#one foot away from going into his usual fetal position

[kathaynesart]

A sketch of Replica Leo immediately after his EPF Interview in this scene, but before being reunited with his brothers here. I hope to dive more into the fallout of such a defining moment in Leo's young life and how it would go on to affect him once I get my Patreon up. In the meantime. Enjoy the little angsty sneak peek.

[thatonewatching]

John Doe headcanons

⬆️ That fella up there

(Canon: Bisexual, Fluid-Nonbinary, 20-40, 'Regular Guy' is his species, always messy hair, hair can move on its own, pupils expand when excited, tongue is a cute heart shape, too many teeth, his teeth aren't dirty, just naturally yellow, scars aren't because he's 'sad', doesn't know how to wear his jacket right, 112 pounds, 4 fingers on each hand, three toes on each foot, 5'8, tongue is very long, naturally black nails, shirt changes every time you look at him, has eyelids and chooses when he blinks, body has a clay-like texture, he doesn't have any organs but can for them if he or you chooses, and he has a hard time closing his, mouth fully.) All of that is canon, and I'm referencing the canon ref sheet from the actual creator of the game. You can find it on the John Doe Wiki. <3

He can't seem to get the hang of technology. No matter how many times you explain what to press and click and download, he didn't seem to be interested. Not until he found out that he could contact you through it, that is.

He immediately tried to understand it after finding out he could talk to you while you were away, instead of following you to work. That's not going to stop anytime soon, though. He just can't handle you being away!

Purrs, kind of. Like if he's happy or something, or just feels positive in general. Curls up when he sleeps, always in the fetal position when he sleeps, as weird and uncomfortable as it may seem.

He likes animals but won't get any because he feelsit'll take some attention off of him, and we can't have that, can we? No. Prefers animals like rats and snakes because they fascinate him. Doesn't understand their 'workings' as he says.

Doesn't need to blink. He doesn't have the need to wet his eyes, considering that they're for show. Sleeping, as well. Doesn't feel the need to sleep, but he learned how, in his own way. It's not sleeping, exactly. It's more of a state of tranquility and peace. The first time you fell asleep, he thought you died, never having seen a being sleep. He understands now, though, so it's all right.

His hair is very weird. Sometimes it's soft, fluffy, and sometimes stiff and matted. He sheds a lot. It doesn't matter what he's done or is doing, his hair gets everywhere. He's not allowed near the food when you're cooking, because you don't want hair for dinner. He says it adds flavor, seeing it as a way to be closer to one another.

Likes piercings. He enjoys the thought of having needles go through his skin to add element to his body, but not vice versa. Refuses to think about you getting hurt, even if you assure him it's fine. Will not allow anyone, including yourself, to hurt you.

Likes fire. It makes his clay-like skin hardened, rather than how doughy it usually feels. Unlike fire, he hates water. Makes him all gooey and slimy, and he doesn't like that. Wants to feel solid-it's better for hugs.

Speaking of hugs, he is practically attached at the hip. Always has some part of him on you and vice versa. Whether it be holding hands, a finger through your belt loop, or just a hand in your back pocket, he's content. If physical touch isn't your thing, then he'll tell you how much he adores you. You don't like words of affirmation? No problem! He'll do anything you need him to! Feel bad for him doing so much? Spend some time together! Whether it be watching a movie, cuddling, cooking (even though he sheds and doesn't know how to cook in the slightest), or even just being around each other, doing your own things. Need your space? Don't have to tell him twice! He'll get you some gifts. You said you wanted something three years ago? Done. Any physical item or thing he can provide to you will be provided. Long story short, he'll do whatever you want.

Wears a lot of different types of clothes. Skirts, pants, crop tops, shorts, whatever. One thing he doesn't love is jeans. He'll wear them, but he prefers sweats or skirts. Can't deal with the feeling of scratchy clothes. Will literally chew them up and throw them away. Speaking of clothes, he steals yours. Especially if they're dirty or need to be washed. Wears them until you take them for the wash. Gets sad when you take them.

His voice cracks occasionally, and he gets so upset about it. Will take a deep 'breath', or the closest thing he does to breathing, and says the sentence again. He doesn't like when it happens and stops talking until you force him if it happens a lot that day.

The first time that you told him you loved him, he wanted to cry, even though he can't and doesn't fully understand why people do it in the first place. "Why are you crying?" he asked, squinting. "Because you're suffocating me!" you wheezed. "Oh."

He uses his one-eyed form at home, knowing you understand it's easier and more comfortable. He really doesn't understand how to read all that well, so you taught him. He got the hang of it quickly and likes to leave you notes and texts. He constantly has tabs on you. Whether it be him coming into your job to walk around and talk to you, or him being in his hair ball form and in your shoulder or bag or something. Always around you. Always watching. Always comes back. (I'm so sorry.)

Calls you things like my love, dear, my dearest, sweetheart, gorgeous, beautiful, and things like that. Loves, loves, loves when you call him pretty boy/girl. Practically melts in your arms. They also love when you call them sweet things and mumble sweet nothings in her ear while you're together, especially when you're cuddling. Adores it when you run your fingers through her hair, and a soft purring emanates from him.

It may or may not wrap around your hand when you try to pull away....

That's all for now, guys! I'll be making more of these if I think of them. Requests and asks are open, so feel free to do that! (I'm so bored.) Stay safe, hydrated, and happy! Love you all! <3

[artiststarme]

The Gift of Not Dying Part 13

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13

Yay, we're done with Starcourt now! I hope you guys like this part and if you do, please let me know in the comments!

~*~*~*~

Steve just wanted to go back to Hopper’s cabin and recover enough from his death, concussion, and whatever the fuck else he had going on so things could get back to normal. So he could go back to just being the kid that worked at Scoops Ahoy that had a thing for the town’s nerdy metalhead. He wanted to go on a date with Eddie and hear Hopper giving him a shovel talk to keep him in line. 

He didn’t want to have to blend in with the crowd to avoid being shot or hide from the Russians in the food court. He just wanted to be a normal teenager for a little while whose biggest worry was taking the boy that he liked on a date. Was that so much to ask?

Apparently so because right then he was anxiously curled up in the fetal position in some random fast food restaurant in Starcourt, trying desperately to silence his heavy breathing to avoid drawing the attention of the evil Russians. How was he supposed to protect his friends against the automatic rifles some of these guys were packing? He’d be fine, with the drugs out of his system, he’d come back. But Dustin, Robin, and Erica? One misplaced bullet and they’d be gone for good. 

Him and Eleven had been practicing his telekinesis but he was still leagues away from being anywhere close to reaching the level of her powers. All he could do was partially crinkle a soda can, there was no way he could fling even one of these guys away in order to escape. Steve wasn’t even 100% certain that he could deflect a bullet under this kind of pressure.

They sat in silence with bated breath for what seemed like forever. They could hear the Russians walking around, some unintelligible dialogue being exchanged. It seemed that they were going to survive this… and then his foot twitched. It bumped a fallen steel tray and the sound was deafening in the silence. Shit, Steve had just killed his friends. They all heard the Russian’s footsteps come closer, waiting in dread to feel the pain of the bullet. But the man never fired. In place of the expected pops of gunfire, they heard a car alarm closely followed by the smash of metal and glass. 

They waited a moment before peeking over the serving counter of the fast food joint. Steve didn’t see any Russians with their guns pointed at them. No, he saw El. Her arm still extended towards the car with a small stream of blood leaking from her nose. His little sister had saved their lives once again. 

Steve ran ahead of his friends to meet the other half of the Party. He saw El climb down the escalator first and swept her up into a hug. “El!”

“Steve! I was worried. Are you… okay?” She asked him, her face smushed in his shoulder. 

“Yeah kiddo, I’m fine. I promise, I’m all good.” He pulled back to smile at her reassuringly. She gave a small smile in response before Dustin was pushing Steve away from them and hugging her himself. 

“You swung that thing like a Hot Wheel!” He laughed. Some of the Party members, specifically Jonathan and Nancy, were looking at Steve in confusion. 

“Lucas?” Erica spoke. 

“What are you doing here?” Lucas asked her, throwing his hands out to his sides. 

“Ask them, it’s their fault!” She pointed at them and Steve couldn’t even defend himself.

“True yeah, that’s totally true. It’s absolutely our fault.” 

“I don’t understand what happened to that car,” Robin said desperately, her brain was scrambling for a logical explanation but it wouldn’t find one. 

Dustin ripped off the bandaid for her and said, “El has superpowers.”

“I’m sorry?” She asked. 

Usually Steve would be nicer and more patient considering he’d reacted the same way just last year. But these were trying times and he didn’t have any more patience to spare. “Superpowers. She threw it with her mind. C’mon, catch up.” 

“That’s El?” Erica asked, her eyes lighting up in recognition. 

“Who’s El?” Robin squinted, still confused with the lackluster explanation she’d received. 

“I’m sorry, who are you?” Nancy said in her passive-aggressive way that was condescendingly polite. 

“I’m Robin, I work with Steve.”

“She cracked the top secret code,” Dustin defended her. 

“Yeah which is how we found out about the Russians in the first place,” Steve added. He wasn’t going to let some twerp upstage him in sticking up for his new best friend. 

“Russians? Wait, what Russians?” Jonathan asked confusedly. 

“The Russians!” Steve wasn’t sure how he wasn’t understanding. There wasn’t a clearer way to say it. 

“Those were Russians?” Max asked.

“Some of them,” Erica answered her, clearing absolutely nothing up for anyone. 

“What are you talking about?” Lucas exasperatedly questioned.  

“Did you hear our code red?” Dustin asked.

“Yeah but we couldn’t understand half of what you were saying,” Mike yelled at him. 

“Goddamn low battery!”

“How many times do I have to tell you with the low battery?!” Steve yelled for emphasis. He’d reminded him so many times to carry extras!

“‘Kay, well everything worked out, didn’t it, Steve?” The little bastard had the nerve to sass him right now?

“‘Worked out’? We almost died!” Erica pointed out. 

“Yeah, but we didn’t, did we?” 

“We were pretty damn close…” Steve trailed off when he noticed Eleven walking away. Her steps were labored and her hands shook at her sides. He saw her bring her hands to her ears for a moment before she whimpered and fell to the ground. “El!” 

He dropped to her side just a second before Mike did. 

“My leg, my leg,” she whimpered. Steve could do little more than to squeeze her hand and pet her hair as some of the kids ran to get supplies. 

Something in her leg was moving and just seeing it in his peripheral had Steve feeling nauseous. Even more so when Jonathan pierced her skin with a cooking knife. “Oh my god, I’m going to puke.”

Jonathan digging around with a knife wasn’t helping anything and El’s screaming just got louder. 

“Stop, stop, I can do it” She turned pleading eyes to Steve but he just shook his head in panic. He couldn’t do it. His telekinetic powers still sucked ass and irrationally, he didn’t want the party to find out about them. They might be fine with El’s but his were so much more morbid, there was no way they’d support them. He felt awful as he watched determination fill El’s eyes. She didn’t deserve to have to perform rudimentary surgery on herself just because Steve was squeamish and hadn’t been practicing his powers as well as he should. 

Nevertheless, with some more screams and the last of her energy, El pulled it from her leg with her powers and threw the disgusting, fleshy tidbit as far from the group as possible. It tried to wiggle away and made some disgusting screeches and squeaks as it moved. But it only scooched a few inches before a boot slammed down on it. Then, there was Hopper. He was holding a gun and glancing between El and Steve with varying ranges of horror. 

“Jesus Christ, what’ve you kids gotten yourselves into this time?” He asked them, already exasperated with the situation despite not hearing any of it. He looked between El and Steve, his eyes focusing on her cut up leg and Steve’s purpling face. “What the hell?”

All of the kids rushed over each other in their descriptions. Steve zoned out of most of it. This was all too much, too fast. His mind was whirring and he almost felt like he was back on drugs. “It destroyed the cabin? Okay, wait. Just to be clear, this big fleshy spider thing that hurt El. It’s some sort of gigantic… weapon?”

“Yes,” Nancy answered curtly. 

“But instead of like, screws and metal, the Mindflayer made its weapon with melted people,” Steve raised an eyebrow to ask if he was hearing that right. 

“Yes, exactly!” Nancy nodded.

“Yeah, okay. I-yeah, I’m just making sure.” He’d gone through some shit but this might be the most disturbing thing he’d ever heard. 

“Are we sure this thing is still out there, still alive?” Joyce asked them all. 

“El beat the shit out of it but… yeah, it’s still alive,” Max told her regretfully. 

“But if we close the gate again…” Will said. 

“...and cut the brain off from it’s body,” Max continued. 

“And kill it,” Lucas finished. “Theoretically.”

Steve was so fucking over this. He thought they were done with this once they beat the Russians. Now there was a fleshy monster killing people with mind powers? He sat on the bench with Robin, both of their minds melting together in solidarity. She’d joined at a bad time. The demogorgon and demodogs weren’t a walk in the park but something about this situation gave him a bad feeling. He didn’t like what was coming. 

Steve let El and Hopper talk for a few minutes alone before he took her place. “Hey Hop.”

“What the hell, kid? I thought you were at work, how did you get roped into this?” 

“I’m innocent! Dustin, man, he dragged me into this shit again. He came into Scoops with a Russian transmission so we decoded it, got stuck in an elevator, Robin and I got tortured by some Russians, I got killed again, and then we got really high and not in a good way. Where have you been?”

Hopper just looked at him blankly for a second before his whispers became furious. “You died again?! Goddammit Harrington! You have to be more careful, you can’t be so reckless with your life!”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize I had any control over being literally tortured by Russians!” Steve whisper-yelled, flailing his hands around in his own defense. 

“Why didn’t you come to me about the transmission? The next time you hear something like that, I need you to come to me!” Hopper said, pointing an accusing finger at him.

“Yes Hop, I'll come find you immediately the next time a kid and I intercept a secret Russian communication. Trust me, I’ve learned my lesson.”

Hopper sighed and wrapped a burly arm around his shoulders. “I know, kid. Stay strong, okay? I just need you to give Henderson a ride to his radio tower and then you can recover out of the danger zone. And absolutely no more dying on me, alright? My heart can’t take it, kid.”

“I’ll do my best, old man.”

Hopper scoffed in laughter and ruffled his hair, “alright smartass, get going. Stay safe and I’ll see you when this is over.”

“Sounds good Hop, stay safe.” With another hug in parting, Steve led the way to the Toddfather. The only good thing about this entire situation was getting to drive that beauty. They squabbled on the way there and Steve was able to tune out and let himself think. 

It didn’t feel right to be leaving the rest of the Party there when there were so many chances of things going wrong. Since day one, he’d been the one to lay his life on the line to protect everyone. But now, he was driving away to play chauffeur. It just felt wrong and the pit in his stomach only grew larger for each mile further he drove. 

When they did get to Cerebro at Weathertop, he saw the lights of town start to flicker and the Starcourt portion of the Party wasn’t answering the radio. Steve’s gut was telling him to get back there and it hadn’t steered him wrong yet. He started running to the car, he had to get them out of there.

“Where are you going?!” He only paused slightly to answer Erica’s question. 

“To get them the hell out of there. Stay here, contact the others!” And then he was off once again. He barely noticed Robin running after him or hopping next to him in the car. They each stayed silent on the drive, far too aware of the looming danger that they were approaching. 

Steve pressed on the gas pedal and didn’t lift up when he saw Billy’s camaro heading straight towards the Wheeler’s station wagon with the kids in it. He pressed down harder and didn’t stop until his world snapped black in the collision. 

Steve’s eyes opened to a pitch black world. Shit, he was back in the blank space. While his aches and pains were gone and a feeling of safety blanketed him, there was an undercurrent of panic. Hopper told him not to die again and less than thirty minutes later, here he was… dead from an ill-conceived suicide run. And Robin! Was she okay? He hadn’t wanted her to come with him but there hadn’t been any time for words to be exchanged. He needed her to be alright, he needed his best friend. 

He also needed to wake up. When he focused on finding his body in the blank space, he saw Jonathan, Nancy, and Robin lugging it from the front seat of the Toddfather into the trunk of the Station Wagon. He saw Robin crying where she cradled his head and saw the kids watching on in horror from their spots in the backseat. He needed to wake up now. 

Steve focused all of his energy into touching his own corpse, of forcing his way back to consciousness. And… it worked. The blank space blurred for a second before his eyes were blinking open, staring directly into Robin’s. The whole car let out a sigh of relief. They hadn’t lost him after all. 

For Steve, the rest of the night passed in a haze. He distantly remembered pain, fear, a particularly confusing moment of Dustin singing over the radio, and bright flashes of color. His body went on auto-pilot as his mind lagged behind. However, everything became disturbingly clear again when he was sat on the bumper of the ambulance outside of the still-smoking mall. 

When he saw Joyce hugging Will, the bad feeling that was clogging this throat the entire night sparked to life. It was at that exact moment that he knew Hopper was dead. He would have come out with her to hug El, and Steve, the second he could. For him not to be there, he had to be dead. 

A feeling of bitterness overcame him. What made Steve more deserving of this power than Hopper? Good, pure Hopper that took in two scared and lonely kids. Jim Hopper, the Chief of Police that risked his life to ensure that no one else would have to worry about the Upside Down. Hop, the guy that became his dad even though Steve was a bitch at least half the time. 

Instead of a girl hugging her father, he saw El standing alone in the middle of the chaos. She was watching Joyce and Will embrace with tears in her eyes. She knew as well as he did that Hopper was gone. 

Steve couldn’t let his little sister deal with her grief alone. He pulled his aching body up from where it sat on the bumper of the ambulance and forced himself over to comfort her. As soon as she caught eyes with him, El ran straight into his arms. 

“El, it’s going to be okay.” 

“I am sad, Seven. Hop… he is dead,” her tears wet his already ruined shirt and his streaked down his face to match.

“I know and that hurts. It’s okay to be sad, I’m sad too. But we still have each other, right?” He tried to reassure her but he could tell it wasn’t helping much. 

“Steve, you are okay?” She asked into his chest.

“Yeah, I will be.” He nodded. He had to be. 

Joyce came over to them then and shot a puzzled look at Steve before turning to El. “El, I’m so sorry about your dad but you can stay with us now, okay? We can go back to my house now.”

“But Steve?”

“Steve has to go back to his parents now,” she didn’t seem to notice his sudden pallor but El did. “He should go to the hospital too. Steve, you took some nasty hits so you should get checked out in the ER.”

