#something something there was a bit you belt and it was really cool and dream me thought it was poignant

[merrilark]

That frustrating feeling when you took a nap, dreamt you took a nap, dreamt that you dreamt a really cool melody with cool lyrics, so when you dreamt you woke up, you scrambled to write them down before you could forget them... But when you actually woke up, you don't remember anything but a few words. 😔😤😵‍💫

[official-cvntified-gay]

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅ cocky and competitive abby | wc: 1.5k

𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐡 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧, navigating through the narrow hallway that was dimly lit, the cold metal walls echoing with the distant hum of machinery. You and Abby had been assigned to infiltrate a high-security facility—standard spy work, really. But whenever you and Abby were paired up, standard always became something of a competition.

"Bet I’ll crack the vault before you even make it past the first firewall," Abby said smugly, her voice low but dripping with confidence as the two of you made your way through the shadows. Her aviators were pushed up on her head, her smirk unmistakable even in the dark.

You scoffed, adjusting your utility belt. "Please, Anderson. I’ve already got half the codes memorized."

She cast a glance your way, the corner of her mouth twitching up. “Oh yeah? Keep telling yourself that. Don’t get too comfortable in my shadow, sweetheart.”

Your blood buzzed at the challenge. The way Abby was always so cocky—it both infuriated you and made you want to prove her wrong. Every mission turned into a battle of who could do it faster, quieter, better.

“Let’s see who gets to the control room first,” you shot back, already knowing the route you’d take.

Abby chuckled, that low, confident sound. “You’re on.” She stepped closer, her breath teasing your ear for just a second. “Try to keep up.”

Without another word, she was gone, slipping through the corridor with all the grace of a predator on the hunt. You rolled your eyes and followed, determined not to let her win this time.

You rounded a corner, only to see Abby already at the control panel, tapping away. She turned her head ever so slightly as you came into view, her grin wider than it had any right to be.

“Don’t worry,” she said casually, “I’ll save some of the fun for you. Not that you’ll need it, since I’ve already disarmed half the security.”

You bit back a retort, taking a position at the adjacent console. “Security’s disarmed, huh? That’s cute. I just bypassed the surveillance cameras from my comm on the way in.”

Abby raised an eyebrow but didn’t look fazed. “Sure, you did. Just like that time you almost cracked the encryption before I stepped in.”

You huffed, fingers flying over your own console, determined to match her pace. “You know what your problem is, Anderson? You talk a big game, but you never know when to shut up and focus.”

She chuckled, her fingers still tapping rapidly on her keys. “And yet I’m still faster than you. What’s that say about you?”

Your reply was cut off by the quiet ping of her console unlocking. She straightened up and gave you a mock salute. “Vault’s open. Guess I win. Again.”

You rolled your eyes, even though you couldn’t stop a small smile from creeping up. “Yeah, yeah. But who’s got the intel we actually need?”

Abby frowned for just a second, then glanced at the screen. You had already transferred the data to your secure drive. She let out a disbelieving laugh. “You sneaky—”

“I’m just better, Anderson.” You gave her a wink as you turned, ready to make your exit.

But before you could take a step, Abby was in front of you, her hand catching your wrist in a firm but playful grip. She tugged you closer, her lips hovering dangerously near your ear.

“You love pushing my buttons, don’t you?” she whispered, her voice dripping with cocky amusement.

You swallowed, refusing to let her see the effect she had on you. “Somebody has to keep that ego in check.”

Her smirk deepened, and she stepped back, her hand still resting casually on your wrist. “Admit it,” she said, her voice low and teasing. “You like it when I win.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “In your dreams, Abby.”

She leaned in again, her breath brushing your neck, her tone smug. “You’re in them more than you think.”

You shoved her lightly, trying to play it cool, but your heart was racing. “Let’s get out of here before you start believing your own hype.”

As you both slipped through the hallways, backtracking toward the extraction point, you couldn’t help but think that this constant battle between the two of you—this back-and-forth, always trying to one-up each other—was starting to feel less like competition, and more like… something else.

And judging by the cocky grin Abby kept flashing your way, she knew it too.

The two of you moved through the shadows with practiced ease, slipping past sensors and cameras like it was second nature. You’d worked together long enough to anticipate each other’s moves, but that didn’t mean the game ever got old. If anything, it was what kept you sharp—and what kept things interesting.

As you approached the rendezvous point, Abby’s pace slowed slightly, just enough to let you catch up to her. She flashed that signature cocky grin, her hand brushing against yours for just a second longer than necessary. It was subtle, but it sent a familiar warmth through your chest. You couldn’t help but smirk back.

“Still can’t believe you thought you had me beat back there,” she teased, her voice low but filled with that playful edge that always made your heart race.

You rolled your eyes, but your smile gave you away. “Please. I had the data before you even stepped into the room.”

Abby shook her head, laughing quietly as she glanced over at you, her expression softening just a bit. “Always gotta keep me on my toes, huh?”

You shot her a sideways glance, raising an eyebrow. “What, you’d get bored if I didn’t?”

Abby’s smirk grew as she took a step closer, her voice dropping to that low, teasing tone she knew drove you crazy. “Bored? Never. But we both know you like it when I get competitive.”

Your pulse quickened as she closed the distance between you, her body just barely brushing against yours. It was a dangerous dance, one you had perfected over the course of countless missions together. The banter, the competition—it was all part of the fun. But beneath the teasing and the one-upmanship, there was something more, something real that neither of you could deny.

You leaned in, your voice just a whisper. “Admit it—you like it too.”

Abby’s smile softened, and for a moment, the cocky front dropped just enough for you to see the affection in her eyes. “Maybe I do,” she murmured, her hand finding yours and giving it a quick squeeze before she pulled away, already heading toward the exit.

You shook your head, grinning as you followed her out into the night. This was how it always went. The competition, the banter—it was your way of keeping things fun, keeping things fresh. But at the end of the day, there was no question where you both stood.

Once you were safely out of the facility and back at the extraction point, the two of you finally relaxed, the adrenaline from the mission starting to fade. Abby leaned against the side of the getaway vehicle, crossing her arms and giving you that smug, lopsided grin again.

“Well, another successful mission,” she said, her voice teasing. “And once again I’m the one who—”

You cut her off with a quick kiss, catching her off guard as you pressed your lips to hers. She blinked in surprise but quickly melted into it, her hands instinctively sliding to your waist. When you pulled back, she was still smirking, but her eyes had softened in that way they only did when it was just the two of you.

“Okay, okay,” she murmured, her voice quieter now. “I guess we’re both winners tonight.”

You laughed, leaning your forehead against hers. “You keep telling yourself that, Anderson.”

For a moment, the two of you just stood there, your arms wrapped around each other, the playful tension between you settling into something softer, more intimate.

“This never gets old, does it?” you said softly, your fingers playing with the hem of her jacket.

Abby hummed, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Not with you.”

It wasn’t just about the missions. The constant competition, the teasing, the cocky grins—it was all part of the game you’d been playing since the beginning. But beneath it all, there was something more. This was how you kept things exciting, how you kept the spark alive even after all these missions, all these close calls.

And Abby? She might be cocky, but she was yours. And that was all that mattered.

She pulled back slightly, raising an eyebrow as she flashed you another grin. “So, when’s round two? I need another shot at showing you up.”

You laughed, shaking your head as you leaned in for another kiss. “You can try, Anderson. But we both know how that’ll end.”

She pulled you closer, her lips brushing against yours as she whispered, “Yeah. With me winning.”

And just like that, the game was back on. But this time, as you drove off into the night, Abby’s hand resting on your thigh, you couldn’t help but feel that you’d both already won.

✰ her in that bomber jacket is doing things to me😩

[tomriddlehyperfixataion]

Tom Riddle x reader - Craving

Warning:...SMUT, dirty talk, blowjobs, Tom Riddle. i don't even KNOW where this came from im in a mood rn, i think im ovulating lol.

=

She had been wanting to do this for months now, craving it really, needing it, desperate to taste it on her tongue and indulge herself on it. She had day dreamed about it for days and weeks on end, getting distracted in class just from the thought of it, her mouth filling with drool as she thought about having it in her mouth.

...

oh? what was she talking about? her boyfriends dick of course~! as of late she had been-unnecessarily horney and needy for her boyfriend Tom Riddle's dick. She had been having bloody dreams about it, just imagining it in her mouth, heavy and hot on her tongue, the taste of his pre-cum and cum running over her taste buds and going down her throat and chin, gagging on his length and choking on his girth.

Yeah. she was kinda obsessed right now, ovulation usually made her go crazy too.

It didn't help that her boyfriend was soooo fucking pretty too, just-so pretty-and his cock was just as pretty. it was about six inches long with a sweet girth and a slight curve, and with his body hygiene, he tasted damn good, like his milk and honey body wash.

"You-want to what?" Tom asked, his voice a bit higher pitched than usual, dumbfounded by her request. He was sitting at his desk in his private dorm room-perks of being head boy-he had been just doing his homework when his girlfriend, (y/n), came in; asking a question he never thought he would hear.

"Can i suck your dick?" (y/n) repeated, her face straight, but her eyes sparkling. "i just-really wanna." she had no real reason, she had just been really wanting to just have his dick in her mouth and just have it there.

"Why?" Tom asked, blinking rapidly, his usual cool demeanor out the window with (y/n)'s 'odd' request. he didn't even know where it came from, why did she want to suck his dick at such a random time? he was in the middle of doing his work. (y/n) shrugged and Tom sighed, running his hand over his face, (y/n)'s eyes trailing after his hands, which were another favorite part of his body.

"Are you ovulating or something? you only get this way during that time," Tom asked and (y/n) shrugged. Probably. Tom sighed again, running his hands through his hair, biting the inside of his lips. he couldn't find a reason in his brain to tell her no, other than him doing homework, but he knew he could get that done whenever, he was smart.

And honestly, the thought of her just being so needy and wanting to suck his dick was making him get hard. "Okay, fine," Tom groaned, jumping when he opened his eyes and saw (y/n) was already crawling between his legs under the desk. "merlin (y/n), that needy eh?" Tom muttered, brushing his fingers against her cheek, his lashes fluttering as she unbuckled his belt and pulled his dick out-her hand soft against his sensitive skin.

"Easy there," Tom muttered, his eyes fluttering shut and his head falling back as his mouth opened, a low groan escaping him as (y/n) started licking him, once, twice, three times, and then she swirled her tongue around the head of his cock. His chest was already rising and falling at a rapid pace. Fuck he loved her.

He lurched forward with a choked gasp as she took him into her warm and hot mouth, her tongue on the underside of his cock and the tip of his cock entering her throat. "God-" Tom choked out, his thighs clenching as (y/n) hummed with his cock in her mouth, slowly bobbing her head up and down, savoring his taste and loving the weight of his cock on her tongue.

He leaned his elbow on his desk, gasping for breath as (y/n) moved her head back and forth, slow and even, just tasting him and feeling him, spit already coating his cock and starting to drip down her chin. "(y/n) fuck," Tom groaned, looking down at her, his cheeks flushing. he cradled her cheek, leaning back as she pushed at his chest, watching her with half lidded eyes as she just kept sucking and licking his cock-seemingly just to do it.

He clutches onto his chair, panting into the air as his brain starts to fuzz over, his hands trembling as she holds him in her throat for a second, swallowing around him and he chokes, his hips jolting, thrusting into her mouth-making her gag. "fuck-sorry," Tom groaned, but pauses when (y/n) looks up at him, whimpering, her mouth slacking around his cock, her eyes begging him to do that again.

oh fuck.

Tom moaned and leaned forward, arching over his desk as his hands find her hair and he begins fucking her throat, panting heavily and moaning her name as his cock goes in and out of her mouth and throat, spit and pre-cum dribbling down onto the floor. "fuck fuck fuck, you and your perfect fucking mouth, shit." Tom groans, falling back against his chair again, still thrusting into his girlfriends mouth who was taking him wonderfully well, just letting him fuck her throat.

"Such a good girl, so fucking good for me, my little cock slut-fuck-i bet you would do this forever if you could, just sucking on my cock, deep in your throat," Tom moans and (y/n)'s eyes flutter from his dirty talk, her free hand going into her underwear, starting to finger herself and Tom sees that for a split second and feels like going mad. "Getting off on this aren't you? just sucking my cock makes you all wet and needy doesn't it? Fuuuck, your mouth is so warm and wet my girl, shit (y/n) I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna cum right down your throat, fill that fucking stomach with my cum, get you all full from both ends."

Tom's hips jolted again and his thighs clenched, his head falling back and his eyes closing as he held (y/n)'s face, thrusting into her mouth again and again, "Fuck fuck FUCK!" Tom comes hard, his breath leaving his chest as he comes down (y/n)'s throat. (y/n) whimpers, swallowing everything he had to give her, her fingers pressing against her soaked clit as she comes with him.

she's panting wetly when he pulls her head off him, her vision fuzzy and spit all over her chin as Tom looks down at her, his expression just as fucked as her. "Merlin i love it when you're like this," he whispers, choking as (y/n) takes him in her mouth again. "(Y/N)!"

-end-

im in a spicy mood, like lord i need to be dicked down rn

[lickthehilt]

keep you in a bottle

T/W: mentions of Boothills backstory and the reader who’s a direct victim of the IPC.

If my works do anything to offend you or any party, please let me know so I can amend or take down anything.

I do not mention descriptions of anything visceral in my work, the most being: “…the IPC fully invaded, but he told you that as he rummaged through the wreck of scorched land he'd found the chip at the entrance of where the nursery would've been in the shared house…” other descriptions include the idea of having a cybernetic body.

He'll pry the door open with his leg, too cool to use the actual handle, right about--

The door swings open followed by the beams of sunlight reflecting off the metallic surface of the medals and bullets hanging from his jacket and belt. Entering the hotel room, every movement he makes is loud and punctuated by the tinkling of metal and the clicks of his spurs -- in your daydreams sometimes he takes the form of a souvenir seller, like the ones they have in the big-shot planets he had travelled to in the past. You can see him hollering at smudged out faces, waving trinkets and brushing against people with his tassel-like long hair.

You love his hair; the length and how when he sways you can see the strands dance in river-like streaks. When you were younger you had to fight him tooth-and-nail to get your grubby hands on those clumps. Daylight burnt through fights that ended with you pinning his hands to his sides as he wriggled on his front, your weight pressing him down as you'd tear through his hair with your own hairbrush. Now adays you can't really brawl with him in the same way.

"What'chu dreaming 'bout, sugar?" He hauls a bag to the centre table, the contents clanking. His grin is razor sharp, cutting into his cheeks as he starts rummaging through it.

"You. Your hair. Braiding it and stuff, you know? You'd ever think about wearing it up or something?" From where you are, you can't quite see the emotion the flicks past his face. Moments like this, whenever he comes home with his bag of goodies, he looks like a wounded hound licking at his paws showing off the scraps he's managed to scrounge up. "I like that one."

From the bag he produces what looks like a panel of white metal, "like porcelain." Holding it up, he continues rummaging, "came with some fancy bits. Gold and all."

"All for me?"

His gaze momentarily flickers to you, staring through your form. You'd imagine how maybe he'd loom over you, bat at a strand of your hair, flick your forehead, brush his metal fingers against the flesh of your flesh. But the way he looks at you now, uncertain and alien. There are days he can't bring himself to look at you: thinks about what could've been-- what is. He likes to tuck you to his chest on these days, press you close to his non-existent heartbeat, have your hum resonate with the mechanical system inside him. His body is efficient, quiet and invisible to the naked ear, but some days you can really hear him, hear the sliding pumps and groan of metal joints.

"Only the best."

"Maybe you'll find something to fix that Synesthesia Beacon of yours."

Air passes through him in a throat chuckle, "ya think?"

Across the table he's laid out all sort of odd sheets of metal, some sturdy or bent, and he stands above the selection with his hands propped on his hips and leaning back. Cupping the bottom of his face he beckons you closer as you flicker next to him. "What’d ya reckon. Do ya like it?"

"The selection?"

"Naw, the table--" he clicks his tongue. "Yes the selection."

A smile would've pressed against your cheeks as you'd brush your hip against his. But, you don't have a physical hip to brush against his, instead your visage passing his form. The contact is non-existent, but he finds himself jolted still. "Sorry." You don't know what you're apologising for. "Well, um, it's a selection alright."

"Not good 'nough?"

"No-- it is! It's just… hard to imagine…"

"A body." You choose to not look at him.

When you had the chance to really inspect his body, the whole sleek design had been incredibly difficult to grasp for a country bumpkin like yourself. Imagine, mechanical bodies and not just the ones where the head's full of wires. His actual brain is in there, working and pumping whatever fluid they used for his blood or something. Does he even have blood? He'd never let you see the worst of his fights and you've only really seen him in action when he got good at what he did. When he had credit and cash spilling from his fingertips the same way that he let his bullets rain. Being a galaxy ranger was good for him, the best option for him after what had happened -- but he's never told you what went into that surgery, or more like he could never explain it.

"Look," he fidgets with his left hand, popping out his revolver chamber and spinning the wheel slowly, "it's not that deep when ya really think about it, honey."

"Boothill. I want you to look at me when you reassure me." He pauses. Then, he turns to look at you. Really look at you.

Your form flickers before him. There's a slight blue sheen over the visage of what you would've looked like -- what you should've looked like if you were physically alive. Boothill has razor sharp vision, even with one eye, but he struggles to look at you with a steady gaze. He fidgets in a way you don’t really see him, always one to ooze with confidence, dancing through bullet shells and pressing the nozzle of guns into his abdomen.

"When you made the decision to… did it hurt?"

"It hurt, alright." A belly-type laughter rasps his throat as he adjusts his hat, "but it hurt more know those little vermons would be going scot-free if I weren't chasing 'em down."

The thought makes you quiet. Outside you could make out the whizzing of hover cars and the cute little squishing sound those little billboards make as they trail behind you. There’s laughter and chatter and life.

