending gaze.

“Can you help? I don’t want her to hate me.” He sniffles, ashamed at his emotional reaction. He’s pathetic and he hates that about himself. You’re just a toy, something to amuse himself with. But here he is weeping like a snot nosed little brat at the mere thought of your disapproval. He cringes.

“Why don’t you let me take over for a bit? I’ll straighten it all out.” The mirror replies, smug. Homelander falters for a moment. He wants more than anything to hand things over for the moment, to have someone else deal with the responsibility. But he’s aware of the methods normally required. He clears his throat nervously.

“Just…don’t hurt her.” He answers sheepishly. He can feel the disapproval from the figure in the glass and he has to look away for a moment. The voice goes quiet and Homelander crushes the remaining pottery shards in his hands to dust.

“Don’t worry, I won’t break your toy. She just needs a little…fixing before she will be ready for you to play with again.” The voice assures him and Homelander’s stomach twists. He doesn’t like the sound of that but he doesn’t have a choice. If he continues like this, he’ll just keep fucking up. He doesn’t know what else to do so he nods.

“Atta boy.”

————————

Homelander steps out of the kitchen and rolls his eyes at the pathetic figure you make on the couch. Is this really what has John in such a tizzy? This? It baffles him. Your sniffles set his teeth on edge. It’s so tempting to just stalk over and snap your neck. That way he’d be able to remove the hindrance of you from John’s life so he wouldn’t have anything holding him back from his true self. But…that would cause more problems then it would solve when John returns so he begrudgingly restrains himself. He’ll just teach you a few manners before it’s time to hand the reins back over.

“I’m sorry.” You whimper into your knees. Homelander snorts. If you were really sorry you’d get down on your knees and grovel. You’d open your mouth like a good little toy to accept whatever he decided to give you. Do you expect him to coddle you?

“I’m so so sorry. I ruined everything.” Your whiny little apology grates on his nerves. Maybe you should have thought of that before you threw your temper tantrum over a little thunder. He needs to teach you a lesson about how not to be an over-reactive little brat. He needs to teach you that your place is to make John happy and if he wants to dangle you over a pit of hungry sharks, your job should be to bat your eyes and thank him for the privilege. That’s all humans are good for.

“You did.” He replies blankly. You sob and he pinches the bridge of his nose.

“What the actual fuck, John? At least the last one wasn’t such an incompetent waste of space.”

There’s no answer so he must be hiding in shame. Pathetic.

“Stop fucking crying. You’re giving me a headache.” He grumbles. You do stop and you finally raise your head to look at him. Your lips tremble but the hurt in your eyes slowly morphs into a sharpness that’s intriguing.

“That’s better. Y’know…you really fucked up kiddo. But there’s always room for a redemption arc. I’ll let you make it up to me.” He says smugly. You give one last disgusting sniffle before you grab a tissue from the couch side table to wipe your nose. Your eyes are wary and suspicious. You blink away your tears. He’s surprised. As insipid as you are, you seem to have noticed that there is something different about your “friend.” Although…he supposes it isn’t that difficult when you’re used to getting smoke blown up your spoiled ass.

“Make it up to you?” You repeat slowly, as if it’s some ridiculous suggestion. “Sure, I’ll make you whatever you want! I only have ingredients for brownies at the moment but I can run to the…” He cuts you off with a gesture as he grits his teeth. He can’t stand your rambling. Why do you always seem to think he cares about what you have to say?

“No. Your baking isn’t special.” He ignores the flash of angry hurt that crosses your face. “I’m going to need something really good if I’m going to excuse your behavior.”

Your mouth twitches as if you’re about to answer but he can smell iron when you bite your lip hard enough to split it. You crumple the snotty tissue in your fist.

“Do you want to know what that is?” He asks with a tilt of his head. “Go on…ask me.”

You don’t answer but you continue to meet his gaze with suspicious eyes.

“Fine, I’ll tell you. But you’re going to have to adjust your attitude or this will be a lot harder than it has to be.” He saunters over with his hands crossed under his cape until he’s looming over you on the couch. You shrink back and he’s filled with a sick sense of pleasure at your fear. It’s not as much as he was expecting but he can work with that. “You are going to wipe those pathetic tears off your face, grow a fucking spine, and I’m going to fly you back out into the storm as long as I please until you’re cured of this ridiculous attitude.”

“No!” You shout and the surprise of it causes him to step back. “I’m sorry I hit you. I am. I truly am. But I’m not going back out there. I won’t!”

Homelander crouches and like a snake his hand darts out to grab your chin with a bruising grip. You whimper painfully as he tilts your face up and he leans in close enough to kiss you if he wanted.

“Do it or I’ll make you.” He hisses and his eyes flare red. He can hear your heart beating quickly in your chest like a little hummingbird. He imagines crushing it in his fist. You flinch back at the heat but he’s surprised at the way your expression doesn’t falter. He’s starting to realize he might have been wrong about you. You’re tougher than you look. You scrunch your brow and your eyes are full of uncertainty. Yet your chin still juts out with foolish bravery and righteous indignation. It’s cute. If he squints he can almost get what John sees in you.

“That’s not a choice because I can’t say no.” You reply. He laughs. Did… The laugh turns into a wheeze. Did you really think he is truly giving you a choice? What fucking planet are you from? He’s decided that he does like you. You’re fun to play with. He wishes he was allowed to break you…that’s always the part he likes the most.

“You can say no.” He purrs, releasing your chin to run a finger down your cheek. You shudder at the unexpectant gentleness.

“I can?” You reply quietly, voice shaky with uncertainty. But if you see the trap then you’re good at ignoring it. If you don’t then you’re just stupid. “Well…then I’m saying no.”

Just stupid then.

“Alright.” He answers, his hand now gripping the back of your neck firmly. You blink owlishly when you try to pull away only to meet an iron resistance. Your heart skips an anxious beat.

“Are you going to let me go now?” You ask shakily and he’s almost admiring of your stubborn idiocy.

“When did I say I was letting you go?” He leans in to whisper in your ear. He can’t resist nibbling a bit and you jump and shiver against him. He inhales deeply.

You’re wet.

“You…you just said I could say no.” You fight his hold once again but he only tightens his grip until you start to wince.

“Yes, and you’ve said it. But I never said it meant you could leave.” His voice lowers to a growl. “Now, you’re going to be obedient or I’m going to get creative.”

He reaches his other hand down to stroke the inside of your thigh. You inhale sharply and he groans at the scent of you on his tongue. Maybe this is why John is so pussy whipped when he hasn’t even tried you out yet. You smell fucking delicious. He wonders what you’d do if he buried his face between your legs just to breathe you in. He would…if he wasn’t determined to teach you a lesson first.

“Who are you?” You ask bluntly. The accusation in your voice takes him by surprise. He tilts his head curiously. Aren’t you a clever bug?

“I’m the Homelander” He replies, his hand sliding high until his fingers brush against the apex of your thighs. You jolt and slap your hand down on top of his, although your scent only grows stronger at his bold touches. Your cheeks are warm now too. Homelander scoffs. John should have been giving you what you need. You’re woefully deprived of attention when even a threat has you dripping for his touch. John doesn’t even know what he’s missing.

“You’re not him!” You argue with him and fuck you are cute when you’re all in a tizzy. You’re so convinced that your “hero” is a gentleman. It’s so hilariously misguided. “I don’t know who you are but you’re different. You’re wearing his skin or something. I know him and he’s not perfect but he wouldn’t treat me like thi…!”

“Do you want to know all the disgusting thoughts he’s had about you?” He strokes the inside of your thigh and feels incredibly smug at the adorable look of pure shock on your face. Your mouth drops open and your eyes grow round as saucers. The heat in your cheeks floods your body from the top of your ears to the tips of your toes. You wriggle in his grip but he moves his hand to cup you boldly. You let out a broken whine.