“Yeah, I’ll go do that Mrs. Byers. El, go with her okay? I’ll see you in a few days, I’ll stop by.”

“No brother, I want to go with you! Hop would-” He cut her off with a gentle shake of his head. 

“El, I have to go get checked out. Mrs. Byers is going to take you home and I’ll call later. Okay, I promise.”

“Promise.” El repeated, staring at him uneasily. 

“Yeah, I promise. Go ahead.”

She was still reluctant to leave him but eventually, Joyce was able to pull her away with one arm around her and the other wrapped around Will. 

Then, Steve was left alone. Despite what he said, he was not going to the hospital. He was pretty sure he had a concussion but it wasn’t like it could kill him. And he certainly wasn’t going back to the destroyed cabin that held too many bittersweet memories or his parents house that he hadn’t been to in months. 

He still didn’t have his car keys so he walked. He walked all the way to the only place that he could now consider safe. The only place he could relax and feel loved. And as the trailer door opened to reveal Eddie Munson, Steve knew that he made the right choice. 

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Part 14

[space-cowboys-and-aliens]

Bar Fight

Frankie Morales x afab!reader

Rating: Explicit (18+, Minors DNI)

Warnings: Established relationship, SMUT, fingering, unprotected p in v, creampie, Frankie defends you, scary!Frankie, bar fight, toxic, blood!kink, hurt/comfort, no use of y/n, angst, miscommunication (i’m sorry), fighting then fucking, dirty talk, jealous!Frankie, jealous!reader, insecure!Frankie, possessive!Frankie, Frankie WORSHIPS reader, clueless!Frankie, praise!kink, primal!kink, marking, cunnilingus, M going down on F, Frankie gets smiley after sex, not beta’d

Summary: Frankie gets into a bar fight for you, and you come to terms with conflicting emotions.

Word Count: 3.4k

Kentucky State’s head slamming into the bar reverberated louder than the scream several patrons let out. Frankie dragged the guy by the back of his shirt into the sticky wall closest to him.

The guy curled into a fetal position on the ground.

His assailant let one kick fly, make contact. Then another.

All that was left of the room once full of chatter and clinking drinks was shuffling feet out the door.

Three guys dragged Frankie away from the beer-soaked bag of flesh stuck to the hardwood floor with his own blood. You stood not five feet away, speechless and shaking.

Frankie managed to push the last man off him as he made his way out the front door they dumped him at. He spent those last few seconds scanning the room for you, and when your eyes met, your well of tears exploded. He saw your face fall from shock and fear to anger and embarrassment.

He stayed rooted in place when you shouldered him on your way outside; away from the sight of crushed bone and Frankie’s eyes as fast as possible. From behind, you thought you could hear him calling for you.

Trying to make your way back to the rusted blue pickup parked in its usual corner spot proved harder when blinded by tears rather than alcohol. The sweat dripping from your temples made your body feel exposed in the summer night’s heat.

“Wait,” you heard Frankie punch out, curtly.

You stilled when he stepped in front of you, catching up with long strides. His entire body blocked any view of the truck, but you could barely stand an attempt to look up at his face. You stared straight ahead, directly into the forest green T-shirt covering his chest. A small dark stain right in the middle stared back. Him treating you to ice cream after a horribly disappointing matinee showing, a sequel to one of your favorite franchises. Now, he's waiting for his breath to catch up with his body, hands in the air at his sides. Calmly reaching into his jean pocket for the keys, he takes his time. Gingerly lifting the handle out of its latch to swing the cabin door, he opens yours first.

Still immobile in the spot he left you, you took a deep breath and a few small steps to the truck. Planting one foot onto the floor to haul your body up into the passenger seat, him watching you the whole time. You couldn’t stand those puppy dog eyes right now. The car door shuts and silence fills the space. On the opposite side, his door opens as quickly as it shuts. He’s staring past the steering wheel now, straight out the windshield. After a few breaths, he lifts one of his hands to place it on the wheel, wincing, unsuccessfully appearing unaffected.

You pursed your lips as you squeezed your eyes shut, turning your body to face Frankie.

Split, bloody knuckles met your widening gaze. One of his index fingers seemed bent out of shape, and as he brought his hands up, flexing them, it was your turn to wince at the creaking sound his joints made.

“Frankie…”, you sighed.

He seemed to wait patiently for another response, but it seemed the common denominator for tonight boiled down to him leaving you at a loss for words. Only silence could emphasize the utter disappointment and betrayal you felt. Instead, you reached across the space, between your seat and his, taking his right hand into both of yours, turning it over, and inspecting it under his cautious eyes. Only one of the nails broke, skin spattered with the stranger’s blood. You made the mistake of letting your eyes dart up into his magnetic pull, and those big brown eyes strike you more than anything.

He parts his lips for a moment, taking a breath before pausing, thinking, and instead saying shyly,

“I have some bandages and a first aid kit in the glove compartment. It should be fully stocked.”

The corners of his eyes shine with trapped tears, trying to not make this into an even bigger mess for you to clean up.

You tighten your jaw and reach for the compartment door when he abruptly adds,

“I feel horrible standing there watching you fight your own battles- you shouldn’t have to, especially against creeps and drunks at a bar.”

You’ve grabbed one of his hands to begin cleaning it off when you stop and consider this.

He continues.

“But I don’t know how to quip back every come-on, every retort, every advance, with words like you can.”

He looked down at his bleeding hands, curling them and grimacing at the shift in position. You grabbed the hand you’ve yet to sanitize. Frankie thinks he’s good about holding in the discomfort caused by the stinging, but he’s starting to catch up with his amount of experience. He keeps talking through your diligent process as you grab the wraps and tape.

“I know… I know how to defend and fight. I know the body’s weakest points. I know how to kill with my bare hands. And now I can use that to protect what I love.”

“That wasn’t love, Frankie. That was possession,” you snapped.

You didn’t mean to bring out the hurt that grew on his face right then and there. But you couldn’t stand the precedent that a bar brawl in your name would set for the relationship.

You also couldn’t stand hurting this man who would bungee-jump off a bridge without a cord for you. Who would probably take an actual bullet for you? He’s taken them for less. Who never stops showing you how much he cares, even in his own misconstrued ways.

His face softens and he spreads his legs out.

“Come here,” he whispers.

You don’t hesitate to throw the med kit down on your seat and climb onto him. As soon as you sink closer into his chest, his broad frame and strong arms find their home around you. He places a gentle kiss on top of your head.

“You don’t deserve…I never want you to not feel safe, especially when I’m around.”

He tries his words carefully, hesitant as they come out jagged and crooked, not in their right spot.

You reach up to stroke the side of his face, pulling the curls out from behind his ears.

“I’m sorry."

He closed his eyes, brow furrowing as he buries his nose into your hair.

“I’m so so sorry. I got impulsive and stupid but I never want to jeopardize what we have.”

“Yeah, Frankie, it’s what we have, not whatever you decide that leaves one or both of us cleaning up after you.”

Shock flickered across his expression as he drew back.

“I didn’t mean for this to be something you had to fix. You don’t have to be here-”

You immediately turned toward the door.

“You think I want to see this? You think I want you coming home with more scars? Another bar we can’t go to? You think I like seeing you covered in someone else’s blood?”

He felt like you’d punched him in the gut. Bandages and gauze and antiseptic forgotten, he throws open his door.

“Well, fine,” he shrugs. “Get another ride home. Maybe with someone who’s a little less fucked up than-”

“That is not what I meant.”

You tried to interrupt his train of thought. But once Frankie sets his mind on something, it’ll run to the end of its tracks.

He waits impatiently for you to move, and you dare get out of his seat to let your feet hit the pavement. You turn your head around to see him still facing out the windshield. Trying a couple steps away from the truck, the classic rock having resumed its pounding from inside the bar, you contemplate going back inside by yourself instead of wasting the night away.

“Where are you going?” he almost barks.

“Don’t worry, I can take care of myself,” you throw out behind you.

He’s out of the truck faster than he’d swung at Kentucky State.

“Hey-”.

“I’m not incapable, Frankie."

“You have nothing to prove to me, baby, just get back in the car,” sounding scared.

“No.”

Bull horns could have sprouted from his skull.

“You don’t know if they’re still in there!”

“Frankie, I’m not going to let anyone ruin my night, unlike some people.”

“It will no doubt be me who ruins a lot more than tonight if he so much as looks at you,” Frankie pounds out.

You finally whorl to face him and he’s pulled taut, waiting for your reaction. You haven’t rowled him up like this in a while.

But just as your eyes search for his, he’s walking over and taking your hands. Then he brings them up to his lips, laying a kiss on your fingertips so soft, his eyes swim, and you remember the giant teddy bear that lives inside Frankie’s overprotective and over-imposing outward self. An incessant possessiveness takes root in your brain.

All mine.

He takes a breath, and the smallest smile starts to twitch across his face. He slowly closes his eyes, then opens them.

“Come home with me.”

You hold his hands in front of you, his head above yours. The blood dried over the open wounds, and he won’t need stitches this time.

The other guy might.

Good.

You remember fear.

How loud and how close the other guy got. You remember how quick Frankie was. The blur right after that guy decided he stood a chance against former Delta Force. How that same Delta Force is looking into your eyes like they hold more diamonds than he’s ever seen before. How bloody his hand was, opening your car door. A flame flickers in your stomach.

He must see a change in your eyes because he leans down towards your ear.

“I want to make it worth your while.”

His hands trail up your sides to play with the hem of your shirt.

“Much better than some sports bar in the middle of town,” he whispers as his kisses start slowing down your neck.

“Come on, let’s go”, he purrs.

And he takes your hand to walk back to the truck. You drag your feet a little, but a quick warning glance tossed over his shoulder hauls your body back toward him.

At the door, he helps you in and closes it, then jogs around the front to hop in the driver’s seat. As he closes his door, he’s already inserted the key and is about to start the ignition when you lay a hand over his. His head jerks towards you as his brown eyes find yours.

You couldn’t bear to lose this man. You take a deep breath.

“Frankie,” you say. “I think I need you a bit more than I thought I ever would.”

His eyes widen, then soften, at this, your hands caressing each other.

You take whatever courage you have left for the night and use it to swing one leg over the other onto his seat, bringing yourself to lay across his lap. Your soft rear grinds against his crotch. He’s staring at you with his mouth slightly agape, awe glittering in his eyes.

As you slide your arms up slowly over his broad frame, they come to rest behind his head, bringing your faces as close as possible without touching.

His increased breath fans against your eyes, and he lets his rest as they close.

Bringing your lips against his ear, you take your time murmuring,

“I love how much...”

Starting a trail down his face with your lips, palming the other side,

“...you take care of me.”

Letting your hands run through his hair, his breath becoming shakier and halted.

“I love how you protect what’s yours.”

And he shudders.

As you move away from his face, his eyes open and you swear hearts form inside.

Taking a breath,

“And I love,” your eyes angle down,

“How turned on I get from watching.”

His eyebrows shoot up and his hands hold tightly onto your ass to grind your center against his even more, a growl escaping from deep within his chest. His whole body vibrates with anticipation, and you surge forward to bring your lips to his. He kisses you and it only douses the fire with gasoline, while his hands and yours reach, grab for anywhere they can touch, haven’t touched, need to touch. He snarls as your teeth connect in a fierce gasp. His hands sprawl across your body, arms wrapping around you like he’s trying to claim you.

“Mine,” you hear him get out between your lips. He swallows every one of your breathy moans with relief, his prize for tonight, trying to reel in how much he wants you, how much his body has decided he needs you. But you love when he unleashes with you, letting go so wildly. His reckless abandon overtook him. You want that part of him, his over-consuming desire. He doesn't care for propriety when he needs to feel all of you.

“Fuck the drive home,” he grits out. “Please-”

“Yes Frankie oh my god right now," your patience worn thin, tired of convincing yourself otherwise.

His groan fills the cabin when he reaches down to undo his jeans, you pulling your underwear down and off of you. Planting one knee on the outside of each of his own, you can barely contain your own excitement of fucking Frankie in his truck in the parking lot of a bar he got himself literally thrown out of because someone disrespected you in front of him. You thought it would be hard to get sexier with every passing day. Frankie makes it seem like nothing new.

He left his jeans alone to work two fingers into you, both of you letting out content moans, his other hand wrapped around your waist to bring you closer to him. Your slick spilled onto your thighs and Frankie's pants as he lifted his hand to taste you, closing his eyes.

Moaning,

“God, you’re already so wet.”

You let out a whine, wishing he’d rush along your pleasure. But Frankie wasn’t like that. He’d need a push.

“Good, baby, you taste so good. Wish I could taste straight from the source,” he groaned.

You let out a displeased whine, chasing your impending orgasm, so close from just his clothed middle and fingers.

“You want me right now?”, he asks.

You huff and reach into his pants to pull his impressive cock from its confines. He lets out a breath as the air hits it, but you wrap your hands quickly around it. He rubs his hands up and down your sides as he tries to catch his breath.

“Frankiiiiiiieeee,” you drag out, high-pitched and needy.

“Yeah, baby, you need all of it right now?”

He moves your hands to line himself up with you. You grab his earlobe between your teeth as he starts into you, your hips between his hands. He meets the inside of your pussy and breaks.

“So pretty like that,”

he grits out desperately, panting against your body.

With his head thrown back and loose, dark curls around his forehead, you think the same. His grey peppered through makes you clench.

You let him grab the backs of your sweat-covered thighs and pull you onto him further, gasping for air. His expression almost pained.

“You feel so good, Frankie,” you repeat.

He ruts into you more and more, his fingers bruising your thighs as he takes your gasps and pleas and moans as they come.

“Mine.”

He spurs on again. God, you love when he gets possessive while you make him feel as good as he does you.

“It’s all yours, Frankie. Only one who makes me feel like this.”

You feel like stroking his beautiful ego as he pulls your hair back to leave your neck uncovered, marking it as he brings his other hand down to rub your clit gently. You know you shouldn't want someone who loses as much control as he can, but-

“God, I need more.”

You whine as his thrusts pick up.

“You’re perfect. Feel so perfect. Need you,” he groans as his hips snap up into yours over and over.

“I’m about to come, Frankie.”

“Me too," he follows.

“You feel- so good,” you repeat, cunt clenching tighter and tighter.

“I need you to come," he growls out.

“Please,” you beg. You’re rocking against him so hard now it should hurt, but all you can feel is pleasure rocketing pleasure through your core. He tightens his circles around your clit, planting his feet to ground himself as he feels his release draw up. You notice his breath hitch.

“Frankie, come with me!”, you cry. “Oh-,”

“God, go, baby, I’m right behind you-,”

You’re blinded by what feels like your own atoms splitting apart and are sure you scream louder than the music coming from inside the bar. It feels too good. He feels too good. You tighten around him so hard you swear he’ll slip out, but wave after wave keeps you pounding on top of him, rubbing his cock through your folds. His spend leaking out of you and his heavy gasps for air leave you suspended in time, clutching onto his body for more release. Every knot loosens and you fall against him, his chest heaving with you on top of it. Remaining tremors quake through his legs as he opens his eyes and sees you breathing against him, over him, hair strewn across your face. He reaches up and clears it from your eyes then kisses your nose, lips, and neck, sucking marks onto the skin closest to your chest. He lets his legs give out underneath you, falling beneath him. You tighten your hold around his neck, bringing your fingers up through the hair behind his neck. It’s thick and full, smelling like cedar and clover. You feel the smile growing across his face. A matching one appears on yours as he lets out breathy chuckles. He’s so beautiful, you think.

“Can I still eat you out?”, he presses with a growing Chesire grin.

“Now?!", you shatter around him into laughter of your own.

“Yes, now, please,” he confirms. Laying you down across the bench seat from your position in his lap, he throws one of your legs over his shoulder, he spreads you out in front of him. He dives down so his lips can drink up any last remaining traces of himself mingling with you, squeezing your breasts through your dress in his palm. He sighs and latches his lips onto your puffy clit. His hands work the dress down your body, releasing both tits and kneading them between his hands. Your hands work through his hair and your own, clearing them from your faces, making more room for his mouth on you. You feel the inner workings of another release. Your stomach flips and your legs stretch out to press against the door. Bringing one hand down quickly to curl into you, he presses up against your softness. He finds that sweet spot so well now.

Your moans fill the cabin again, with less care than before. You want him to hear how good he is at this, how you thrive off of his claim over your body in this state. As your pitch gets higher, he smiles against your pussy as it spasms, licking up into you further and faster. He groans happily as you come all over his face, letting it cover his facial hair. He’s never heard sweeter sounds than you finishing on top of him.

You breathe heavily as he comes up and wraps his arms around your body, limp with exertion. He wipes you, then himself down with a shirt from the backseat. He lets himself relax into you as his own heart rushes. You hum gratefully from next to him. He grins.

“Can I take you home now? Do it right?”

“Oh god, Frankie-”, spent and still catching your breath.

He leans over to kiss your cheek.

“Yeah, keep saying that and we won’t be coming back out again.”

Giggling, you close your eyes,

“I love you.”

“I love you more.”

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! This is my first time writing full-length smut and I’m trying to get more comfortable with it after hiding behind romance novels and fanfic for a few years. I want to create more gender-inclusive works of my own with safe wholesome fun, too! Hope you enjoyed <3

main masterlist

[wardenswateringhole]

Reclamation - Chapter 1

CW

-death mention

Cut for length. Enjoy.

Keys twirled around Emmet’s finger as he walked toward his home. His mind sorted through several different lists in his head. All the paper work done? Check. Trains checked and secured? Check. Depot Agents debriefed and schedules made? Check.

When one list finished another began. Was the new hire squared away? Did they receive their required employee materials? Was their uniform going to be available on their first day? Yes, yes and Yes.

Did he need to go shopping? Milk and eggs were stocked. Maybe he should pick up some soda? No. Not this time. Did he need more batteries for the joltiks? Battery supplies were holding for now. Could pick up extra treats tomorrow. The team were doing an extra good job on the battle line. They deserved it.

Next list was ready. Could they do better? What strategies felt fun and new? Were they getting stale? Maybe it was time for a change. Would that bring more challengers? More challengers would be nice. Challenger numbers felt too low…

When was that meeting again? It’s written down somewhere. What was it about? Challenger numbers being too low. Share holders had a problem with that? Not sure why. Things were just fine.

There was no need to worry. None at all.