Boothill adjusts his footing, his spur clicking as he shifts to be closer to you, just shy of what would be him pressing against your body.

"Yer'll still be you to me." He huffs, "metallic body er not, yer' still… Plus, I think it'll be easier for ya. No nerves to server, or gas to suck on. Just gotta boot you down."

"Gee. Real assuring."

"Ain't it?" And you think about it as he starts chucking the bad metal in the pile he's collected in the corner of your temporary living space.

You'd be awake as nothing more than waves of light one moment, then the next you'd have a body. Something real physical. And that'd be great-- but the morality of real death would come back, wouldn't it? No longer would you worry about Boothill losing you, or scratching your chip up a little too much, death would be in your hands once more. It's easier to be mad at someone else, but yourself?

Boothill never told you in detail on how he'd found your body the day the IPC fully invaded, but he told you that as he rummaged through the wreck of scorched land he'd found the chip at the entrance of where the nursery would've been in the shared house. It was small in size and a bit thick, almost lost amongst the greys and black, only found through its blinking blue light that winked through the rubble. He would've tossed it away if it weren't for your name etched into its surface.

He held onto the hope that it meant anything and clutched onto the chip well after he got his cyborg body, at one point forgetting it and keeping it in his boot for safe keeping ("… in your boot." "It kept ya safe, dun'it?"). Just by chance he had his hands on some holographic projector and popped the chip in. Then, there you were. Loading bit by bit, but just the same as you’d been the night before the wipe out. Same face, same body, hands and feet. You were still, as if frozen, and he'd been… well it was a lot. For him and you, who'd been in… well, not the best mind when you came to be.

"I… guess so. I-- and you'll be able to really find this doctor again?"

"Found her once, and I'll find her again, sugar. And before you know it," he tips his hat, averting his gaze to the whirring device projecting your form. "We can do all the hair braiding ya want."

[lowkeychenle]

And Then It Was [ZCL] (M) fic teaser

Description: After your marriage with Chenle was arranged by your parents for a company merger, things with him aren't quite like you expect. In your life full of obligations, he's determined to finally give you the ability to make your own choices.

Genre: Smut/Fluff/Angst (arranged marriage!au, rich families using their children as business mergers yk) (no actual smut in the teaser but the tension kinda wild lol)

Content Warnings: Not sure of any in the teaser, but in general content warnings will be rich, generational family trauma, mentions of pregnancy and heirs (no actual pregnancy in the fic), reader feels obligated to do literally everything and Chenle's like yeah that's not really cool, umm if I think of more I'll let y'all know

Expected Word Count: 20-30k

Teaser Word Count: 789

Release Date: 8pm EST 2023.3.22

READ HERE :)

Taglist: Open!! Please let me know if you want to be tagged when this comes out <3

Pairing: Zhong Chenle x fem!Reader (features the rest of dream!)

Juliet's Masterlist | Tell me what you think? :)

“Chenle?” you call out.

When he appears in the doorway, his shirt is absent, and you were pretty sure he’d been wearing a belt before. His arms are crossed over his chest as he leans against the frame, awaiting you to tell him what you need.

You don’t have to actually speak. Instead, you turn your back to him and pull your hair over your shoulder. He hums behind you, keeping a respectable amount of distance before he grips the zipper.

“What did you do before me?” he asks, hesitant to pull it down.

“Staff.” You shrug. “But I mostly wore things I knew I’d be able to—”

The familiar sound and the rush of cool air against your practically boiling skin as he reveals more of your skin has your breath catching in your throat. You cut yourself off, immediately reaching up to hold the dress to your chest.

“I’m a very accommodating man, (Y/N).” His voice sinks into every inch of your skin. “If you need something, tell me. I’m your husband. It’s quite literally my job to ensure you’re happy, darling.”

The warmth radiating from his bare skin so close to yours has every thought in your brain flying away. Logically, there’d be nothing wrong with giving in to your temptation. It’d been a long time since anyone had touched you, and the man behind you is your husband. Physical attraction had nothing to do with emotions or feelings, so it was okay. One thing you’d never be able to deny is how he’s one of the most beautiful men you’d ever met. Your parents could’ve chosen much, much worse for you.

His voice centimeters from your ear startles you out of your trance. He says, “I wonder what you’re thinking about. You seem a bit distracted.”

“Wouldn’t you love to know.”

“Truly.”

“I need to change.”

“Do you?” He trails a finger up your spine. “You’re so soft. What an odd comparison to that steel wall you’re forcing yourself to keep up.”

“I think you’re forgetting your own boundaries.” You clench your fist into the fabric of your dress. “This wouldn’t be real.”

“What even is this?” His breath fans across your neck, and you’re sure you feel the sublest brush of his lips on your skin. “Tell me where you think this is going. After all, I’m helping you with your dress like a good husband.”

“My dress was dealt with minutes ago.”

“Darling.” He tsks. “If your dress was dealt with already, it would be long, long gone.”

Even like this, you refuse to let him win. If this were to be the extent of your relationship with Chenle, you’d be fine with that. You crave satisfaction, and you also know this is a means to an end. This may be the key to giving your family those fucking heirs they want so badly.

In a bold move, you release your grip on the fabric and allow it to crumple at your feet.

“What?” You tilt your head, grinning when his breathing halts. “Are you the only one who can deliver?”

He places his hand on your hip. “Can I touch you here?”

“Mhm,” you inhale sharply when he squeezes, trying your best not to roll back against him.

“Here?” he whispers, splaying his fingers out along your stomach.

“What’s your goal?” you ask, looking back at him over your shoulder. “You seem like you want something from me.”

His face is much too close to yours, but for some reason, it does little to bother you. When his lips part, you don’t mean to squirm in his touch.

His eyes sweep over your expression, his touch edging just a little further downward until he can play with the lace hem of your panties.

“I’ve told you what I want already.” His gaze locks on your mouth. “Everything. I want it all.”

You gulp, unable to speak for fear of making a fool of yourself.

“What about me makes this hard for you?” he asks.

Despite the softness of his voice, your proximity to him means you see the hint of hurt swimming around in his dark irises. The heat of his bare skin on yours has everything inside you awakening, but you can’t give him what he wants.

“The choice is yours.” He takes a deep breath. “Going forward, the choice is always yours to make. I’m yours in any way you want me.”

The atmosphere around you is so hot, charged, you can’t help the way you struggle to breathe. You lean closer to him, and when your lips brush his, his grip around you tightens.

Before he’s able to initiate a real kiss, a knock sounds on the bedroom door.

[mr-bas00nist]

Ok I know this isn't re related but I had a idea that I thought could be interesting!

Ghost from cod with a trans ftm reader he really likes but they are hung up over some woman from before they joined the military and because of that they haven't been with anyone since, and Maybe ghost proves (😏) to them that they don't need some civilian chick when they have him, "could she make you feel like this" type stuff

Also bonus but I would really appreciate it if they were described as being around the same height as him. Also like how most operators have they're country flag they have a trans flag instead. Also it would be cool if they were a masked operator too, (you can ignore all this stuff this was just extra stuff I thought up wile daydreaming about this😵‍💫)

IM STILL ALL GOOD WITH DOING NON RE REQUESTS BTW

The Things I Could Do

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x FTM! Reader

Cw: Suggestiveness

You sat in your barracks on your phone. You had your ski mask on with your usual black compression shirt and green camo pants, a usual lounging outfit. You were currently alone in your barracks looking at pictures of your favorite fling. Before you went to the military you were interested in asking her out. She had nice blond hair, pretty eyes and a nice body. You looked at the pictures you had of her on your phone before you heard the door creak open.

You look over to see Simon with his gear on, presumably back from a mission. He didn’t say a word as he began to change out of his heavy tactical gear. You looked at the man intently then back to your phone once he was changed. He looked over to you noticing you on your phone. “What are you doing?” He asks curiously. You set your phone down on your chest looking up at the celling.

“nothing special.” You spoke looking back over to Ghost. “Apparently it’s something.” Ghost spoke sitting next to you. “You’ve been on your phone for awhile. Your usually never on your phone.” He spoke raising an eyebrow under his mask. You looked at him with an amused look through your own.

“I would say I’m shocked you noticed that but I’m really not. But seriously, it’s nothing special.” You spoke with a shrug. “Looks like it. You’ve been obsessed with your phone lately.” He looked at you, you still had your eyes on the ceiling. “As your lieutenant you understand it’s my job to make sure your focused and on your best behavior right?” He spoke with his usual stern tone.

“Yes sir.” You nodded as you looked over to him. He grabbed your phone from your hands curious to see what you were so focused on. He looked at the woman on your phone then back up to you. “Is this your source of obsession?” He asks curiously. You nod a bit embarrassed and annoyed at his grab. You take your phone back putting your hands behind your head.

“Who’s she?” He asks looking over at you. “Girl I met before I joined. She sent me a text and I can’t get my mind off of her.” You spoke honestly not daring to lie to your lieutenant. “So your caught up on some girl?” Ghost asked as he looked at you with curious eyes. “Well I mean when you put it like that-“

He gives you a stern look. You sigh, “Yeah, I am caught up on some girl.” You muttered looking away. He leaned over you, “like I said, as your lieutenant it’s my job to make sure your focused and on your best behavior.” He said leaning closer to your face. You take a sharp breath looking at him with nervous eyes. “And that means by any measure.”

He grabs your belt as he tilts his head. “Come on, don’t waste your time on some civilian girl. There are so many things I could do that she couldn’t dream of.” He leaned down lifting your mask up a bit. “She could never make you feel as could as I could.” Ghost mutters into the crook of your neck. Your pulse quickens as you smile.

“You think so?” You ask with a raised eyebrow. He snickers. “I know so.”

[maskedmenmakemeferal]

New neighbor(Konigs version)

Konig watched you.

Every movement,every footstep,every breath.

His eyes watched you.

In his mind,you were his.

His cute,little,civilian neighbor.

He had retired from the military a few months back and had moved into a small neighborhood. You were the first one to introduce yourself and make him feel safe.

He towered over you,but you weren’t terrified of him.

Anytime you smile,his heart feels like it’s going to burst.

He knew then and there,you were his to protect.

So,whenever you invited him over for dinner to check up on him,he had to calm himself.

You open the door,wearing something very nice and pretty and he felt all of his blood rush to his cock.

“Hi Konig.” You let him in.

“Hello.” He nods,not wanting to say more due to his raging hard on.

“Dinners almost ready.” You smile.

He felt like he was going to break. That smile,that pretty face,the women who’s been in his dreams for months.

“C-can I go freshen up in your bathroom?” He asks,praying you can’t see his bulge.

“Of course.” You lead him to the bathroom.

He thanks you and steps inside,making quick work of his belt once he knows your back downstairs.

He bites his mask as he jerks off,keeping his moans to a minimum. His hand isn’t working though,knowing that you’re downstairs,so close. He accepts defeat,putting back on his pants and washing his hands.

He walks back downstairs to find two beautifully crafted plates. He sits at the table.

“Thank you.” He smiled under his mask.

“No problem,Konig.” You down and start eating.

The dinner was filled with a sweet conversation as you eat the amazing meal you created.

You smile at him,and he’s about to hit his breaking point.

“Konig?” You look at him expecting.

“Hm? Sorry.” Konig snaps out of the trance.

“Are you feeling okay?” You gently grab his hand.

He nods. “Yeah,I’m fine. Don’t worry.”

“Okay,good.” You smile.

He snaps at that,his breath getting heavy and his face is flushed. He grabs your hands,looking at

you pleadingly. “Liebling,please.”

“Please what?” You say innocently.

“I need you.” And he did. A deep,carnal need that oozed into every crevice of his being.

“Where do you need me?” You get up.

“Let me fuck you,Liebling.” You’re a bit taken back at first,but take the challenge,straddling his lap. His hands go to your hips,squeezing the delectable bit of fat there.

You lift his mask,thankfully to see his face. He has a lewd look on his face,pupils blown in lust.

You kiss him,a hungry all consuming kiss like you were trying to take his very essence into you.

“Let’s get this dress off,yes?” He smiles and reaches for the zipper. He unzips it,letting the shiny material pool inbetween you two. He makes quick work of it,tossing it to the side.

You kiss him,unlatching your bra and tossing it to the side. His large hand slides inbetween your lush thighs,thick fingers touching you over your lace panties.

You let out a high pitched moan,hips rolling for more friction.

“Be a good girl,Liebling,and let me prep you.”

“You don’t have to,Ko.”

“No,Liebling,I really do.” He tares the fabric of the lace,throwing them with the rest of the clothes.

“Oh so wet.” He smiles,observing your pussy. His fingers slowly pump in and out of you,at first it was only one,but soon it was three. You moan,grinding into his hand.

“Hng,fuck!” You toss your head back as a unholy moan leaves you.

He smiles when you come onto his hand. “Good fucking girl,Liebling.” He unbuckles his belt and pulls down his pants,showing his bulge.

You reach out,raking your nails down his abs to his underwear and sliding it off.

“Oh my god,how is it so big?” You look up at him,wide eyed.

“You flatter me.” He smiles. “Now,take it like the good girl you are.” You sink onto him,moaning at the adjustment to his size.

“Holy fuck,your cunts so fucking tight,Liebling.”

He helps you ride him,his hands providing a comfortable coolness to your hips.

You lean forward and bite his shoulder,not enough to draw blood,but enough to sting.

He takes your face with his free hand and kisses you,sloppy and sensual.

You moan into the kiss as his dick stroked your clit,loving the feeling.

After a few amazing moments,the coil in your stomach snaps and you cum,your walls spasming. He comes too,his cum filling you too the brim.

He smiles hazily up at you.

“That was amazing,Libling.”

You’re too fucked out to formulate a response,so you nod and nuzzle into his chest.

“Mhm.” You murmer against his warm skin. “Amazing.”

(Old writing,so kinda shitty ,I’m sorry)

[cryptictongues]

Remedy

pairing: Joshua Rosfield x Fem!Reader rating: Teen word count: 2.6k summary: Joshua wants to kiss you badly.

warnings: slight suggestive themes

Spoilers involving mentions of the groups second encounter with Barnabas.

[AO3 link]

Joshua feels like he is dreaming, his mind swirling in colors of fire that bleed into the color of the sea. He feels like he is floating, the waves ebbing and flowing to the pulsing rhythm of his chest: slow and calm. He doesn’t think he has ever felt so at peace, the weight of the realm melting away from his shoulders. He lays there, the water soothing the pain that’s corrupted his body and drifting it further away from consciousness. He knows this isn’t his time to leave, but if this is what death feels like, he’d be more than happy to embrace it when what's done is done. 

As he drifts into the sea, he picks up on a soft hum. It is a delicate, smooth hum that would draw any man in, the notes dancing delicately against the water’s surface. It starts to invade his senses, tantalizing his heart beat as he recognizes the sweet tone. The chords become even clearer, and he smiles because he recognizes the sounds, as it makes his heart beat a little faster. You are here. 

It’s as if the voice brings him back to reality, slowly stirring his brain to engage in his senses. First thing that hits him is the smell and taste of the sea, salt wafting up his nose and dissolving on his taste buds. The next thing he senses is the temperature difference of his skin, his upper body cool while the rest of him stays warm. He also feels something warm in his left palm, soothing motions caressing the skin. Before he can open his eyes, his ears perk up at the soothing melody that’s washed him ashore. It stirs his soul, comforting him as he knows you are by his side. And at last, his eyes slowly open, blinking a couple times as they focus and as they do the softest sigh releases from his lungs.

His sigh makes you look at him, and the slightest smile appears on your face. “Thank Greagor you are alright.”

He takes in your appearance. The usual attire of mixed belts and fabrics was forgone and a white tunic and white underpants remain. The light from the lantern on the side table highlights your face, making you glow with eyes twinkling. If he didn’t know better, he would have thought there was an angel in his presence from the Founder Himself. You have never looked more beautiful. But what he can’t stop staring at are your lips. The shade of the pinkest rose and what looks to be the softness of its petals, the slight parting of them only making him want to sit up and kiss you with the gentlest care. 

A motion in front of his face shocks him from his daze and the sweet song of your laugh enters his ears. “You must really have taken a hit if I’m leaving you speechless.”

Joshua groans and tries to sit up, only for you to push him back down gently. “Wait a little bit. You have just woken up.”

“I’m okay, my lady. I promise.” He rasps, his throat breaking through the cobwebs that accumulated during his slumber. He starts to get up again and this time you help him, placing your right hand on his upper back and the other on his right arm to gently lift him up. He places his feet firmly on the floor, leaning forward to gain his bearings. He feels your weight beside him on the bed as you rub his back, soothing him as he takes deep breaths to calm his dizzy brain.

He takes in the surroundings, noticing the small chamber he’s in. He could feel the motions of the room, a shallow up and down signaled from the calming sea. He looks up, taking the hand that settled in your lap into his hands. “Are we still on the Enterprise?”

You nod your head. “We are yes.”

“What time of day is it?” He inquires. 

“It’s dusk. We are heading towards the outskirts of Ash. We believe Clive and Jill are there waiting for us.”

“Wait, they didn’t make it to the ship?” Joshua asks, worry seeping into his mind at his brother and childhood friend’s whereabouts.

You shake your head. “What is the last thing you remember, Joshua?”

He ponders for a moment. He remembers fighting Odin, trying to keep him distracted while his brother rescued Jill. He remembers Odin using his blade to cut him down, which he remembers blocking, but everything after is a blur. 

He feels you grab both his hands with yours, causing him to look at you. “It’s okay. You were unconscious from the impact of Odin’s blade. Want to know something crazy though? His blade quite literally cut the sea in half. The Einherjar succumbed to the sea’s trenches, while Mid was able to move the Enterprise away from it in time.” Joshua feels you squeeze his hands. “Clive and Jill were still on Barnabas’s ship, but we believe they escaped due to some clues Gav found. We are heading to a secluded part of Ash right now as Gav also saw fire smoke. He thinks they may have made camp there to wait for us.”