“While you were daydreaming about your “Prince Charming” he was coming his brains out thinking about his tongue in that wet little pussy of yours.” He leans forward to purr in your ear. His fingers are still but he refuses to move his hand from its home between your legs. You whimper and bite your swollen lip, still split from your teeth earlier.

“He pretends to be such a gentleman, thinking that’s what you want. But it’s not what you want, is it?” He chuckles darkly. “Did you know that he can smell whenever you get wet? You’d prance around like butter wouldn’t melt in your mouth but brown sugar wasn’t the only thing filling his nose.”

“WHO ARE YOU?!” You yell and you shove against his chest. He reluctantly pulls away. He’s too curious as to what you think you’re going to do with your pitiful human bravery.

“I’m a friend of his. I help him whenever he needs.” He answers, leaning back on his heels to give you a little space. You cross your legs immediately but the way you shift lets him know that it’s not purely out of modesty. You filthy little slut. He’d take care of you better than John ever could.

“Where’s my Homelander?” You push.

An unexpected flash of jealousy burns in his chest.

“I am your Homelander! I’m just…a different part of him, I suppose.” He replies, as a wicked wicked thought enters his mind. “But…if you want him back, you’ll need to coax him back. You hurt his feelings pretty badly. He needs some reassurance.”

“What kind of reassurance?” You reply warily.

He gives you a smile that would put a shark to shame.

He was planning to punish you. He wanted to teach you to mind your manners. He wanted to show you your place. But now…his idea of where that is has shifted. After all his hard work over the years keeping John safe, he deserves a little treat for himself. It’s time for him to get some sugar.

“I bet that sweet body of yours would get him back here pretty quick.” He reaches out to rest a hand on your knee. He expects you to flinch but all you do is take a slow shaky inhale. It’s almost as if you knew it was all going to lead to this point. He squeezes just a little and a soft noise escapes your lips.

“He’ll come back? Will he… I mean…we’re a thing kinda and I don’t know if he’d want…” You can’t quite articulate what you're trying to say but he’s enjoying watching you try. He knows what you mean anyway. You’re worried that you’ll be cheating on him with himself. The situation is so bizarre that he can’t help but laugh.

“If it makes you feel better, all I want is a taste. I’ll leave that cherry for him.” He gives a reassuring pat to your knee. “Besides, same guy just different…perspectives.”

You swallow thickly and don’t meet his gaze but when he kneels and gently peels your legs apart, he doesn’t meet any resistance. Not that it would matter if you did resist, but it’s nice to have your cooperation. He groans low in his throat as he yanks you forward and you gasp as he buries his nose in the wet spot soaking through your sleep shorts.

No panties either…naughty

He breathes you in hungrily, growling against the damp fabric. His hands grip your hips firmly to hold you in place. Your heart is beating quick like a little rabbit as you struggle to keep your breathing steady at the onslaught of sensation. He should send John a gift basket for fucking up because he can’t remember the last time he indulged in this. He’s used to backseat driving but to have control of the wheel…he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to give your sweet pussy up. He wouldn’t need your approval, just your wet cunt wrapped around him as he fucks you stupid. You would simply have to forget about any life beyond his bed.

He nuzzles further into you and he’s pleasantly surprised when you shyly grip his hair. You’re barely even tugging but just the brush of your fingers against his scalp is making his cock throb against the cup of his suit. He can feel the hard nub of your clit bump against his nose through your shorts. He pinches the inside of your thigh to make you jump and squeal. He barely used any pressure but the skin is already turning red. It’ll probably bruise and Homelander finds he really likes that. He likes the idea of leaving a mark on you that’s his and not John’s.

He finally decides to take a taste so he tugs the gusset of your tiny little shorts to the side and wastes no time licking a stripe up your pretty cunt. You’re dripping like a slut and the sweet musky taste of you has him bucking into the air. He makes himself comfy as he lifts your legs onto his shoulders. He can’t see anything past your pussy but he just knows that your toes are curling as he occupies himself with sucking on your clit. Your grip on his hair finally graduates to sharp yanks with every fresh bolt of pleasure that courses through you.

For all of John’s fantasies, none of them came close to what it’s like to actually tongue your hole till you squeal.

“Homelander” You moan and his hips buck into the air. You sound so good when you say his name.

“You’ve been starving for this, haven’t you? Despite acting like such a cocktease in your little strawberry apron. Although I’m surprised, as much as he’s watched you…shhh shh shhh oh yes he has. As much as he’s watched you he never saw you playing with that needy cunt of yours. Don’t tell me you’re such a goody two shoes that you don’t even get yourself off?” He slaps your ass for good measure and he can feel you pulse against his tongue. John wouldn’t be happy that he exposed his dirty secret but if the cat is already out of the bag, he doesn’t see the point in trying to shove it back in. Especially when it’s so fun to play with.

“S-shower.” You choke out and he hums in understanding. John had no problems rubbing one out while watching you sleep but he did have his boundaries. He never watched you in the bathroom. Homelander snorts and chuckles to himself. Shows what happens when you play along with human morality, you tend to miss the good stuff.

“Showerhead? Or do you have one of those toys suctioned to the wall of the shower so you can fuck away at it.” He teases before inserting two of his thick gloved fingers. You’re too wet for much friction but the stretch makes you cry out in shock. He knows it must be so intense for you. Especially with how fucking tight you are. “Hmmm I don’t think it’s the second one. I can barely even stuff a couple fingers in you.”

“Fuck!” You sob and the curse feels like a victory. John’s never heard you cuss like this. He reaches down with his free hand to unclick his belt and pull his cock out. He stokes in time with the throbbing of your clit under his tongue.

“That’s it. Show me how filthy you are” He growls.

He curls his fingers and he rapidly has to remove his hand from his cock to steady you before you buck off the couch. Your legs are shaking. He isn’t even close to being through with you. John is just going to have to wait his fucking turn.

“So good!” You cry out and it’s like a shockwave to his system. “You’re so good. Feels so good.”

Homelander moans like a whore into your clenching cunt. Your praise hitting something devastating inside him. His grip on you flexes and his cock bobs. He sucks on your clit again just to hear it. He softens his kisses till they’re teasing and playful instead of the all consuming overwhelm like before. You tug his hair pleasantly and he hums.

The air feels thick as reality starts to melt a little at the edges. Each desperate compliment that falls from your lips has him feeling like he’s in a dream. He’s far away and up close all at once. The warm weight of your legs on his shoulders is soothing. He scissors his fingers, stretching you out further as he laps at your clit.

“You’re so good to me.” You sigh and the air swims. He nips at your thigh, sucking a bruise to match the one from his pinch earlier. Something inside him is aching to be rougher, firmer, meaner. It’s tempting. But he doesn’t want to treat you like that. You’re better than all those other vermin. You deserve to be worshiped.

“So pretty.” His moan is muffled by your pussy. “Pretty and mine.”

“Homelander!” You cry out and he holds you gently but firmly as you writhe.

You come hard under his tongue and he pumps his fingers as he milks you of your release. He presses his tongue flat to your clit to feel you shudder and your moans are like music to his ears. You taste so fucking good, better than anything he could have imagined on his own. He laps against you lazily as he tries to prolong this dream as much as possible. He doesn’t want to face the way he left you. He wants to be your good boy just like this.

He licks his lips and sighs. He waits for that uncomfortable ache of returning to reality, of having to leave this cozy escape he’s found himself in. His mirror self is probably still handling everything. But as he catches his breath it occurs to him that this feels all too realistic. He doesn’t remember anything when he hides. It’s always a blip in lost time and he’s back. Why is he dreaming now?

A horrifying realization hits him.