Emmets mental rambling came to a halt as the key jingled and the door to his home opened. A white coat and hat were hung with care and shoes were slipped off and place by the door. The tune of an overly energetic children’s show could be heard playing on a television deeper into the abode. The smell of spices and warm food wafted through the air pairing logically with the sounds of sizzling and chopping coming from the kitchen. “I’m home!” Emmet voice rang out through it all. An instant response of happy giggling and the sound of small footsteps rushing toward his location could be heard. Two young boys came around the corner, their faces bright and excited to see him. He made to kneel in greeting them before he noticed one was traveling far faster than the other. Emmet tried to stop the inevitable. “Emery! Wait! Brake--!” Emery lost his footing almost as soon as the words left Emmet’s mouth. The other boy watched on as Emery barreled straight into Emmet’s crotch, causing the tall man to crumple like paper. Emmet’s form flopped to the floor, curled in the fetal position and desperately pulling air into his lungs as the pain blurred his vision. He only vaguely made out the two silver headed forms standing over him. A small voice reached his ears through the blood roaring in them. “Sorry, Dad…” A third taller figure soon appeared. They waved the children away and leaned down to Emmet. Soon Emmet was being led to a sofa in the living room by the dark-haired figure. They were much shorter than him but still managed to support his weight. The smell of food clung to them. As he stretched out on the sofa, the children reappear carrying an icepack. She gently chided the rambunctious boy. “Emery, what have we said about slowing down and watching our step?” “Speed, not haste, Momma.” “That’s right.” Emmet’s voice croaked out. “Please drive more safely in the future…”

The boy nodded sullenly. Even though it was obvious he was sorry, his mouth still remained stretched in a smile. He was very much an almost exact copy of his father. The everlasting grin remaining plastered on his face through everything. The other child looked on with bright eyes and a thumb tucked firm in his mouth. He also sported the same hair and face as his brother and father. Unlike them however, his mouth stayed bowed in a frown. It usually stayed hidden behind the fist attached to the thumb he currently coveted. The boy tugged at Emery’s arm and pointed to a pile of papers and crayons in front of the TV. Emery’s face lit of instantly. “Great idea, Iggy! Let’s show dad what we made!” They scampered over and grabbed a couple of sheets before returning and holding them up proudly for Emmet to see. They were both drawings of the boys with Pokémon of various kinds riding on trains of dubious design. The one Emery held had a train that looked to have flames coming out of the smokestack, while the other looked like it shot electricity out of its wheels. “We’re gonna have a battle train just like you when we grow up! This is totally what it’s gonna look like!” Emmet raised his head and looked over the drawings with as much interest as he could muster. His voice was a bit less strained as the pain in his groin began to subside. “That’s great, boys! Yep! But which train will you two take?” The children turned the papers back toward themselves and inspected their work closely. Emery frowned as best as his face could let him. “We don’t know… Iggy says mine is better, but I like his more. We can’t decide.” “Hmm…” Emmet stared at his sons thoughtfully. He was incredibly thankful they had inherited his interest in trains. He didn’t know how he would have felt had they gained an interest in, Dragons forbid, planes. They carried a healthy interest in Pokémon as well, despite not being ready for their first Pokémon yet.

Above it all, Emmet could not get over how much the pair looked exactly like him and Ingo when they were children. Many joked that it was Emmet that truly birthed them. His wife, Lela, would vehemently disagree. No one could deny the twenty-four hours of labor she endured to bring these children in the world only for them to look nothing like her. Emmet had remained by her side the entire time, save for the time he had fainted, and the doctors had to tend to him alongside her. A bump on the elbow and an IV needle seemed trivial compared to what she had gone through and the sheer amount of joy he had felt seeing his children’s faces for the first time. Tiny, pink, and covered in tiny translucent tufts that would eventually grow to the silver locks they now sported. It didn’t feel that long ago... “Why not try to combine your designs in some way?” Emmet felt he would have been blinded had he actually seen the light bulbs flare to life in their little heads. Their eyes went wide and bright as his words. “That’s a great idea, dad! C’mon Iggy!” The other child nodded enthusiastically before they both ran off to their room with drawings in hand. Emmet chuckled weakly as Lela came to sit on the floor next to where he lay on the sofa. “Dad imparting more great wisdom?” “Yep. You know it.” She rested her head on his shoulder and ran her fingers through his hair. He sighed as her nails grazed his scalp gently. “How are you holding up?”

Emmet’s smile flattened as his eyes drifted to a picture on the wall. It was of Ingo in his subway boss uniform, saluting the camera with his trademark frown. A black band was wrapped around the corners of the frame. Other photos sat around it in various candid moments that had been caught of the subway boss. One of him laughing at something with a cat like smile, another with cake smeared on his face most likely during a party. Another of him and Emmet in the middle of roughhousing and staring at the camera like they had been caught committing a crime. They were all cherished memories Emmet had chosen to display in tribute to his long lost brother.

“I’m holding…” He responded after a long silence. He nuzzled his face against Lela’s head. “You?”

“Same…”

Emmet sighed deeply. “Seven years today… I had actually forgotten until I saw the flowers…”

Lela looked at him in surprise. “They’re still leaving tributes to him?”

Emmet nodded. “Every year. I thought it would stop. But no. He’s still remembered.”

Emmet new full well it would continue long into the future. Every year, on this day and during their birthday, flowers and small offerings would appear around a plaque dedicated to Ingo’s memory and the tragedy that took him. It was always hard to see, a stark reminder of his other half being gone from this world. It was also comforting in a way. The world still remembered Ingo. Ingo did not leave the world without leaving his mark on it. People still celebrated the fact that he had existed in the first place. Emmet could only hope to be remembered as favorably as his brother was when his time came.

“It almost feels like Ingo is still alive…” Emmet mused. “Like he could walk through the door at any moment…”

Lela nodded. “We both loved him dearly…”

Emmet scoffed. “And that love brought us together…”

“Yeah…” Lela kissed Emmet’s forehead. He regarded her a moment. His eyes seemed to be searching for something in her face. To him, she looked as beautiful as the day he married her. Her dark hair and emerald eyes always struck him as enchanting. It bothered him slightly the boys didn’t get her eyes. Deep and lustrous. He could stare at them all day. If something didn’t seem to haunt him every time he stared into them too deeply. Though it was his own reflection, it always looked like Ingo was staring back at him.

“Is there something wrong?”

Emmet hesitated but the words fell from his mouth anyway. “Do you regret it?”

“What?”

Emmet’s eyes widened slightly realizing the thought had come out his mouth instead of staying in his head where Lela couldn’t see. “Marrying me…” Emmet trailed off. “I mean… You belonged to Ingo first…”

“Emmet. We’ve been over this…” Her arms wrapped awkwardly but affectionately around his head. “Do you honestly think that I would not have taken your proposal and had your children had I not loved you?”

“Hmm… No.” Emmet replied flatly snuggling into the embrace. “It’s just… I… don’t feel I deserve this… You, the boys, this home… It feels like Ingo was cheated out of this life…”

Memories of Ingo speaking of how he had dreamed of the idyllic domestic life rose in Emmet’s head. He had caught Ingo looking at rings on his phone at one time. It had made Emmet giddy when he first realized what Ingo was planning. Now the memory made him sick to his stomach.

“We live as happily as we can in his honor…” Lela replied, trying her best to calm Emmet’s worries. “You know Ingo would be beside himself with worry if he knew we were miserable without him.”

Emmet nodded. He could not deny that Ingo was selfless to a fault. He would bend over backwards to ensure his loved ones were well and taken care of. The same conversation would most likely happen if the roles had been reversed. But they weren’t. Emmet was alive.

Ingo was not.

“You are right.” Emmet pressed his face into Lela’s shoulder. She could hear him sniffing against the fabric of her shirt.

“What are you doing?”

“Are you cooking what I think you are cooking?” His voice was muffled from his face still buried against her clothing. She laughed and pushed away from Emmet.

“Maybe. You’re just going to have to wait and find out.” She stood and smoothed her apron before looking back down at her husband. His eyes were tired.

“Why not relax before dinner? You know the boys are going to want you to play with them after eating.”

Emmet nodded as a yawn crept up almost as if on cue. Lela laughed once more and smiled sweetly at him. “I love you, Emmet.”

“I love you too, Lela.”

Lela walked away to finished dinner. Emmet made himself comfortable. His eyes drifted back to the wall dedicated to Ingo. Fate had played a cruel trick in taking Ingo away. What would Ingo think, Emmet wondered.

What would he think of his brother leading the life that was obviously meant for him?

“I wish you were here, Ingo…” Emmet muttered, closing his eyes. “I truly do.”

[dingdongdoodilydoodilydoo]

[there is snoring coming from outside your room. should you choose to open the door, an anon is curled up fetal position on the floor some feet away from a tray of cinnamon buns. it wouldn't take much inspection to tell that they're shitty and burnt, an attempt being made to cover up said fact by the icing that is drenching the sweets. there is a note haphazardly thrown to the side of the tray. the handwriting is scratchy and bold, occasional blots in the middle of sentences where words were misspelled and promptly marked out, along with letters whose parts drag on for just a bit long... as if someone was actively struggling to keep their eyes open. for the most part, it's not hard to read.]

thank you for all the times you generously let me rest with you. i know it's not a lot, but you might like these. i may have left the oven on a bit too long. sorry, i'm not a baker.

- 💤

Well, he couldn't ignore it forever.

At first he thought it was Murderface, who would frequently pass out near his room after drinking too much, and trying to sleep in Pickles' bed. But, its been over thirty minutes, and by that time someone would trip over the bassist and wake him up.

But who else would just fall asleep by his door like that?

Certainly not a Klokateer, they knew better than that.

Nathan was doing his own thing in his room, so was Murderface as far as he knew. Toki and Skwisgaar were out traveling to...what was it? A Moomin theme park, or something? Whatever, it probably didn't matter that much anyway.

He'd ignore it usually, but he had a gut feeling that had him more concerned than he would be usually. So, with an annoyed groan at his own suspicion, the redhead begrudgingly got up and took some lazy steps towards his door.

As he got closer, the sound of light snoring had gotten just slightly louder, just as well as an immense smell of something sweet filling his nose...although, it was as if the scent was...too sweet. Not to mention that the scent was poorly masking a lingering, acrid, burnt scent, leaving an overwhelming mix to find it's way past his door.

But, it wasn't...too bad.

With curiosity prying at his psyche, Pickles opened the door, the irritating sound of hinges squeaking causing the drummer to scrunch his nose.

The sight of the familiar anon on the floor made his expression soften, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips as his gaze falls on their sleeping figure.

"Aw, c'mahn man..." He chuckles, leaning down and picking up the note, assessing the scribbles and lazy handwriting strewn across the sheet of paper.

Maybe Pickles was a sap, maybe he was soft, but c'mon, there was an effort made! And despite how it...looks...it meant a lot, even if it wasn't very professional.

Plus, who doesn't like things a little...charred? yeah, charred.

...maybe it was just a him thing.

The drummer lazily folded the note and tossed it somewhere, where it landed? He couldn't tell, but that wasn't his concern right now.

He carefully picks up the tray of the cinnamon buns, setting them down on one of his two nightstands before bringing his attention back to the sleeping person by his door.

"Okee, dood, you need to get more sleep, 'm gettin' real concerned here." He laughs nervously, taking a step outside and squatting down by the anon. "Wake up, c'mahn."

"...dood, dood- dooood...wake up, up time, get up, time to get up-"

The lack of response was...certainly helpful.

The redhead sighed, looking around the hallway before adjusting their figure slightly and pulling them up.

"M'kay, let's go." He whispered, shutting the door with his foot before carrying them bridal style towards his bed, gently setting them down and pulling the covers over them.

"...you get good sleep, okee? Naht that hard." The drummer rolls his eyes, crossing his arms before laughing, evident that his comment was a joke. "...nyeah, 'm just kiddin'. It's hard to sleep sometimes, I know dat-"

He sits down next to them, patting their back.

"You just go to sleep, m'kay? Just...stay right dere, 'n just go to bed-" he whispers, leaning against his headboard. "I'll stay here til' you wake up."

[dankusner]

86

CHAPTER 6

through. The border patrol was chasing a group, tes this particular in. critual was in distress. He started taking his clothes off because he was so hot, and he ended up passing away. When they were working on his body, I do remember that either the MT or the paramedic told me that his body temperature was 108 or 109. It was sad to see. We were out there for two-and-a-half hours, but I was able to go in and out of a police unit to cool down and drink my water and go back out when needed. Because the individual died so far into the brush, we were not able to walk in, and border patrol had to carry him about a mile and a half so I could Pronounce him dead. The border patrol agents had to be seen by EMS as

well because it was so hot.

Nora Salinas (Brooks County) is often called on to sign death certif. cates on the remains of unidentified undocumented immigrants found in her South Texas county; sometimes all that is left is a long-decom-posed skeleton. When the investigation can determine the identity of the deceased and the remains can be sent back to the family for proper burial, Judge Salinas takes special satisfaction in the closure that this represents both for the family and for herself.

The usual protocol is for a local law enforcement agency to bring a death to the attention of the justice of the peace to conduct an inquest.

Barbara McMillon (Cass County) related to me an unusual situation in which she got the jump on law enforcement. A woman she knew brought a second woman whom the judge didn't know to speak to her about the possibility that her boyfriend had killed his mother. The elderly woman had lived for a while with the couple after the boyfriend removed her from her nursing home. When the concerned woman returned from a two-week trip out of state, she discovered that her boyfriend's mother was no longer there. The boyfriend said she'd "gone to visit relatives in Dallas."

She hadn't. It turns out that while the girlfriend was away, her boyfriend's mother had passed away and he'd buried her in the backyard and kept quiet so he could keep receiving her Social Security checks. It was determined that he hadn't killed her, but the situation had confirmed the girlfriend's concerns, her friend's concerns, and, ultimately, Judge McMillon's concerns, which she said investigators in both the sherif's office and the district attorney's office hadn't shared. Judge McMillon was proven right, but having her suspicions validated carried no joy.

Dead Reckoning

87

Ihave worked numerous inquest scenes over the years but none as sad as this one. The son had buried his mother in a small two-foot-by-three-foot grave, and laid her in a fetal position, wearing her nightgown. As I looked into the small, dark, damp, and cold grave, I have never felt so helpless and sad during my career.

Judge Gordon Terry (Garza County) described his inquest duties as an assault on multiple senses:

I just went to do an inquest on a friend of mine, six months younger than me, and I was thinking, the things that bother you on an inquest are the sights, the sounds, the smells. Those three things: seeing the bodies— victims of gunshots, car wrecks, or whatever. The sounds: you're with the grieving families. It's always my hope that I don't come across as callous or cold when I have to ask my questions, when I have to get the information I need to do my job. And the smells. We get deaths where people have been in the home for a week. In the summertime. With no air conditioning.

Handling an inquest involves more than just showing up at the death scene, trying to determine "cause and manner," and then helping to arrange for the removal of the body. Two months after a terrible traffic accident in his county that took the lives of three children, Michael York (Lee County) was still dealing with the bureaucratic aftermath.

Not only are you out there doing a job, you're doing the inquest, but then it's not done. You've got to go back to the office and categorize and label those pictures, you've got to deal with the funeral homes and the death certificates and the hospitals and the family members. I'm still not through with that particular case.

Even though Galveston County has its own medical examiner, Mike Nelson did inquests for fifteen years because he wanted to learn all the facets to death investigation. As a result, he became a helpful member of the medical examiner's team.

At the other end of the spectrum, Scott Shinn (Van Zandt County) sometimes finds himself doing the work of his county's local lawmen.

Inquests are an adrenaline rush like playing a sport. I hate to say that, but it's true. You're there trying to investigate the cause of death. I'm sure we miss it sometimes, but ultimately you are there figuring things out.

Our county is pretty rural and our law enforcement doesn't have all the means that other agencies have, and sometimes our guys get it wrong, so

[riallasheng]

third part (second half of TOS Thunderbirds)

      Gordon was always light sleeper who tended not to move once he fell asleep, but after the hydrofoil accident he actually became a fairly heavy sleeper who STILL doesn't move much - if at all - once he falls asleep. He has an adjustable bed and how he sleeps tends to depend on how his back is feeling. He varies between sleeping on his side (with a pillow between his knees), sleeping with the head of the bed (and sometimes teh foot) raised up, sleeping with just the foot of the bed raised, and on bad days he tends to sleep in the fetal position with a body pillow. Like John he tends to run cold when asleep, although unlike John with his insane pile of bedding, Gordon tends to go for a heated mattress and a heated weighted blanket. Gordon is very much a morning bird, tending to fall asleep early and wake with the dawn. He usually does hydrotherapy swim sessions both before going to bed and once he wakes up, and the Tracy's pool is designed so that it can function as a true hydrotherapy pool, able to change temperature, pressure and even create water currents. Gordon usually only does hydrotherapy as a preventative measure / maintenance measure, and as a result the pool is usually at 'normal pool' settings       TinTin is a heavy sleeper who tends not to move much, if at all, but is a snuggler and a 'burrower / tunneler', having more than one body pillow and a pile of throw pillows on her bed (the others tend to joke that she has enough pillows that she's caused a pillow shortage... something that she tends to get teased about given she has never managed a shopping trip that did not result in her buyng at least one pillow, and the fact that there is at least one layer of pillows you have to dig through before you get to the mattress). She tends to burrow into her pillows and make little pillow forts and pillow tunnels.       Alan is an active sleeper with vivid dreams who sometimes suffers from (fairly mild) sleep walking. his family has gotten very skilled at catching him and getting him back to bed over the years, and fortunately Alan - even when sleepwalking - tends to stay away from dangerous areas like the hangers and stairs and going outside. He is a notoriously bad bedfellow, QUITE the whirling dervish, and when he sleeps with his others they almost always end up with bruises the few times they don't end up on the floor.

Hey my tripleace gurl!

Would you kindly do ☾ - sleep headcanon and ♡ - romantic headcanon

Heyo Mbali!!

Ooooo, fun ones!!! (also, I have GOT to replay bioshock sometime soon XD )

Let's see... under cut because long XD

…

Also ended up needing to break this into two parts because LONG, so the romance emoji will be a reblog to this.  I’d @ you, but I know you don’t have a tumblr so I’ll just dm you the link on discord XD 

...

Also this keeps glitchign out, so even THIS PART will be in a few parts in reblogs =_=

Fireball XL5

☾ -       Steve sleeps light but long. He can manage on 6 hours, but does best with 8, and he begins to drag fast if his sleep is interrupted / broken up. He tends not to move much when sleeping       Venus sleeps like a ROCK. She falls asleep fast, easily, and once she puts her head down she can (and has) slept through a space battle and crashlanding.       Matt tends to battle with insomnia, and when he does sleep it tends to be in 2 hour power naps and is a very ACTIVE sleeper, always getting tangled in his bedding and even sleep walking on occasion.