Joshua breathes out a soft laugh. “Sounds like I missed most of the expedition.”

“It wasn’t anything we all couldn’t handle. I’m just glad you are okay. Everyone was worried about you. I was very worried. I don’t know what I would have done if something worse had happened.” You admit. He sees something change in your eyes. Worry? Affection? Care? He couldn’t quite tell. All he knows is that it is stirring his soul with the one emotion that plagues his mind. Love.

“I promise I feel okay. A little tired perhaps, but none the worse for wear.” He reassures, but his heart is fluttering at your admittance that you were worried about him. It isn’t a shock, per say, as the two of you had grown quite close. But still, it warms his heart all the same.

He has never been so bewitched by someone before. During his travels with Jote, he had the privilege of being healed by you. You were a traveling healer, going far and wide across Storm to attend to the sick and injured as war and the Blight continued to rage on. You had found them alongside abandoned ruins on the Crystal Belt, and even with his hesitation, you insisted. He cannot lie, he couldn’t remember the last time he had felt so strong as you worked your magic. For the longest time, he could feel your fingertips graze his chest, leaving a lasting imprint in his soul. There were nights where he wondered where you had gone off to, and if you were safe. He truly didn’t believe he would see you again. Until he did.

He remembered waking up in the infirmary at the Hideaway one day and he believed his eyes were playing tricks on him as he saw you there in front of him. It wasn’t until Clive had informed him that you were called, as you were the only white mage in the entire realm and a true proponent to the cause. You had stayed with him, working on him with different healing spells. He often thought about how similar your healing abilities were to his. Yours may not be as strong as his in mending, but the prowess in your variety of abilities was beyond anything he could achieve. You were simply impressive. 

You had explained to him how magery has become a lost art, and many pieces of literature of both black and white magery have been destroyed. You came from a line of white mages, keeping tradition alive in secret, which made it harder to teach potential apprentices. This ended up being the reason you stayed at the Hideaway once he was back to the state of health he was at previously: to teach Tarja and other people helping in the infirmary tricks and potions to better aid people. 

During your time at the Hideaway, Joshua got very close to you. The both of you would often eat together before the day starts. The both of you would go to the Shelves, so he could find information on the book he’s writing and so you could find books on spellcraft, herbs, and medicine. His favorite thing that the both of you did together, however, was when you both would meet on the Boarding Deck to catch up on the day's highs and lows and everything in between. One night in particular, what he bore witness to would be ingrained in his mind forever. You were in a white gown, singing softly to yourself as you danced in a small circle, twirling and smiling in your own little world. He has always seen you as a carefree spirit, but to see it soar like that was breathtaking. When you noticed him there, the blush that rose to your cheeks and the pout of your lips made his heart go ablaze. He remembers it so vividly, as it was the first time he came to the conclusion that he was in love with you, and how badly he wanted to take you in his arms to claim your lips with his own; the only woman who can break his focus on the dreaded reality set before him. 

“Do you mind if I check you over at least? I did initially but it’ll be easier now that you’re awake.” 

Joshua nods. He watches you turn so your legs are criss-crossed on the bed. He shivers as your hands make contact with his body, the temperature contrast clashing deliciously as he lets you inspect him. Your touch is everywhere, running from his back to the front of his chest. One hand places against his lower back, while the other goes to his stomach, pushing against the sensitive flesh. It causes goosebumps to bloom across his skin. “Does it hurt when I push here?” He hears you ask. He shakes his head no, and you ask again when you push a different spot and the cycle repeats. You press your fingers against the flesh where his jawline and neck meet, feeling for his pulse.

“Your pulse rate is going crazy. Are you sure you aren’t feeling ill?” You inquire, placing your hand against his forehead to double check his temperature.

The urge to take you in his arms and love you the way you deserve is consuming his being. He clenches his fists, trying to control himself as your hands are still on him. He looks away, needing to regain his composure or he will surely snap. He isn’t one to not be in control of his actions, but the way you are looking at him and caring for him is more than his heart can take. He feels fingers on his jaw, pushing his head back to the object of his affection. Your other hand brushes the hair from his face, stroking the strands as you look at him. He senses something in your eyes, and his sense of control deteriorates further. 

“What are you hiding from me, Joshua? You can tell me.” You smile, your lips seemingly more irresistible than before. 

He gulps, eyes shifting back and forth from your eyes to your lips. He notices a shift in your expression, one that seems to put the pieces together of what is transpiring. The hands on his chin shifts slightly so your thumb grazes his lips, tracing the outline of them gently, causing his breath to stutter. It draws the smile on your face ten fold. 

“I think I see the issue now.” You grin, continuing the motions with your thumb on his lower lip. “And I know just the remedy, however I need your permission.” You scoot closer to him, your knees hitting the side of his right thigh. Your other hand places itself on his neck, a gentle grasp as you look at him. “May I be your remedy, Joshua?”

“Please…” He whispers, his heart thumping like an earthquake: ready to crack at the seams. You lean your forehead against his, both of you taking the moment in before he feels your lips connect to his. A whimper leaves his lips, his heart set aflame from the way you kiss him. It is gentle, yet full of passion. It is a kiss that is a confession of love for one another; no words needed to be said to know that this is what you both feel. 

He feels your tongue linger a little too long near the seam of his lips, and he lets his tongue capture yours, letting you know it is okay to deepen the kiss you both share. Your hands go to the back of his head, grasping at his strawberry blond hair. The feeling of your hands gently pulling his hair breaks the little control he was holding onto, and he wraps his arms around your waist to guide you onto his lap. Your knees are now on either side of his thighs as he grows more confident in the kiss, keeping his arms secured around your back so you stay balanced on him. He senses your tension, your full weight refusing to land on him. His right hand comes up to your cheek, caressing it as he releases your lips without breaking away fully. “I’m okay. You aren’t going to break me.”

His lips claim yours once more, and sighs in relief as your weight presses down onto his lap. Your arms wrap around his neck, and he groans as your chest goes flush with his. He can feel himself melting into you, the two of you becoming one as the kisses vary from heated passion to gentle ecstasy. Not even the strongest elixir could make him feel the way he is now. It is like he has ascended to the heavens with your heavenly embrace. To him, you truly are an angel. 

The slightest grind of your hips against him makes him retaliate, his hips bucking up slightly into your covered heat. The sweetest moans slip from your lips, making him gladly swallow them as he continues his descent into a madness only you could create. It is your taste that could bring him to the brink of insanity. 

You pull your lips away slowly, and Joshua’s first instinct is to chase back after them, the feeling of them disappearing causing him to grip you harder to make sure he isn’t dreaming again. His eyes open, and he smiles. This is real, he thought. This is heaven .

“Do you feel better, Joshua? Was that what you needed?” You whisper, your breath slowly returning to normal, hands now running up and down his naked chest to sooth the flame that burns bright from within.

He releases the gentlest laugh, his hands going to your sides as he goes up and down your form. “By the Founder, yes.” He places another kiss on your lips, needing more but holding back for your sake. He could kiss you forever, but at your own pace. He goes to lay down, pulling you with him. Your legs intertwine with his, hands still on his chest with fingers drawing pictures into the skin. He holds you tightly, needing you close to him. Now that he has you, he is going to ensure that it stays that way. 

He kisses your forehead, lips lingering there as he makes his request. “Stay with me like this. For as long as you’ll have me.”

He feels you nod, placing a kiss to the flesh above his heart. “For all time.”

You both lay there in each other’s arms, confessions and kisses being shared as the morning progresses and the reality of the situation before the both of you starts to rear its ugly head. But at this moment, none of it matters. 

Reality can wait.

[valeriianz]

Hob and Dream sharing a bath?

Can be smut or fluff your choice

i made it smutty ;) CW: bubble baths and handjobs, human au

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

“You’ve been working yourself ragged. You need to relax,” Hob insisted, broad hands on Morpheus’ slim shoulders, directing him towards the bathroom.

“And you think a bath is the answer?” Morpheus grumbled but allowed himself to be gently coaxed into their bathroom, currently dark save for the few candles that flickered on the edge of the bathtub. 

Morpheus swallowed, taking in the scene before him. The candles gave their usually drab, off-white apartment bathroom a soft yellow glow. The room was warm and humid, sage and lavender permeating the air and immediately filling Morpheus with a sense of calm.

There were also bubbles in the water.

It was very… sweet. Hob was always too sweet with Morpheus.

“You really didn’t have to do all this,” Morpheus mumbled as he felt Hob’s lips on the back of his neck. “I’m capable of taking a bath without all these… accouterments.”

Hob chuckled into Dream’s hair, making him shudder pleasantly. 

“I just wanted to do something nice for you.” Hob gave the back of Morpheus’ head one more kiss before gently turning him around. “And I think you’ll like it. Nothing like a hot epsom salt bath to relieve tension and stress.”

Morpheus stared at Hob with wonder clear in his gaze at how he got so lucky, what he did to deserve such kindness.

“C’mon, off with these…” Hob smiled as he tugged at the ends of Morpheus’ oversized shirt. Morpheus raised his arms and allowed Hob to tug it off him.

He stepped back to remove his jeans and underwear himself, noticing, even in the limited light, how Hob blatantly watched.

Morpheus grinned as he stepped out of his remaining garments and tugged on Hob’s belt loops, causing the other man to lean forward and laugh in surprise.

“Would you join me?” Morpheus asked against Hob’s lips.

“I’m very tempted…” Hob breathed, nudging his nose to Morpheus’. “But this is for you. To relax.” He reminded Morpheus with a pointed look.

And, regrettably, a step backwards, but latched his hand into Morpheus’ and helped him into the water.

Morpheus dipped his foot in slowly, humming as he felt the bath slowly caress him. The water was still hot, but not uncomfortably so. Hob must’ve drawn it while Morpheus was on his way home. The idea of Hob timing his arrival to this surprise made something warm and wanting bloom in Morpheus’ chest.

As Morpheus settled back against the tub, sighing long and heavy, he allowed his eyes to slip shut. The water gently splashed around him as he got comfortable, a low groan unconsciously tumbling past his lips.

“Feel better already, huh?”

Morpheus turned his head and opened his eyes, finding Hob crouched by him, next to the tub. The flutter of the candle close by cast Hob in amber shadows that made Morpheus want to reach out and touch, curious if the curve of Hob’s cheek and jaw would be as warm as they appeared.

After a moment passed, Hob smiled again, hoisting himself up. “You just relax and enjoy yourself, okay?” He paused to plug in an old mp3 player to the speaker on the sink, where Tchaikovsky began to quietly echo off the walls. And Morpheus could only watch as Hob went to the door, turning one more time.

“I’ll check up on you in a bit, if you’re still here.”

An unnecessary afterthought, but appreciated nonetheless. Morpheus sighed again as the door closed and he looked down at himself… the thick cover of bubbles concealing his form under the steaming water. His toes peeked out from the surface near the drain and Morpheus, indeed, felt himself loosening up. 

He hummed along to the violin orchestra and brought his hands out of the water to touch the cool porcelain of the tub surrounding him, dancing his fingers on the edge.

And thinking about Hob again, lit up so handsomely and warm against the candle light. It reminded Morpheus of that time they went on a vacation in the mountains, renting out a cabin with a fireplace and a lush, fur rug before it. Where they had stripped each other naked and Morpheus rode Hob with the wood fire burning next to them, accenting Hob’s best features and making everything so, so warm.

Morpheus’ hand dropped back into the water, fingers gliding along his hardening dick, teasing himself, drawing a small gasp before wrapping his hand around himself completely with a low moan.

Hob did tell him to enjoy himself.

—--------

Hob knocked on the door before opening it and allowing himself in.

“Hey love, how’s it going?”

Hob’s ears perked at the sound of water softly splashing, and the unmistakable cut-off gasps that Hob had memorized by now… if not the sound alone, then how to get Morpheus to perform that musical note over and over again.

He walked to the tub, his blood rushing south at the image that greeted him.

Morpheus’ eyes were dark, and focused right on him. The bubbles had simmered down to almost nothing and Hob could clearly see how Morpheus was taking himself apart, a hand on his cock, the tip occasionally breaking the surface, and his other hand hidden somewhere between his legs, jerking back and forth.

Hob knelt by the side of the tub, crossing his arms over the edge.

“Someone’s having fun,” Hob grinned, unable to help himself. But Morpheus only groaned, his back arching beautifully and making Hob’s mouth go dry.

“Hob…” Morpheus’s voice was like melted chocolate, so sweet and dark, making Hob lick his lips.

“What are you thinking about, my Dream?” Hob murmured, leaning up on his knees and testing the water with his fingers, finding it still warm.

“Thinking about you–” Morpheus sighed, his eyes still locked on Hob’s. “Always you.”

“Me?” Hob played along, ignoring how his breathing had become shallow and his own cock twitched in interest. He dipped his hand below the surface, finding Morpheus’ fingers around himself and wrapping his hand around both of them.

Morpheus’ eyes slammed shut and he cried out, sliding his hand free to come out of the water and grip the front of Hob’s t-shirt.

Fuck, Morpheus was already so close. Hob felt stunned as he watched his boyfriend writhe in the water, bucking his hips up in time to Hob’s strokes and causing waves that lapped over the edge of the tub and splash onto the floor, soaking Hob’s sweatpants.

Hob picked up the pace, swiping his thumb over Morpheus’ cockhead and, unable to resist any longer, lunged forward to latch his mouth against Morpheus’ just as a high-pitched moan tore through him, now muffled in Hob’s mouth.

The grip on Hob’s shirt tightened, yanking him closer as Morpheus’ tongue shot down Hob’s throat, making his hips give an involuntary jerk against the tub and for a brief moment, entertained the idea of crawling into the water with Morpheus.

Before he could even pull away to swing a leg over though, Morpheus was coming, his jaw dropping and his own hips giving short, jerky motions as he rode out his orgasm in Hob’s hand.

Morpheus’ long, low moan of satisfaction echoed off the tiled walls and tickled Hob’s ears, his own arousal coiled tight and demanding attention.

For now though, Hob took his hand away and cupped it around Morpheus’ cheek, tilting his head and resuming their kiss, slow and languid with fire simmering just below the surface.

Morpheus kissed him back just as eagerly, but clearly worn out, boneless in Hob’s hold and slouching further into the water.

He hummed like a cat content, breaking apart with a lewd, wet sound and chuckling softly.

“You were right. I needed that.”

[aquietwritingcorner]

The Seeping Cold

For @tmnt-write-fight for @drebspells2022 @mackself and @azucar-skull

Title: The Seeping Cold Prompt:  Any iteration: Leo centric sickfic; fever; bad dream Fandom: TMNT 2003 Word Count: 10,045  Author: aquietwritingcorner/realitybreakgirl Rating:  T Characters: Leonardo Warning: Dream sequences are a touch intense, but I don’t go into detail. Summary: The lair itself seemed a bit cool to Leo, and he shivered lightly as he silently padded to the edge of the walkway and jumped down to the first floor. Maybe he needed to have Donnie check the heating. It was a little early for it to be this cold. Notes: I, uh, make a lot of references in this. But I assure you that they are all within the timeline and you don’t actually have to know much about them to understand the story. I’m just trying something, to see if it helps flesh the world around them out a little more, or if it’s just distracting ^^; ffn || AO3

____________________________________

The Seeping Cold

Leo groaned, rolling over in his bed as his clock went off. He felt like he was pulling himself awake from the depths of a deep but unrestful sleep, having to force his groggy mind to start working enough to reach over and turn off his clock. It took him a time or two, but he managed to get to it before it started going into the incredible fast paced and loud beeping that was its second setting. Flopping back into his bed, Leo laid there for a moment. Even with an uneasy feeling leftover from his dreams, he really didn’t want to get out of bed. He wasn’t sure why, but he felt like he could go back to sleep and sleep for several more hours, at least. Even just a few more minutes would be nice, snuggled in under his blankets, with the relative silence of the lair enveloping him and the allure of sleep singing its siren song to his eyes…

Leo abruptly shook himself awake, realizing that he was starting to fall back to sleep again. With another groan, he rolled himself out of bed, shivering as his feet hit the cold floor. He stretched a bit, rolling his shoulders, finding them stiff. Trying to shake both the remnants of sleep and his dreams off, he reached for his gear, pulling on his pads, his belt, his mask, and his swords, and headed out of his room and to the bathroom.

The lair itself seemed a bit cool to Leo, and he shivered lightly as he silently padded to the edge of the walkway and jumped down to the first floor. Maybe he needed to have Donnie check the heating. It was a little early for it to be this cold.

The jump seemed to reverberate through his legs, and he shook them out a bit as he walked, heading towards the bathroom. Fortunately, getting up this early meant that he didn’t have to fight for his turn. He simply went in, did what he needed to do, and left, although he had to admit that he took his time. The bathroom was one of the warmer rooms in the lair, along with the kitchen and the medical area, and he almost didn’t want to leave it.

Finishing there, Leo head headed towards the kitchen. Normally he would fix himself something light to eat, but this morning he only set the kettle on the stove, not really feeling like eating. Turning the stove on, Leo leaned against the counter and waited for the water to heat up. The heat from the stovetop felt good, and Leo leaned into it a bit, rolling his shoulders again as he realized that he had a bit of an all-over ache.

Leo sighed. He knew that he’d overdone his training last night. Splinter had warned him not to, as he’d been practicing some fairly advanced moves, but he hadn’t listened. He was paying for that now, but, well, that was the consequences of his choice, and he’d deal with it. He’d just have to make sure to stretch a bit more today before they started training. It would probably do him good, anyway, with the chill that was in the air. It was winter, but the Lair was still normally warmer than this, even in the coldest parts of the season.

Reluctantly, Leo pushed away from the stove, going ahead and preparing his tea cup, as well as one for Splinter, when he woke. He also got the coffee ready ensuring that whoever got in here first—Raph or Don—could start it with no issues. There was no telling what Mikey would go for. It could be tea, coffee, or one of those energy drinks that Angel had unfortunately introduced him to.