He scuttles backward and your legs hit the floor with an ominous thump. You stare at him dazed and a swirling mass of anxiety builds in his stomach. What did he do to you? Did he…? Did you…? What if you didn’t want…? He shakes his head and shrinks away from your increasingly concerned stare.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry I didn’t know. I didn’t mean…” His words stutter. He’d been so good for you for so long. Now he’s ruined it all. He shouldn’t have ran. He should have been brave. He should have been good.

“Homelander?” You say softly, you shakily stand from the couch and wobble over to him. You crouch and reach out to cradle his head in your hands. He can’t meet your eyes. He’s terrified of what he’ll find. His chin is still soaking and it causes his cock to twitch despite his best efforts. He suddenly reaches down to fumble with putting his cock back in his pants upon realization of his exposure. An embarrassed tear almost escapes before it’s tenderly wiped away by your thumb.

“My Homelander.” You say so fondly that he can’t help but meet your eyes. He doesn’t expect what he finds. You’re looking at him like he hung the moon, all dewy eyed and soft. You look at him like he’s the best thing you’ve ever seen.

“I…” He manages to choke out but even that dies in his throat.

You practically tackle him as you pepper his face in kisses. You don’t seem to mind the taste of yourself as you press your lips everywhere you can. Your previous anger over the storm seems to have dissolved in your eagerness to see him. Once he’s over his shock, he wraps his arms around you as tight as he can and tries not to cry in relief.

You aren’t angry. You don’t hate him. He’s yours.

“Told you I’d take care of it. Don’t fuck things up with her again.”

“I won’t.” He whispers fervently into your shoulder.

“I might not let you have her back next time.”

Homelander is too busy loving you to think too much about the implications of that. All he knows is that he’ll never doubt that voice in the mirror again.

[tf-lover]

Christmas Switch-Up

My gift for @bodyswapmischief based off his prompt for me. Hope you all enjoy, and Merry late Christmas!

~~~

“Jack, get off your fucking ass and help me damn it!” Darren called in through the kitchen door. 

His useless son was finally home for Christmas, and Darren had been long hoping the athletic young man would be able to help out around the place with all the long overdue jobs that needed doing. The loft needed emptying of the random junk that’d built up over the years, snow needed clearing from the driveway and the roof, and there was a long list of things that needed repairing among other things. But of course, Jack had been sitting on his ass in his room for days just playing video games and working out in the home gym Darren had put together for him years ago.

“Dad, I told you I’m busy! Do that shit yourself, it’s boring!” Jack shouted back from where Darren already knew he was working out. “Or hire someone to do it for fuck sake, you’re loaded!”

Darren pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. He wasn’t going to get mad, he wasn’t. It would help anything, yet all he wanted to do still was scream at his ungrateful son. “If you’re going to be a lazy little shit Jack then I’m going out! I’ll be back in a few hours.” He shouted back at his son as he made his way back inside and through the house. Cooling off was needed, and Darren had other ideas of how he could get what he wanted this Christmas…

~~~

A few hours later…

“You want us to do what, Dad?” Jack asked from his position on the sofa, barely able to believe what his father was suggesting.

Darren shrugged. He’d been out shopping at a particular occult shop he knew of hidden away in the centre of the city for just the thing to get what he needed. Now he had it, swapping with his son was actually possible.

“You heard me. I want to swap bodies with you for the Christmas break.” He said simply.

It was a simple enough suggestion, and it wasn’t like he’d spoken in riddles or anything either. His son was home for Christmas break and with his usual manically busy social calendar wanted nothing more than to spend the two weeks relaxing and doing absolutely nothing. His father had other ideas though, namely the jobs around the house that needed doing. Repairs that needed to be made; furniture that needed to be moved; all things that became infinitely easier with his jock of a son around to help. Darren was past his prime, having gained more weight than he would have liked thanks to an injury that stopped him working out as much as he used to, and his advancing age.

“But that’s not even possible Dad?! And even if it was, why would I want to do that?” Jack continued to protest. “I don’t want to be you, no offence but I’ve worked too hard to suddenly get older and fatter!”

“Well it’s that or you get up off your ass and help me with the jobs that need doing, I’ve told you that already. You know I can’t do them on my own, so if you’re staying here for Christmas instead of with your friends then I expect you to at least help a little.” Darren folded his arms and frowned at his son. “Or, you can laze around in my body as much as you want to, and I’ll use yours to do everything that needs doing around here. Won’t make a difference to you if all you’re doing is sitting around watching TV and jerking off, maybe you can even do me a favour and get me in better shape.” 

“DAD!!” Jack blushed furiously at being called out by his father of all people. They were both men at the end of the day, but that just made it more embarrassing at his father’s willingness to call him out. “You really… Eugh.” 

Darren reached into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out a pair of identical rings, then tossed one at his son. “Put that on and we’ll swap for the holiday or get off your ass, it’s that simple.”

Jack caught the ring with one hand then frowned at it. He barely understood what his Dad was going on about with all this talk of being in his body. His Dad came out with some strange things at the best of times, but this was the strangest of all of them. Still, if it was a choice between proving his dad was talking shit again and not doing that, Jack knew what he’d pick. His old man was just trying to scare him into not being lazy, that was all. 

The second Jack slipped the ring on, his head felt fuzzy. There was nothing else though, no sudden swap or anything like that. Because of course there wasn’t, Jack knew it was all bullshit. 

“Ha, how about that? Lying after all Dad, what h-”

The world lurched around Jack as his father put the other ring on. One minute he was sitting on the sofa, the next he was across the room looking back at his own smirking face. Everything felt wrong, felt heavy and hairy in all the wrong places. Worn out when he’d always felt full of energy usually. 

“Got something to say now Jack?” He heard his own body saying. “Or, maybe I should be calling you Dad now for the holidays, since we wouldn’t want anyone to know anything is amiss.”

Jack’s mouth hung open in shock. He’d really done it, his asshole of a father had actually stolen his body! “What?? What the actual fuck??” Jack looked down at the slightly chubby body of his father he now resided in. “No. No way you can do this to me Dad, I can’t be you!”

Darren stood up in his son’s younger body, feeling better than he had in 20 years. “I can and I did. I told you what would happen if you put the ring on, and it happened. Now they won’t come off until the holiday is up, so have fun being a lazy shit in my body Dad, I’m going to finally sort the house out.”

All Jack could do was stand and watch his own body saunter off past him into the kitchen. A few sounds echoed out from there as he tried to process all of this and how tired he felt all of a sudden, the clink of metal making him think his dad was probably grabbing the tool he kept under the sink. He even tried to pull the ring off, but sure as his father had said it wasn’t going to budge. He was really stuck as some fat, hairy old guy!