------

Lady Penelope

☾ -       Lady Penelope sleeps very lightly, and runs cold so whenever possible she'll have some form of heater in her bed... her bed at home has both a heated mattress and an electric blanket. She tends to be easily disturbed, switching between sleep and fully awake and aware almost instantly, and it can take her a long time to fall asleep again once she's awake. There are always weapons near (or on) her person when she's asleep. There is a knife and laser pistol under her pillow, and a heavy machine gun under her bed, on top of all the 'spy goodies' she's got stashed around her room and in her purse designed to look like normal items. She's also something of a cuddler, and has a body pillow that she loves, but will make due with a normal pillow or rolled up blanket (and she also ALWAYS ends up being an absolute cuddle monster to any bedfellows and it's impossible to escape her)       Parker is actually naturally a heavy sleeper, but has trained himself / been forced by life experience to be a light sleeper. Since he's come into Lady Penelope's employ, he's actually become a heavy sleeper again, and it he tends to be slow to wake and groggy for a fair while after he wakes.

------

Stingray

☾ -       Sam has an adaptive bed with railings on the side, and the bottom sheet is actually a very wide sheet that is attached to two mechanized rollers on either side of the bed that can essentially slide him from the edge of the bed to the middle or from the middle to the edge, which he often needs as he suffers from weakness in his left arm and thus has trouble pulling himself into / out of bed without it.  The bed can raise it’s head and foot like an adjustable bed.  Sam tends to run hot and thus prefers only a light cover, although as the winter months hit he’ll slowly increase the layers until he’s comfortable.  He’s a light sleeper, but tends not to move much while asleep.        Phones is a very light sleeper, and due to his time as a mercenary, he tends to wake quickly and sharply at any little thing.  It’s saved his life hundreds of times, but it does mean that he tends to only rarely get unbroken sleep, so he tends to take cat naps during the day.  He usually sleeps on his back with one arm tucked beneath his head / pillow (and generally resting on his knife there).  He tends to move little, if at all, while asleep.       Troy sleeps heavily / like the dead, but he wakes up quickly, easily – bright-eyed and bushy tailed, although it takes him a long time to fall asleep.  He tends not to move much when asleep, and usually sleeps on his stomach with his arms tucked under the pillow.  He likes a light cover to no sheets at all, and tends to sleep in shorts and nothing else if given a choice.       Atlanta tends to fall asleep fast, sleep light but long, and wakes quickly.  She’s trained herself to keep an ear out for her father having trouble, as Sam hates to impose on her or wake her and will do his best to get himself into and out of bed or deal with spikes of pain without waking her, and while he CAN manage for the most part, there are still tiems he needs help.  She tends to lay very still when sleeping, making few (if any) movements even during REM, but she does talk fairly extensively in her sleep.       Marina used to be a very heavy sleeper who tossed and turned and slept long and late.  However, her 9 months as Titan’s captive means that she now sleeps lightly, startling awake at any little sound or movement, and she often doesn’t get as deep a sleep as she needs, and sometimes doesn’t get any sleep at all.  She almost always sleeps curled up on her side, trying to make herself as small as possible.  She’s found that if she sleeps with someone else, she sleeps better, feeling protected and safe, and has – on bad nights – snuck into the rooms of most of her friends to curl up, and Atlanta, Phones and Fisher have gotten in the habit of poking their heads into her quarters before heading off to bed to see if she needs someone there.  She’s actually found most often snuggling up with Sam, Atlanta and Phones as they are light sleepers who don’t move much, which means she feels safe and guarded enough to sleep.  As time passes, and she begins to feel safe again, she’s starting to sleep heavier again, as well as starting to toss and turn a bit, and the number of times she needs to curl up with a friend are slowly dropping.       Fisher is a fairly active sleeper, tossing and turning a lot in his sleep, although he’ll settle quickly if he can snuggle or hug something, and as a result he has a body pillow that he’ll curl up around when he sleeps.

[purple-babygirl]

hi im not sure if you’re taking requests so you can ignore this if you’d like, but i really liked your mafia bucky fic !! and i was wondering if you could do one where maybe someone breaks into the house and the reader has to force themselves to be big for a little bit just so they can fight them off and then she runs to the little safe room and goes little there and Bucky finds her there and comforts her and it’s just all fluffy? sorry if this is so specific i just loved the last fic sm 😅

Pairing: Mafia!Daddy!Bucky Barnes x f!little!reader

Word count: 1,958

Warnings: reader gets attacked (includes harassment and mentions of violence, cursing, guns), reader gets hurt, mentions of killing, Bucky's softness (yes it's a warning), ddlg dynamics.

A/N: I've been holding onto this one for forever now I'm really sorry for taking so long, dear nonnie🥺 it means the world to me that you liked mafia!daddy!bucky and i hope i delivered with this one and that you like it as much, love. Please enjoy ily xx💜

~

safe

You’re a big girl.

You’re a big girl.

You’re a big girl. You can do this.

It all happened too fast. She woke up to guns shooting, Bucky’s men yelling at each other before all the voices suddenly stopped and the door to their bedroom was violently kicked open.

She didn’t even have time to scream before she was dragged from under the large bed by her ankle.

You’re a big girl.

You’re a big girl.

You’re a big girl. Just like Daddy taught you.

“Let go! You don’t wanna do this!” she shrieked, warning the person trying to snatch her off the floor, her leg kicking as she struggled to flee his vice-like hold.

She’d suddenly forgotten every single self-defense move Bucky has ever taught her and was thrashing in panic.

“Oh, I don’t?” the man laughed, his grip painful on her limb as he tried to get on top of her.

She screamed when he dug his fingernails in the flesh of her shin, forcing her legs apart.

“Such a delicate little thing.” He licked his lips when he drew blood, running his gun up her bare leg, pressing down when it reached her inner thigh, “beg me to let you go.”

The words infuriated her big self. If Bucky had taught her one thing that she could never forget it was how dear and precious she was.

“Do you know who my man is?” Her free foot collided with the intruder’s chin, hitting him just right for his teeth to slam together, making him groan and loosen his grasp.

“I beg no one for nothing.” She spat, clumsily standing up, rushing inside Bucky’s large walk-in closet.

“You’re gonna regret that, you little bitch!” The masked man threatened, banging his fist on the door, “I’m gonna make that man of yours weep blood over your dead slut body!”

Her breath was coming out in puffs as tears blurred her vision. With trembling fingers, she moved Bucky’s hung-up suits to the side, revealing the metal door to the panic room.

You’re a big girl.

You’re a big girl.

You’re a big girl. Just a bit longer.

She could hear the man take a few steps back and she knew he was going to shoot the closet open. Her shaky fingers pushed the buttons and typed the number code, the date of the day Bucky had asked her to be his.

I feel safe knowing I have you, angel, so it’s only fit that we make it the safe room code, he'd told her with a playful shrug.

She slid inside as soon as the door moved, pushing her back against the concrete wall, trying to take her breath. The door clicked shut right before the wooden one to the closet was thrown open.

You’re a big girl.

You’re a big girl.

You’re a big girl. You got this.

She let out a relieved sigh that broke into a sob as she tiredly slid down the wall, still hearing the scary man curse, bang and shoot on the safe room door.

Where was Bucky? She couldn’t hold on any longer. This wasn’t a situation she wanted to be present in. Her body started folding up, taking fetal position as her mind led her to the safer side against her better will. Even her fists closed upon themselves, tears leaving her eyes and traveling down the bridge of her nose. She was losing consciousness of her present surroundings, pictures of Bucky’s eyes spreading in her vision instead of the dull, grey walls of the room.

She was crying too loudly to hear the firing of Bucky’s gun right outside the door or the peeping of the door as it slid open once again.

“Angel!” Bucky’s voice sounded so distant. She felt like she was drowning with how muffled his calls were to her ears.

Seeing her body shake with sobs on the floor like that made Bucky want to walk out and shoot the man’s dead body again and again until he couldn’t be identified.

How dare they send someone here? How dare they violate the sanctity of his home? They were certainly not going to live another day to repeat or repent from their sins.

“Angel, are you hurt?” He kneeled beside her, gently untangling her limbs to check if she was wounded anywhere.

Aside from a couple of nasty scratches by her ankle, she was physically okay and Bucky could breathe a little better as his body sagged on the floor.

He swallowed and lifted her on his lap, signaling his men to leave when they stepped in the room to check if they were needed after ‘cleaning up’.

“Get me water.” Was all he said and they were running to the nearest fridge.

“I’m sorry, my angel. I’m here now. You’re okay.” Bucky mumbled, lips hovering over her temple.

“Dada.” Her body leaned into his warmth but her cries didn’t stop and Bucky could only hold her closer as he tried not to let guilt rip him apart.

She was like that now because of him. Had he been a normal man with a normal life, she would’ve been safer. She didn’t deserve to be startled awake only to be chased by a criminal in the middle of the night. She didn’t deserve any of the bullshit that hit her because she was with Bucky.

He kept planting kiss after kiss to her head, wishing he could go back and be there to protect her.

“Shh, you’re okay, my angel. You’re safe,” he kept telling her as he supported himself up with her in his arms.

Her cries were dying down and she was getting comfier in Bucky’s protective hold, fingers digging in his shoulders afraid he would leave again.

“Please, calm down, baby. I’m here. No one can hurt you, angel.” Bucky took her out and to the bathroom so he could take a look at her leg.

“Baby, are you hurt anywhere else?” he asked after sitting her down on the cold counter.

Instead of answering, she pressed her forehead to his chest and kept sniveling, hands clutching Bucky’s jacket. She wasn’t ready for him to let her go yet. She may be too far gone but her body knew it needed to be close to Bucky’s.

“Baby, please come back to me,” Bucky begged, tears threatening to spill from his once hard, cold eyes.

“Angel,” his thumb brushed her cheek and she finally looked up to him.

“Dada, I was so scared.” She sobbed, shaking at the memory.

“I’m sorry, my angel.” Bucky pressed his lips to her forehead, “I’m here with you, baby. No need to be scared anymore.”

“That man- he-” she hiccupped.

“You’re okay, angel. Breathe.” Bucky stroked her back warmly as she buried her face in his chest again.

He took the bottle of water from one of his men, waving him out of the bathroom.

“Here, baby, drink some water.”

She wouldn’t move. She just wanted to be close to Daddy. She was scared and Bucky was safety. He was home.

“For me, baby. Just a tiny sip.” Bucky twisted the bottle cap open, gently cupping her cheek to coax her away from his body.

His heart swelled when she leaned her damp cheek on his palm, enjoying the warmth. Her smaller hand cupped his and her eyes closed, her face further pressed into Bucky’s hand as a soft sigh escaped her lips.

Bucky bit his lip, holding back the waterworks. He should’ve been here; should’ve prevented it all from happening. His thumb brushed her chin and she opened her eyes.

“Drink a little, angel.” Bucky offered a kind smile.

She nodded, sitting up straighter, her lashes wet with tears as she looked up to Bucky, her gaze holding no blame.

He brought the bottle to her lips and she gulped down, the chilled water soothing her sore throat.

“Better?” Bucky cocked his head to the side and she nodded, sniffing.

Bucky bowed, holding his forehead against hers. He just wanted to feel her breathe soundly; wanted to make his mind stop telling him he almost lost her forever.

“Dada.”

“Yes, my angel.” Bucky pecked her lips.

“My leg hurts.” Her voice was awfully small as she pointed to the burning scratches ruining her beautiful skin. Bucky wished he could hide her between his ribs in place of his heart.

“Daddy’s got you, angel.”

Bucky cleaned her wound, apologizing with a kiss to her cheek every time she hissed. He had her tell him what happened to distract her and it worked. She wanted him to be proud so much she eagerly told him all about kicking the bad man. Tears gathered in her eyes once again when he applied ointment but she continued with her story, Bucky’s smile keeping her calm.

“Angel, you were so brave! I’m so proud of you, baby.” Bucky kissed her bandaged leg, “how did you do that?!”

“Kept thinkin’ dada thoughts.” She hugged Bucky again.

Bucky was a puddle on the bathroom floor. She was telling him she was brave like that because she was thinking of him through it all. He adored her so much he didn’t know who he was if not her man.

“I promise this is the last time you would ever have to go through anything like that,” Bucky assured, chuckling lovingly when she squeezed him harder and nodded.

She believed Bucky. She knew he could keep her safe. This wasn’t a usual occurrence, Bucky’s always made sure she was protected. She had no doubt anything would change. She trusted her Daddy with all her heart.

Bucky knew that and it scared him to death. He was scared one day he might not be up to the trust she’d put in him. He feared disappointing her; not being there for her in time. He was terrified a day would come where he might let her down.

“Never again. You’re safe, my angel. You’re always safe with me.”

Bucky’s soft lips placed a languishing kiss to her forehead. Her eyes were next, Bucky kissed her eyelids and under her eyes. Then he left wet kisses on both cheeks before pecking her nose. She smiled shyly when he pressed his mouth to the corner of hers.

“I love you, angel,” Bucky whispered against her lips before kissing her.

~

Bucky carried her back to their bed. The room was organized again, nothing was out of place and she was in Daddy’s arms. She was safe once more.

Bucky held her to his chest all night, his mind too loud to let him fall asleep. She went back to bed almost immediately though. Bucky’s presence was all it really took for her to feel peaceful enough to close her eyes and dream again.

When she moved out of his embrace in her sleep, Bucky carefully left the room and went to his office to review the security cameras footage. He knew watching the attack would make his blood boil again but he had to see what happened and how the unlucky asshole got inside his mansion.

While she already told him she’d defended herself, Bucky was the proudest seeing it unfold on the screen.

“Do you know who my man is?... I beg no one.”

The words brought the largest smile to Bucky’s lips. He was so proud of his angel; so amazed by her courage. He thought he couldn’t love her any more than he already did and he was wrong. His heart has picked the right girl and for that he was grateful. Bucky took one last look at the shining ring in his top drawer before shutting it and walking back to continue cuddling his precious sweetheart.

~~

Tags: @harrysthiccthighss, @tinystudentfirepurse, @lavendercitizen

[intheticklecloset]

Off Button (The Promised Neverland)

Summary: Ray looks for a kinder, more playful way to tell Norman when he's rambled for too long.

A/N: My first full-length fic for this fandom - and it's lee Norman!! I couldn't be happier! Norman is my favorite character so I was super thrilled this was the first fic request I got for The Promised Neverland! Enjoy! ^^