The kitchen, despite being a warmer room, still held the presence of a chill to it. It was like when summer was turning to fall and, while not in any way cool, you could tell that there was something cool in the air, even if it was still hot out. Leo keenly felt that as he moved around the kitchen and away from the stove. It made him hurry through his motions, wanting to get back to the warmth of the stove.

It didn’t take much longer for the water to be heated, and Leo took the kettle off of the eye before its whistle could build and wake the others up. Carefully, he poured some into his cup, letting it run over the tea leaves he’d put in earlier. He turned the burner down to a simmer, ensuring that the kettle would still be warm for Splinter but not in danger of whistling loudly enough to wake the whole lair. He let his tea steep while he made sure he turned down the correct eye—no need for a repeat of a month ago--and then sat down with it at the table. Normally he picked a chair where he could see the doorway clearly when people entered, but this time he sat in the chair nearest to the stove, leeching what heat off of it that he could.

Leo wrapped his hands around his teacup as the tea steeped, letting the warmth soak into his aching hands. He only moved them when it was time to take the tea leaves out, and even then, he was quick to bring his hands back around the cup. He brought it up to his lips, drinking it slowly, savoring the warmth that the tea brought him. He let his mind blank, instead of taking the time for some light meditation as he normally would have, not feeling quite awake enough for it.

His mind drifted as he sat there, and he let it, not directing it. The quiet of the lair bled into him, but instead of it soothing his mind, it let the uneasy feelings from his dreams seep back in. He couldn’t quite place anything specifically, but he knew that whatever he had been dreaming about, it hadn’t been anything good. It was as if the dreams and their feelings were behind several layers of thick walls, and while he knew the feelings had been more intense, all he felt now was unease about his family and everyone’s safety.

Fortunately, his thoughts were broken when Raph stumbled into the room a few minutes later, sleep still obviously clinging to him. He gave Leo a grunt of acknowledgement, heading straight towards the coffeepot and turning it on. He stared at it for a few moments, clearly still waking up, even as the sounds of Mikey’s off-key singing could be heard coming from the bathroom. Leo took another sip of his tea and considered going for another cup when he finished this one.

Suddenly, Raph turned and looked at him, blinking. “…That ain’t where you usually sit,” he said bluntly.

Leo shrugged. “I wanted the heat,” he said, tipping the cup up and drinking the last of his tea regretfully. As much as he wanted another cup, he knew that he probably was better off just sticking to the one. He stood, moving a little stiffly, and turned to put his cup in the sink. “I’m going to go warm up.”

Raph grunted, and Leo made his way out of the kitchen, heading towards the dojo area. He passed a very sleepy Don on the way, who gave Leo a half-hearted wave as they passed. Leo waved back, and then paused. “Hey, Donnie.”

Don stuttered to a stop and turned towards him, “Hm?” he said, voice still heavy with sleep.

“Can you check the heat later today? It’s a little colder than it should be,” Leo asked him, not entirely sure if his brother would be awake enough to remember this conversation later.

Don blinked at him, as if filing that away. “Yeah. I can do that.”

Leo nodded. “Thanks,” he said, before he continued on to the dojo, hearing Don’s shuffling steps heading towards the kitchen.

Once in the dojo, Leo quickly settled into some stretches, starting with some very basic warm-ups, trying to work through his sore muscles. Bit by bit he took the time to stretch out each of his muscles, starting gently and then working his way up to harder stretches. He vaguely heard Mikey pass by him, the energetic turtle practically bouncing towards the kitchen. He heard Splinter walk by, his cane tapping on the floor as he made his way towards the kitchen. He heard Don emerge from the kitchen, padding towards his lab, and Raph follow him out not much later.

However, while Leo would normally have paid more attention to the details of his family moving around him—what song Mikey was humming, if Don had his coffee cup with him, how Splinter seemed after his morning meditation, where exactly Raph went—this morning he found that he needed to keep his focus closer. He let the details slip away from his awareness and instead focused on stretching out each of his aching muscles, continuing to move up in intensity as he did. He lost all track of time, choosing instead to focus on what would, hopefully, help his muscles loosen up before practice.

All too soon, one by one, his brothers wandered over to join him, doing their own stretches and trying to loosen up. After a few more minutes, Splinter joined them as well, going through his own routine. Almost before Leo knew it, it was time for practice. Leo rolled his shoulders as they all got into position for the day’s lessons to begin, not completely satisfied with the result of his stretches. While it had helped, he still could feel that bone-deep ache, with a little bit of tiredness creeping in. He really shouldn’t have pushed himself as hard as he did yesterday.

Training went as usual. Meditation, warm-ups, practice, the day’s focus, practical application, practice, cool-downs, and meditation. It was nothing that they weren’t used to, and nothing out of the ordinary. However, Leo found that it seemed more difficult to him today. It was harder to focus during meditation, teaching, and the application, and he struggled to keep up at his usual pace. His mind kept drifting back to the vague feelings of unease that his dreams had brought him. His muscles, too, felt overworked and overused. By the time they finished, he felt less like he had been in training, and more like he’d been in a long, drawn-out battle—something he unfortunately knew what felt like.

Of course, despite his best efforts not to show it, his family took notice, even as they all laid collapsed on the dojo floor.

“How hard do you think he’s gonna drill us in the new move tomorrow?” Don asked.

“I don���t even wanna think about tomorrow,” Mikey said. “I just wanna lay here until my shell rots.”

Raph lightly kicked Mikey, causing him to rock on his shell. “Yer brain’s more likely to rot first, Mikey.” He glanced at Leo. “The real question is, how much time do ya think Leo’s gonna spend practicing it this afternoon?”

“Believe it or not, not much,” Leo said. He could catch Don’s frown out of the corner of his eye. “I… might have done a little too much yesterday,” he admitted.

Don huffed. “I thought you were moving stiffer than normal. Didn’t I tell you to take it easy? You got too cold the other night when we were all out late. It’s winter, Leo, and you’re more sensitive to the cold. Give your body a chance to recover. We’re not entirely warm-blooded, you know.”

“Please, Donnie, I’m beggin’ ya,” Raph said from where he laid, “do not go into the whole lecture and explanation.”

“Yeah, we already know it,” Mikey said. He pitched his voice a little to mimic Don. “’We’re neither completely endothermic nor exothermic but somewhere in between. Because of this we are capable of regulating our body temperature to a degree and employing typical endothermic regulation processes, but at the same time our bodies are influenced a great deal by the external conditions which surround us’.” He dropped the voice. “Blah blah blah, we don’t need to be in cold or heat for too long, and take longer to bounce back, blah, blah, blah.”

“I don’t sound like that!” Don protested, offended.

“Don’t worry,” Leo said, interrupting the conversation and starting to roll over to get up. “I don’t plan on doing a lot today.” He got up and stretched a little, trying to work out some of the stiffness. “But unless anyone needs it, I might go get a hot shower. Try to work out some of these kinks and warm up a bit.”

The others were slowly rising to their feet as well.

“Nah, go ahead. I’m gonna do a little work with my bag,” Raph said.

Don shrugged. “I’m due to give the Battle Shell some maintenance.” He paused, clearly thinking back. “Ah. And I’ll check the heat.”

“I have a whole stack of comics to read!” Mikey said with a grin.

“Clearly an important job,” Don shot at Mikey, but softened the blow with a teasing grin.

Mikey just shrugged and grinned back. “Someone’s got to do it, and I’ll gladly sacrifice my time towards it.”

Raph sighed, and Leo just shook his head.

“Alright,” Leo said. “Then I’m going to go shower.”

His brothers made noises of acknowledgement, and Leo headed towards the bathroom.  In truth, Leo would have loved to soak in a tub. He could remember doing that when they were small, and it was cold out. Splinter would heat up water for them, putting them all in a tub, and let the water help keep them warm during cold snaps. Even as they got older, they would occasionally soak in a tub, and it always felt so nice. Don, however, hadn’t gotten around to installing a tub for them, and all they had was a shower. However, considering all of the other things Don regularly built and maintained for them, Leo wasn’t going to complain. A shower was good enough.

He set a towel and washcloth aside for himself, and checked to make sure that the shower was clear—no unauthorized experiments via Don or Mikey, or a bar of soap left on the floor to make everything slippery via Mikey or Raph, or something sharp left propped somewhere via Raph or Don—and started up the water. He let it warm before he got in, taking the time to take off his pads and mask. He carefully set his swords and their scabbard outside of the bathroom, not wanting the moisture to get to them, and made sure to set everything else aside. It didn’t take the water long to warm, thanks to Don’s superior plumbing, and Leo slipped in, letting the warm water run over his aching muscles.

It felt good. The heat felt more than good, and he found himself bumping it up a little more than he normally would. The heat soaked into him, and while it didn’t completely take the ache away, it did alleviate it some. He just wished there was a better way to keep all of him under the shower’s spray. Anytime he shifted to give one area more warmth, the parts of him that were out of the spray felt the cold much more keenly. It made him wish for a tub even more, but he’d take what he could get.

Little by little, Leo bumped the heat in the shower up more and more as the water cooled, until the water finally cooled enough that he couldn’t turn it up anymore. With a sigh, Leo reluctantly reached over and turned the water off. Almost immediately, even though the bathroom was full of steam, a chill wrapped itself around Leo, sending a shudder through him. He ignored it, reaching for his towel. After all, it was normal to feel a little cool once you turned off the water. He toweled off, trying his best to get all of the water off of him. No need to let it keep cooling him down, or to drip in the lair. And, he admitted to himself, he might be a little reluctant to leave the warm bathroom.

Still, he could only dally for so long, and so before he really wanted to be, Leo was as dry as he could get, with his gear back on. He exited the bathroom, only to shudder again as the coolness of the lair hit him. Either Don hadn’t fixed the heat yet, or the temperature difference was that big between the rest of the lair and the steamy bathroom.

Probably a little of both.

Not quite wanting to completely lose the warmth he had in the bathroom, Leo made his way over to the kitchen, slipping his swords back on as he did. It was always warmer in the kitchen, and a mug of hot tea sounded good right now. He could hear the radio playing in the kitchen, along with Mikey’s off-key singing, and smell food cooking. Leo’s stomach rumbled a bit. He had skipped breakfast, after all. Maybe a little food would do him good.

Mikey looked up when Leo entered and grinned at him. “Was beginning to wonder if you’d just decide to revert to full turtle, bro. You were in there so long I ran out of hot water!”

Leo grimaced slightly. “Sorry,” he apologized, heading towards the kettle. “The water just felt that good.”

Mikey waved a spatula around in the air dismissively. “Nah, no worries, bro. We all need that sometimes.”

Leo smiled back at his brother as he put some more water in the kettle. He hesitated just before sitting it on the stove. “Were you going to need…?” he asked.

“Put it on the smaller one,” Mikey said. “I’m gonna need the bigger ones.”

Leo nodded and did as Mikey said, before looking back at his brother. “What are you making?”

“Soup!” Mikey said enthusiastically. “We’ve got some chicken we need to use up, and an overstock of beans, so I thought I’d try some kind of Mexican-inspired soup! It’s a little early in the year for it, but it should be good.”

“I think it sounds great,” Leo said, starting to prepare a mug for some tea. “Nice and warm.”

Mikey laughed a little, but just grinned at his brother as he shook a bottle of some sort of spice blend. “It might be warm in more ways than one! I plan on giving it at least a little kick.”

Leo blanched a little. “Not too much, okay? We don’t need a repeat of the last time.”

“Nah, I learned from that time,” Mikey said. “But who knew that Sensei had the highest spice tolerance out of us all?”

“It was certainly a surprise,” Leo said. “Do you need any help?”

Mikey waved him away again. “Nope! You just sit down and rest, bro. Everyone needs a day off once in a while, even you.”

For once, Leo didn’t feel like arguing. He just gave a one-word response of agreement and propped himself against the counter, waiting for the kettle to be ready. It was warm near the stove and oven, and he soaked it in, watching as Mikey bounced around the kitchen. His brother didn’t seem to be cold at all, but then again, Mikey was moving around a lot. Besides, Leo was more sensitive to the cold than his brothers ever since Shredder’s attack on him. He didn’t know if it was a physical thing or all in his brain, but in the end it didn’t really matter. The cold got to him, reminding him, consciously or not, of that desperate rooftop gauntlet, and how outnumbered he was.

The kettle whistled before his mind had time to travel down that path too far, and he gladly accepted the distraction, reaching for the mug he had prepared, and pouring the hot water over the tea leaves in it. He took it back to the table and sat down, breathing deeply and closing his eyes while it steeped, just relaxing into the moment around him. He let his mind drift, not keeping track of what was going on around him but enjoying a blissful moment of just letting his mind blank out. He could still feel the uneasy from his dreams, and knew part of it came from the reminder the cold left him, but he tried his best to slide that to the side, and just exist in the moment.

It wasn’t going very well. He was just too unfocused today.

He was startled out of the moment by the sound of a plate sliding in front of him, and he opened his eyes to see some steamed veggies on a small mound of rice sitting in front of him. He looked up at Mikey questioningly.

“Saw that you didn’t eat breakfast,” Mikey said. “After that practice, I figured you could use something to eat.”

Leo gave his brother a grateful smile. Of course, Mikey would have noticed that and fixed Leo something even in the middle of cooking something completely different. “Thanks, Mikey.”

“Anytime!” Mikey said, going back to his cooking, continuing his singing, although thankfully, a little quieter. The radio was also switched over to something a bit more lowkey than the usual colorful array of pop songs Mikey liked to play, making sure to annoy Raph by belting Oops, I Did it Again loudly whenever it came on. Leo would be fine if this radio station skipped that top song, thanks.

It was honestly nice just sitting in the kitchen with Mikey, and Leo enjoyed it, choosing to stay even after he finished his food and tea. He left, once, retrieving the book he was in the middle of, and then just sat there, drinking mugs of tea and reading his book. He had a little trouble concentrating on it, no matter how much he wanted to, but he just figured that it was due to the presence of Mikey. His little brother was hard to ignore at the best of times. Besides, Leo often had a second awareness when it came to his brothers, and at times it made it hard for him not to pay attention to them.

Still eventually, he grew restless, and he stood, stretching. Mikey glanced over at him.

“Going somewhere?” he asked.

“I think I just need to stretch out a bit,” he said, gathering his book and his tea mug. “I feel like I’m getting stiff just sitting here.”

Mikey nodded. “Totally get that. I’ll leave the kettle on if you want more tea, though.”

“Thanks, Mikey,” Leo said with a smile as he headed out.

The air outside of the kitchen was decidedly cooler than in the kitchen, and Leo felt a chill run through him. Don must be having some sort of problem with the heating system if it was still this cool. That might mean that he’d need to do a junkyard run. Leo let out a silent sigh. It wasn’t that he minded junkyard runs. But with as achy and sore as he was feeling, along with how cold it must be topside if it was this cool in the lair, well, it wasn’t something that Leo was looking forward to. Still, if Don asked him, he'd go. He certainly wasn’t letting his brother go alone. Then again, Don might ask all of them, if he thought he’d need a lot of parts, or a bigger component.

With another sigh, Leo sat his book and mug down on the edge of the walkway that ran around the dojo area, and went there, starting some simple stretches. Raph was nearby, working with some weights, and he nodded at Leo. Leo nodded back, the two brothers simply working side by side. After a few minutes, though, he became aware of Raph standing next to him, and he looked up at his brother.

“You good?” Raph asked him.

“Just a little sore,” Leo said.

Raph frowned. “Still?” he asked. “You musta really overdone it.”

Leo looked a little sheepish. “Yeah… I really wanted to get that move right, but I’m paying for it now.”

Raph grunted and shook his head. “Want me to help you stretch out some?”

Leo blinked at Raph, not expecting that offer. He wasn’t going to turn it down, though. There were some stretches that were just easier to do or more effective when they could be done with someone else.

“Sure,” he said. “It might help.”

Raph grunted again and gestured for Leo’s arm. “Gimmie your arm. We’ll start there. Let me know if it’s too much.”

Leo nodded, putting his arm in Raph’s grasp, and let his brother start manipulating it around. He started with a light pressure, a light stretching, but slowly he moved into stretches that pulled more at Leo’s sore and aching muscles. It hurt a little, but in a good way, especially when Leo added some resistance to some of the stretches. Muscle group by muscle group, the two of them worked their way over Leo’s body, stretching out everything. By the time they finished, Leo felt a lot looser, and a bit less sore.

“Thanks,” he said, taking Raph’s hand to help him up. “That does feel better.”

“No problem,” Raph said, clearly dismissing it. “It isn’t like we haven’t all needed that before.”

Leo chuckled. “True enough.”

“Gonna do anything else?” Raph asked, clearly curious.

Leo thought for a moment, before taking in a big breath and letting it out. “No. No I think I will try to rest today, at least until we need to do anything else. Might as well give my body some time to recover.”

Raph nodded. “Sounds good.” He glanced at the book and tea that Leo had sat down earlier. “Go enjoy your cold tea and weird fantasy book, I guess.”

Leo shook his head as he walked towards them to pick them up. “I’m telling you, Raph. You’d enjoy this one if you’d give it a chance.”

“I’m not starting something new until I’ve finished the series I’m reading,” Raph said, turning back to his punching bag. “I’m a one-series at a time kinda guy, you know that.”

“Well, just keep it in mind for when you’re finished with that series,” Leo said.

“Yeah, yeah, I will,” Raph said, and turned his attention completely to his punching bag.

Leo took a sip of his tea, and blanched when he realized just how cold it had gotten. Book tucked under his arm, he made his way back to the kitchen where Mikey was dancing away, still cooking. He dumped out the cold tea, poured himself some fresh, and turned to head out of the kitchen, only pausing when Mikey caught him off guard and stuffed half an orange in his mouth.

“A little vitamin C never hurts!” Mikey said with a wink.