Meanwhile, as Jack tried to come to terms with what had happened, his father in his body was off already starting work. Already he had the motivation from his now young, fit body to get on with things, which was quite the change to his usual feelings. Many years ago a serious sporting injury had knocked him out for a while and taken him off the competitive athlete path; whilst that had led him into a very lucrative career otherwise he still regretted how he’d fallen off the sporting wagon. Now he was both young and fit again he felt wonderful, reminded of what he’d lost. 

~~~

The next few days consisted of a lot of hard work from Darren. Amed with his son’s body, he surprised himself with how fast he got everything done. He had originally expected it to take days and days, hence setting the duration to the whole holiday. Yet, after only a few days he had pretty much everything on his very long list done. Snow was cleared, the living room had been completely rearranged, as had the attic. Repairs had been made that’d been needing done for longer than he liked, and he’d even cleaned a few things he hadn’t realised needed it. 

All that left him with far more time on his hands than he’d originally planned. Days and days left when he thought he wouldn’t have any time free. So, much to his son’s annoyance Darren decided to go out. 

“See you later Dad! I’m going out for a bit, I won’t be late back!” He called before he ran out the door and left his son alone. 

Jack wanted to punch his Dad as he heard him leave, and he would’ve if it wasn’t for it being his own body. All these past few days his father had been flaunting his body as he did all the work around the house. Dressed in almost nothing so he didn’t get his son’s clothes dirty or so he claimed, reminding Jack every second the swap he’d accidentally gone through. And now he had the nerve to go out and flaunt Jack’s body as if it were his own, even still insisting on calling him Dad.

Jack hadn’t been slacking though. Far from it. He was determined to prove his old man wrong and make the best of all this, so he’d taken to working out like crazy. Pushing himself as hard as he could to prove it wasn’t the body that kept his father back, but his attitude. He’d made good progress too, surprising even himself. He’d lifted heavier and for longer than he could in his own body, and all it’d taken was pushing through the struggle and pain at the beginning.

The once nice thing about the swap was Jack could finally eat whatever he wanted without caring. It wasn't his body and his Dad had long let himself go, so besides working out hard to prove anyone could do it, Jack let himself indulge in some of the things he didn't usually eat. A strict diet kept his body in perfect shape, but since his dad’s shape was already rounder with fat than it was muscle, what was the harm? And, he had to admit that the maturity was nice. The few occasions he did have to go out to deal with something at his Dad’s job or go grocery shopping, no one treated him like some annoying delinquent kid. He wasn’t seen as a youth around to cause trouble, he was a respected member of the community.

He did get curious as the week went on though. He’d given up removing the ring, it was clear enough that was never going to happen, but he did wonder where his father had got them from. He knew his Dad had connections in his fancy business world, he’d dealt with a few of them on his Dad’s behalf these last few days, but he didn’t know where he’d actually found magical rings capable of forcing them into each other’s bodies. 

So, instead of spending every waking moment shouting at his father running around partying in his body, Jack did some digging. His son was out of the house enough sleeping his way through the city in the run up to Christmas, so he had plenty of time to search online for any sign of where something like this could be acquired.

At first, nothing. 

No amount of searching high or low online turned up any results about magical body swapping rings you could buy; a few erotic stories but nothing real. 

So he changed tactics. 

He remembered the day his father had come back home with the rings after an argument, so he tried to retrace his dad’s steps. Checked his phone, asked people his dad was friends with, anything. And there he had it. Tucked away in his dad’s apps, the last saved location his dad must have used for directions to wherever he got them from. And it was local. Within the city, right in the centre tucked away between two massive office buildings. It would have been easy for his father to slip out to the place and be back within a few hours, all under the pretence of getting coffee with this friend of his and talking business like he’d claimed before he left.

All Jack had to do now was go back there for answers.

~~~

The next day…

Darren was once again on his way out. He’d loved the past week in this younger body, and with all the free time had already got a few regular hookups from his first few days clubbing. Now he was off again to find another one; this younger body was deliciously insatiable and far better than his older one. 

“Son, can I borrow you for a minute before you go? Just something I want to check with you.” His old body’s voice came from behind him just as he’d been about to leave. 

He sighed. He was glad at least Jack had taken this so well in the last few days instead of being angry. Even joined in on Darren’s plan to refer to each other as father and son on the off chance they had guests over or went out anywhere together so they didn’t slip. As much as he was eager to get going and find someone else to fuck, he could at least have a five minute chat. Besides, if it was yet another question about his job he’d need to answer it.

He turned and smiled at his son in his old body, one he wasn’t finding himself missing in the slightest. “What is it Dad?”

Jack returned the smile, but it wasn’t a kind one. “You see, I went back to that little shop you bought these rings from.”

Darren’s eyes widened in panic knowing his son had found the place, which just made Jack smirk. 

“Left the location in your google maps, didn’t think I’d look and see? Anyway, I went back there. Had a lovely chat with the old woman behind the counter, who told me all about these rings. And you know what she said? Swapping bodies is just a side effect of their main purpose. They can do far, far more than that.”

Darren went white as a sheet. He’d been galavanting off flaunting his new body and living it up, all without a care for how he’d stolen his son’s body and was rubbing it in. Now that brashness was coming back to bite him in the ass. Only, he had no idea how badly. He hadn’t bothered to ask about them or even pay the shopkeeper much attention, just dropped a large sum of money for two rings that would do the job he wanted. Now, as he’d been on the way to yet another random hookup, he’d been cornered.

“What… What can they do?” He gulped.

Jack smirked. “Why don’t I show you instead of explaining it? I’ll warn you though, you’ll have to cancel your hookup…”“W-Wait, you don’t have t-” Darren started, but it was too late. Jack had already done something to his ring that made the matching one on his finger burn hot.

Darren looked up from his finger, only to watch in horror as his own fat body seemed to shed the weight it’s carried in seconds. The body he’d rid himself off by swapping with his son, the one he’d been secretly hoping he’d never have to be back in, starting to change before his very eyes. Gone was the round belly, gone were the flabby arms and sagging chest. Gone even were some of the greying hairs in his beard and the more worn lines of age that’d developed. 

Instead, a beast of a man was emerging. 

Ripped all over, the kind of muscle you only got from a lifetime of dedication. It was the type of body his son Jack would have grown into when he reached Darren’s age if he kept up the same gym routine and they hadn’t been all swapped around. It was no less old either, instead looked like an older man that actually knew how to take care of himself. Ate right, took care of his skin, kept his hair and beard well groomed. What made him look even bigger though Darren realised was just how close they’d got and-

“Wait, when did I get over here??” Darren said when he found himself standing in front of his old body, their ringed hands clasped together.

Jack pulled a cheeky looking innocent expression. He knew exactly what was going on, but he wasn’t going to say. The pair were merging together, the younger body that had once belonged to Jack being consumed to mould the older one into its perfect potential state. Soon enough there would only be one person living in this house, one perfectly handsome older man instead of a fat old guy and his son.

Instead of letting any of that on though, Jack watched as his father’s panic only grew. He tried to pull away, but that only brought the pair closer and closer together. Jack’s older body was becoming a far more muscular and ruggedly handsome version of what it had once been; its potential finally unlocked. Jack wouldn’t miss his old body, not in the long run, it’d be gone and his father with it to make all these improvements, but it was so worth it.

Darren found himself getting closer and closer as his son’s body towered over him more and more, all until he felt himself slip away completely. He hadn’t noticed his body fading and shrinking in his panic watching his old body change, and now he had it was far too late. Because he didn’t have a body anymore he realised. Somehow in the shuffle his body had vanished, yet he could still hear and see and feel the sight of Jack’s older body as if he’d been kneeling in front of it.

“Alright in there Dad?” Jack’s voice came from somewhere above before Darren felt an entire hand wrapping around his being. “You can’t talk, I know, so you’ll have to sit in my balls and listen to me, alright?”

“You see Dad, I’ve learned a thing or two since being forced into your body.” Jack said from his new mature, ripped body as he ran his hands over it. “I’ve learned that being a slightly older man isn’t so bad, especially when it’s one that comes with so much money. I’ve learned that you were an asshole for stealing my body from me and trying to pass it off as your own, so I’m doing one better.” He gave his large balls a squeeze, knowing what remained of his father’s consciousness was stored away in there. “So I’m taking your life with a few upgrades. You never had a kid you got stuck with, not as far as this new you is concerned. I’m a single bachelor, a Daddy that’s going to have boys and girls alike falling at his feet.”

Jack glanced down at the interlinked rings on his finger. Two halves of a whole, he didn’t know how he hadn’t seen it before. He grabbed it, took a breath, then pulled them both off and dropped it on the coffee table with a soft clatter of metal against glass. 

“Maybe I’ll have a kid one day when I feel like settling down Dad, but until then you can watch me show you what your life could have been.” Jack, now officially his father Darren, grinned. He was going to make the absolute most of his new life as Darren.