Word Count: 1,448

~~~

“Ugh, seriously, do you ever shut up?” Ray grumbled, finally letting his book fall to the table with a thump, eyes flicking up to glare at Norman.

Norman stopped rambling, looking back at his friend, blinking and confused. “What?”

“Don’t you think there’s a reason I’m inside reading when it’s a perfect day to be outside under that tree?” Ray snapped. “Did it occur to you that maybe I wanted some privacy?”

“Oh.” Norman’s voice had gone quiet. He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “You’re right. I guess I wasn’t thinking about that. Sorry, Ray. I’ll leave you alone.” Without another word, he turned and left the library.

Ray suddenly felt guilty. He wanted to call after his friend, but no words escaped him. He sighed, closed the book he’d been trying so hard to focus on all this time, and put his head in his hands.

He didn’t do any more reading.

*

About ten minutes later, Ray poked his head into the room he shared with the other boys and – unsurprisingly – found Norman sitting on his bed, alone. He looked up when Ray entered, putting on his usual smile. “Hey, Ray.”

“Norman, I’m sorry.” Ray spoke quickly, trying to make sure he got what he needed to say out before Norman could interrupt him. “I was frustrated, but I shouldn’t have snapped at you. I didn’t mean to be mean. I’m sorry.”

Norman’s smile never wavered. “It’s okay. I forgive you. You’re right, I should have realized you were probably spending such a beautiful day inside for a reason. I’m sorry I didn’t pick up on that sooner.”

Ray shifted his weight from one foot to the other, stuffing his hands in his pockets, glancing around the room awkwardly. Apologies were never usually his thing, but when it came to Norman and Emma, he couldn’t bring himself not to own up to his mistakes. Somehow, though, it made him feel even worse when they were both so quick to forgive him for being a jerk.

“Though,” Norman continued, blessedly breaking the silence, “you could have just told me you wanted to be alone.”

“Yeah…I know.” Ray winced, gradually making his way over to the bed and plopping on it beside his friend, who scooted over to make room. “It would be easier if you just had an off button, though. Once you get going it’s hard to get a word in edgewise.”

“An off button, huh?” Norman put a hand to his chin in contemplation. “Maybe a hand gesture or something if I’m not giving you room to talk?”

“Or an actual button. I bet flicking your forehead would be a good way to get you to quit talking.” Ray smirked, and Norman grinned back at him.

“I’m sure there’s a nicer way.”

“I could poke you,” Ray suggested, reaching over to pinch Norman’s side playfully, pleased when his friend squeaked and pulled away with an even wider smile. “Hey, yeah…that could work.”

“R-Ray, don’t get any ideas—!” Norman started to protest, quickly cut off when Ray pushed him down so he was lying flat on the bed, his fingers poking and clawing up and down his sides and belly. “Ehehehehehehehe! Wahahahahahahait!”

“Tickling you is a good way to get you to shut up.” Ray smirked down at his friend, who was letting out the brightest, bubbliest giggles as he curled up in a fetal position, not even fighting him off. “And it makes you laugh, so there’s no chance of you being upset for getting cut off.”

“Rahahahahahahay!” Norman squealed, a tiny pleading undertone in his voice that the older boy chose to ignore for the moment. “Ehehehehehehehehe! P-Plehehehehease, stohohohohohop!”

“Let’s see. What’s a good off button I could use?” Ray grabbed Norman’s wrists and pinned them above his head, using his free hand to wiggle into his underarm. “Here? Hmm…no, I think it would be too hard to reach under normal circumstances.”

Norman wasn’t even protesting anymore. He just lay there and giggled hysterically, pink in the cheeks, his smile brighter than ever.

Ray smirked. “Maybe I could do this.” He dug his fingers into Norman’s upper ribs and raked harshly down to his bottom ones like he was playing a xylophone, laughing along with his friend when he shrieked and arched his back in surprise, legs kicking out instinctively. “Nah…you might topple over if you were standing up, and I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Rahahahahahahahahay!”

“Maybe this?” The ravenette pinched and tweaked his sides teasingly, chuckling at the louder laughter he got in response, as well as Norman attempting to fight back for the first time. Shaky hands clamped around his wrists and tried to push, but Ray only dug in deeper, making Norman burst into a short fit of uncontrollable laughter, kicking and rolling onto his side to try and escape.

“Ooh~ This the spot, Norman?” Ray teased as if he hadn’t learned the answer years ago.

“No! Rahahahahahahahay, no!”

“No?” Ray swung a leg over to straddle his friend, keeping his hips pinned to the mattress while he continued to pinch up and down Norman’s obviously sensitive sides.

“Nohohohohohahahahahahahahaha!” Norman tossed his head back and laughed openly, shaking his head as mirthful tears sprang to his eyes. “Rahahahahahahahay, stohohohohohohohop!”

“Sounds like it’s the spot to me.” Ray grabbed the hem of Norman’s shirt and shoved it out of the way so he could see his friend’s bare stomach, continuing to tweak and poke and prod at his sides, earning a loud scream of laughter in response. “Ah, skin-to-skin contact is what does it for you, eh, Norman?”

“RAHAHAHAHAHAHAY!! PLEHEHEHEHEHEHEASE!!”

“Oh, but this looks like an actual button,” Ray continued as though he wasn’t making his friend beg underneath his tickling onslaught. He poked an index finger into Norman’s navel and wiggled, eyes widening in surprise when Norman snorted in response, laughter alternating between silent mirth and light, tittering giggles. Ray chuckled. “Is this your off button, then? Or should I stick with the tried and true method?” He switched back to his sides, scribbling up and down mercilessly this time, grinning when Norman exploded into laughter again, trying desperately to buck Ray off of him.

“AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! STAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAP IT!! PLEHEHEHEHEHEASE, RAY!! RAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAY!!!”

“Time for an actual test.” Ray slowed to a stop, letting Norman catch his breath for a few moments. “Ramble about something. Anything.”

“W-What?” Norman sputtered, reaching to pull his shirt back down, only to have Ray grab his wrists and stop him. “Ramble? Why?”

“You know why.” Ray smirked. “Do it.”

Norman was giggling again already, squirming on the bed. “R-Ray, please…”

“Do it, or else.” The older boy wiggled his fingers threateningly.

“Okay, okay! Um…ah…y-you know, the other day I was talking to Phil, and I realized he’s actually really smart for his age. I think he scores well on the tests, too. So I asked if he wanted to play chess with me, and he-EEEEEEEE!! NAHAHAHAHAHAHA, RAY!!”

“What do you know?” Ray asked nonchalantly, tasering Norman’s sides. “You do have an off button!”

“RAHAHAHAHAHAHAY, PLEASE!! NO MOHOHOHOHOHOHORE!!” Norman begged, laughing himself silly as he tried to cover up his sides and push his friend away. He watched Ray flash him a wicked smirk. It was a teasing, knowing, you-aren’t-going-anywhere-until-I-say-so smirk, and Norman swore it made him feel three times as ticklish. “PLEHEHEHEHEHEASE!! I GIHIHIHIHIVE!! RAYYYYY!!”

“All right, fine, I guess you’ve had enough,” Ray relented at last, climbing off of Norman and ceasing his tickling. He made himself comfortable while Norman rolled onto his side and curled up, letting out leftover giggles. “Now I know how to shut you up when you won’t leave me alone in the future.”

“N-No fair,” Norman muttered, looking up at him through happy, teary vision. “What about the times you don’t shut up?”

Ray shrugged. “I don’t have an off button like yours. You’ll have to find some other way.”

“Oh, really?” Norman sat up, flashing him a knowing smile. “So tickling won’t work on you? Is that what you’re trying to say? Even though I know for a fact that you’re more ticklish than me—hey, where are you going?!”

Ray was up and out of the room so fast Norman barely had time to register his sudden absence. Still, he laughed and bolted out of the room after him, catching sight of his black hair as he barreled down the stairs.

So he wanted to play tag now, did he? Norman grinned, stalking after him leisurely, unbothered by the ground Ray was gaining on him. Too bad for his runaway friend, everyone at Grace Field House knew Norman was the best at being “it.”

[babyloposts]

MY HERO DAD-CANNONS

Summary: How my favorite boys would react to their child having a nightmare. Some single dad head cannons because my baby fever is back

Includes: Bakugou Katsuki, Midoriya Izuku, Kaminari Denki, Takami Keigo

Warnings: none, fluff, aged up characters, references to GN parent titles

———————————————————————

Bakugou:

He was up and down the hall as quickly as the first wail left his daughter’s mouth. He was desperately hoping that the screams were not from a villain trying to kidnap her.

He was relieved for only a second as he saw her safely tucked into bed as he left her earlier that night, but the worry came back as he saw her broken out in a cold sweat.

Careful not to startle her awake Katsuki rubbed her forehead gingerly removing the sweat and bangs from its place matted on the top of her head.

“Kid. Wake up.” His tone soft. The one he reserved only for her.

“Daddy?” Her brows furrowed and her eyelashes fluttered open to see a stoic yet comforting face.

“You okay? I think you were having a nightmare. Scared the hell out of me.” He chuckled, still soothing her as her breathing slowed.

“M-me too. I was so scared Dad. The monsters were trying to get me.”

“What monsters?” Katsuki feared the worst. What if she had seen a villain and they knew she was his kid. That could mean she was being watched and in danger. He couldn’t let anything happen to her.

“From the movie dad. The one I watched when hanging out with the Midoriya’s.” Bakugou’s face scrunched and his daughter winced in fear of being in trouble for watching a PG-13 movie.

“What’d I tell you about watching scary movies with Deku’s kid. Now look at you all scared with nightmares.” Bakugou scolded, but his expression softened. He was just glad she was safe.

“I’m sorry Dad. I won’t watch scary movies anymore. I don’t want any monsters to get me.”

“It’s okay. I promise I won’t let any monsters get you. They have to go through me first, alright squirt.” She nodded and gave Bakugou a small smile, knowing she was safe and in the most capable hands of the #2 hero.

Bakugou smoothed her hair back and placed a kiss to her forehead. “Love you squirt. Sweet Dreams.”

“I love you too Dad.”

———————————————————————

Midoriya:

Izuku is no stranger to weird dreams, but he had never expected his One for All induced visions to transfer to his daughter as well.

He wouldn’t even know if she hadn’t been weeping by his bedside at one in the morning.

“D-daddy.” A small voice warbled out next to Midoriya. His eyes shot open not expecting to see a teary eyed five year old only a few inches away from his face.

“What’s wrong Bubby?” Izuku quickly sat up in bed and moved to the edge of the bed, scooping the crying child into his arms.

“I had a bad dream.” She whimpered as he wiped the tears from her eyes.

“Aww I’m sorry.” He hugged her tightly to his chest rocking slightly to soothe her. “Do you want to talk about it?”

She nodded slightly before starting. “I was so scared Daddy. You were there and somebody—a bad man—stole your quirk away from you. He was too strong. And nobody would help you. Not even All Might. And I was too little to help you, Daddy and I’m so sorry.” And just like that the tears were flowing from her tear ducts again.

Izuku shushed her and started back trying to soothe her again. “Don’t worry, I’m right here, okay? I’m not going anywhere.” He brought his daughter back to her bedroom and tucked her into her Princess themed bed. “Are you comfy?” She asked and she nodded.

Izuku gave her a kiss to her temple before getting up to move to a bookshelf on the far side of the room. “Would you like to hear a story?” She nodded and Izuku climbed into the side of the bed and wrapped his arm around her.

Midoriya read the story book to her that were more kiddie versions of some of All Might’s best missions (even in fatherhood he was a total fanboy).

His daughter was knocked before he was even halfway through the book, the tales of heroism and safety lulling her into a peaceful sleep. Although she was peaceful and very cute Izuku had realized his grave mistake far too late.

His daughter was the lightest sleeper he knew. It would be almost impossible to remove himself from the bed without waking her up.

He tried several times to stand from the bed without causing her to stir, but ultimately failed and gave in to the reality that he’d be spending the night on the edge of a twin bed.

It wasn’t the most comfortable thing in the world, but Izuku would give up anything for his little girl, even the comforts of his own bed, to make her feel safe.

———————————————————————

Kaminari:

It took a lot to get Denki up, which wasn’t always a good thing having such a young child to look after. He was finally awoken by the third kick to his ribs by a little foot in bed.

“Ouch, what the-?” Denki whipped the blanket down to reveal a small body in the fetal position hunched against his side.

“Wha- hey Little Man. What happened? Why aren’t you sleeping in your big kid bed?”

The small boy was unmoving, pretending to be asleep to prevent being bothered or moved from his comfortable position.

“I know you’re not sleep, Buddy. Tell me what’s wrong. Please?” Finally Denki’s son’s head poked up from his arm shields and showed off his pouty face.

“I don’t want to sleep in my big kid. It’s too dark and scary in there. I don’t want to have bad dreams.” The child’s eyes started to water.

Denki sighed. “Bud, I thought we agreed that when you turned four you’d stop sleeping in Papa’s bed and sleep by yourself.”

“I don’t want to anymore. I’m scared. It’s too dark and you are too far away.” He whined. Denki knew that he was the age where he needed to start being able to self-soothe and sleep by himself, but he couldn’t deny his son. He was a good kid, maybe with a bit of separation anxiety, but all around he was pretty easy.

Denki’s nanny would probably scold him for babying his son, but he didn’t care. It’s not like Denki liked sleeping alone anyway.

“Bud, you can’t sleep down in the covers like that. You’ll get way too hot.” A small smile spread over Denki’s lips as his son shuffled his way up onto Denki’s chest with his arms wrapped around his neck in a death grip.

Denki chuckled once the grip loosened and rubbed his son’s back as he slipped into sleep. “Can we try sleeping in your big kid bed tomorrow night?” Denki whispered.

“I’ll try Papa, but no promises.” Denki chuckled and closed his eyes in content.

“That’s okay Buddy. I love you.”

“Love you too, Papa.”

———————————————————————

Takami Keigo:

Keigo really hoped that an intruder wasn’t in the house right now. He knew it was irrational to think, but stranger things have happened, plus he was already worked up from the last patrol he went on last night where he fought a surprisingly difficult villain.

Stealthily Kei climbed out of bed and sent a feather flying into the kitchen where the noise was coming from to scope out the intruder.

When he heard a high pitched scream and low thud he was actually more relieved than worried.

He rushed from behind his bedroom door out to see his son sat on the ground in front of the open refrigerator.

“The hell are you doing up? It’s 2 AM!” Keigo whisper yelled to ensure he didn’t bother the neighbors.

“Sorry Dad. I was hungry.”

“What are you still hungry for? You basically ate a whole chicken by yourself for dinner. At this rate keeping up with your eating habits cost more than the rent.” Takami chided, but he couldn’t be too mad, his son was a growing boy and they needed their sustenance.

“I’m sorry Dad. I just woke up and wanted a snack that’s all.” That’s what he said, but the glossiness in his son’s eyes gave him away.

Keigo bent over to pick up the food that had fallen out of the fridge and grab a carton of ice cream out of the freezer along with two spoons. His son watched his father intently as he moved to the kitchen island to sit and patted the stool next to him.

“Come sit down and have your snack.” Keigo sighed. Reluctantly his son sat down beside him and grabbed a spoon scooping into the slightly freezer burnt cookies and cream.

“So tell me what’s really going on. You wouldn’t tear up just from me knocking you on your ass earlier.” His son’s eyes grew wide, surprised that his dad had noticed that small detail.

“There’s nothing wrong.”

“I know when you’re lying to me Kid. So just go ahead and tell me.” Kei said wrapping an arm around his son’s shoulders.

He took a deep breath before finally caving. “I... I had a dream about Baba. When they died.” Keigo’s usual cocky demeanor faded away and his eyes softened as he recalled the painful memory.

“Wow.” Keigo said as he cleared his throat. “That uh... hasn’t happened for a while. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault Dad. I just wished... I don’t know. I just miss them a lot.” He began to tear up again. Keigo sighed. It has been almost seven years since his significant other died tragically from cancer. Their son was just a kid then. What Five year old can really comprehend that and grieve a parent properly. Since then Kei’s been doing his best as a single Dad, but maybe he should have talked about them more.

“I know you miss them Kid. I do too. I miss them everyday, but you remind me of them. You’ve got the same face and spirit they had, so it’s like a little piece of ‘em is always with us. They’re in you.” Keigo’s grip tightened around his son’s shoulder and he left a comforting rub up and down his forearm.

“I know sayin all this isn’t going to bring them back, but just know they’re always in your heart and they loved you very much.”

“Thanks Dad.”

“No problem Kid. Just finish your ice cream and get to bed. I don’t want you late for school in the morning.”

His son nodded. Keigo stood from the island and ruffled the hair of his son before depositing his dirty spoon in the sink. Before he made it all the way to his bedroom a voice rang out behind him.

“I love you Dad.”

Keigo smiled softly. “Love you too Kid.”

[windblooms]

childe scenario – after the golden house

you, an ex-fatui executive, decide against your better judgment and tend to the wounds of the near-dead 11th harbinger following his duel at the golden house.  spoilers for the 1.1 archon quest.

gender-neutral reader.  enemies to lovers  soft spot syndrome.  sfw, but contains mentions of blood/injury.  also childe briefly in foul legacy armor.  canon-divergence.  2669 words (nice).  

with the fatui’s nails so deep into the city, staying in liyue probably wasn’t your brightest idea in retrospect.  

you blame your sentimentality of liyue on the exact same thing that caused you to leave the fatui in the first place: wanting to live without fear.  while the fatui treated you well enough, as you were considerably efficient in your ranks, being part of a partially underground, partially illegal business wasn’t exactly the most liberating practice either.  it didn’t take long for you to realize that, behind their scheming and pretenses of fair economics, the fatui would have their underlings wound so incredibly tight around their fingers that their violent tasks would rapidly become suffocating. 

that is, once you were in the fatui, getting out would be akin to scaling qingyun peak with one arm tied behind your back.

the only reason you were able to?  because you ran.  you were desperate for a new life, sure, but also you weren’t below realizing when something was out of the question.  it took a few months to shake them off your trail, having to move constantly between fontaine and mondstadt, but you finally settled in liyue.

it was a quiet, peaceful city.  the governing body was fair enough with its jurisdictions, and after a year of hiding, you were able to enjoy the lantern rite festival without fear.

that is, until the northland bank sat its obnoxious ass down the street.

archons, really, once you found a place you thought was safe enough, you’d have to start moving again.  initially, you reasoned that it had been over a year, and that the fatui surely wouldn’t go hunting for a runaway executive.  hell, you weren’t even that high on the ladder.  however, a few run-ins with scaramouche and pulcinella had left you paranoid enough that, if they spotted you, they would surely put an end to your traitorism. 

honestly, you should’ve ratted them out to the knights of favonius while you were in mondstadt.  make a quick bargain, have jean toss a few coins your way, and you would be set.  it would’ve definitely been worth the trouble, now with the knowledge that the fatui were your neighbors.  

now, there’s no time to dwell on what you could’ve done.  it’s either run again, or hold your ground right under the fatui’s nose.  you might, sort of, maybe, probably do not have the funds to move for the third time in a row, but maybe counting couldn’t hurt –

no, yeah, it hurts, you grimace as you slide the coin bag back in your bedside drawer.  outside, it’s dark, and the sky seems a bit more disturbed than usual.  it isn’t usually overcast in liyue, and the blue lightning does nothing to quell your unease.  the streets are also empty, but lights illuminate each building.

from your window, a quick glance towards the northland bank reveals to you that it is uncharacteristically dark.  no lanterns, no lights.  you frown, troubled that the individuals you were so alert to monitoring, had a lifeless stronghold.  not typical of them at all. 

so, you decide while your long-time enemies are plotting (or whatever they’re doing that prompts them to close an entire bank for), now might be the best time to potentially make a run for it, light coin bag be damned.

hastily, you rid your apartment of personal belongings by unceremoniously shoving them into your bag.  if it’s one thing you were grateful for in this world, it’s archon magic.  you don’t fuss over the science behind it, but whatever made your bag feel like a bottomless pit was an actual life-saver.  packing is extremely efficient with it, and in less than fifteen minutes, you’re ready to go.