Shaking his head, Leo plucked the half an orange out of his mouth, and continued on, heading towards the living room and peeling a section off so he could eat it. The mug of tea was warm in his hand, and he knew as soon as he sat down, he was going to wrap both hands around it, letting it warm them. He was partway to the living room when he saw Don come out of the elevator, wiping his hands on a rag, grease in streaks on his arms and plastron. Leo changed direction, hoping to ask him about the heat. The chill in the lair hadn’t improved, and may, in fact, have gotten worse.

“Don. Hey, Donnie,” Leo called out to him.

Don was clearly caught up in some sort of deep thought, but Leo’s call broke him out of it. “Hm? Oh, hey, Leo. What’s up?” he asked, a curious tilt to his head.

“I was wondering if you had a chance to look at the heat yet,” Leo said. “It still feels about the same in here.”

Don looked at him, puzzled for a moment. “The heat? Why would I—oh! Oh, no, Leo, I completely forgot! I was doing some maintenance on the Battleshell, and then I got this idea for an upgrade and, well, I guess I just sort of lost myself,” he said sheepishly.

That wasn’t too unusual, and Leo just fondly shook his head. “It’s okay, Don. Bu I really would appreciate it if you’d look.”

Don nodded. “Sure! I can go do that right now. I’ve got to let some things set on the Battleshell anyway, so I’ve got some time.”

Leo smiled and nodded. “Thanks, Donnie.”

Don just waved a greasy hand at him. “Not a problem, Leo!”

With that, the two parted ways, Don heading towards his lab and Leo towards the living room. He settled on the couch, placed his warm tea on the coffee table, and mindlessly ate the half an orange as he opened his book. The open space of the living room was cool, though, and it wasn’t long before Leo was pausing, pulling a blanket down across his shoulders. He popped the last slice of orange into his mouth and chewed it, trying to focus in on his book. But try as he might, he had the same focusing problems out here as he had in the kitchen.

He was hyper aware of Raph, and the thuds and rattles that came from his punching bag. He could hear Donnie digging around in his lab, the clanks, and clacks from him moving things and gathering tools, along with the tinkle of something metallic spilling out of a container. Mikey and his loud radio, off-key singing and banging of pots and pans was audible, even from this far away. The only one he wasn’t hearing was Splinter, but that was normal. And his aches, which were returning, and the cold in the lair were plenty distracting on their own.

With a sigh, Leo closed his book. Looked like he wasn’t going to be able to focus on reading it at the moment. Sitting it down and reaching for the remote, Leo turned the TVs on, flipping through the channels until he found what seemed to be a marathon of Star Trek: The Next Generation on one of the cable channels Don somehow got for them. That was perfect, as far as he was concerned, and Leo wrapped his blanket tighter around him as he settled into watching episodes that he knew all too well but enjoyed rewatching anyway.

The longer he sat there, though, the colder and achier he seemed to become. He unfolded the blanket, wrapping himself up in it as opposed to it simply being around his shoulders, and laid down on the couch, curling up. His orange and tea were long since finished, but he didn’t feel like getting up to get more. Despite the blanket, the cold of the lair seemed to seep into his bones, and as on-screen, Picard insisted there were four lights as his capture told him there were five, Leo slipped into sleep, the sounds of the TV mixing with memories, merging old and new together in ways that Leo’s mind took and ran with.

The cold closed in around Leonardo, and he ran. The rain pelted his skin, cold, sharp, stinging. He could hear the steps of other ninja, not far from him, keeping up. He gripped broken swords in his hands, holding onto the hilts. Maybe they wouldn’t been good for long range attacks, but the shards that were left were still deadly and he could do damage with them.

He fought on, running, running, only stopping when an enemy forced him to. He fought, feeling every strike he took beat down on his resistance and endurance. And yet he managed to keep running. His lungs burned, it felt like he couldn’t get enough breath. But he couldn’t stop. If he stopped, he’d be killed or captured, and he couldn’t allow that!

And yet he had no choice. He ran into something. An invisible wall. An invisible person. Both. Neither. A Foot Tech ninja. A hidden force field. It, they, kept him from going on, from going forward. He turned. He had no time to see if he could go over or around. The other Foot were here, and they were on him. He fought, fighting against not only the ninja around him, but also the cold that surrounded him. The rain leeched his heat away, drove the cold in further with every driving pinprick of it that hit him. He stabbed with what remained of his swords, but those were quickly taken from him as well. He fell to the ground, the Elite Foot raining blow after blow on him, their attacks complimenting the rain that fell. Leo wasn’t sure how much more of this he could endure.

And then, they stopped. They stopped and backed off, leaving him lying there. The cold of the pounding rain hurt now, enveloping him with its fridged temperature. He couldn’t breathe right. He couldn’t move. Footsteps sounded close to him, and Leo looked up. The Shredder was there.

“Take him,” the Shredder said, and Leo felt the elite get their arms under him and lift him up. He looked across the road, towards April’s building, and saw Raph standing in the window, pounding on it as if he couldn’t get out, with Don pulling on his arm to lead him away. He saw the Battleshell start up, and he felt relief knowing that he was the only one captured.

He was in a cell, in a dark room, in an office, bound to a chair. Shredder—Saki—was talking to him.

“Tell me how many of you there are.”

Leo held his silence.

“Tell me who trained you.”

Leo said nothing.

Shredder hummed and then suddenly Leo was alone back in a cell, a tiny room. It was bitterly cold, freezing, and Leo shuddered, his body trying to build up any warmth it could, without any success. The cold was everywhere, pervasive and drilled deeply into him. It was inescapable and he struggled to think through it.

He was back in a room, with a blanket around him. He sunk into its warmth, pulling it tighter around him. The room was dark. Four lights shone down on him. He was in a chair. He was bound, he wasn’t, he was both at once.

“My men say your… accommodations… are cold. You may take the blanket with you—if you’ll tell me where the rest of your clan has gone. Or how many lights there are.”

Leo refused to give him any information, only stating that there were four lights. The blanket was ripped away from him.

He was back in the cell, back in the cold. He shuddered, the cold feeling like it was freezing him from the inside out. He was bound, although he wasn’t. He felt trapped, even though he knew there was a way out. He had to keep his family safe. They’d come. They’d come. They’d never give up.

Saki was there, and he wasn’t. He was omnipresent, his presence permeating everything. Leo was in the cell, but he was in an office, but he was in a room. He was bound, he was trapped in a chair, he was free while Karai was there, so that she didn’t have to see the brutality he was going through. Leo had food, but he didn’t. He heard the voices of his family, but they weren’t there. He was taunted with warmth.

And over and over again, Shredder tried to break him, the four lights shining down on Leo relentlessly, while Saki told him he was wrong, that there were five lights, not four.

And yet, Leo resisted. He refused to say what Shredder wanted. He refused to break. At least, he did until Shredder drug Mikey in front of him, beaten, bruised, restrained, and muzzled, and demanded that Leo tell him that there were five lights. Leo looked at the lights, then back at Mikey, and there was only one thing he could say. Leo shuddered, staring at his brother, and said that there were five lights. Shredder laughed, and Leo bowed his head, knowing that he was broken. He looked up, wanting to apologize to Mikey, at least with his eyes, but he looked up just in time to see Shredder take Mikey’s head off.

Leo yelled out, waking up fighting against whatever it was that was holding him down. It took him a second to realize that it was hands, that they had backed off, and that he wasn’t in some cell Shredder had, but in his home. But that didn’t mean—maybe they had rescued him, but Mikey—

Leo looked around wildly, his heart feeling as if it were going to beat out of his chest. Star Trek played on the TVs behind Raph and Don, who were at his side, Don with what looked like a thermometer in his hand. Splinter was nearby, too, but he didn’t see—

“Got the water and the washcloth—oh hey! Leo’s awake!”

Leo whipped his head around, making himself a little dizzy, but focusing completely on Michelangelo walking towards them, a large bowl in his hands. His brother’s voice had never sounded sweeter “Mikey!” he gasped out, fighting at the blanket that had him trapped.

“Whoa, Leo, hang on there!” Raph said, putting his hands on Leo’s shoulders to push him back down. “Just hang on a second!”

“No!” Leo said, still trying to get up, but finding that he didn’t have as much power as he thought. “I need to see Mikey!”

Mikey hurried towards him, setting the bowl of water down on the coffee table, and then moving in to take Raph’s place beside Leo. “I’m here, Leo, I’m here. What’s up, bro?”

Leo didn’t answer, just frantically looked Mikey over carefully, his hands coming up to probe at Mikey’s neck. It was solid, not even a scar there. His head was firmly attached, and Leo let out a relieved breath, leaning his forehead on Mikey’s shoulder.

“I thought—you were—the Shredder—” His words were all jumbled up, but Mikey seemed to understand the gist of it.

He wrapped his arms around Leo, rubbing his shell. “Aw, bro, no. I’m here, I’m fine, and I’ve not been anywhere near the Shredder in, like, weeks. Haven’t even been out of the lair today.”

Leo nodded, beginning to get better control of his breathing and of his mind.

“I… they were chasing me again. But it was the first time. But they captured me, put me in a freezing cell. Shredder kept trying to break me, asking me how many lights there were, but I wouldn’t answer the way he wanted until he had Mikey. Then I did, but he killed Mikey anyway. And everything was so, so cold.”

Leo looked up just in time to see Don glance at the TV and then back to Leo. “It must be the fever,” he said. “I bet the fever made you feel cold, which brought of memories of when the Foot attacked you. But your subconscious also worked in the episode of Star Trek—the two parter where Picard’s captured by the Cardassians and Gul Madred tried to break him with the same light method—and made that part of your nightmare.”

“Perhaps we should find something less adventuresome to watch,” Splinter said, picking up the remote and changing the channels until he landed on an old sitcom.

Ignoring the voices of Lucy and Ethel in the background, Leo turned his attention towards Don. “Fever?” he asked.

Don nodded, even as Mikey and Raph encouraged Leo to settle back down. “Yep. Mikey was actually the one that realized you had one. He was bringing you some more tea, when he realized you were asleep, but that something didn’t seem right. He got me and I took your temperature. You’ve got a nice, high fever there, Leo. Its no wonder you’ve been a little odd all day.”

Leo’s brow furrowed. “A little odd?” he repeated.

“Yeah, bro, you’ve been not quite right all day,” Raph said. “You haven’t heard us when we’ve walked up to you, until we’re almost there, and you had trouble concentrating all day. Don’t think we didn’t notice.”

“And there’s the long shower, all the tea, skipping breakfast,” Mikey listed.

“It also explains why you were so concerned about the heat, and while you’ve felt achy and sore all day,” Don said. “It wasn’t that you overworked yourself, its that you’ve been getting sick.”

Leo blinked. “Oh. Was I acting that off?”

Splinter moved in, laying a paw on Leo’s forehead for a moment. “Yes, my son, you were.” He leaned in and sniffed Leo slightly, before pressing his nose to Leo’s forehead, the same way he used to check for fevers when they were tots. “I should have smelled it on you, but I did not pay attention. Forgive me my son.”

Leo shook his head. “There’s nothing to forgive, Sensei,” he said. “I didn’t realize it either.”

Don huffed a little bit, and gently pushed his way back to Leo’s side, scooting Raph and Mikey over. “Well, we know about it now,” he said. “At least you didn’t push yourself too hard today, although I’m positive that doing it yesterday didn’t help.”

“Sorry,” Leo apologized.

Don shook his head, his attitude softening. “No, don’t worry about it. I should have noticed something was off, too. Here,” he held out some pills. “Take these. They’re fever reducers. They should help. And they should help with the achiness, too.”

Leo let Raph help him sit up—although he really didn’t need the help. He just knew it made Raph, made any of them, feel better, as if they were helping—and took the pills, using the tea to swallow them. Don nodded, satisfied with that, and then held out some water.

“Drink some of this. Swish it all around,” he said. Not knowing why, exactly, Leo did as Don said, taking a few drinks of the water and swishing it around in his mouth. Don seemed to be satisfied and held a small Petrie dish to him. “Good. Now spit in this.”

“Ew!” Mikey said.

Don shot him an exasperated look. “I have to see what he’s sick from, Mikey, and this should give me something to look at without having to draw blood. Unless you’d rather me do that,” he said, addressing the last part towards Leo.

“I would not,” Leo said, cutting off whatever it was Mikey was about to say. He spat in Don’s Petrie dish and leaned back against Raph.

Splinter hummed as Don stood up with the Petrie dish in hand, heading towards his lab. “Michelangelo. Switch places with Raphael,” Splinter said.

“But—my soup, Sensei!” Mikey protested.

“I will finish your soup, my son. You said that all it needs to do is simmer for another half hour, correct?” Splinter said.

“No, Sensei,” Mikey said, already trading places with Raph. Leo relaxed back into his little brother. “I said that it needs to simmer for another half-hour and then the lime juice and corn need to be added to it. I think. I’m kinda making it up as I go.”

Splinter nodded. “I will follow your directions, then, my son, but I believe that you are more needed here.”

Mikey looked at Leo, and Leo tried not to look embarrassed at all. Apparently, he was still an easy read to his father. Splinter knew that after that dream, Leo wanted Mikey close.

“Yeah,” Mikey said after a moment. “Yeah, okay. Can do, Sensei.”

Splinter nodded. “Raphael. Come with me. I have tasks for you.”

“You got it, Master Splinter,” Raph said, following Splinter.

For a moment, it was quiet, everyone scattered to work on a task, and Leo simply laid there, his head resting in Mikey’s lap as the two turtles watched the televisions. Leo shivered again, and Mikey immediately took notice.

“Are you cold?” he asked. He was already reaching over, pulling the blanket back up around Leo and tucking it around him. “Is that better?”

Leo hummed. “Yeah. Thanks Mikey.” Leo snuggled into the blanket it, its warmth enveloping him. It was only a thin blanket, but it was far better than nothing, and it worked well enough. Besides, Mikey was warm, and that helped. “Hey Mikey?” Leo asked, waiting until he had an acknowledgement from his brother. “Sorry.”

Mikey blinked down at Leo, his attention taken completely away from the TV where Lucy was getting in a fight in a wine press. “Sorry?” he parroted. “Sorry for what?”

Leo shifted a bit. “Sorry for freaking out when I woke up,” he explained.

“Dude. There’s no reason to apologize for that,” Mikey said. “How many times did I wake you up just to make sure you weren’t possessed by that creepy tentacle monster? I get it, no worries.”

Leo hummed. “Still,” he said. “I’m sorry. And thanks. For letting me check, I mean. And maybe sacrificing your soup.”

Mikey made a dismissing noise. “Nah, it’s all cool. Besides, I can always make the soup again!” Mikey moved his hand around to lay on Leo’s forehead and frowned a bit. “Here—lemme put a washcloth on your head. You’re still pretty hot.”

Mikey shifted around, dunking the washcloth in the water and wringing it out one handed. He placed it on Leo’s forehead and, despite Leo feeling cold, the cold cloth felt good to him. It was just more evidence that he was sick, he supposed. Leo hummed in thanks, but didn’t move, letting his mind drift as more I Love Lucy played on the TV. He looked up when he felt an extra weight, only to see Raph putting a heavier blanket over him. He gestured for Leo to lift his head, and he put a pillow on Mikey’s lap, making it more comfortable for Leo. Mikey let Raph do as he wanted, and then put his hand back on Leo’s shell, rubbing it through the blankets. Leo relaxed into it, content, for the moment, to just be. He watched as Splinter came around, putting a fresh cup of tea on the coffee table, and taking a moment to change Leo’s washcloth. It wasn’t long after that that, when Don came out of his lab, offering two more pills for Leo to take. Raph was almost constantly checking on him. Mikey just rubbed his shell, and softly churred.

Leo stayed on the couch with Mikey, finally starting to relax and content to let his family move around him. He drifted in and out of sleep, stirring occasionally. Some time he woke for decent periods of time. He woke long enough to eat some of the soup that Mikey had fixed, complimenting both him and Splinter on it. He listened to Don as his brother declared that Leo had the flu, and that they should all probably be watching themselves for signs of it too. He drank the tea that Splinter gave him, not complaining about the medicinal taste.

But there were other times when he was only somewhat aware of what was going on around him. He murmured his thanks when he felt Raph change the washcloth on his forehead. He blearily followed Don’s instructions to take his temperature. He laid lethargically on whoever was sitting with him, not bothering to move when they switched out, but instead letting them maneuver him around. Even though he was sick and felt terrible, there was something comforting about just letting go and trusting that he would be taken care of. It reminded him of when he was a child, before he knew just what the upper world could be like.

His brothers and father all took turns sitting with him. Sometimes they read to him, sometimes they watched something, and sometimes someone sang. Don had a wonderful singing voice that he hardly ever used, except, sometimes, when they were sick. Master Splinter singing to them was always comforting, remind them of when they were tots and he would do the same. But if Splinter couldn’t sing to them, Don was the next best thing, all the brothers agreed.

Still, it wasn’t all comfort and ease. As the flu progressed, Leo’s fever fluctuated, his aches came in waves, and his head often hurt. It didn’t help that the sleep he did get was punctuated with nightmares. More than once, he had woken up in a panic, fears and distress clinging to him as he struggled to differentiate his dreams from reality. The worst ones weren’t the ones where he failed his family, or where someone was hurt or killed because of something he did or didn’t do. The worst ones were the ones where it was a mission or adventure that they had been on that had been successful, but in the dream, through nothing but bad luck or a wrong step, a brother or Splinter or a friend was horribly injured or killed. The images stuck with him, and he often needed to see whoever it was to help him calm down.

Mikey didn’t move forward enough, and the last buzzsaw got him as they moved through Shredder’s tower.

Don was hit by a shot from the Utrom, hard enough to throw him into another room, but this time it had burned a hole through his plastron and Don wasn’t just addled when they got him—he was dead.

The wasp’s stinger got Raph, but it was more than a paralytic. There was nothing they could do as the poison coursed through Raph, shutting down his systems one by one.

Hun grabbed April, ripping her away from Leo, and Leo had a front-row seat as Hun crushed her throat.