[rendy-a]

Meant to Be

Someone liked this old post I reblogged from @writingforatwistedworld today and it brought this writing prompt back to my attention.  This was such a cool idea, and since Veil has chosen not to write it, I thought I’d visit the idea with my own spin.

Confusion was the only thought you were able to summon in your head.  You remembered lights and sounds.  Honking maybe?  And now you were just barely conscious of lying on the ground with your head spinning.  What exactly happened?

Your head feels like it is splitting but somehow voices are beginning to come though.  “Coach, I think they are waking up!” a black-haired boy says as he kneels beside you, hovering over you protectively.  Were you at school?  You can’t remember.  Nor can you immediately place the boy who is so concerned about you.  He is speaking to you but it’s too hard to focus.  All you can do is notice the guilty look in his eyes and wonder what he did.  Suddenly, he stops speaking and looks across your body towards the field beside you.  You turn your head curiously and follow his gaze to see a red-haired boy running towards you at top speed.  Something about this tickles your memory.  You look again at the black-haired boy and notice a strange marking you hadn’t been able to bring into focus before.  It looked like a spade from a playing card.  Then you looked back at the boy coming closer and closer to your location.  Suddenly, you had it.  It was impossible, yet you couldn’t shake the feeling that you’d miraculously transported yourself into one of your favorite phone games; Twisted Wonderland. 

As sort of a test, you hesitantly spoke, “Deuce?”  The black-haired boy, Deuce, looks at you and you think him on the edge of tears.  “Thank Sevens!” he whispers as rubs your arm comfortingly.  The red-haired boy slides the last distance to reach your side in an anxious kneel.  “Ace?” you confirm groggily.  Ace looks at you with what you feel is fear in his eyes, and when he speaks, it is towards Deuce.  “Just what were you thinking?  You know the Prefect doesn’t have magic!”  Deuce looks away, it is certainly guilt on his face.  “I didn’t mean to throw it that hard.”  Ace scowls at Deuce and shouts, “Well you did and see what a mess you’ve made!”  You force yourself to a sitting position and wave Ace down.  “I’m fine, I’m fine.”  Then, still feeling a bit woozy, you amend, “Well, I think I’m GOING to be fine.”

Ace looks at you with concern and says, “I’m taking you to the nurse’s office.  Right now.”  Deuce intervenes, “I’ll do it.  It was my fault for throwing that disk so hard.”  Ace appears ready to retort angrily, so you wave them both away.  “I’ll go myself.  Or you can both come with.  We’re all buddies here, right?”  You watch them cautiously to confirm that this is the case.  After all, you weren’t pulled into a game every day.  Who knows what might be different.  Deuce answers you right away in a relieved affirmative while Ace only frowns mildly.  “Ok, but if you feel bad at all, I’m carrying you.  No complaints.”  You give him a shaky smile and let them guide you to the nurse’s office. 

It’s a little embarrassing, but there is so much that you don’t know about Night Raven College, that you end up claiming selective amnesia from the impact.  Your professors appear suspicious, but no one can offer an alternative reason for why you’ve forgotten so many simple things, like the layout of the school, while retaining such vivid memories of other experiences, like Riddle’s overbot incident.  So ultimately, they accept this odd explanation from you and assign your friends Ace and Deuce to once again play your guide at NRC.  The cast slowly re-introduce themselves to you.  Some find it remarkable and others unbelievable.  Idia finds it amusing, “Khee he he.  This is just like the plot of the manga Ramen Shop Summer where the protagonist gets in an accident in gym and forgets their crush!  But then they end up working together over the summer in a ramen shop, and Boom Badda Bing, romance!”  Then he shyly adds, “Maybe you’ll have your own summertime romance.  All the tropes are right for it.”  You chuckle with him but privately think, ‘If only you knew.’

A few days later at lunch, you were sitting at a table and rubbing your bandaged head softly while eating the sad sandwich you’d been able to cobble together with the junk in the fridge back at Ramshackle when your friends slam a plate down on either side of you, “Here Prefect, eat this,” and “I got something special for you,” come out of their mouths at the same time.  You look up at them surprised.  Deuce looks at your hand on your head and adds in a soft voice, “I feel bad for what I did so I thought this would help make up for it.”  Ace scoffs and interjects, “I know what the Prefect likes best.  Don’t worry about it and let them eat mine.”  You look at Ace’s plate and somehow, he is right, he has gathered one of your favorites to eat.  “Actually, this looks pretty good.”  Then you turn and reassure Deuce, “I appreciate the offer too, but you don’t have to feel bad.  I know it was an accident.”  They both seem happy at the outcome, and you enjoy a nice lunch.

As you are leaving the lunchroom, you pass a floating tablet (Idia you know), and it surprisingly speaks to you. “It’s just like my manga,” Idia comments.  You turn and look at the tablet quizzically and it prompts him to continue, “If this was a story, that would be a flag event between the Male Lead and Second Male Lead for your affection.”  You stumble over your reply, “But..but it isn’t a manga.”  The unsettling, “Kwee he he,” that emerges follows you all the way to your next special lesson. 

You were used to thinking of special lessons as when Crowley randomly shows up to class and everyone suddenly finds the motivation to pay attention, but apparently, this was a Very Special Lesson that they wouldn’t give the students any prior details on.  The older students seemed to know what it was about as the first year’s had gotten several secretive smiles and leading comments.  Rook passes you right before you enter and remarks with an expression both sly and amused, “It is a fine day for fate, is it not Prefect?”  You look at him puzzled as he continues past you to class, and you shrug as you enter the room and sit beside your friends.  Ace scowls and remarks, “They’ve been doing that all day and it’s getting on my nerves.”  Deuce is fidgeting more than usual, and you raise an eyebrow as thought to ask what’s up.  “What if it’s a test?” he asks nervously before flipping open a notebook.  “A little late to study then,” Ace scoffs before looking at you out of the corner of his eye.  “Don’t worry, you’ll be fine.  I’m sure it won’t be a test.”  You smile at his gesture.  Tests haven’t been easy for you these past weeks as you’ve not actually studied any of the curriculum for the classes. 

When Crewel stomps into class and sets a crate of potions on the desk, it startles you out of your thoughts.  You hear gasps from around the class and realize that most students seem to understand what is happening.  It is only you in the dark.  Then the Professor smiles slyly and declares, “It’s Matching Day.”  An eruption of conversation spreads across the room and Professor Crewel, appearing as excited as the students, surprisingly allows it.  ‘I can’t believe its today!’ and ‘I wonder if I’ll meet my pair!’ reach your ears.  You turn to Ace and find him looking at you with an expression you just can’t place.  You nod towards the Professor and ask, “You know what this is about?”  He looks at you startled, “You don’t know?  Its Matching day?”  When you shrug and continue to look at him with questions in your eyes he goes on.  “You know, the day you can take the potion to manifest your red string and try to find your Soulmate.  Matching Day!” 

It hits you suddenly like a blow.  ‘My god,’ you think, ‘This isn’t TWST at all.  Idia was right, there are too many tropes in this story.  I’m in someone’s Fanfic!  This is a damn Soulmate AU story!’  You weren’t sure what to say, but luckily, Professor Crewel had decided he’s allowed the pups to misbehave enough and cracked his whip over his gloved hand, “Settle down you mutts.  Good pups need to know how to behave properly if they are going to impress their mate!”  Silence is quickly restored as the excited students obediently wait for the Professor to continue.  “Come up when I call your name.  I don’t think I should have to explain, but just in case, let me remind you what you can expect.  When you drink the potion, you’ll feel a tug on your heart as your soul manifests your bond to your Soulmate.  After that, you’ll be able to see your red string in the general area of your pinky finger.”  A groan comes from an over-excited student, “We know, we know.” 