all that’s left is to write a thank-you note to the liyuen couple who let you stay while their son was out exorcising.  at the time, they assured you that you would be no trouble for you to take up a guest room, but nonetheless you tried to pay them with whatever you had left over after commissions.

you grab a writing utensil, still feeling a bit rude to leave on such short notice, and swear to yourself that you’ll visit in the future.  for good measure (after sullenly looking into your coin bag), you leave an acceptable(-ish) amount of mora on your former bed.

all right.  now, time to leave, with your foot out the door and wind scratching at your face, as if the odd overhead weather wasn’t already an omen.

you’re barely past liyue harbor, headed towards the luhua pools, when a comet shoots above you past mount tianheng.  no, not a comet, you realize as it dips from the sky, headed for landfall around a kilometer away.  a comet of water?

if a dead northland bank wasn’t the nail in the coffin, this surely is.  you’ve been around enough in the fatui to know that whatever fell from the sky has to be the work of a vision user, or some more powerful being.  turning towards where you estimate to be the crash site, you weigh your options.  you’re already outside of the city, and the fatui are probably preoccupied.  you can manage a detour for now and inspect the hydro-apparition.  regardless, you deem that the farther away you are from the water you are, the safer you might be from what’s about to happen – you look back towards liyue harbor, and nearly shudder at the rising tide and choppy waves. 

after about fifteen minutes of walking in the rain, you find yourself between the slope of the dunyu ruins and mount tianheng.  it’s vacant, save for the weathered ruins, and a sizable crater meters wide.  cautiously, you approach the edge, summoning your sword with one hand and conjuring your vision in the other.  you’re not going to let curiosity kill the cat, especially not if this turns out to be a prank by the archons.

in the center of the mess is, well, another mess.  you blink a few times, wary, as you discern that an individual lies in the rubble.  they’re actually conscious, you soon find out, as they righten themselves from the fetal position into a kneel, supporting their body weight with their arms.  their body is covered head-to-foot in dark, purple armor, and a red mask with a broken, center orb gleams faintly in the night.

it is only when you the individual looks up at you, straight at your head, do you realize that you should not be here this was a bad idea –

and then they collapse.

“shit,” you murmur to yourself, vision still pulsing in your palm, which has become increasingly sweaty.  you step back from the edge as an orb of water surrounds the armored-being, encasing him like a cocoon, before dissipating to reveal a much more vulnerable, tired man underneath.  his hair is matted to his face from the rain, yet a much smaller mask rests on his eyes; his clothes are somewhat torn (you suspect that whatever had happened, his armor absorbed most of the damage), and you can very faintly see his chest heave. 

but, ah, speaking of his clothes,

they were the colors of the fatui.

“no, no, bad idea,” you tell yourself over and over again, sword put away yet vision still bouncing in your hands.  you walk away from the crater briefly, before walking towards it again, peaking down to check on the fallen man, and then scamper back.  the whole idea was to run away, not go straight to them, as if you had managed to doom yourself after all.  

pacing back and forth, you contemplate for another minute.  he’s clearly injured, with how he’s laying on the ground and not moving, so the nice, not-so-hardened part of you wants to help him.  if he was a regular civilian, surely you’d already be down there and trying to take him back to liyue and patch him up, but he’s with the enemy.  no way someone who can transform into armor is just an underling, so he’s probably someone exceptionally powerful –

“i see you,” a voice comes from the crater, and your vision nearly explodes in your hands from your nerves.  summoning your sword quicker than you ever have in your life, you steel yourself towards the bottom of the crater.

except, he’s not holding a weapon to your face, or threatening to skewer you into a million pieces.  except, he’s not scowling at you, or demanding you assist him at once before he blows something up.

instead, he’s on his knees.  looking up at you with the desperation of a man completely robbed, crippled from something he can’t speak of yet wants to scream about.  his eyes, now free from the mask, pierce into you with a vividness that could rival the richest hues of luhua, and archons damn it do you melt. 

you melt, and realize you should run away.  you melt, all while cursing yourself, that this man might not be so kind as to spare you in the future, when he’s back at his full health.  you melt, thinking that, well, you haven’t seen him before, so maybe he doesn’t know who you are either.  you melt, even as you extinguish your vision and put away your sword, and slide to the bottom of the crater to lug his limp body back to the top, to the shelter of the ruins, and rummage through your bag for medicine.

he hasn’t said anything for the past ten minutes, and you’re thankful that there’s finally someone from the fatui who can keep their mouth shut, even if this is half-beaten to death.  “you’re not dying on me,” you insist, as if your words could will him back to full consciousness.  “not when i’m risking my life for someone like you.”

as you work on bandaging his arm, out of the corner of your eye you swear you see his mouth twitch.  is he trying to speak?  no, you want some silence for a bit longer, but pause as you notice a gash on his torso.

“this is medically consensual, okay?”  you wait two seconds to see if he objects, before unbuttoning the lower part of his coat and applying pressure on the wound.  the blood has soaked through his clothes, and just as eagerly, seeps into the cloth you’re shoving against it.  the man stirs as you continue to clean his wounds, and when his eyes open, you’re too preoccupied with your short supply of towels to notice.

when you’re aware of a gaze on you, however, you turn towards him with a hardened face.  you already know what you’re going to say.  even if he doesn’t know who you are, you’re going to make it clear that, for your own satisfaction, you won’t help him back to liyue and he’ll have to make the walk himself.

“you were out there,” you say simply, motioning towards the crater with a nod of your head.  “i’ll patch you up, but you’ll have to get further help yourself.”

the man with eyes of the deep regards you, but you busy yourself by applying gauze.  he’s propped up against a pillar, and you’re crouching at his side.  when you’re about finished, only then do you meet his eyes.

he beats you to whatever you’re about to say.  “i didn’t think,” he starts, and you’re already frowning, “that you’d come back.”

ah, referencing when you practically left him in the crater.  his words are vague enough when he says that you ‘came back’ that you aren’t too tense, and you indulge him in a bit of silence before responding.  “not like i’m used to rescuing people who fall from the sky.”

despite his injuries, the man manages a laugh.  he seems almost flustered at your statement, although you can’t understand why.  underneath his soaked bangs, his eyebrows rise, and he seems almost . . . nervous?  you can’t possibly fathom as to why, but dismiss your curiosity.  the more small talk he coerces you into, the longer you’ll spend with him.

you finish sealing the gauze, tossing the roll back into your bag before commanding it to disappear.  blood has soaked into the ground at his sides, also you’re sure that it’ll was away with time.  you’re about to stand up, satisfied with your good-samaritan duties for the day, when he stops you by locking his fingers around your wrist.

he’s in the middle of saying something, but you refuse to let him, drawing your sword and pointing it directly at his throat, his mouth agape as he releases his hold on you.  you consider each other, and when you’re certain you have the upper hand, you draw your line.

you spit the words like venom.  “do not touch me, fatui.  i’ve done what i can for you, and you won’t be getting anything else from me.”

your blade doesn’t lower from his form, and as you stand above him, you regard his hands, as if he might summon his own weapons in an instant.  if he’s smart (which you think he is yet simultaneously pray he isn’t), he’s probably plotting how to get out of your sword’s reach.  you’re not going to let him, after you’ve been so self-sacrificing, putting your life on the line for someone affiliated with the organization that suffocated the life out of you.

a tilt of the head, yet silence from his mouth.  he seems surprised that, while you allowed him to laugh mere moments earlier, you’re now pointing your weapon at him, although something in the ease of his facial features tells you that he’s not concerned in the slightest.

“i wanted to say thank you,” he breathes finally, and you look as if he’d just punched you in the gut.  “being in your position probably isn’t easy, and i’m the last one you wanted to see, but you still . . . ”

fuck, no, not this.  you don’t know if he’s a prophet, if he knows who you really are, or the ‘i’m on the run’ stamp on your forehead is that obvious, but you aren’t going to fall for the fatui’s words.  your fists clench, and you once more prepare to denounce his organization,

and you’re disarmed in an instant, sword thrown to the side and fingers restricted by his larger grasp.  archons, you couldn’t even see him move, what a deceptive bastard, feigning injury –

“stop,” he hushes, and despite your fury you register it as a plea, not a command.  the man repeats himself, before continuing,  “we won’t haunt you any more; i’ll make sure of it.”

five seconds, then ten.  you had determined that his grip was too strong to break free of, and are left in no position to move unless he releases you.  he holds your gaze without a hint of malice, even though you try your hardest to find any in his eyes.  

when he does let go of you, fingers skimming past your flesh, you run faster than you ever have before.

you run, past the ruins, past the harbor, and until you can’t see liyue behind you any more.  you run, unable to see a palace fall from the sky and crash into the ocean, and until you’re surrounded by mountains and there’s not a ginkgo tree in sight.  you run, unsure if his words are true, but certain that he knows who you are.

you won’t trust him.  as you lay on the ground, wheezing to catch the air that’s left your lungs, you once again swear to yourself that you can’t trust the words of the fatui.  

as the northland bank lights ignite themselves in welcome of its master, childe presses a hand to his bandaged torso.  a spark of your vision lingers between his fingers, and he observes it before it disappears.

he’s already hurt enough people.  he heads to the second floor, and erases your name from the fatui files. 

[beigehearts]

All right it is time- drabbles about the yandere adult trio and how they kidnap you

I reblogged something about this- yandere content is not really reader friendly- it is fun to read for some people but for some people it is triggering- please don’t read if it’s not suited for you: each part will have it’s own word count This is a fem!reader- if you would like me to write a different one please let me know

CW: kidnap, alcohol consumption, drugs, physical abuse, needles, language

Hisoka 1,172 words

It’s a quiet night in your small town. Here, everyone knows everyone and there are no such things as secrets. There’s the lightest of drizzles on this cloudy, chilly night. The bar is almost barren except for you and a group of your friends. Even the bar tenders are your friends. Everyone is emptying glasses and telling lame funny stories that you’ve all heard before but still enjoy listening to.

Your body is warm, alcohol running through your veins. You shrug off your jacket, and place it on the coat rack at the entrance. Before you can even turn around someone latches onto your arm. A smile greets your face when you see your friend holding your arm.

“Come on y/n! Danny and Vanessa are making jello shots!” Danny and Vanesa are the bar tenders, they brought jello packets with them knowing it would just be this group of friends here tonight. Your friend clinging to you, Ashley, drags you back to the bar as if you had been protesting, which you definitely were not. The jello shots are poorly made and are more like water with jello packet flakes in it. Though none of you seem to care, taste is not the goal here.

It’s a long night, the clock strikes 1:30 am and Vanessa waves her arm in the air, “Alright kiddos, it’s time to close shop. Get out of here- be safe!” 

All of your friends call out and thank her, and everyone puts on their coat and does as Vanessa says. The slight breeze and cold droplets sends a shiver down your spine and you hold your coat closer to you. You can barely make out the moon through the clouds, but your attention is taken by a large breeze and your friend yelps out. 

“Let’s go! I’m cold! Who’s house?” Ashley asks. Usually all of you sleepover at each other’s houses after a night of drinking, the group collectively decides on going to the closest person’s home. Tido groans when hearing this, knowing that it’ll be his house.

The group all huddles and scampers towards his house, trying to conserve warmth. A blast of hot air hits you when you step inside, and everyone sighs with relief at the warmth. 

Tido turns towards everyone and points at you all, “It’s bed time dumbasses. No more drinking, I’m tired. If a single one of you wakes me up there will be hell to pay.”

You chuckle and nod, “Just go to bed Tido, we’ll be quiet.” Tido trusts you the most out of the group so he doesn’t protest, he sends you a spiteful look and stomps away to his room. He can be such a handful. Though you managed to get your friends to quiet down and speak quietly before they passed out. 

The house is quiet. The only sounds are the quiet snores and shuffling of your friends. You’ve been laying at the couch staring at the ceiling for what feels like hours. Eventually you get up and go to the kitchen. When with your friends you find it hard to sleep, some motherly instinct coming over you and making you alert. 

You know where Tido keeps his stash, you’re the only one of your friends who knows where it is. He told you where it is for nights like these. You open the cabinet, and grab a sugar jar from the back of it. When you open it the smell assaults your senses, you grab the ziploc bag and put the jar back. Once you’re sitting outside on his back porch, you roll it nice and neatly, and you can’t help but smile at your handy work. 

It hits your drunk body quite quickly, and you move to the rocking chair and cover up with a blanket. You turn your head when you hear the back door open, and see Tido’s head pop outside. “I thought I smelled something.” He says and closes the door behind him. There’s a swing on the porch and he plops down on it, and the beckons for the joint. You hand it over and he takes a deep inhale, holding it for a while before exhaling. 

He pats the seat next to him and you sit next to him, pulling your knees up into your chest. 

The next hour or so is spent philosophizing and staring out into the woods of his backyard. Your head feels like a fishbowl, the fish being your brain. Eventually it goes quiet. Tido throws his arms back, wrapping one around your shoulders. 

“Y/n.” He points into the forest, “I can’t look at those trees anymore, they’re just staring back at me.” He huffs and looks at you, his eyes finding your lips and slowly moving up to your eyes. “I’m going to bed. You should do the same.” 

You nod and he stands up, “Just remember to lock the door before you go to sleep.” He adds. He seems somewhat awkward standing there and you can’t help but laugh, his usual confident personality façade always disappears when he’s around you. 

A cough escapes his throat and he mumbles, “Goodnight y/n, go to bed soon okay?” He leans down and presses his lips against yours. You hum and return it, these small nights you spend with him always end like this. You’re just waiting for him to actually take you out somewhere else than his back porch. 

He shuffles inside and you watch until the door closes. You aren’t quite sure about your feelings for Tido, but it’s not too concerning at the moment. You enjoy your time with him, and enjoy your kisses, that’s enough for you. 

Maybe you should go home... You can always fall asleep in your own bed. Yeah that sounds good. Usually Tido walks you home at this time of the night but he’s already gone to bed and you don’t want to disturb his beauty sleep. Even though he probably wouldn’t mind much. 

You grab all of your things and put on your coat and shoes, you take one last glance at your friends and smile. They would understand, you’ve done this before. 

It’s only colder, the breeze only blowing harder. When you check your phone it’s 4:17 am. Good thing you don’t have work or classes tomorrow. There’s no way you’ll be able to wake up until 2 pm. Even though it’s cold and breezy, it’s a nice walk, you walk into the town and look around at the shops. You’ve passed them millions of times but they always look different when you’re high. Though you’re not that high anymore. The only light illuminating the streets are the street lamps, well the ones that actually still work. You don’t bother avoiding the puddles, stepping in them and your feet become wet. It’s no longer raining but you can still smell it in the air. 

The town is always so nice when it’s quiet, it’s so serene and surreal. Your steps come to slow halt when you see someone standing on the sidewalk a few yards ahead of you. You can’t make out their face, but they’re tall, really tall. You squint and try to see if it’s someone you know. After all, everyone knows each other here. Is that... Tasha? No, Jordan? Your guessing is cut short when he begins walking towards you. 

Soon enough you come face to face, you tilt your head up and can barely make out his features in this light. “I’m sorry, do I know you?” Your voice echoes around the street. 

He’s chuckling, and it turns into a full out maniacal laugh. Once he gathers himself he wipes a tear from his eye. “Didn’t anyone teach you not to talk to strangers?” His hand lays heavily on your shoulder, “It’s not safe to be intoxicated in public you know.” He brings his head towards your neck, pressing his nose against your bare skin, “It seems my pet has been smoking too.” 

You push him away with all your strength, your slow head still processing what’s happening. He frowns and you have no time to react when a hand wraps around your neck, and pushes you against the brick wall of the store. You groan, your head pounding now and when you try to gasp in air you can’t the wind has been knocked out of you. 

His lips meet your ear and you can’t fight back, as you’re still fighting for air. “You’ve been playing around with other boys. Are you trying to make me jealous?” He breathes in you scent, and a hand grabs your hip. Finally you manage to breathe in some air but by the time you’re ready to fight back he tightens his grip on your throat, making it hard to breathe again. “Don’t you think it’s mean to mess with a man’s emotions?” 

Gasps, that’s all you can manage, you’re gasping but can’t catch your breath. Your vision begins going black, becoming fuzzy and blurry. Your eyes start to roll back in your head, but right before you lose consciousness, you fall to the ground. 

“Oh pet, what ever am I going to do with you?” 

Your throat aches and your lungs burn, you’re left on the ground in fetal position, sucking in as much air as possible. But you don’t get a break, your hand that lays against the concrete of the sidewalk take away all the pain of your lungs. His shoe digs into your hand, and he moves his foot side to side, rubbing your hand against the ground, until you see tracks of blood following your hand. You scream out but it only gets worse. He lifts his foot and before you can retract your hand, stomps on your fingers. Your screeches can be heard by no one but this man and to him they mean nothing. 

You bring your hand to your chest and cradle it, 3 of 4 fingers are broken, and most of the skin has been rubbed raw, and blood makes it hard to see your wounds. 

“See what happens when you’re not a good girl?” You don’t answer, more focused on your hand. The pain is so intense, it burns it stings it aches it’s so painful. 

A hand grabs your hair, and you yelp when he holds you up by it. His face gets close to yours and he whispers, “But it’s okay, I’ll help you.” He lets go of your hair and your head falls, slamming against the concrete. Your vision goes dark and the last thing your hear is, 

“Oh you’re so pitiful y/n.” 

Illumi 1,133 words

You’re lucky to be surrounded by friends who give you hours and hours of laughter every day. Each day with your friends is a blessing, and each moment is a miracle. Life is good, you go to work everyday, working at a local daycare in the busiest part of town. The children all love you, and some even cry when they have to leave. You spend your days reading books to kids, and giving bottles to babies. Though the diaper part of the job isn’t the best. 

It’s 6 pm, and the last girl to be picked up is sitting on your lap as you have an insightful conversation. 

“So that’s how I know,” She throws her arms into the air and giggles, “that zebras are white and black!”

Her logic may be flawed but she makes a good point, “I had no idea!” You exclaim. 

The familiar ring of the door opening sounds out and the little girl jumps from your lap and to the gate separating the children from the front desk area. She shakes the gate and yells, “Mommy!” 

A tired looking woman who you see every day gives you a weak smile and picks up her daughter from the other side of the gate. “I’ll see you tomorrow y/n.” You wave at the little girl who waves back as her mother carries her out of the building.

As much as you enjoy your job, it gets really tiring. You let out a sigh and stand up, all that’s left is to clean up and lock up. Your co worker who was spending her time cleaning a mess in the bathroom looks more than disgusted when she comes out with gloves on and a bucket. 