The Triceritons sent Casey and April tumbling off of Casey’s bike, and a second shot left Casey dead.

Splinter was right where Leo left him, but too badly injured. There was nothing they could do for him, except be with him in the end.

Don’s body, breathing, but lifeless, with a helmet left on it, lying in front of Prime Leader Zanramon.

Mikey and Donnie, frozen in the back of a truck, displayed like animals.

Raph, blind, unable to see ever again, his future uncertain.

Splinter, held hostage by Bishop, and them arriving too late to save him.

Leatherhead, taken down by a hunter who didn’t care that his prey could talk.

Angel, killed in retribution for leaving the Purple Dragons.

Splinter not getting to Don’s side in time, and Bishop’s strike with Leo’s own sword taking Don’s arm off.

The ceiling of their first lair crashing down on Don, trapping him while the rest of their home collapsed around them.

Robot Splinter managing to slip under their defenses, killing them.

Over and over again, the scenarios played out in the worst way possible. These nightmares left him shaken and gasping, feeling an all-consuming need to do something to protect these people that he cared about. They haunted him, eating into his ability to rest. Donnie was, surprisingly, the most effective at helping him move past these moments. He would often comfort Leo and lead him through a sort of grounding technique, helping him to remember clearly what had and hadn’t happened, and move past the need to jump up right then to check on whoever had been featured in that dream.

Leo had a feeling that there was something about that that he should follow up on, but at that moment he was too sick to parse through it. He’d come back to it after he was better.

It was week of misery and Don insisting that he drink lots of fluids, but eventually his fever broke, and Don declared him officially on the mend. That, of course, didn’t mean that he was just allowed up and around right away. No, he was still recovering, and for that his family seemed to firmly insist that he stay on the couch.

Leo didn’t mind so much.

Still, he was more than glad when he was allowed to return to training. He’d slept that night in his room, fresh sheets on the bed courtesy of Raph. When he woke up that morning, it was after a full night’s rest. He turned off his alarm and stretched, swinging his legs out of bed, not feeling the need to crawl back under the blankets or to sleep just a little bit longer. The floor was its usual slightly cool feeling, but nothing out of the ordinary, and Leo quickly pulled on his mask and pads, grabbing his swords as he stepped out of his room and into the lair.

No one else was awake yet, which was how Leo preferred it. The lair felt warm and cozy, even in the quiet of the morning, and Leo took a second to stretch more before he jumped down to the lower level, heading towards the bathroom. He landed lightly, and went in, quickly taking care of washing his face and preparing for the day. That didn’t take long, and on silent feet he made his way into the kitchen.

Leo quickly got the kettle, checking it and adding water to it. Humming to himself, he turned an eye on and sat the kettle on it. He prepared a cup for himself and one for Splinter, and then turned his attention to the coffee machine. It didn’t take long before he had the coffee going for Raph and Don. He turned his attention then, to making himself something light to eat for breakfast. He was no chef, but he could scramble a couple of eggs. He was in the process of doing that when something caught his attention, and he smiled a bit.

“Moring, Raph,” he said, knowing his brother was there before he could say anything. “Sleep well?”

Raph paused for a second, but grunted something that sounded like a positive answer, and headed straight for the coffee pot. Leo finished his eggs and set the pan aside for someone else to use. The kettle cheerfully whistled, and Leo took it off the eye, pouring some of the hot water over his tea leaves. He turned down the heat, set the kettle back on it, and then took his plate and tea to the table, settling into his customary place. It wasn’t long before Raph joined him as well.

The two sat in companionable silence, until Leo, without even looking up from his tea said, “Morning, Donnie.”

“Nnngh… coffee…” was Don’s only response, and Leo couldn’t help but smile a little at it.

Don, though, paused on his way to the coffee pot and turned, squinting at Leo. He stared for a second, then nodded. “Good,” he said, and gave no further context than that. Raph and Leo exchanged an amused look.

Don got his coffee and sat down heavily at the table with it, pulling a notepad and pencil out of his belt, staring at it before starting to scribble on it.

“Here comes Mikey,” Leo said as the youngest burst into the kitchen.

“Goooood morning family!” Mikey said “This feels like an energy drink and pancakes day! Where’s the Mrs. Buttersworth?”

“Mikey you know both of those are terrible for you, right?” Don said.

“You only live once, bro!” Mikey said. “I intend to enjoy it!”

Don sighed, but said nothing further, concentrating on his notepad. Mikey put the radio on some obnoxiously loud pop station, Raph growling under his breath about it and getting up to change it. A small scuffle between the two started, Don expertly ducking a glob of pancake batter that flew past him. Shaking his head, Don got up and reached for a packet of instant oatmeal.

“If you two break it, I’m not fixing it this time,” Don said.

Raph and Mikey paused, looked at each other, and somehow miraculously agreed on a light rock station.

“Good morning, my sons,” Splinter greeted as he walked in. The boys murmured their greetings back, even as Mikey reached over and snapped the eye under the kettle higher. “I see it has already been an eventful morning,” he said, eyeing the pancake batter.

“Ah—sorry, Master Splinter!” Mikey said. “I’ll clean it up!”

Raph had broken away from Mikey and was reaching for the cereal.

“Good, Michelangelo. And I am positive that Raphael will be willing to help you.”

Raph froze, but then sighed. “Yes, Master Splinter,” he said.

The kitchen was a hub of life, with everyone moving around, fixing themselves food or cleaning. It was a normal, noisy morning for all of them and Leo settled back into it, enjoying the chaos for what it was.

It didn’t take long for breakfast to finish, though, and for training to start. It was an easier session than most, but Leo was pleased to find that he was able to concentrate well on it. Meditation wasn’t a struggle, nor was anything else. And although he ached when he finished, it was simply the ache of a good workout and not anything more.

As they all laid on the floor, breathing hard, Leo couldn’t help but compare this to over a week ago, when he had been sore, achy, tired, and sick. Even laying here, tired, he felt leagues better than he had then.

“Hey, Leo.”

Leo clued back into the conversation when Raph called him name. “Hm?”

“You ever finish that book?” Raph asked him. “I finished my series when I was babysitting you.”

“Actually, yes,” Leo said. “I’m onto the second one now.”

“The one I told you about?” Don asked. “It’s good, isn’t it?”

“Which one?” Mikey asked.

“Howl’s Moving Castle by Diane Wynn Jones,” Don responded.

Mikey sprang up. “What no way!” he said. “I wonder if it’s the same as the movie that came out in Japan!”

“There’s a movie?” Leo asked, also rolling to his feet.

“No, nuh-uh. No movie until I’ve read this book,” Raph said as he got up. “I wanna read it first.”

“Don’t worry about that, Raph,” Don said, already heading towards his computer. “I’ve got see if I can find it online anywhere, first.”

“Dude—I can absolutely help with that!” Mikey said, bounding over to join Don.

“If you send me to anymore sites with viruses on them—” Don threatened.

Leo looked over at Raph. “Give me a minute. I’ll go get it and my book, too.”

Raph nodded. “Sounds good.”

He headed towards the kitchen while Leo jumped up to the second level, heading to his room to grab the books. By the time he returned, Raph was sitting some tea for Leo and a coke for himself on the coffee table. Leo passed the book over, and settled in with Castle in the Air, the second in the series, both brothers quickly falling into their reading for the next couple of hours.

“Score! We found it!”

Mikey’s voice broke through. “Hey, Raphie! How much more you got?”

Raph looked at his book. “Uh… I’m about one third of the way through.”

“Excellent,” Don said. “You keep reading, and I’ll work on downloading this and cleaning it up a bit. By tonight, you should be finished, and we should be ready to watch.”

“We should totally sub this and put it up on some of the streaming sites,” Mikey said to Don. “You know it’d get mad views.”

Leo smiled to himself as Raph lost himself in the book, and Mikey and Don argued the finer points of their fansubbing translating endeavors. He was warm. He was comfortable. His family was around him. No one was in danger or hurt or sick. He let out a contented sigh and settled back with his book. Life was good, and this was exactly what he wanted.

“Hey, Donnie?”

“Yeah, Mikey?”

“Is it a little cold in here, or is that just me?”

[cryingpariah]

My One Piece Oc Jackie's opinions on people and organizations in OP

The Strawhats: she really likes them! Be able to visit them even if just for a moment make her work day infinitely better. She knows as a member of the press she has a duty to be unbiased buttt nobody actually follows that so it’s fine. Though she knows that the race to the top is anyone’s game, if she had a personal favourite that was no one’s business but hers.

The Heart Pirates: she can tell how much their captain distrusts her and she respects it in all honestly. He never turns her away anyhow so it’s never an issue and the crew has an infectious sense of humour and camaraderie. They crowd around her and ask for all the juicy gossip the Grandline and New World has to offer and she must say, they make a perfect audience.

The Kid Pirates: like Trafalgar Law, Eustass Captain Kid does not trust Jackie a bit but he also knows the weight of the power of information has so he plays nice. His new strategy lately trying to recruit her, he has found no current success on that front. His promises are many and varied: money (she had plenty of savings), protection (she was an excellent fighter thank you very much), incessant asks from their little winged pirate-to-be (tempting but Big News waits for no man, woman, or mink).

The Seven Warlords of the Sea: she thinks the the entire idea of the Warlord system is stupid and can be too easily taken advantage of by cruel and powerful pirates (and it was..twice). She also think the pirates who join are somewhat sellouts. Isn’t the whole appeal of being a pirate is playing by no one’s rules but your own? Choosing to join the Marines, even adjacently, feels like a cop out to her. The only exceptions in her eyes are Pirate Empress Boa Hancock and First Son of the Sea Jimbei since they so obviously joined to save their people.

(Her personal rankings go something like Jimbei, Boa, Mihawk, Crocodile, Gecko Moria, Donquixote Doflamingo.)

(Kuma remains unranked so far, something in her gut tells her there’s more than meets the eyes with the Tyrant.)

The Admirals: she understands for genuinely world ending threats they are a needed force but for anything below that feels like complete overkill. Whenever she’s at Marineford she usually gets dragged into doing some secretarial work for them which depending on who it is can range from an honestly pleasent interaction to her fantasizing about shoving his head through a electric meat grinder.

(Her ranking goes Fujitora, Kuzan, Kizaru, Akainu, and then Ryokugu.)

The Underworld: hates it and the overwhelming majority of people involved in it. To be fair there’s nothing to like about it anyway, it’s a swirling cesspool of the worst humanity has to offer (yes that includes her too). Other than her boss Stussy is the only one she can tolerate.

Big News Morgan: likes him because they’re so similar and hates him because they’re too similar. She’s grateful for him taking her in and she loves her job but she also knows he just kinda sucks?? As a person?? If she thinks about it too hard it makes her dizzy with indecision so she tries not to.

Red Haired Pirates: The weird drunk uncles of the sea, they loved snatching her hat away to ruffle her hair and asking her to join in on whatever merry pirate ditty they happened to be belting out, she declined and instead procured an instrument to jam along with. Shanks was easily one of the most convoluted individuals she’s ever met, she’s dying to know what makes him tick even though she knows he’ll never tell her. A girl can dream, can’t she?

Dark King Rayleigh + Former Empress Shakky: she’s in awe of them! She practically begs to hear his tales of his time as the right hand man to the King of the Pirates and her anecdotes as ruler of the Amazon Lily! Rayleigh usually acquiesces but occasionally he (and Shakky) like to tease her for her eagerness but she can’t help it!! They’re just so cool!!

Whitebeard Pirates: if she’s there, it’s always for a big order and a big order usually means either weapons restock or a party. The members of the Whitebeard pirates always seem worried about her, offering hot meals and checkups while she’s there and threatening to head up to the WE NEWS blimp whenever she complains about work. She doubles down, acts extremely cheery the next time she sets foot on the Moby Dick and it works…mostly. Edward Newgate, father to dozens of wayward souls can’t be tricked with a child’s lie.

Big Mom Pirates: she had the pleasure of meeting Charlotte Linlin shortly after being taken in so she got Mom mode for 2.5 years. The Charlottes have taken to her in all their years of business together and are delightful hosts when she visits. It probably helps that she shares a birthday with a Sweet Commander so they love to invite her to Whole Cake Island to celebrate together!

Beast Pirates: she actively has to be forced to go to Wano, the SMILE Fruits users give her the heebie jeebies! Not to mention once when discussing some newly produced and shipped North Blue scotch The King of Beasts had called for her and, while incredibly drunk, started rambling to her about his lack of willingness to live. It went on for a while before a Tobi Roppo member found them and escorted her out. Easily the longest 20 mins of her life…

Blackbeard Pirates: truly and wholly detests them, especially their captain. She keeps a calm and indifferent mask on when she has to interact with them but she refuses niceties. Teach is offended by this and loudly recalls memories of how sweet and accommodating she was back on the Moby Dick whenever she’s in earshot.

Cross Guild: the business model of placing bounties on Marines for even civilians to collect and then when said civilians are marked as criminals welcoming them into the group is ingenious! She’s surprised no one has thought of it before. The idea of Buggy being its head with Sir Crocodile and Dracule Mihawk acting as his wings is laughable. There’s not a snowball’s chance in hell that just happened! Now if she could only get 5 mins alone with the Genius Jester, she’s sure she can get the real story…

The Revolutionary Army: if she wasn’t very dedicated to her current job, she could definitely see herself as a member. Conflicts of interest to her lifestyle aside, she really wants them to succeed and is usually the one pushing for their stories to be the front page. If she ever spots some Revs on a mission she’ll, despite her curiosity, leave them to their work. And if a stray arrows happens to knock aside some marines and move some slaves away from a nearby explosion…well who’s to say it was her? Forgery is on the rise lately yknow? You can never be too sure…

[trick-or-fucking-treat]

Hi!! I hope you are doing well! But I was just wondering if I may request head-cannons for Bo Sinclair with an s/o who dresses in vintage fashion? (Vintage clothes, hair, jewelry, makeup, etc…) If not, that’s cool! Thank you and have a wonderful day!

Bo Sinclair with vintage style (fem) S/O

Masterlist

First things first, Bo is a pretty traditional guy so he loves your vintage style!

Buuuuuut… it takes him a while to realise how much he likes it.

Bo is used to seeing pretty victims girls stroll through his little town, but those girls are a different kind of pretty y’know.

Bo knows very well that he finds tight jeans and skintight tops attractive.

So seeing you in a much more traditional style with your beautiful bright flowing dresses and perfectly curled hair-

He has to do a double take.

It doesn’t take him long to realise he finds you gorgeous.

Not just the look, but the cute little accessories like your handbags or hair clips just make it all the sweeter for him.

When you’re in an established relationship Bo’s always on the lookout for jewellery that fits your style.

(It’s a pretty sweet gesture, but you may want to question its origins if he gives you jewellery)

Also will not let you come keep him company in the garage while you’re ‘all dolled up’ - his words.

Far too afraid of getting your dresses ruined.

But will absolutely give you some coveralls to wear if you really want to stay with him.

(He secretly loves seeing you in them cos you tie a cute coloured bandana round your waist like a belt because the coveralls are too big, and he thinks you look like those fifties posters of working women* which is really cute!)

Kind of expects you to take on the house wife role a bit in the home.

Cooking, cleaning, etc.

(Aka all the jobs Bo, Vincent, and Lester typically neglect)

It’s part of the reason he let you stay in Ambrose in the first place, only to end up falling in love with you.

If you have no problem taking on these roles, great! Happy family!

If it’s not how you’d ideally spend your day, don’t be afraid to stand up to him.

Bo’s really the only one who bosses anyone around, Vincent and Lester wouldn’t dream of telling you what to do.

So if you stand up to Bo and tell him you won’t be taking on all the domestic tasks yourself, you’ll probably shock him enough into agreeing with you.

You typically have such a sweet demeanour that telling Bo off would probably catch him off guard.

If you use the power sparingly enough, he’ll come to realise that you only ever call him out on his bullshit if he’s being genuinely unfair and is very quick to make it up to you.

Tried to make you a pie once to make it up to you after being an ass, but it went horribly, so you spent the day with him baking a pie properly.

He’ll never admit it but he had so much fun and absolutely loved spending time with you in such a domestic task.

(Next time you bake something ask if he can help out and make it sound like he’d being doing you a favour (he wouldn’t) and he’ll jump at the chance to bake with you without having to admit he likes baking)

A/N: hope these are ok! Lmk if you have any other ideas or requests!

*for reference, these are the fifties posters I’m talking about:

[rowniebow]

new years eve | peter parker x male!reader

summary: three years of you and peter on the fateful day that people swear they're going to change and never do.

pairings: peter parker x male!reader

cw: 18+ MINORS DNI! smut: teasing (edging? eh), light choking, butt stuff, oral, fingers, praise kink-ish. a lil bit o' alcohol abuse, You Belong With Me trope, any peter, late college era, angst! lil bit o fluff

word count: 4.9k+

song: new years eve, by mal blum

an: here's my new year's treat! hope this year treats everyone well. 22' was rough but i hope we can all remember that life really is ever-changing

masterlist

⭒

NYE 2013

"just go talk to her, pete!" you rolled your eyes at your friend.

you truly didn't want to be consoling peter about his long time crush at this very moment. or any moment, for that matter.

"you really think i should?" his eyebrows curled up as he stared at the girl of his dreams longingly from across the room.

"if it will get you away from me, then yes." you poured your drink, frowning down at the pure alcohol flooding your cup.

he hardly spared you a glance, let alone a word, while he made his way over to her, interrupting her chat with her friends to talk about who knows what.

you didn't want to know.

your throat burned while whatever you put in your cup made it's way down but you thought it was better than your eyes burning with tears. you were too ready to forget everything and drown yourself in a dizzy night of nothingness. ready to forget your shitty attitude and the shitty guacamole you were making your way through.

peter came back too soon for your jealous liking. he went on and on about how magical his three minute conversation with her was. how he just had to say how cool the party she was throwing was.

and then, of course, how cool she was.