Crewel doesn’t take the interruption well this time and cracks his whip again, “STAY!  Pups need to learn to take instruction before receiving a treat!”  The student bashfully looks away and Crewel continues, “Remember to not get your hopes up.  It is very rare to find your Soulmate the first day you take your potion.”  This sobering comment seems to bring down the mood of the students.  Crewel smiles more gently at the students he’s fondly guided, “But be happy you are proud students of Night Raven College.  Many mages find they have Soulmates who are also proficient in magic, so your chances of meeting your Soulmate while in school here are raised.”  You turn to see how your friends are taking this news.  Deuce is looking intently at his hands, as though he will find his courage in the focus.  Ace is only looking at you, again with a look you just can’t read.

“Now, come to the front of the room as I call your name,” Crewel instructs.  It appears the students are being called alphabetically.  You wonder when you might be called as you don’t recall “Yuu” having a last name.  You focus a long time, making sure you don’t miss it but before your turn, your friend gets called.  “Deuce Spade!” Crewel summons loudly.  Deuce gulps beside you and stands suddenly.  Then he holds his hand up as though trying to fire himself up and marches determinedly to claim his potion.  He drinks it down and you wait with interest to see how Deuce would react.  You’d seen several others take the potion at this point, but this wasn’t just some NPC, it was your friend.  He concentrates nervously for several seconds before gasping and grabbing his chest.  Then he looks down at his hand and makes a sound between a sigh and a laugh.  “There it is!” he says and looks out the door where the string must lead.  Then he laughs again and looks toward where you and Ace sit with a smile and makes his ‘honor student’ pose.  You give him a thumbs up and pat his back as he rejoins you.

You want to ask him what it was like but the next name, “Ace Trappola!” breaks your concentration.  You hadn’t realized your other friend would get his turn so soon after.  You turn to Ace and give him an encouraging smile.  Ace looks deep into your eyes for a long moment before giving you a mischievous grin, “Wish me luck, Prefect!”  You give him an excited smile and some jazz hands to cheer him on and he goes happily to the front of the class.  You watch as he takes the potion and waits in a quiet meditation before he makes a gasp and grasps at something that only he can see.  Then he looks up and smiles over in your direction happily, “I knew it!” he laughs happily.  He returns to his seat with a bounce in his step and you look at him eagerly.  “Was it cool?” you ask.  He smiles at you, “It was the coolest thing ever.”  You have a million questions that come to mind, but you ask none of them as Deuce taps you on the shoulder.  You turn to look at him and he nervously tells you, “Prefect, it’s your turn.”

You look up at Professor Crewel who seems none too pleased to have you ignore his summons.  Great.  Somehow, you’d missed your turn being called and garnered his ire.  You gulp and stand to answer his summons.  When you grasp the potion, a question occurs to you and you ask, “Will this work for me?”  Professor Crewel smiles at your worry, “Not to worry, Prefect, even people without magic have Soulmates.”  It was more that you wondered if people from other worlds had Soulmates but you figured that wasn’t a conversation to have right now.  So, you smile at him as though satisfied with his response and drink the potion down.

At first it was nothing but bubbly in your stomach and then you felt giddy.  Like a drunkenness that had nothing to do with alcohol which rose from your stomach to take hold of your whole body.  Your heart beat faster and faster until you feel as alert as though you were running for your life.  Then, it was gone.  Mostly gone.  A tiny tingle remained, and you followed the sensation down to see the bright red string wound around your pinky.  It really worked. 

You looked toward your friends, wanting to share the moment with them and felt the weight of Ace’s gaze.  He was looking at you so intently it was startling.  You couldn’t break eye contact for a moment.  Then you felt a small tug and looked down at your finger.  The red string was tugging slightly, as though wanting you to follow it.  You didn’t have far to go.  You raised your eyes and found Ace holding his red string in his hand and you knew it connected to your own.  Well, that did make sense in a way.  If this was a TWST fanfic, your Soulmate had to be a member of the main case.  And now you knew, it was Ace.  You looked at Ace clutching the red string and thought that he held it like it was a lifeline, something he couldn’t live with if he let go.  Well, that was silly.  You were right here.  Perhaps it was due to the plot of the story, but you suddenly felt like you couldn’t bear to see him worried like that.

You went to him and stood in front of him, “So, you and me, huh?”  He looked up at you and said in a chocked voice, “Yeah, you and me.”  A clapping sound comes from behind you and then all around.  You are embarrassed to find that all your classmates are celebrating your union with Ace.  “What a fine surprise,” Professor Crewel says with a smile.  You don’t know what to do but Ace has no such qualms.  He grabs onto you and pulls you into a side hug with one arm will giving a V with his other hand.  You bashfully wind your arm around him and repeat the gesture yourself.  It seems like you’ve really fallen into the perfect romance fantasy.

The transition from friend to significant other was jarring but anytime you felt unsure about your new ties to Ace, you had only to look at him to feel reassured.  He was always holding the red string.  It was cute in a way, as though he thought about you so often, he had to hold onto the string to remind himself you were there with him in spirit.  You still felt safe seeing the string in his hand back then.

Why is Crowley always at the start of all your problems?  On a late spring day, the headmaster summoned you to his office.  You found it was never good news when he did this, and this time would prove no exception.  “Ah Prefect, how lovely to see you today,” he began carefully, as though sizing up how big a fuss you would kick up this time.  You hummed at him in a noncommittal way.  “Indeed,” he acknowledges your evasion and gets right into his secret business.  “I was wondering what you planned to do over Summer Break.”  You look at him deadpan, “Not do chores for you.”  He huffs at you in pretend amusement, “Ah HA ha.  Uh-hem.  That is to say, where do you plan to go while the campus is closed?”  Now this was actually news to you.  “What do you mean closed?  I’ll just stay here like I did over Winter Break.”  Crowley turns, unable to meet your eye, “Ah-HA hem, its just that we do the annual fumigation over summer so we need all living residents to be off-campus.”  Then much quieter, “The insurance wouldn’t allow it…I checked.”

You left the office not certain which was worse, that the headmaster actually considered leaving you in a poisoned campus over break or the fact that you suddenly had no where to go.  You walked lost in thought, mechanically headed to lunch when you hit something solid, and a hush fell over the room.  You felt a moment of worry until you looked up and into the quizzical face of Malleus and smiled.  This might seem like a dangerous occurrence to the random students around you, but it was nothing alarming to you.  “Hi there Hornton,” you warmly greet your fae friend.  He puts a finger to his chin and ponders to himself, “You seem quite distracted today, Prefect.  Is anything the matter?”  Happy to have someone to discuss it with, you give him a run-down on your situation.  “And so, I just have no idea where I’m going to go!” you finish in a flurry.  “Hmm,” Malleus hums in consideration, “That is a quandary.  I’d invite you to join me in Briar Valley but unfortunately Lilia has decided we are to take a, how do you call it, road trip this break.”  You can practically hear the air quotes in his voice as he says, ‘road trip.’

You give your friend a small understanding smile, “I get it.  I’m fine.  I just need to figure this out.  I’ll find what I’m looking for, I’m sure.”  This seems to perk your friend up, “Why yes, that might work.”  Then he saunters to a nearby table and picks up a vile of liquid.  You weren’t sure if this was part of someone’s lunch or classwork.  Sometimes it was like that at magic school.  As Malleus holds the vile, a green magic seeps from his fingers to engulf it and the liquid inside boils ominously.  Then the magic fades and the boiling stops.  He hands you the vile and instructs, “I will bestow a boon upon you.  Pour this tincture upon a mirror and the knowledge you need will be summoned forth.”  Great.  This was even better than posting an ad online.  You thank Malleus and give him a grateful smile. 

