#soon. i will take a nap for 99 years.

[moe-broey]

Also whenever I talk about Sharena being overlooked in favor of Alfonse I feel SO bad and SO hypocritical because while I am very unwell about both of them it just. Manifests in different ways. Sharena is like a plushie to me she's a friend she's full of love and joy and softness. I occasionally succumb to madness and have divine visions over her but most of the time she's Sharena my good friend Sharena :) Meanwhile with Alfonse it's like. I am constantly psycho-analyzing him I am studying him and taking notes I need to bite him I need to put him in situations I need to take him out of situations I need to tuck him in at night and kiss him on the forehead and I need him to get pegged. I'm so sorry 😔

[lulu-recs]

you’re my kaleidoscope by orphan_account ♡

when remus wakes up to find a baby on his doorstep, he has no idea what to do. especially when it turns out the baby has come from a drunken one-night-stand. with no idea what to do, remus is surprised the moment his two neighbours decide to step in and help him raise the baby. all is well–for a year, until teddy’s birth mother’s sudden return, and then the fight for remus to keep his family together begins

I just didn't know it yet by poohsticks

sirius comes to realise that the time waiting for his soulmate was well worth the wait

all hail the outlaws by orphan_account ♡

one of remus lupin's three jobs happens to be working maintenance for their flat building. he gets to meet all sorts, most of whom he would rather have nothing to do with. until james potter and sirius black move in across the hall. engineering students and self-proclaimed geniuses, the pair set out to make their neighbours new best friends, and everyone's life is turned upside down, but in the best way possible.

of cinema and sticky notes by bluepeony

remus lupin is the office bore. sirius black is the office sweetheart. they fancy each other, on a purely aesthetic level.

no desks where harmed by simpforfictionalcharacters0102

remus is working himself to death so sirius gives him a distraction.

wet dog by lyinglikebreathing ♡

sirius is tired of remus saying he smells like a wet dog, so he bathes himself in amortentia to cover it up. it doesn’t work quite as well as he expected it to…

wolfy by orphan_account

there were three types of people: kissers, namers, and tattooers. you either had a tattoo that matched another's or a name marked above your heart. if you didn't, then you were a kisser, recognizing your soulmate at first touch or kiss, as innocent as the person wanted it to be.

as soon as you were born, it was obvious which category you fell into.

sirius had a tattoo.

remus didn't.

I'm killing boys by spiritedaways ♡

when sirius finds himself becoming a sacrifice for a local band, the last thing he expects is to become reborn into something more sinister.

christmas canoodles by softsilkentofu ♡

it's the trope holy trinity with wolfstar: when remus's grandmother mistakenly assumes he is dating sirius and invites them over for christmas on a fjord, there's nothing this loyal grandson can do but fake a relationship and call his best friend boyfriend - can this particular werewolf survive sharing a bed with his crush all during the holidays? only one way to find out!

good nights by kittycargo

remus tried his best to make his voice stern. “I thought you were so tired.”

“I was. and then I took a nap, and now I’m very, very awake.” each ‘very’ was punctuated with another press of his hips.

fight me by orphan_account

remus is a bit more efficient when taking care of a very feverish, and slightly delirious, sirius.

let love in by shessocold

there are things about sirius that only remus understands.

a pair of brown eyes by shessocold

remus is about to turn 40

breathless by nachodiablo

sirius is confident that their first date with remus is going to be memorable, and it is... just not in the ways they expect.

midnight snacks and stolen hearts by orphan_account ♡

the first time it happened, sirius wondered if miracles were real.

the second time it happened, he wondered what on earth he did to deserve something so wonderful, if only for a few moments.

-

sirius falls head over heels for frank's gorgeous and hilarious roommate. the catch? the stunning man is sleepwalking every time they meet and believes Sirius is just a dream.

who's minding the store by escribo

sirius is minding his own business, remus just wants to buy a book, and James doesn't even work there.

cupid disarmed by anonymous

remus lupin has veela blood, sirius black reads trite romance novels, and neither of them are quite sure what the fuck to do with their hands when they get to talking with one another.