“Did you even know that kids can produce that much?!” You laugh at her comment and she shoots you an evil look. 

The toys are put back into bins and the plastic chairs are tucked back into the plastic table of the kid’s room. You put away bottles and lost binkys from the baby room, and lock up all the first aid stuff in a cabinet. Looks like that’s the day. Your co worker already left, you thought you might as well give her a break since she did have to clean the bathroom. 

It’s 8 pm by the time you’re turning off the lights and locking the front doors. The last mother actually picked up her daughter much earlier than usual, the town is still bustling. Why not do a little window shopping? 

You walk around the streets, looking at clothing and other things, occasionally going in and touching things. Now that you think about it though, you have been wanting to get a dress. Your birthday is coming up and your friends are taking you somewhere nice, they won’t tell you where.

There’s a nice shop only a block away that has really cute dresses that aren’t too expensive. You step inside and look around. They have summer dresses, daily dresses, prom dresses, and formal dresses. If you had to guess, getting a formal but cute dress is probably what your friends expect. Eventually you find the dress you want, a black open back dress that hangs loosely at your waist and stops a little above your knees. You pay for the dress, owing a grand total of $68, cheap for a dress in this town. 

Eventually you make your way home, you kick off your shoes and hang up your jacket. You’re exhausted but you really should eat something before you go to bed. You grab a hot pocket, not really feeling like making a home cooked meal. Before you put it in the microwave, you turn on the tv and put on a show you’ve been watching. 

Once the hot pocket is in the microwave, you press a few buttons and listen to its mechanical whir. What a day, you lean against your fridge and close your eyes, you could fall asleep right here quite honestly. You peel your eyes open when you hear your tv turn off. 

Huh? You look around your unlit apartment and don’t see anything, maybe it just glitched out. You couldn’t really care less at the mom-

Something whizzes past your face, and strikes your microwave. The microwave turns off and quickly you jump up from your leaning position and look at it. There’s a needle lodged in the door of the microwave. You turn around and go wide eyed when you see someone standing in your living room. 

“Ah, I missed.” He says in a nonchalant tone. You look around for a weapon, going to reach for a knife but stop when a hand grabs your wrist. “Don’t bother y/n. It’s futile.” How did he move so quickly, how did he get around the counter so quickly?!

“What do you want? You can take my wallet, take what you want.” You try to keep a cool tone but your voice still shakes and cracks. 

His grip tightens on your wrist and you wince. “You can make this easier for yourself and just give up.” 

You shake your head and try to kick him, but he grabs your knee and pushes you against the counter. He’s holding one of your legs to your chest and using the other to hold your wrist. “Will you go willingly or not?” 

You struggle against his grip and with your free hand try to look around to grab something on the counter behind you. “What do you want?!” You yell out. 

You find a glass and swing your arm to break it against his head but he drops your knee and grabs your forearm so tightly that you screech and drop the glass, it shattering on the floor.

“If I tell you will you calm down?” He presses his body against yours, holding both of your wrists so you can’t attack him. “You are the perfect subject to be my wife and future mother of my kids.” 

Tears stream down your face and you shake your head violently, “I don’t know what you’re talking about! I’m not going to be your wife!” 

He sighs and tilts his head backwards some. You notice just how long his hair is when he does so. 

“I tried to make this easier for you y/n.” He moves both of your wrists to one hand and uses his other hand to grab something from his jacket. He pulls a needle out of his shoulder and sobs begin to rack your body. Who is he? Why is he doing this? What the hell is going on? 

He puts the point of the needle against your forehead and you begin to feel woozy, “You’ll learn in time.” Are the last words you hear before everything goes black.

Chrollo 945 words

After your upsetting break up with your ex a few months ago, your friends decided they had enough of your complaining and signed you up for online dating. You’ve talked to so many people on these apps and yet all of them just don’t do it for you. 

But you began talking to one man and it just clicked. He was so kind and respectful and knew when to say what. The both of you had many text conversations, and he finally asked you out on a date. You are going to meet at a very nice restaurant on the outskirts of town. All of your friends were ecstatic to hear that you would finally go on another date.

They really don’t want you to fuck it up, so a few of your friends came over to help you get ready. It was like clockwork, the put you in one outfit and then rip it off to put on another one. The process is more exhausting than the date will be. Eventually the three of you decide on an outfit. Skin tight pleather pants and a frilly blouse that looks Victorian almost, and some nice short boots with a big heel. After the hour of finding the right outfit, they sit you down on your bed and do your makeup. Quite honestly they did a good job- but you wouldn’t admit it to their egotistical asses. 

“You’re gorgeous!” Rose says. You roll your eyes and give yourself one last look in the mirror, admiring yourself for a moment. Shannon hugs you from behind and giggles, “Our girl is finally dating again!” You have to pry her off of you just so you can get out of your room, knowing you’ll be late if you stick around with these two. 

As you get in the car Shannon and Rose wave at you from the front door and Rose yells, “Our girl is growing up!” Shannon follows up with, “Don’t fuck it up y/n!” How very helpful

The taxi driver confirms your destination and then you’re off. You look through your most recent texts one more time, just because.

Him 9 PM at the Cavern on the south side of town

Me Alright! See you soon 

Him I can’t wait

After the twenty minute drive, you step out of the taxi and stretch your arms in the air. You look down at your phone and see that you’re two minutes late. Oh no, late on your first date? That definitely doesn’t give off a good impression. You rush inside and give the name of your date to the woman at the front and she leads you to a table in the back. 

He stands up from his seat, and he’s much more handsome than you were expecting. His black hair is slicked back and he’s wearing a suit and tie. There’s a cloth wrapped around his forehead but you aren’t given much time to think about it when he approaches you. He kisses your cheek and then pulls out your chair. 

“I’m so sorry I’m late, I feel so bad. Did you wait long?” You voice and he shakes his head.

“Don’t be, I didn’t wait long.” You let out a small sigh at his words and sit down, thanking him. He pushes in your chair and returns to his own.

You smile as he pours you a glass of wine, “It’s so nice to finally meet you Chrollo.” 

“Same here. I was worried I might be catfished.” He chuckles and his eyes meet yours as he hands you a glass. He’s just so captivating, you can’t take your eyes off of him. You’re left gazing at his face when he clears his throat, “So tell me, how did you get here?”

You snap out of it and shake your head a little, “Oh, I took a taxi. I wasn’t sure if we would be drinking or not.” 

He sips his wine and you copy his action. His smile is just absolutely captivating. “I’d be lying if I said I weren’t a little anxious about tonight.”

“Oh why?” You ask. 

“You just seemed so wonderful on text that you seemed too good to be true.” He looks down at his wine, “But I guess it is true.”

Dinner is quite nice, you’re just so relaxed with him and he is fascinating. He knows so much and he could talk for hours and you would listen without saying anything. 

After the both of you finish the bottle of wine, you decide it’s time to go home. You wrap your arm around his and the both of you walk outside, and the alcohol seems to be catching up with you. Though you really didn’t drink much. 

The both of you walk to his car and talk there for a while. 

“I’m gonna call a cab. Do you mind waiting with me?” You ask him. 

He smiles sweetly, “Of course not.” You call for a cab and they tell you that they will be there in five minutes. 

The alcohol is really catching up to you. He asks you if you’re okay but your lips feel numb and you can only mutter what resembles words. Your knees start to feel weak until the buckle underneath you, and he catches you. You try to say something, move, anything, but your head is swimming and you can’t form any words. 

He shushes you, and pets your hair while holding you up. “You’re alright.” He kisses your forehead and opens up his back door, laying you gently on the seat. Before he closes the door he says,

“Come on honey, let’s go home.”

[colorseeingchick]

Period Pains (Iwa, Suna, Bokuto)

Periods still stuck. Nothing has changed since part one. But these boys continue to comfort me when I feel like my heart, head, and stomach are going to explode :D. I hope they comfort you too!

A/N: It’s been rough homies. It really do be your own body that tries to attack you -_-. 

Warnings: EMETOPHOBIA (in Suna’s there’s a semi detailed description of vomiting); swearing; foot massage in Bokuto’s (Ik that makes some people uncomfy); gym bros. 

Iwaizumi Hajime

It was common knowledge that you and Iwaizumi were two halves of one insane power couple. 

No questions asked, you both were generally independent when it came to taking care of your own matters, and you were both were pretty independent. 

But there were exceptions- moments where you would both lean on each other, using the other as an anchor and a crutch to get back up and stay on your feet. 

Your period was one of those times when times you needed your beloved boyfriend to play that role. 

Today was one of those days. 

You and Iwaizumi head over to the gym at around 6 am to get your early morning workout in before you go through with the rest of your day.

You had told Iwaizumi the night before, and he asked if you still wanted to “go gym” the next morning. 

You said yes, hoping that a solid workout would help with some of the cramps. 

And once you had got there, you had your hopes up. 

The first half of your workout was going really well, and you hadn’t thought of your cramps at all. 

But then it hit you while you were walking over to get your water bottle. 

You didn’t know why, but the cramps hit you hard. Instantly you went to the bathroom to try and compose yourself, but that wasn’t really helping either. 

You didn’t wanna bother Iwaizumi mid workout, so you tried to carry on. 

Unfortunately, that didn’t work out too well. 

As you tried to keep going, the cramps in your stomach got worse and worse, until you were pressing your stomach with your hands, curled over yourself on your yoga mat. 

Taking deep breaths, you tried to relieve the only worsening cramps. 

It wasn’t until a warm, firm hand caressed your back did you look up from your curled up form. 

“1 to 10.” Iwaizumi asks you with a soft voice. 

“4.” You say as you curl into yourself once more. 

It was the pain ranking system that you’d both been using since early on in your relationship. You knew exactly what he meant, and you were honestly thankful that he understood you were in pain by just looking at you. 

“Lying to me doesn’t do any good, ya know.” His words are harsh, yet the concern in his voice kills any intimidation that was supposed to come across. 

“7.” 

“Sounds right.” Iwa’s one arm wraps around you, digging into your side, his thumb massaging circles into the spot right above your left hip, while the other hand rubbed softer circles onto your lower belly. 

You felt your muscles untense as his hands worked away at your cramping stomach with deep pressure only he had the strength to apply. 

“What’s wrong with her?'' 

Both of you look up to see some guy (he seemed like a newbie, neither of you had seen him before) talking to your boyfriend. 

“What.” Iwa’s voice is dry, in shock at the fact that this dude was in your business. 

“Did she injure herself working out or something?” He asks, as if you were incapable of speaking for yourself. “Not being careful in the gym can be really dangerous, especially if you’re not trained.” He speaks in your direction this time. 

Iwaizumi Hajime (27) ATHLETIC TRAINER, now looked like he was ready to commit murder. 

Some of the regulars had now turned to watch, most giving the guy dirty looks.

A couple of you and Iwa’s closer gym bros step towards you both, making some preparations for Iwaizumi to swing. 

But before anyone can really say anything, your voice cuts through. 

“That’s real rich coming from you. The only thing that’s gonna cause an injury is your horrendous deadlift form.” 

Your boyfriend goes from a state of shock into a fit of snickers, the guys on the side also amused. The guy in front of you goes completely red. 

“You don’t know what you’re talking about you bi-” 

“I actually think she’s right. I was a bit worried, too.” One of Iwa’s (very buff) friends stepped forward, smiling at you two before putting a hand a on the newbie’s shoulder. “Let’s go check it out.”

As you sigh out, your boyfriend stares at you with pride and amusement both bright in his eyes. “All that pain and you’re still able to come up with snarky comments.” 

As his hand returns to soothing circular motions, you dig your face into his chest. 

The soft touches from Iwa were enough to ease your pains, and allowed you to embrace your moment of vulnerability with your sweet boyfriend. 

“Let’s dip and get food, okay? And you can just rest at home. You deserve a break.”

“Weren’t you saying something about how the grind doesn’t stop-”

“It stops when your health is on the line. Let’s go.”

Suna Rintarou

When it comes to you being on your period, Suna is by far the most hands off while simultaneously being the most attentive. 

Suna wasn’t necessarily the biggest on PDA. But when it was just you two? He had no problem being all up against you.

The only situation Suna does not know how to navigate is when he can’t read someone’s moods or behaviors. Luckily for him, you were overly clear with his emotions and needs when you were on your period, even if those moods and needs were all over the place. 

Early on, when you got together, he was a bit surprised to see how bad your period could get.

He’d walked in to your room one day to see you in a fetal position, rolling around on the floor.

He’d seen you go a full day of eating only junk food, upset and trying to satiate all your cravings. 

He’d also seen you go without sleep because of how bad your cramps were.

Essentially, he’d learned you’d go through really bad health habits, and he’d assigned himself the roll of trying to make sure you maintained some regularity while on your period. 

He was ready for anything, so ready that he made it look effortless. 

When Suna came back from practice one day, he couldn't find you anywhere in your shared home. Which isn’t a problem, but he doesn’t recall you saying you were going anywhere....

It’s not till he lazily stalks over to the hallway and hears a horrible retching sound that he realizes you are still home. 

Swinging the door open, he finds you perched over the toilet, vomiting in what looks to be a super painful manner. 

“Rin...ta...r-oh fuck” you can barely get his name out before you start throwing up again. 

Your boyfriend takes a step into the bathroom, but you toss an intense ‘no’ his way with your hand. 

“It smells disgusting… and… I don’t want to be smothered right now…” you sigh as you breathe between your bouts of vomiting. 

He takes a deep breath, recomposing himself. He knows your period can get pretty bad, but he hasn’t seen it get this bad in a while. He obliges, but he doesn’t move from the doorway. 

As you start your next fit, Suna’s face remains blank, but his heart twists. 

He slowly approaches you, kneeling beside you. 

“I said to not.. To smother me....” your protest is weakened by your body inhibiting your ability to speak. 

Suna keeps a bit of space between you two, but he gently grabs your hair, pulling strand by strand, until its completely out of your face 

(alternatively, if you have short hair), Suna keeps a bit of space between you two, but he lets his hand gently rest on your back, rubbing in soothing circles . 

Your hand goes up to push him away, but he grabs your fist with his larger hand, weaving his fingers with yours, rubbing his thumb into the back of your hand. 

“I won’t smother, don’t worry. But I’m gonna be here.” He’s soft in his tone, unfazed despite the relative unpleasantness of the situation. 

As you finally stop, you fall back, your hands covering your eyes. 

As you lean back, your body giving out, your head finds its way onto the plush chest of your green eyed boyfriend. He doesn’t touch you, but just acts as a makeshift couch for you to lean on. 

“Rintarou.” “

Yeah?” 

“I need your touch.” 

Your words are blunt but effortlessly received as your boyfriend instinctively wraps his arms around you, languidly stroking your thigh with one hand and holding your stomach with the other. He adjusts you so that you’re pressed up against him. 

“Better, babe?” he asks as he backs up into the wall, loosening up as you relax against him. 

“Mmm.” You croon, sinking down against him. “I should  brush my teeth, I’m sorry you came back to this.”

“It’s fine. Get cleaned up. Wanna watch movies? I got Chinese takeout.” 

“I don’t want Chinese,” you comment.

 “What do you want?” 

“Pizza.” 

“...”

 “...”

 He sighs. “I’ll be back in 20.”

 “I love you.” you smile at him as you tell him what he already knows. 

He presses his nose into your hair, letting your conditioner’s scent fill his nose. “Mmm… and I love you.” 

“How much?” You ask.

“How much do I what?” 

“How much do you love me?” 

“Enough to get you pizza at 10 pm in the pouring rain.” 

“It’s raining??”

“Yeah.”

“...Nevermind I don’t want pizza anymore.”

“Well I want pizza now so I’m going.” He pulls himself up and out of the bathroom despite the way you tried to cling to his leg to keep him from leaving. 

“Rin!”

Bokuto Koutarou

Bokuto is honestly the ideal boyfriend, especially when you are on your period. 

Early in your relationship, when you got on your period, you didn’t tell Bo. But he ended up learning the hard way. 

He’d come back from practice a bit later than usual and didn’t text you. Usually he didn’t, especially if he knew he’d only be a little late. But when he walked through the doors, instead of finding his usually happy, bubbly girlfriend who usually showered him with love, he was greeted with you crying. 

“W-why didn’t-t you text me, Kou? Do you-u not care about me?” 

He had nooo idea what was going on, and he was very panicked and sad. 

He felt like the rug was pulled out from under him when you proceeded to snuggle into his chest 2 minutes later, cries completely stopped. His little owl eyes were wide open and very confused. 

2 days later, he asked about the situation again, scared to bring it up.

But you were really embarrassed as you explained how you were on your period and could get extreme mood swings. You apologized and promised that you’d never do something wild like that again.

But Bo wasn’t content with your answer. 

He went and asked Akaashi if he knew anything about what periods were like (he was shy to ask you). 

Akaashi found the lovely statistic of “period pain being of equal pain levels of a heart attack” and Bokuto lost his shit. “

I’ve never had a heart attack, but they kill people! And they go for the hospital for those! And she apologized for being a little emotional… that doesn’t seem right, right Kaashi?”

Akaashi agrees, of course. And sends Bokuto off with the advice of “she’s always there for you. All you have to do is be there for her.” 

When the next time you had your period rolled around, and you found yourself a little emotional, you did your best to control it. But Bokuto was having none of it. 

“Baby, you don’t have to hide it! You can be emotional!! I don’t mind. You always help me when I’m emotional! I can do the same for you. I’ll take the best care of you, I promise!” 

You would honestly call it a turning point in your relationship, cause this was when you learned to start really depending on Bo. And you realized just how dependable he could really be. 

When Bokuto comes back from practice today, he finds you splayed out on the couch, koala-hugging a pillow, whimpering a “welcome home” between grunts of pain. 

Bokuto stays quiet as he walks up to the couch, dipping down to place a kiss on your cheek before stripping his sweaty t-shirt off as he walks off to take a shower. 

Once he comes out, fresh and clean, he throws on a comfortable t-shirt and shorts before coming back to find you on the couch. 

He grabs your legs, pulls them up, sits down, and then places them in his lap. “Baby, do you want a massage? I can press your legs.” 

“You don’t have to, Kou, it’s okay.” 

“I want to!” He cheers back as he starts to knead at your calves, moving down to your feet and slowly pressing over your socks. 

You sigh and huff, slowly relaxing as the soothing feeling of the pressure applied to your feet counteracts the pain you felt in your lower abdomen. 

While Bokuto concentrates intensely on massaging your calves again, he perks up at the sound of a sniffle.

 Swinging his head, he sees you slowly dissolving into sobs. 

Panicked, he slides your legs onto the couch and comes by your face. 

“Baby, did I press too hard? Did I hurt you? Please tell me.”

“No, no, Kou, you’re fine. I’m just- I’m so lucky and blessed to have such a loving amazing boyfriend~” you get the words out as tears stream down your face, turning to look him in his big, gorgeous, gold eyes. “I don’t deserve you, my love.”

Now, for reasons unknown, Bokuto finds himself crying as well. 

“Why are you crying!” You cry and laugh out at the same time. 

“Because I have such a sweet girlfriend who always showers me in love! Don’t say I don’t deserve you. You’re perfect for me.” 

Cheesy as the exchange was, it was really soft for you. Because you knew Bokuto, and you knew he meant every word exactly as is from the bottom of his heart. 