"that's great, peter," you grumbled after downing another full red solo cup of something. he looked you up and down, and followed your lead in drinking a lot of whatever the clear bottle said it was. you couldn't read it, things were beginning to spin. you assumed he couldn't read much of it either by the way he joined you rather than questioning you about why you were drinking so much when you are alcohol's biggest hater.

or maybe. you wondered, he was just so enamored by the girl across the room that he couldn't spare you any thought.

you didn't really care at that point.

"what about you?"

"what?" you hollered over the booming music.

"are you going to try to get with anyone?"

"i don't want to start my new year with a hook up."

"what about that guy you said you've been thinking about?

"he-he's not here. why would he be here?"

"oh, i don't know. i just assumed."

"yeah, no, he's not here."

"okay, my bad, man."

peter took attention to your knitted eyebrows, lack of eye contact, and flustered features yet excused himself to go converse with someone else.

you gritted your teeth at the sight of his retreating back, taking another beer, and finding yourself somewhere to calm down.

⭒⭒

you watched peter disappear down the hall, fingers drunkenly intertwined with the woman he hadn't stopped talking about for months.

the sickening smiles they shared sent chills down your spine.

you grimaced, poured yourself another drink.

peter was stupid.

he's stupid in general, but especially for chasing after a girl who saw him as so much less than.

he deserved better, he didn't deserve the emotional disrespect he was bound to receive.

he deserves someone he can belt his favorite songs with (which happen to be your favorite songs, too).

he deserves someone who will watch movies with him and joke about how bad all the acting is (which you two happened to do every friday night).

he deserves someone who will understand him and all of his little actions and oddities (which, you prided yourself in your knowledge of peter quirks).

but peter was stupid.

and you were even more stupid for chasing after a stupid man.

you made your decision for how the rest of your night would go. you wanted to completely disregard the stupid man.

⭒⭒⭒

quick, loud knocks rapped against the door of your apartment. the naked man beside you in your bed questioned who could possibly be at your door at this hour. your dizzy mind didn't have the capacity to answer.

you hurried to gather easy clothes to slip on from off of your messy floor, glancing at the clock and seeing it read '3:04 am'. happy twenty-fourteen, you supposed. the man in your bed rolled his eyes as you made your way down the hall.

the door opened to reveal your friend, peter parker. teeth chattering, nose running, eyes swirling in a pool of tears.

the frown that you held lifted immediately, your eyebrows pulled together in worry, instead. "peter? what happened?"

your words dragged the tears out of him, "can i stay here tonight?"

his voice was low. it didn't break or crack. his gaze refused to meet yours, however, and his arms crossed over his chest in an attempt to hide his heart that was stabbed over his sleeve.

"of course," you pulled the door opened wider for him to come in. he immediately went to lay on your couch, face first.

you muttered a dismissal for yourself and made your way back to your room. back to the man clicking through his phone, uninterested. "you-you gotta go,"

he looked back up at you. his features resembled an angsty teenager's when their parents ask them to do chores. "are you serious?"

"yeah," your unamused tone pulled a glare to his face.

"whatever," he spat.

you watched him dress himself with the clothes he threw on to your floor. you couldn't understand what drunken thoughts led you to bring home a disgusting pig of a man like him.

you walked him out anyway, wishing him a safe trip home. he only glared as he left, earning an eye roll and an urgency to lock the door behind him.

peter watched the whole time, thinking back to your words from earlier. how you didn't want to start new years with a hook up. he silently took the blame, understanding fully well that it was because he left you alone in a sea of unfamiliar people.

the thought pulled more tears out of his eyes.

he dragged a throw blanket over his body as you shuffled around in the kitchen. glasses clattered against one another and onto the counter. pots rumbling with the milk inside of them.

he examined your movements carefully. your eyes seemed so far away. you held yourself as if you were cold, but didn't think of doing anything about your shorts and t-shirt to fix the problem. you stared at the boiling milk as if it were the only thing getting your through it.

and when you handed peter his share of steaming hot chocolate, he felt the same.

"do you want to talk about it?" you finally broke the several minutes of silence.

peter shrugged, shaking his head.

"okay," you took an extended sip of your drink. peter followed the swirl of the whip cream to your lips. "do you want to watch a movie?"

peter nodded, willing soberness to come snap him out of his pathetic behaviors.

it wasn't as if you two hadn't seen each other cry before. in all your years of friendship, there's been plenty of moments where you shared and comforted each other through them.

but, with the alcohol buzzing in his head and his constant yearning to be held - loved, touched - tears felt embarrassingly pathetic.

he took the pathetic and laid his head on your thighs with the small screen playing some random film you two hadn't heard of before.

⭒⭒⭒⭒

NYE 2014

"please?"

"no, peter,"

"come on!"

"you're too drunk," you grabbed a chip full of guacamole and shoved it into his loopy smile.

"i'm not, i haven't had hardly anything."

"and i'm starting to think i haven't had enough."

"i want to kiss someone on new years!"

"don't we all?"

"exactly! who else better to kiss than my best friend."

"i-i don't know,"

"it's only weird if you make it weird, babe,"

"see, now you're calling me 'babe', that's making it weird,"

"i'm trying to get you in the mood,"

you glared up at peter. his stupid eyes smiled with his lips. the pleading look of a desperate man with a dash of innocent smiling was chopped finely and boiled. the aroma of his sick soup swirled into your nose, pulling you in.

it was kind of nice having that much power over him, you had to admit. you could mix him into anything you wanted, realistically, but you had yet to realize your talent as a chef.

"i had one beer like an hour ago. that's nothin'," he continued his cheesing.

you rolled your eyes, his ingredients infectious. "whatever happens, happens, parker. if i find someone much better than you in the next twenty minutes then you're on your own."

his smile only grew, knowing you wouldn't be social enough to find anyone in the next twenty minutes.

⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒

"so?" peter's dragged vowels rang quietly behind you.

a minute left until the ball would drop.

"how was your impossible search for anyone better than me to kiss on new years?"

your dramatic sigh brought an irritating i-told-you-so grin to his face, "sadly, it came to no avail."

"of course, babe, it's me we're talking about."

peter tugged on your hand, pinky fingers intertwined as if they were the only thing keeping you next to him. he pulled you out onto the balcony of the small apartment that still managed to fit so many people.

the cold air hitting your cheeks as the crowd inside began surrounding themselves around the television displaying the annual ball dropping.

"did you have anything else to drink?" your quiet voice disappeared into steam. peter only barely grasped it.

"absolutely nothing. have you?" he leaned against the railing. the ever busy new york streets below haunted your conversation.

"oh yeah, tons! had to prepare, you know? really don't want to remember this one," you laughed, looking anxiously back inside through the large glass windows.

their counting began from ten progressing downwards all too quickly. peter's hand found it's way to your cheek, successfully redirecting you to look at him.

"we don't have to do this, if you really don't want to." his kind smile seemed to yank on your neck and pull you towards him.

your lips collided as the crowd inside cheered and fireworks exploded.

it was a kiss reserved for small children on the playground at first.

eyes squeezed so tight they hurt. hands lost, finding an uncomfortable home at your side. you pushed your lips so far out at the start, it was as if you were keeping him at arms length of intimacy.

but peter. his eyes widened with shock, his hand still resting on your cheek. it took him a moment before he understood the your awkward actions. he smiled into your lips, almost giggling at your nervousness, wrapping his arms around your neck.

his arms around your neck brought you a comfort you hadn't felt before in a kiss. warmth came from every bit of him that touched you.

he was a magnet, but all of a sudden he was even more so. his warmth fought off the biting cold of the new year's air. it captivated you and grew to be a warmth with it.

his lips molded into yours. your mouths opening and closing to become one.

your tongues danced to the honking of a car below.

your hands found a place at his waist and your fingertips longed to intrude on the skin beneath his sweater.

when you finally pulled back, peter found you gasping and your eyes pleading for more.

he smiled.

who had the power now?

he drew you in but missed your lips, much to your displeasure.

"do you wanna get out of here?" he whispered, longingly.

you hummed a confirmation, gripping his waist tightly, still.

⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒

it was sick, truly.

the way you wouldn't let go of peter's waist. you had him practically crawling out of his pants to you all the way back to his apartment.

what was even sicker, was how peter would only talk to you in fleeting whispers. speaking all too close to his ear. his lips brushing against the tip of it far too many times for sanity.

"i cant wait to get you home," he'd whispered, "i get you all to myself, how lucky am i to have you on new year's?"

it was sick.

so as soon as the door to his apartment shut, you made sure the manipulative man understood who he was working with.

your hands found his wrists and his back met the wall. your lips found his, but only for the most painfully briefest of moments.

instead, your mouth found interest in his available neck. you buttered the array of skin in fleeting moments of bliss: your lips just barely brushing his seemingly amplified nerves.

his quiet breaths of wanting were all too loud in the silent apartment, and those breaths were the only thing that brought you in to give him what he wanted.

you let go of his wrists and made yourself comfortable over his pulse, nipping and sucking on the bare skin. your hands found his hair, one at the base of his neck and the other surfing their way through his locks. his hands dragged down your chest and his fingers looped themselves in your belt hoop.

his undeniable strength brough your hips to his. the button on your pants clattered against hit, but the friction of your movements against each other brought nothing but bliss.

peter's deathly voice cut through the sonorous breathing between you two. you hummed in response when his fingers made their way to your hair, tugging your head from his throat.

your power vanished while he dragged you to his room, smothering you with kisses along the way. the bed pressed against the back of his knees, bringing him falling to it's surface.

you bit your lip looking down at your best friend. he looked up at you, only thinking about how hot you looked undressing him with your eyes like you did (and do quite often, if he was honest with himself).

your reckless decision for your deep, long-time wants managed to win over your debating thoughts. you fell to your knees, and yanked at the button and zipper hiding what you are fully aware will change your relationship with peter, for better or for worse.

he smiled, pulling his sweater over his head. your jeans pulled against the new growth that lied within them. peter's jeans, and underwear, too, fell to release his own growth.

peter watched your mouth cover the tip of him. your tongue flicked over the bit of him you had, his precum covering your tongue.

he moaned into the darkness of the room, the only light filtering in from behind you from the door. you were glowing because of it. you often were glowing, your radiance always lighting peter's life up, but this glow was full of need and want. pure and primal. something so human that it boarded the line of animal.

your tongue lightly traced the crease of his tip. then crept down the shaft. your teasing pushed excitement down peter's thighs and up into his stomach. the excitement balled itself up and came back to him in a throbbing want for you.

"fuck," he groaned, grabbing a fistful of your hair and guiding your head, firmly but ever so gently, over him and all the way down.

the pressure of him at the back of your throat brought tears to your eyes and a sickness to your stomach, but you fought it with a long, low moan.

your noises mingled with peter's as you began to bob your head with his guidance. a hand made it's way up to peter's chest while the other stayed gripping his inner thigh, nearly bruising the sensitive skin.

your hand on his chest rolled his nipple in between your fingers, pinching and pulling at the hard pink nerves.

his hips bucked, forcing him deeper into your throat with every movement. every time you felt him bounce off the walls of your throat he aroused provocative noises from within you.

"i'm-i'm gonna-,"

you stopped.

he glared at you as you hurried off of your knees and began fiddling with your belt buckle over him. the glare disappeared, replaced by the look a man only gives when a world of pleasure is presented right before him.

he practically came at the sight of you: only revealing your most vulnerable part to him. still completely covered with shoes and pants and your nicest winter sweater despite your now exposed length.

after muttering about where the lube could be, he let you shove him back on to the bed and watched you position yourself through his hooded eyes.

you tugged his ankles to rest on your shoulders, covered your hands in the lubricant. you brought one hand to his ass, soaking his entrance with the puddle of goop in your hand. your finger teased, lightly tracing the outside of his openness.

you had him shriveling into himself even with the faintest touch. a frustrated plead escaped his lips, and you decided to reward him in the smallest way you could.

you pushed the tip of your finger in, hardly even spreading him.

then quickly pulled out.

then in again, just barely.

and back out.

you went through this process several times, meanwhile using your free hand to prepare yourself, fiddling with your tip and assuring it to be supple enough for him.

your thumb passed over your tip for what seemed like the last time that you could bare before you went crazy with him whining beneath you as he did.

you removed your hand from him, instead rubbing your tip along his entrance.

you entered unbearably slow, both for you and for him. but he deserved it. all this time of you being forced to watch him pine after girl after girl. he could wait for you like you did for him.

his fingers gripped at the sheets, his extended moan gripped at your brain.

with you finally in him completely, you took a second to lean over, your hand lightly gripping his neck. his eyes closed from the comfort of your hand. your other free hand wrapped itself around the base of his penis, readying your intentions.

you moved your hips back out, still slow as ever. your hand on his length began stroking him at a similar pace. your just barely pulled yourself all the way out, your index and middle finger rubbing the very tip of him in a circular motion.

his staggered moans, moans of pain, at that point, from the lack of release he was getting, filled your ears, begging you to hurry.

"please, fuck me. i need you, please,"

and you complied.

you were so slow, so gentle at first. you were building him up again. but as time went on you couldn't help but give in to your own needs.

your needs of a quicker pace. your needs of a little bit of pain. your needs of watching him come undone before you.

you kept going, sloppy now.

back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth.

your eyes squeezed with your hand on his throat, doing your best to hold yourself back until he was ready, too.

his constant confirmations had you near spilling over the edge.

"yes, god, you're so good. more, please, thank fuck,"

the lewdness of your name on his breath had your nails on his throat in an attempt to keep you in reality.

peter finally twitched in your hand, the white liquid shooting out on to his chest and stomach. you watched it drip and pool in his belly button. you watched it cover one of his perky pinky nipples.

and you couldn't hold back any longer.

you leaned over, hand off of his throat and dick and on to the bed next to him instead, and ran your tongue along where his juices spilled.

you dipped into his belly button, scooping it out. your ran your tongue up his chest, lapping over his nipples until your couldn't feel his burning skin under you any longer.

you slurped him up and spilt into him entirely. peter arched his back at the feeling of your warmth pooling inside of him, moans continuing, his high lasting longer than usual as he rode into yours as well.

you, exhausted, finally achingly pulled out of peter and flopped next to him in the bed.

the sound of both of you breathing heavily was the only thing that filled the air.

⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒

waking up the next morning, you were all too aware of the man on top of you naked.

the man who is your best friend.

the man who begged you to be his new years kiss.

the man who, both, got you turned on, and got turned on in said kiss.

the man who whispered threats of pleasure all throughout the train ride home.

the man who didn't follow up on his threats.

the man who you absolutely railed the night before.

the man who crumbled and ended up begging for you once again.

the man who was your best friend.

just the thought of what you two shared the night before brought blood rushing back into your lower half. you wanted to roll your eyes at yourself. maybe even sneak into his bathroom and get it out, then get yourself out.

but instead, your best friend moved in your arms, thigh rubbing against your quickly growing self.

he groaned at the light, his arms finding their way up your torso.

his eyes slowly opened and he pulled his neck to look up at you. he smiled, moving his thigh at just the right angle to rub your lower half. a frustrated breath left your lips, the lips he so very badly wanted to eat up again.

"good morning," his raspy voice sent electricity through you. "did you miss me?" he laughed sleepily, his hair a mess. his hand on your torso moved back down and wrapped itself around your length. "seems like it."

you only managed to glare down at him, gnawing on your lip.

"you didn't let me fulfill my promises last night," he moved his hand up and down, lingering his thumb over your tip each time. "may i?"

you nodded.

your eyes landed on the clock as he stuffed his cheeks with you and your cum ran down his throat.

10:53 am, new years day. happy twenty-fifteen.

⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒

NYE 2015

rage filled you as you watched peter retreat down a hallway with a girl. he had the nerve to smile and laugh with her all night, now the audacity to follow her away and leave you stranded.

after this whole year? all this time?

after a year of loosing your best friend. loosing your best friend to the mindless fucks you gifted each other.

after a year of you becoming more familiar with peter's body than his brain.

after a year of earth shattering orgasms together, only to be left alone in bed afterwards.

a year of loneliness.

a year of feeling like an emotional burden to him.

a year of lost traditions.

a year of weekly movie nights being converted into weekly fuck nights.

you were okay with it, you thought. you have peter almost all to yourself.

sexually, at least.

so why are you watching him head to a back room ten seconds to midnight on new year's eve?

⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒

your ears rang all the way home and into your apartment. they rang as water poured into the kettle.

the glowing neon clock on the oven illuminated your face. 2:17 am. nothing good happens after two a.m.

and the knocking on your door seemed to prove that.

you were hesitant at first. who would be at your door this late other than him? you don't want to talk to him, the thought of him at all brought redness to your ears.

but the glowing time stared back at you, mocked you. sat on your shoulder making up all these excuses for why you should let him in.

what if he's upset?

what if he's alone?

what if he's still drunk?

what if he's hurt?

you knocked your fist on the wooden counter, three times for good luck, and trudged to the door.

it opened to reveal peter (surprise, surprise!). he looked up at you, obviously tired and still intoxicated with something.

without a thought in the world he walked in, sparing you a kiss on the cheek, "hi, baby,"

"are you okay?" your voice, soft and caring, needed to get the question out of the way to allow yourself to feel your feelings.

"yeah, of course," he flopped down on the couch, arms spreading out over the space.

"why are you here then?" you finally closed the door, not wanting your poor neighbors to hear you in a state like this.

"to see you. it's new years,"

you scoffed. the unfamiliar noise brought his attention to you. he finally opened his eyes. he watched you shake your head, staring at the ground.

"what?"

"who was that girl?"

he groaned a little, struggling to remember, "i think her name was amy? are you mad about that-,"

"no, why would i be? yes, i'm mad about that! what the fuck, peter?"

"baby, it didn't mean anything," he raised himself off of the couch as if he we old and worn and carried the weight of a seventy year old. "she just wanted to be with someone on new years, that was all."

you rolled your eyes, chewing on your already raw lip.

"why are you upset, it's not like we're exclusive or anything? we're just friends."