That is when you feel an arm slip over your shoulder and Ace appears at your side, “Say Prefect, what is going on here?”  You merely gesture as thought to say, ‘I’m talking to Malleus.’  Ace gives your friend a look that is downright insolent and you mentally scoff that only your Ace would be so bold as to have such an attitude with Malleus Draconia.  “Thanks for your help,” you offer your friend to give him an easy way to end the conversation.  Regardless of Malleus’s wishes, Ace jumps in and distracts you easily, “Hey Prefect, I heard you can’t stay over break this year.”  It’s a relief to talk it out with another person and you turn to tell your beau all about the chat in Crowley’s office.  By the time you pause to take a breath, Malleus has departed unnoticed.  You grip the flask, resolving to thank him more earnestly later, and slip it in your pocket.  Then you let Ace lead you away to your next class.  He obliges you by listening to all your complaints and agreeing in all the right places.  Not that it solved the issue at all, but it did make you feel better to have someone fully on your side to complain to.

After class, you automatically hold out your hand to walk with Ace to the alchemy lab, but he asks you to go on ahead instead.  It’s an unusual request but the mystery is cleared up before Professor Crewel arrives to begin your lesson.  “Hey Prefect, great news!” Ace shouts as he slips into the seat next to you, “I called my mom, and she says I can bring you home with me over break!”  At first, all you feel is the pressure being lifted.  Then comes the guilt.  “Are you sure I wouldn’t be intruding?” you ask nervously.  “Nah,” Ace assures you, “Mom already knows about this.”  Then he holds up his hand where he is gripping the red string, “So it was easy to convince her.”  Then he gives you a mischievous smile, “Plus my bro has been away since he graduated, and I think Mom is getting lonely.  Won’t you come cheer up a poor lonely old woman, Prefect?” Ace says in mock sadness.  You swat him, smiling and chide, “Don’t talk about my future mother-in-law that way.”  Then you both laugh. 

Things seemed to finally be going smoothly, but of course, that couldn’t last.  The alchemy lesson had barely started when Headmaster Crowley arrives by bursting in through the skylight.  He was just as extra in-person as he was in game.  You chuckle to yourself as the rest of the class appears to become hyper-focused on the lesson.  Then, right before leaving, Crowley stops in front of your caldron and remarks, “Ah Prefect, will you stop by my office after your lesson?”  Ace leans in as Crowley retreats and whispers, “What is that about?”  You can only shake your head, “I have no idea.  Want to come with and find out?”  Ace gives the thread a stroke with his thumb, “Of course.  I can’t let a troublemaker like you out of my sight.”  You laugh at his joke and pat his arm, thankful for his backup.  You are sure you will need it.

When you and Ace arrive in the headmaster’s office, he looks up from his desk and lets out a squawk of surprise, “Ah!  Trappola, uh, I was not expecting you to be here as well.”  You feel like you’ve made the right choice in bringing him along.  “So, Headmaster, what’s this business you have with me?”  He looks away, avoiding your eye.  “Well, that.  So, you see…it turns out that our contract for the fumigation this summer does not include covering important school property with protective sheets.  Can you believe that!  Ah-hem, anyway, I’m going to have to ask you to stay until after the rest of the students have departed and cover the furniture in the classrooms before you go.”  The response from your boyfriend is immediate, “No.”  You pull back a smile you feel forming on your lips, “Well, there you have it.  I also have made plans for break, since you have so cruelly abandoned me.”  You can see the gears in his head turning as he thinks over the situation.

“Well,” you comment over your shoulder as you shake out a sheet over a cauldron, “At least he is paying us both to do this.  Thanks for keeping me company.”  Ace grins at you, “I can’t abandon my darling Prefect to be all by their lonesome right before a family trip!”  Then he sheepishly adds, “Plus I can use some extra pocket money to buy you a treat when we are back home.”  A family trip.  It had a nice sound to it.  You hum as you continue covering cauldrons with the large tablecloths Crowely had supplied.  “There,” you say and clap your hands once for emphasis, “That is the last one.  And…I think that is all the alchemy rooms.”  Ace gets a thinking expression, “Ah…so that leaves the elective rooms in the Senior’s tower and the botanical gardens.”  You shrug, “Wanna split them?”  Ace nods and you agree to cover the worktables in the botanical gardens while Ace climbs the tower to handle the senior’s classrooms. 

There are far fewer tables in the botanical gardens, so while it was a hike to get there, you finished fairly quickly.  When you add that to the fact that the mirror chamber was nearby, it didn’t surprise you that you arrived ahead of Ace.  Your small bag of clothes sat in the corner, ready to be taken through the mirror to the Queendom of Roses with Ace.  Until then, you had nothing to do here.  You circle the room, looking into the various mysterious mirrors.  Make a few faces and poses to pass time.  It was so boring.  You turn out your pockets, just looking for something to occupy your time and find two items inside.  One is the vial Malleus had given you to help you find a place for Summer Break.  The other was a candy wrapper.  You frown as you look at it.  This wrapper was left over from a candy you had on you when you arrived in Twisted Wonderland; one of the last ties to your old world that remained.  You haven’t thought about the old world for a while now.  Not since before you’d found your Soulmate.  Now, a feeling of melancholy washes over you.  Why had you stopped looking for a way home?  You didn’t even remember consciously giving up on that dream.

You hold the vial and consider it carefully.  What exactly had Malleus said this did?  Something about helping you find what you needed when you poured it on a mirror?  Well, there were plenty of mirrors available and you had time to kill.  Maybe, if you poured the potion, it would give you a clue on how you could return home someday.  You walked to the nearest mirror and uncorked the bottle.  The liquid flowed slowly out of the container as though it was molasses.  When it touched the mirror, it seemed to slip inside until a glossy shimmer coated the surface.  It rippled and you were aware that there were words to be seen inside.  You leaned closer and read the message.  Then you read it again.  And again.  By the fourth time, you were shaking so badly you could no longer read it.  It wasn’t a way to get home.  It was the summary of the fanfiction you were in. 

---

The Chain That Binds

When the Prefect of Ramshackle dorm is invited home with their Soulmate to visit the family, they never suspect the plan Ace has in store for them.  Sometimes the chain that binds you to a partner also binds you to a darker fate. 

TW Yandere, TW Imprisonment, TW Kidnapping

---

Just what kind of sick story was this? 

A click sounds behind you as the door closes.  Never had you heard a sound so ominous.  “Something wrong, Prefect?” Ace says carefully.  You notice he is gripping the string of fate tightly.  It no longer felt comforting but more like the hold a master would have on a dog’s leash.  “You seem kind of agitated.”  You try to downplay it, “Oh no, its nothing.”  He tilts his head, attempting to see past you and into the mirror.  You sidestep to make sure the view was blocked.  He gives you a cold smile, “Are you sure because I can feel your fear through the bond.”  You meet his eye for a moment and then bolt.  Ace is so much faster than you that you never had a real chance.  You scream out for help and Ace laughs and shouts with you, “Help! Help!”  You look at him in horror.  “Who do you think is left here to hear you, Prefect?  Its only us now.”  Then he pulls out his magic pen and casts a binding spell on you. 

You can only lay limply as Ace steps over to the mirror and reads what is inside.  “Hmm,” He finally says, “I don’t know where you get these ideas from, but I don’t think they are healthy for you.  You should stop consorting with people who put these things into your mind.  I’ll talk to my mom when we get home.  I’m sure she wouldn’t mind if you stayed there instead of coming back to school.  That will take care of all these intrusive thoughts you have.”  His grip on the red string was so tight that you were beginning to feel it like a phantom pain in your heart.  “Don’t worry about a thing, Prefect.  I’m going to take care of you.  I know what you need,” then he turns and looks coldly into your eyes, “you were made just for me after all.  You’re supposed to be mine alone.”