Crying while your laughs got lighter, you pull him in and kiss him all over his face. 

He laughs too, and holds your face as he pulls away, swiping the tears from under your eyes. “Your turn!!” 

After smothering you with kisses, he picks you up and carries you to your shared bedroom, so he can love on you more, with enough space for both of you to lay next each other and peacefully drift off to sleep. 

A/N: Gym guys who don’t mind their business seriously bother me. I hope you all enjoyed! Requests and commentary are greatly appreciated :D 

[clarissalance]

Hints of something more

Albedo x fem!reader

Warning: Slight suggestive language at the end. 

Word count: 2k7

Summary: Apparently, visiting Albedo in Dragonspine has somehow opened a new door to your vague, no-label relationship. And Kaeya won’t stop teasing you about it.  

Before leaving for Dragonspine two days ago, Albedo told you to bring him some canvas, a few pencils and a paint set of watercolour. However, he failed to mention which brand and type of watercolour he wants you to bring. Is it a set of 24 colours? 48 colours or the 12 colours set? Furrow your eyebrows, you stared questioningly at the shelves, hesitating to pick one up. Knowing how picky Albedo is if it is not up to his standard. The man would refuse to touch the paint. 

What would he choose usually? You can’t seem to recall his watercolour preference. Funny how it is, he usually encourages you to follow your instinct. Human instinct is the best to study. He would say something like this out of nowhere. Sometimes they make a really questionable decision that I can’t decipher. Definitely one of his catch-on phrase. 

 Drilling holes on the shelves for too long is not the solution, so you finally choose the most expensive set of 48 watercolours in the store. You cross your fingers and hope that he doesn’t question your choice. There it goes for half of my salary. Far away, you can faintly see the outline of the money fairy waving at you, flying toward Celestia. I hope he will like this one. 

 Packing up the last few things inside your backpack, you prepare for the adventure to the Dragonspine to meet with the chalk prince. The bright sun on the blue canvas is almost halfway to the top. The weather would be lovely for a small picnic, too good to waste over climbing to Dragonspine. Dragging your body toward the front gate, you lazily hope to hitch someone carriage. It would be best to start early than arriving at the lab late.  

 The journey takes an hour by feet to walk from the city to the foot of Dragonspine and then takes another 2 hours to walk to Albedo’s lab on the mountain. It would be much faster if you can actually have combat fighting skill to head-on with the cryo mitachurl, but life is much a sadder reality. You don’t have a vision nor a combat skill to solo a whole camp of hilichurl. However, with your brain and your gifted survival (escaping) instinct, dodging a few camps and distracting a few of them isn’t very hard. 

 The weather in Dragonspine is much better than what you anticipated. The sky deep and clear, the veil of fog has thinned enough. The air is crisp, mist rises and slowly dissipates after each exhales. The sheer cold is as brutal and sharp knife-like as usual. You can’t understand how Albedo loves the weather in this place enough to set up a lab in here. A summer person like you refuses to set foot in this area unless for commissions and Albedo’s related purpose. Hnng, you are starting to regret coming here.  

There are a few more camps of hilichurl than usual on your way to the mountain, so you decide to take the longer route. At least meeting with a few Fatui is much more comforting than getting hit by an ice mitachurl shield. 

 By the time you get to the camp, the sun is standing proudly on the top. You get here an hour late, and much to your dismay, Albedo wasn’t in his lab. He is going out to look for more sample again. Heaving exhaustingly, you drop the heavy backpack thud on the ground. Scampering over the fire, you let out a satisfying at the charing fire. A pyro vision would be convenient to have in this weather. 

 With the sound of wood cracking under the desiring heat, the frost bearing breeze slowly finds its way into the camp, cooling the scorching radiation from the glowing fire. Warmth slowly crawls and sinks in on your dry skin, soothing the icy air. Exhausted, your eyelids slowly pull themselves over, threaten to extinguish your consciousness. A nap wouldn’t hurt anyone, right? You let out a long yawn, curl into a fetal position and use the bag as a pillow. Darkness comes within a second. 

 _____________________________________________________________

 You are woken up by the warmth on the hand caressing your cheek, running through your hair. The familiar smooth hand resting on your face doesn’t know you have woken up, the thumb fiddling with your soft skin. Nuzzle lovingly at the palm, you let out sigh contentment. The hand is big enough, gently and carefully tracing your face outline like it’s treasuring a gift. This familiar feeling tickles you like a feather. 

 Groggily, you peel your eyes open and greet with a stunning sight. Albedo is sitting next to you, the fluffy blond hair softly falls on the cheek, some being tucked under his ears. The teal eyes focus intently on the notebook in front of him, glimmering with interest and dedication, his long lashes fluttering like a butterfly wing on a flower petal. The golden diamond on his neck glimmers faintly under the flicker of light, stand out on his creamy white skin. His warm slender fingers still lightly touch your hair soothingly make you feel so relaxing. Letting out a satisfying purr, you press your plump lips on his wrist, successfully gets Albedo attention. 

 “ How long have you been up?” His soothing voice has never failed to calm your nerve. You yearn up a little bit, trying to peek at the notebook on his lap. It’s so far away, you can’t catch a glimpse from here. 

 “ A while.” You hum. “ Long enough to get drunken at your handsome features.” 

 His eyes widen a little bit, not expecting that coming out from your mouth. 

 At the corner of his eyes, he catches your cheeky grin. Beaming widely at him, you internally cringing at your cheesy remark. You don’t even know what gives you the courage to slip the embarrassing words. 

 Albedo smirks at your blatant flirt, his reaction opposite what you look for. He returns his attention back to the notebook. His eyes still remains a hint of amusement. You want to dig a hole and jump in it. 

Slowly rise up, you rub your eyes tiredly, and notice Albedo’s coat on your body. Did he put it on you? You glance at him curiously, trying to seek an explanation, but he remains quiet, focuses on the piece of paper. The sound of pencil rustling on the parchment eases you somehow, like waking up in a small cottage with your loved one. 

 “ What time is it? ” You let out a big yawn, voice thicks with sleep. His light coat somehow is warm. Maybe you should ask him where he got this. 

 “ It’s around 3.” Albedo mindlessly points out. “ You can sleep more. Put my coat on if you're cold.” He reminds.  

 “ I shouldn’t be sleeping longer. Let me help with your work so I can get back to Mondstadt on time.” You scratch your head, your body is numbing over the sheer cold. Throw on Albedo coat, you hope the thin layer can keep you warm a little bit longer. His coat smells like frost and Cecilia. Inside the pocket, you find a heating pack. Maybe this is what kept you warm when you were sleeping.  

  “ M almost finished.” The sound of paper rustling each time he turns a page. “I can accompany you back to the city.” 

 “ But I haven’t done anything?” You furrow your eyebrows in confusion, hands folding at your chest, trying to saviour some warmth. “You’re sure you finished?” 

 “ Yes, just a few more retouches, then we can go back.” Albedo nods, his eyes still glued on the piece of paper. Abruptly, he stops and looks up at you, waving his hand, signalling you to get closer. Obediently, you walk toward him. When you are an arm-length from him, the man gestures at the chair put closely next to him. He wants you to sit down?

 You sit down quietly, trying to take a look at the drawing he is working on. Hmm, is that you? Did he draw your sleeping form? On the paper is the portrait of you curl like a fetal, your long hair splaying on the floor. Each stroke of pencil depicts the gentleness you have in your face when you are sleeping. The drawing is mundane somehow, you feel comfortable and relax when looking at the piece. 

 Suddenly, you felt a warm hand slotting in your palm, elbow nudging yours. His slender digits are weaving tightly with your fingers, warmth tingling on the tips of your fingers. . Look up from the drawing, you see a tint of pink on his ears. So he can also get embarrassed. 

 “ You look cold.” He mumbles, eyes avoiding yours, his cheek flush furiously. “Sit closer.” You gladly shift closer, your hand and shoulder touching his. Albedo picks up the pencil and returns to his drawing. This time he turns to a new page, start to draw another specimen. Looking at the sketch, you guess he is trying to sketch the abandoned ruins. The comfortable silence envelopes the two of you. 

 Being so close to him, you can make out the whiff of fresh Cecilia and pine. Engulf by his coat and, now next sitting next to him, you are bathing under his signature scent. It would be nice if I could feel him more. Blushing at the thought, you try to push away those not-so-innocent thoughts. Obviously, he is trying to be a gentleman. You should be grateful, if not because of him, you're going to freeze to death.

 Albedo is much warmer than you, his body radiating heat like a furnace after a while. Silently, you pick up a book you left here last time on the table. Most of his books are either textbooks or ancient language book about the alchemist, which you think you are qualified enough to read. Waiting for him in silence is a form of torture if you don’t do something. Your attention removes from his body and to the novel on your hand. 

 After what feels like two hours, Albedo finally puts down his pencil and stretches. His long limb knocks your hand a few times, your knees bump with his. He let out a tired yawn, cracking his knuckles. 

 “Finished?” Your eyes still glue on the thick book. You hear him let out a hum, his hand remove to clean up the mess on the table. 

 “ What are you having for dinner?” Albedo casually asks, hand dusting the enormous amount of eraser dust on the paper before dumping them in the trash. His voice wavers a little, but you aren't sure why. 

 “Hash brown and cream stew. I have a brownie for dessert.” You notice Albedo never makes small conversation like this. He is the type who would get straight to the point or request. Perc up from the book, you are faced with his back at you. He is arranging the bookshelves.

 “Do… you want to join me for dinner? ” After it felt like a while, you finally break the silence, your voice laces with uncertainty. If you read the atmosphere wrong, it can cost you quite severely.  

 “Sure.” He shrugs nonchalantly, continues sorting the stacks of books on the ground. Somehow you can feel the tension in the air is lifted, and he seems more relaxed than before. 

 “These are some observations and speculations I made in the last few days in here.” The chief alchemist hands you a folder. 

 You flip through the files, they are mostly pictures and drawing of large camps of hilichurl. At the end of the file is a map marked with their locations. The Abyss Order's activity has increased rapidly in this month. Commissions have been sent out continuously, yet many of them haven’t been sorted out properly yet. It seems like the sheer cold of Dragonspine can't prevent their enthusiasm. On your ways here, you have met 4 more camps, hence the reason why you choose to be acquainted with the Fatui instead.

 “I will give this to the Adventurer Guild. Thank you for this.” You exhale, fingers rubbing your eyes tiredly. The next few days are going to be very busy. 

 “If you are done, then pack up. We are going back.” He announces, returns his attention to pile on the ground. Fold the corner of the page, close the book, prepare the pack-up for the leave. You can’t wait to leave this devastating sheer cold and return back to the realm of fog and wind. Shuffling through your backpack, you put the art supplies Albedo asked you to buy on the table neatly. You didn't take anything out, so no need for packing. Basically, you are done. 

 “ Let’s go back.” 

 _____________________________________________________________

On the way back, you both walk in silence. Most of the camps are cleared, barrels and boxes shatter into tiny pieces scatter on the ground. Seem like our dear traveller has their job quite well. The place is almost spotless, even with the Fatui camp. You are impressed with their productivity.  

 It takes less than 2 hours walking back from Dragonspine, now that your bag is lighter. Walking comfortably next to Albedo, your hands grazing past each other a few times. You watch the sunset etches widely on the blushing hues orange sky in Dragonspine can be so romantic. 

 Suddenly feeling so motivated, you gently slip your index into his palm. Albedo freezes but still complies, his fingers caught your hand, slowly interlocking yours. Your heart thumps loudly in your chest, heating creeping up your cheek. Shutting your eyes, you mumble incoherently something about how unfair life is. 

 He let out a breathy snicker, with your fingers interlock, sharing the heat in the harsh weather. Look up the fading orange, slowly disappear behind the layer of thick snow, you blow out warm air, fog gathers and dissipates in the air. Sunset in Dragonspine can be arguably one of the best scenes in Mondstadt. 

    “I’m going back to my office to put this away.” When you arrive at the gate, Albedo decides to head to the HQ of the Knight of Favonius. He motions at the package in his hand. 

 “ See you later at dinner.” Nonchalantly, he plants a kiss on your cheek, hand ruffles your hair a little bit before head off in the opposite direction. 

 You stand there, still trying to comprehend what just happened a few seconds ago. The peck on your cheek is too short, too light, like feather brushes. He can’t do this to you. Your cheek is blazing with fire, and if not careful, a spark can ignite an explosion right here. You turn your head sideways, trying to saviour and recall the feeling of his lips. 

 “ Tch tch.” The sound is coming from the nearby alley, the click-clack of boots coming closer. You whirl your head toward that direction, just to realize the source of the sound is all-mighty Calvary Captain of the Knight of Favonius. 

 “ Love is really in the air.” He comments sarcastic, hand waving around to shoo away those imaginable ‘love’. 

 “ Living this long, I have never thought I would be able to see our Alchemist Chief giving someone a goodbye kiss.” Kaeya smugs at you, his deep blue eyes gleaming with mischief. Oh, you really can't wait to wipe his shit-eating grin off his face. 

 “Stop being a drama queen, Kaeya.” You shot back. “ He gave Klee one too, don’t treat this as such an abnormal supernatural act.” Internally, you have to say that Albedo giving affection is kind of a supernatural incident too. Kaeya eyes at you like you grow another head, shaking his head.  

 “ You know what I meant.” The captain shrugs, his voice ringing with a hint of smugness. 

 The man suddenly walks closer, his gloved hand pats your shoulder, squeezing it lightly. “Must have been really cold in Dragonspine for him to give you his coat.” He winks at you, his eyes slowly drag down your figure. You cautiously look down. Shit, you totally forget this. 

 “We have a meeting at 8 tomorrow at the HQ. Please tell him to not stay up too late.” The cryo user whistles teasingly, heading toward Angel Share, his hand waving in the air. Your face flushes furiously, smoke almost come off your burning face. Now you realize why people have been giving your pointed gazes when you first enter the gate. Damn it, Kaeya, it is not what you think it is.  

[rodeoxqueen]

草莓珍珠奶茶-Strawberry Pearl Milk Tea 

Dante/Reader 

Summary: You take Dante out for his first bubble tea experience. 

Tags/Warnings: 18+, Suggestive/Sexual/Crude Humor, Fluff, Reader’s Gender Not Mentioned, Dante Does A Cuss

He’s always wondering what kind of beverage was in your hands, this giant plastic cup with a giant colored straw that you seemed rather fond of. 

You showed up to his shop with one in tow ever since a store opened up in Redgrave. The sound of the straw being shanked into the lid was what let him know where you were in the office. 

Eventually, he decided to ask when you sat on the side of his desk during the after hours of work. 

“Hey, what are those? You drinking caviar or something?” He asks, tapping his knuckles against the cup. 

“These aren’t eggs Dante. It’s tapioca.” You snort. 

“Tappa what?” He tilts his head. 

“Tapioca, it’s really good.” He goes to put his mouth on your straw and you push his face gently away from the prized possession. Dante pouted at his deferred attempt.  

“I’ll take you there tomorrow, get your own.” He rolls his eyes. 

“It’s no way better than strawberry ice cream.” 

So the next thing he knows, it’s tomorrow and he drives you to the bubble tea store on his motorcycle. 

You end up in line at this very minimalist and cute little cafe with animal decorations all over. Dante sticks out like a sore thumb, dressed in black and red leather. You hold his hand as you wait behind a rather long queue. 

Dante’s attention span is short-circuiting. He taps his foot to the beat of some peppy J-pop song playing in the speakers. 

Eventually, he starts audibly groaning his boredom. 

“This is the second time they’ve played Plastic Love.” 

“It’s cute, I don’t mind.” You say, doing a little dance number with your hand still intertwined with Dante’s. 

“This is so boring, you actually wait for this? Could’ve gotten a pizza and a sundae by the time we made it to the front.”

“Dante…” 

“How about you wait here and I’ll go get us something while we wait-” 

 He goes to pull his hand away from yours. 

You grip his hand suddenly, glaring at him from the height difference. He looks down and chuckles. 

“Dante, if you don’t wait in line and be patient, I swear to god-” 

“Whoa whoa, just playing with you.” He teases. You’re basically a little puppy trying to be intimidating. 

When it begins to near your turn to order, Dante finally decides to read the menu. He’s never heard of several things on the pink pastel posters. 

“What do you usually get?” Dante asks, seeing these strange machines and topping trays behind the registers. 

“I just get one of their specials,” You gesture to the third menu. 

“Huh, they’ve got a lot of weird things here. What the fuck is grass jelly?” 

“Don’t worry, I’ll get you something you would want.” 

He gently bumps your hip with his. You do it back. 

“God, why are you so thick?” You laugh as he smirks. 

Before he can throw another one-liner, the cashier asks what you want. He tunes out this long series of questions you answer for your drinks. 

He’s busy watching the machine that puts the plastic cover over the drinks, elevator music playing in his head. 

Finally, two rather large drinks come to his field of vision, and you reach over to take them. He snaps out of his daze and takes the beverage from your hands, smirking at how much bigger his were compared to yours. 

“You wanna take this outside?” You asked him, putting your wallet back in your pocket. 

“Like to fight or to drink this?” He genuinely wondered, holding up his pink-colored cup. 

“Which one do you think?” 

The two of you opted to sit outside in the warm afternoon on a lone bench that was near the street. 

“Pick a straw.” You hold out two red and white straws that were wide enough to stick his pinky through. Not that he did, although his intrusive thoughts told him to. 

Obviously, he took the red one, looking at his pink slushy-like drink. For some reason, there were these weird lighter pink pearls at the bottom. 

You stabbed the lid, relishing in the pop noise it made. Dante copied, jolting the cup. 

“Cheers.” You clinked plastic with his and took your first sip. Dante did as well, hit with the familiar and refreshing taste of strawberries. 

“Aw babe, you didn’t!” He smiled. It was as if you blended a sundae, and he helped himself to another sip. 

You posed with your chin on your shoulder. He made a face at a boba pearl being in his mouth. 

“Do I chew this or do I swallow this?” He asked, his incisor resting on the offending pearl. 

“Bite it.” He did so, popping the membrane. The contents of a very syrupy strawberry-flavored popping boba greeted his tastebuds. 

“Holy shit.” He kissed your forehead. 

“You’re welcome-Hey!” You realized it was a trick so he could duck down and drink out of yours while you were distracted. 

He took a sip, smirking at his trickery. 

“Not as good as mine.” He commented, noting that your pearls didn’t pop. 

An afternoon passed, sitting hand to hand with Dante. It was a well-deserved Saturday, getting to spend time together without worrying about anything for the time being. 

The two of you had reached the bottom of your respective drinks, yours more quickly as Dante continued to help himself to yours and his own. 

Dante relaxed in his seat, his arm around you as the sun turned more saturated in color with its slow descent. 

“Hey, sweetums?” You looked up to the sound of him shaking the nearly empty drink.  

“Hmm?” He gestured to the boba pearls at the bottom of his cup, a toothy grin on his face. 

“Suck my balls?” 

You practically cried as you curled up on the bench, raucously laughing. Dante slapped his knee and laughed with you, wiping tears from his face. 

“Oh, that was so well-timed!” He wheezed and slid down the bench. 

You were in a fetal position, in disbelief of what he just said. You limply held your drink in your hand, dangling it to the ground. To others, you two looked totally in the midst of a shared mental breakdown and thus steered away from the scene. 

“Why? We were having such a romantic moment!” 

“It was an important question!” He refuted, trying to catch his breath. Pedestrians tried their best to ignore your foolery. It wasn’t easy, the sounds of your laughter echoing through the streets. 

These strawberry-flavored dates became a staple from now on.