"we're not friends, peter!" your hands flew in the air. you were practically in disbelief. "friends don't do the things we did a year ago. and-and we just- kept doing it. as if we never were friends."

"that's not true, you know that's not true. you were my best friend-you are my best friend."

"i'm not! not anymore,"

"what do you mean,"

"when was the last time we treated each other like friends, pete? i can't remember the last conversation we had that wasn't just when we'd meet up next."

"that's not true, we were talking about that pizza place you thought looked good the other day,"

you shook your head, rolling your eyes in disbelief. you kept still next to the door, peter coming over to plead with you. "peter," you took a deep breath readying yourself for the intense words you wanted to spit. "i do not like you anymore,"

"you... you liked me?"

"jesus christ, parker," you threw your hands up again, giving up on it all.

"wait, no. i-i like you, too-,"

"no, i don't anymore!"

"what-? baby, come on,"

"don't call me baby, peter. i'm tired of the fucking games."

"i'm not playing any games-,"

"you are! and i'm so tired, pete. please, just-just leave."

"no, no, no, you're my best friend, i'm not leaving,"

"i'm not your best friend anymore! please, just leave." you tugged on his sleeve weakly, pulling him to the front door.

"i-i just-,"

"i don't want to hear it. get the hell out of here." you opened the door

"no, please, let's talk about it. i'm sorry," you tried half-heartedly to shove him out into the hall, him only looking back at you with pleading eyes unmoving. "y/n, please, baby. talk to me, i don't wanna lose you because i was being stupid."

the kettle rang out cutting through the tension of the apartment.

you huffed, giving up on pushing him out of the door. tears punched at your squeezed eyelids. you kept your head towards the ground.

"i-i'm going to shut the door, okay?" he whispered.

you nodded, holding your breath to not let the sob escape your lips. you rushed to handle the ringing of the kettle, instead. your hands wouldn't let go of the rushing blood in your fingers.

"why-why didn't you tell me you liked me?"

you took a shakey breath, "i felt like it was pretty obvious."

"no, i-i didn't," he lingered behind you in the kitchen, leaning against the counter. "i don't really know what i thought. i didn't think you ever wanted to be exclusive, though."

the tears finally began peaking out of the corners of your eyes, your mind replaying the sight of him walking away giggling with a girl.

"i'm sorry, you're right. i've-i've missed you. i've missed my best friend."

"peter," you choked out, voice cracking over every sound of his name.

"i think it's my fault. i take full blame,"

"peter,"

"i mean, i really could have done more this last year. i think i got caught up in the fact that i could be with you at all in anything more than a platonic way-,"

"peter."

he ceased his rambling. you could feel your stern tone making him shrink behind you.

"i'm begging you. please, just leave me alone. at least for tonight. i can't do this, not right now." you kept your hands over the counter, them being the only thing holding you up.

"o-okay, i'm sorry. i'll just-, yeah."

you listened closely. his retreating foot steps.

they stuttered, tempted to bring him back to you. but he knew better.

the door creaked open and closed.

you could finally open your eyes. the blurry world revealed itself to you.

2:34 a.m. nothing good happens after two a.m.

but happy fucking twenty-sixteen.

⭒

⭒ taglist ⭒

@fadedver @drainfury @1ischai @djmalik52

[andrewkun]

The beautiful lady

The atmosphere of the day was one of pleasant as the sunny sun shines through the city. In the shadowy areas it was quite warm but good enough to breathe, while where the sun shone gave your skin all the needed vitamins, but not in a way it overdosed and burned.

The "pretty 5" group, made out of Aira Shiratori, Tori Himemiya, Mika Kagehira, Hiyori Tomoe and Arashi Narukami, was enjoying this wonderful day on a shopping spree.

Lovely conversations with already a few bags full of stuff they found, walking around the local mall's halls. Suddenly one stopped.

"Nghya? Naru Chan, what's wrong?" Mika spoke, alerting the others, noticing his dear friend stopping at the window of a shop full of pretty dresses.

"Oh? Nothing, sorry" Arashi softly answered "just this outfit in the window looks cute" she smiled

"Well, then whatcha waiting for? Go and try it on" Hiyori mumbles

"Oh! No, no... I could never..." Arashi hesitated.

"Huh? Why not? We on free day, we can do whatever we wanna!" Mika protested.

Although Arashi kept insisting that it was fine. Aira wanted to say something but he couldn't really think of what to do. He knows that Arashi isn't really allowed to wear freely what she wants, but what could he do to make it all better? Suddenly Tori spoke, frustrated

"Agh, come on Narukami?! You get an opportunity like this and you just woosh it away under the rug just like that?! You better go in and try that pretty dress on or I will pull you in and dress you up myself!!" The short pink haired boy spoke in an angry voice

"Oh, Tori, you're too cute..." Arashi chuckled at the little one, still hesitant

"Come on naru!! We really wanna see you in it too!!" Mika encouraged

"Yea, you'll totally rock it too~" Hiyori joined in

"Duh! You rock EVERYTHING!" Tori folded his arms

"Y-yes please Narukami... Isn't this your dream?" Aira squeaked out with a hopeful look.

Arashi was left speechless, but could feel her heart melt at their encouragement.

She smiled and chuckled, nodding gently

"Okay... Let's go!~" she laughed and walked inside the store with her friends.

She walked through the dresses and found the one she saw in the window: a white smooth looking dress; it could even work as a wedding one. She took it and walked to the changing room, with her heart in her teeth. The others joined her, waiting in front of the cabin she walked into.

Arashi felt nervous, happy, scared and quite insecure. Would they really think she'll look great? Will she think she looks great? Is this really what she wants? What? Of course it is, she's going to put on a dress! She sucked air in and let it out, staring at herself in the big mirror as she undressed off her usual clothing. She took off the dark blue shirt, seeing her bare chest in the mirror and how it seemed a bit shagging from the HRT she's been taking. That's cool, she's growing boobs... She blushes at the reflection and continues, slowly unbuckling her belt and taking off her jeans, putting them aside.

She sucked another breath in and slowly took the dress off the hanger, adjusting it as she slowly stepped into it. Arashi gently pulled it up, flicking her arms into the sleeves as the soft material wraps around her skin. She gently arranged it at the chest and around where it could be adjustable. Once done, she looked to see her reflection. She's wearing a dress. She feels... Light, but... Happy. It fits and also looks great on her.

Arashi changed angles and stared at how it wrapped and stood on her. She's beautiful. She then slowly opened the door and stepped out, letting her friends see it

"Soo... Whatcha think?" She asked shyly, smiling slightly.

Everyone was left in awe, even other customers or employees when they walked by. Their eyes widened as they stared at the beautiful woman before their eyes.

"Y-ya look..." Mika started, eyeing her curves

"Fantastic!?!?" Aira squealed like a fanboy he is

"Holy moly, you look so good!" Tori smiled with that determined face

"We told you that you'll rock it" Hiyori chuckled

Arashi was once again left speechless, looking at the mirror from the opposite cabin and seeing her reflection, a part of her mind smiling and laughing and dancing in many feminine outfits... She loves it.

"Hold on!! I've seen some other outfits that you'd rock!!" Aira squeaked and ran to get Arashi more feminine outfits

"Same!!" Mika yelled and ran after the blonde

"Hey, wait for me!!" Tori exclaimed

Arashi and Hiyori could only chuckle and stare at each other

"Come on, we gotta take pictures!!" Hiyori took out his phone, as Arashi posed.

By the time the mall closed, Arashi left the store with many dresses and skirts and many types of outfits considered feminine to wear on her free days

~~~~~~~~

A random story with the pretty 5 when I was trying to sleep :3

[itsohh]

Waiting

A/N: Female reader, this wasn't that like idk descriptive or anything and like I really want to write but at the same time ah I think idk what to write smut quite right anymore.

Day 21: Panties and lingerie

Word count: 1012

Warnings: smut

AO3 Kinktober Masterlist

It wasn’t very often that your schedules aligned very often. Going out, and having fun was something that happened very rarely. Often the only times the pair of you could spend non-working moments together was after a long day. The pair of you would always be tired or at least not in the mood to go out. Sex was normally either a last-minute romp or more akin to holding each other close and just being in the moment. In no way was it bad. But it was never partially special or different. You couldn’t complain, of course, it was always fun but you really wanted to spice things up. Reward Olivier just a little. 

That's how you found yourself. Alone on his bed you waited, a magazine was open in front of you while you lay there reading it. Your legs kicked in the air behind you while you were aimed towards the door. A quick raise of your head and you would make eye contact the second he entered. The thought that someone else might be with him crossed your mind but you had spent so much time with everyone and your life in the military just overrode that fear- you didn’t care. 

Time ticked away, about thirty minutes give or take and eventually there was a small beep before the door opened. It wasn’t the first time that you had waited there for him- for sex- but it was the first time you had worn that. A black pair of stockings held up by a pair of garters that sat above your hips. They had a similar fabric to the black panties and bra that held up your chest. 

Olivier paused, completely frozen as he took in your form. The heels on your feet made a small sound as they brushed against each other and you flipped the page. “Olivier.” You greeted him. His eyes locked onto yours before they slowly drifted along your body and to your shoes. “Close the door, love, your letting out the cool air.”

The door promptly clicked behind him and he stalked up to you. “What's the occasion?” There was a slight panic in his eyes and you could practically see the gears in his head turn. He was searching for all the dates of importance, holidays, birthdays and anniversaries. 

“Can’t I dress up a little for my lover?” You snapped the magazine closed and threw it to the side. It fell gracelessly and you rolled onto your back. Olivier approached you and you reached out towards him as your head hung off the side of the bed. Olivier's fingers brushed against you as he leaned forward. The back of them met your bent legs and you took the opportunity to grab his pants. 

By the belt, you tugged him forward and ran your hand against his inner thigh. A hiss elected from his mouth when you felt his hardening cock and started to rub it through his pants. “When did you get this?” He snapped the strap on your thigh and dipped a finger into the stocking. 

“Mmm, a couple of days ago when I finished training up early. You like?” 

Olivier grabbed the inside of your thigh where it exposed your flesh. “You know I love it.” The tip of your fingers found his belt before you grasped it and expertly snapped it open. Olivier didn’t react as you pulled his semi from his pants. He did react when you wiggled yourself a little closer and wrapped your mouth around it. Already, you could feel it firming up in your mouth and Olivier let out a long low moan. One of his hands steadied on your head and his hips started to thrust in and out of your mouth. Each and every time there was just a little bit more of him to swallow.

“God’s your a sight.” He give your thigh a light slap and pulled back to watch as his cock disappeared between your lips and down your throat. It was the perfect angle to push his entire cock in and take in your dressed-up form. It was straight out of s dream for him, the way your throat bulged with his dick and swallowed the tip.

Now completely hard, it was an accomplishment on its own. A piece of him wanted to shut his eyes with the pure amount of pleasure that built up but he couldn’t quite do it. Olivier couldn’t tear his eyes away from the sight of you. It stirred something deep inside him, he was almost unsure of what he wanted to do. There was so much, it was so much. He wanted to run his hands all over you, press his cock against the fabric, run his tongue against it. Bite every strap, tear and rip it, cover it in his cum, lick and suck your juices through your panties. He wanted to take a photo of your body, perfect in every way.

Or perhaps take a photo with your face all ruined, covered in his cum that ran down over your breasts and bra. Maybe your breasts pulled out over the top of them, one strap fallen down while he fucked between them. He wanted those thighs, panties pulled to the side and his mouth on your cunt while your juices ran down his face. Then there were those heels, they would look so could next to his head, your legs extended out on his chest while he rammed into you and kissed your cervix with his cock. He wanted it all, all at once. 

Olivier couldn’t decide, so instead he allowed you to continue sucking his cock, deciding for him. His eyes blurred at the sight of, his thoughts and lust consuming him with ideas. Then they were all gone, all sucked out through his dick as his head became thoughtless simply lost in pleasure. You could tell this, of course, that look reflected in his eyes and if you had the ability, you would have smiled. The night had just begun. 

[cyberrat]

89th Batch Of Fics: 6th Fill

Hanzo/Cassidy – Off Limits AU – timeskip; unreliable narrator – What the fuck is Hanzo playing at? Cole won't have it. Or... he wouldn't if he weren't such a damn puppydog eager to follow orders.

---

“Fuck you.”

They both look a bit taken aback by Cole’s monotone insult. It’s somehow been at the forefront of his mind and slipped out before any filters could pull it back. He lowers his bushy brows and schools his face into something more neutral as he closes his pants and fumbles for his wide belt with the gaudy buckle.

Hanzo is frowning again but when he doesn’t say anything at all, Cole finds himself filling the silence, pushed on by the nervous thrum of energy coursing through his body. He’s sticky and stinks and his whole body aches from scratches and punches and everything else.

“I don’t need whatever that is,” he waves in Hanzo’s general direction. “Pity or something? Fuck off, kid.”

He pulls his shirt on haphazardly, letting it hang open and not noticing that it’s inside-out as he searches for his hat, grabs it in a trembling hand and jams it on his head.

Cole just wants to get away, his limbs trembling with adrenaline and exhaustion and his arm feeling not right suddenly after its been pulled from his body without his consent and carried around and done who the fuck knew what with it. For some reason it feels more like a violation than the rest of the abuse he’s suffered.

The rape, the thought sails through his head, though it is only a dull little thing that barely even registers anymore. Certainly not like the sound of Hanzo’s voice, lowered in authority: “I said come here.”

Cole finds his feet turning him against his will. His shoulders start slumping as a helpless whine creeps from his throat reedy and pathetic. He shakes his head, reaching up and grabbing the brim of his hat to pull it into his face and at least partially hide it from Hanzo’s cool, collected inspection.

“Can’t you just let a guy be miserable in peace? Can’t I just be a pathetic bastard alone?”

Hanzo’s reply is wholly unsympathetic. His voice sounding hollow as he says: “No. Come here. …don’t make me say it again.”

Cole’s mouth twitches. He blinks away frustrated tears and takes a moment to breathe deeply and gather himself. He stops pulling the hat into his face and when he looks at Hanzo it is with a forced calm, his voice dipping into his usual soft drawl: “Aw hell, babydoll. How can I resist if ya ask so nicely an’ look like a million bucks to boot.”

Hanzo’s face flinches. It looks like disgust, or maybe anger, but Cole does not let it deter him from making his way closer to the younger Alpha. He’s wanted this, so now he can fucking have it.

He wants to reach out and grab at the other but before he is quite in grabbing range, Hanzo suddenly turns on his heels and starts to walk away, weaving them through storage cabins and housing on a path conspicuously out of prying eyes for the most part.

Cole’s steps start to slow down once he realizes where they are going, but Hanzo turns his head and spits across his shoulder: “Keep moving.”

It’s enough of a jolt to the system that Cole staggers back into motion again. His legs don’t quite feel his own; similar to his arm but still different. Just… weak and exhausted, really.

He doggedly stares at the ground, watching himself take the steps up to Hanzo’s cabin. He honestly doesn’t know what is happening right now. He half entertains that he is maybe still lying in a muddy puddle of cum and piss and just dreaming this all up.

Hanzo looks angry as he holds the door stiffly open and Cole walks past him. As if Cole had been the one insisting on coming along.

He is still cradling his arm to his chest despite it having connected with the ports on his stump flawlessly. He finds that he is loathe to stop protecting it for now. The fact that Clint had dared taking it away from him again had rattled him deeper than he thought possible.

There’s the soft click of the door closing behind him but other than that, there is silence. Cole lets it drag in for as long as he can stand, then finally twists around on his heel with a low grunt, fixing Hanzo with a hard stare.

“What do ya want?” he asks, trying to keep his voice neutral despite the annoyance that is clawing up his chest – and the unwelcome fondness he feels creeping at the edges of his consciousness as he sees Hanzo standing there.

He looks odd in only his severe black suit pants and a white dress shirt whose sleeves have been rolled to sit just above his elbows.

A formerly white dress shirt. Now that Cole is really looking at him he notices that there is a lot more blood on Hanzo than he thought. There’s a lot of it on his hands, gore sticking to his fingers and the single ring he is wearing.

More of it is splattered across his front. Cole, feeling queasy, looks down at the arm cradled against his chest; but it looks absolutely pristine. As if Hanzo had taken the time to carefully polish it after he… he…

What did he do?

“What did you do?” Cole asks, his voice barely above a whisper. Hanzo’s gaze flicks finally toward him where previously he had just been staring ahead into the void, looking like a damn machine standing there and waiting for further instructions.

The look on his face has unease slithering cold and wet along Cole’s spine. Just like that night in the bar, his eyes look like black holes in his faces, not a speck of emotion visible anywhere.

If he weren’t able to smell his warm Alpha blood, Cole would swear that this really was just a disturbingly lifelike machine.

“You know what I did.”

He doesn’t, but he starts to get the feeling that’s just his brain putting in a blockage for some reason. He feels absolutely exhausted.

“What do you want me to do now?” he asks instead of repeating his earlier question. The pup, the… the man seems not in the mood to answer it. Or any question, it appears, as he just stands there, staring at Cole, not reacting one way or the other.

Cole doesn’t often lose his temper. He’s learned pretty early on to keep himself in check; make himself seem smaller and more harmless than he actually is. But he loses it now, his face twisting in anger and a dominant growl rolling off his tongue as he takes an aggressive step toward Hanzo.

The effect is somewhat diminished by him still cradling his arm protectively against his chest, he notices as he watches Hanzo’s impassive gaze briefly flick down to it and then back up. He ignores it, instead growling: “Want me naked? Huh? Wanna take my clothes away for however long? Lock me in? Fuck me? Kick me to the fucking curb like the old useless trash that I am?!”

There’s quiet following it, though much shorter than it feels to Cole, he supposes. Every second feels like an eternity until Hanzo suddenly inhales sharply and then flicks his eyes around the room. Eventually he points at a chair. 

“Sit.”

Stunned, Cole feels himself turn, body lumbering over to do as he is told.