Then as you struggle against your bonds, he lifts you up over his shoulder and drags you and your belongings to the central mirror.  He gives the mirror the destination as you take one final look at the place you’d considered your second home.  Then Ace carries you over the threshold of the mirror into the beyond. Unfortunately for you, this wasn’t the ending.  Your story was just beginning. 

[dyaz-stories]

how long will I slide? || Eun Hyuk x Reader

word count: 1.4k

warnings & tags: angst, big spoilers for s1 of sweet home, that should be it?

A/N: Written for day one of @neohumanmonster's fandom event, Turning a New Leaf. Prompt: The Other Side. He's the one I had an idea for for that theme, but I actually haven't watched s1 of Sweet Home in a couple of years, so I hope this feels in character for Eun Hyuk, and that it's not too incoherent for the setting of s1!

Eun Hyuk has eyes everywhere in the Green House apartment building — as much as he possibly can, at least. He’s used to studying efficiently,to taking as much information from a page as possible in a single glance. He’d never thought his abilities would be used in that way. That he’d end up sitting in front of footage coming from surveillance cameras, making sure not to let anything go unnoticed, because that would be the best way for him to be helpful to the people around him.

Oh, he doesn’t just do that. He’s taken up most of the tasks that require organization, wouldn’t trust others with it, if he’s being honest, but this is where he spends the bulk of his days. In front of a screen. Staring. His books forgotten and gathering dust in a corner of the room.

He doesn’t get distracted. If his eyes linger when you appear in front of ones of the cameras, it’s just because you’ve been vocal about thinking that other solutions were needed, and he doesn’t want you to endanger everyone by trying to put one of them in action. That’s all there is to it. He doesn’t have time for anything else anyway.

So when one of his screens flickers, he notices immediately. His mind starts running through the possibilities as he leans toward it, all of them bad. Any kind of system failure would be disastrous. Loss of electricity would be close to a death sentence. A camera being destroyed could mean that the monsters are getting better at finding them, smarter, which would mean they’re evolving.

And the last possibility, that he’s having a hallucination because his monsterization symptoms are progressing…

Well, he coldly evaluates, it would depend. Maybe it wouldn’t be that bad, if the residents could evacuate before he loses control completely.

When the screen lights back on, and he’s met with his own eerily smiling face and eyes gone completely black, he’s almost relieved.

Good, he thinks. I’ll be able to help as long as the cameras work.

“Will you?” his other self asks as it spreads to the other screens like a virus, voice coming out like a screech through the speakers. “Are you sure you’re helping them?”

He supposes it shouldn’t surprise him that the monster knows how to get under his skin, and yet he sits straighter at the question.

“Of course I am. Without me—”

“Maybe if they’d run when they wanted to, most of them would be safe right now,” the monster says, admitting out loud a fear that’s been eating at Eun Hyuk since the very start of this forced confinement. “Maybe you’re killing them by making them stay here. And really…” It laughs, high-pitched and maniacal. “Using that kid when you’d never have the guts to step out there by yourself?”

“I would,” Eun Hyuk protests, even if he’s aware that there is no actual argument happening here. “But I’m not the same kind of infected person as him. And I’m doing my part here. It’s not like…”

“Like you’re sending a kid out to be tortured only so he can be ostracized here? Sure looks like it.”

“It’s not,” Eun Hyuk repeats, weaker this time.

The monster opens its mouth to speak once more, when there is a soft knock on the door.

“Eun Hyuk?”

It’s you, and the monster’s face lights up as Eun Hyuk’s heart rate picks up.

Out of fear, surely. He doesn’t want you to know about his issues.

“Well how about that?” The monster practically purrs. “The thing you won’t let yourself have. Won’t even admit how badly you want—”

Eun Hyuk’s not really thinking when he picks up one of his notebooks to throw it at the screen. It bounces without any effect, of course, and the monsters starts laughing once more, until that’s all Eun Hyuk can hear, while it gets louder and louder and louder and—

The door opens behind him.

“You weren’t answering—”

“Don’t—”

You freeze in the entrance.

“Don’t what?”

He knows before turning around. Of course he does. Rational, human him is deeply aware that there is no way for you to see the things that his mind is creating.

“…come in before I tell you it’s okay,” he finishes with an even voice. “If you see something you shouldn’t, I don’t want to have to deal with everyone else’s panic.”

You click your tongue at him, and he immediately hates himself for saying it. He doesn’t even mean it. You clearly have everyone’s best interests at heart, even if you believe in a very different way of handling people than he does.

“Well, I just noticed you hadn’t eaten your share yesterday,” you say, and it stings that your tone is biting, particularly when he knows how soft-spoken you can be with others. “I was bringing you something to eat.”

“You should let someone else—”

“You can’t let yourself go weak,” you reply, pushing the food in his hands and folding your arms over your chest. “You know how much people rely on you here. We may not see eye to eye, but the last thing they need is to start worrying about you and thinking you’re not able to lead them anymore.” There’s a second of silence before you add, almost as if you can’t help yourself “Also, you know I already think these rations are too small. You really shouldn’t go a day without eating at least that.”

 He glances down at what you brought. True, it’s meager, and yet he feels a smile forming as he looks at it, at the acknowledgement that you were worried about him, even if you didn’t phrase it that way.

“Thank you,” he says.

And just like that, you soften. There’s part of him that finds it ridiculous, how you’ve given him a million second chances, how he’s let you down every time, and how you keep affording them to him still. The other one is so, so infinitely thankful for your kindness.

“Are you okay?” you ask.

He sighs.

“As okay as I can be,” he answers, pushing his glasses higher on the bridge of his nose. “I don’t think anyone is doing good.”

You nod gravely, then brush your hands over your jeans.

“Alright. Well then, I’ll leave you to—”

His hand shoots out to grab your wrist before he can hold it back and before you get too far away. You turn around to look at him, surprised and a little confused.

“Can you— would you mind eating with me?”

He could justify himself. Tell you he doesn’t like eating alone, even if he’s been doing it since his parents died, tell you he needs another set of eyes on the screen while he’s eating, tell you he needs to talk to you about one of the residents. He doesn’t, though. You read him a little too well, could probably tell that he’s lying. And he hopes that, with that big heart of yours, you’ll just…

“Sure,” you answer.

You grab a chair, pull it so you can sit facing him. As you sit down, your knees brush against his. The gesture feels surprisingly comfortable, in a way that he hopes doesn’t bring too much color to his cheeks.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“It gets lonely in here,” he answers, which technically isn’t a lie.

There’s a wrinkle on your forehead as you study him, one that forms whenever you’re concerned.

He’s more used to seeing the one between your eyebrows directed at him, the one that’s there when you’re annoyed.

“You can always ask me to keep you company,” you say, and his heart skips a beat. He’s sure you didn’t mean it like that, tries to pretend that it’s the monster that stirs his mind in that direction, but he knows, deep down, that that’s not the truth. That he’s actually desperate to know that someone like you could see value in someone like him.

But the truth is, if anything, you see value in everyone but him.

It doesn’t matter that you’re looking at him with these eyes, that you’re sitting with him, that you brought him food. You’re kind. You’d do that for just anyone.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he tells you flatly once he’s gotten himself back under control. “Thank you for doing that.” Then, after a moment, “Anything I should know about what’s going on out there?”

You start answering, soft voice describing all sorts of meaningless details that you’ve noticed and apparently care about. Eun Hyuk keeps his back to the cameras. He still sees, from the corner of his eye, the monster taunting him. But as long as you’re here, so real, so soft, so human, he knows he can resist its pull.

Too bad he doesn’t know how long you’ll stick around for him.

first time writing for eun hyuk and it was quite interesting to do! also i think i need to try my hand at writing him before s3 comes out lol. i hope you enjoyed it! reblogs and comments are strongly appreciated and keep me motivated and writing :)

more writing for sweet home