1% inspiration, 99% perspiration by greyeyedmonster18

james potter - quidditch captain, head boy, bright smile, stupid big shoulders with a fucking dimple-- has one fatal flaw: he happens to be....terrible at dirty talk and remus lupin is distraught. (a moonchaser au)

mon amour - my love by neondomino

remus couldn't let anything happen with sirius. after all, sirius was an exchange student, due to return to france in a few months.

or

sirius black didn't expect to fall in love minutes after stepping off the eurostar. all he knew was that he would give up everything to stay with remus.

little red riding hood and other misnomers by someone_aka_me

sirius may wear a red riding cloak, but he is no little red riding hood. but that's okay, because remus doesn't make a very good big bad wolf, either.

sharpened canines by allthisandlovetoowillruinus

in the midst of the first war, remus realizes he's misunderstood why sirius has been distant.

keysmash by allthisandlovetoowillruinus ♡

unknown number (sun, 9:03 am): hey settle an argument chocolate milk in cereal is innovative and cool, right?

remus (sun, 9:07 am): it absolutely is not who tf are u

unknown number (sun, 9:08 am): first of all, fuck u and second of all i told james u said yes anyway that’s what u get for living in my phone

sirius texts a wrong number, remus faces some fears, and things get better.

problems with narrative structure and the rules of manly engagement [+podfic] by xinasvoice ♡

"there were easily six hundred people living in the paramount building in downtown san francisco. that was a lot of neighbors to get to know, but it only took a single day of living there for sirius to notice remus."

skinny dip by nachodiablo

james and sirius come back from an evening swim in the lake. remus does not like this at all, for some reason.

what isn't there by nachodiablo

sirius has changed, but remus still loves him.

self-reflection by picascribit

"isn't the animagus form supposed to ... sort of ... reflect a person's inner self?"

on the Marauders' first night out together under the full moon, remus notices something unexpected about Sirius's animagus form.

discards: valentine's day by picascribit ♡

remus forgets valentine's day. sirius wants to make it special.

discards: commencement by picascribit

sirius and lily attend remus's graduation from the university of washington. sirius has just one question for him.

the secret girlfriend [+podfic] by picascribit

james and peter are scandalized that remus didn't tell them he has a girlfriend, but sirius knows the truth.

translate [+podfic] by picascribit

remus gave a hollow, humourless chuckle. "is something funny?" his boyfriend asked irritably. "a bit," said remus. "pomfrey thinks I'm pregnant." sirius stilled. "that's not funny." "no, I suppose it's not." "are you?" remus looked down at his feet, dangling over the lake. "yeah."

[roszabell]

For lietcan, who do you think caught feelings first vs who confessed his feelings first? Who's more likely to confront the other about a vice he has that's harming him or their relationship? Does Poland or Prussia ever third-wheel their dates? Has either of them ever watched the other while he slept? What does either do for the other when he has a bad nightmare?

thanks for the ask omg!!!!!! i love ranting about lietcan so this’ll be a lot hehe

1. matthew definitely caught feels first, like always, because that’s just his curse in life lmfao. especially with older men of course. matt confesses!! he just can’t hold all this love in inside of him!! tolys falls harder but it’s also harder for him to express it, at first.

2. who’s more likely to confront the other? this is a FUN one. bc it leads to 99% of their angst in this ship >:) they’re both such anxious-attachment people pleasers who have been taught that speaking up gets you nowhere and/or worse off than you were before, so they tend to hold things in. as a concrete answer, it would end up being tolys, because tolys just has more years experience of bottling things up and matthew eventually gets passive aggressive and salty, and liet has been working on not accepting mean behavior that’s unwarranted. so he will confront matt when he gets too grumpy, and they’ll sort out the issue that way (usually with matt feeling bad for acting that way in hindsight, he’s so stupid)

3. I can totally see Pol third wheeling them lmfao!! he thinks because he’s an old friend he has more right to tolys’s time than some random kid. he likes butting in! matt thinks he’s funny, if not a bit intimidating. As for Gil, I really like making lietprucan a poly ship, so absolutely! he also “”third wheels”” in their bed 😊

4. I think they both watch each other while they sleep, tbh. but tolys does way way more often, because matt is such a sleepyhead, while tolys is late to bed and early to rise. matt also will nap literally anywhere, so tolys gets a lot of opportunities to watch his lover. Matthew does get small moments where he’s awake and tolys isn’t, though, and theyre always treasured. it’s so rare to see tolys rest peacefully and feel safe enough to do so around another. it always makes matt smile

5. matt gets nightmares fairly often, comes with his anxiety and depression more than it does trauma really. he doesn’t do well being alone, so he really needs to be cuddled and told it’s okay, it’s not real. he gets really caught up in his head, so another person being there and speaking to him gently helps. as for tolys, he doesn’t get nightmares much, it’s more flashbacks and panic attacks. he needs comfort, but only a hand on the shoulder and a gentle voice, really. if he’s hugged or crowded too soon he panics, doesn’t like to feel trapped. once he’s calmed down he’ll take a good cuddle :( it was weird for matt, to learn to give tolys space when he needs it, because matt can be really overbearing when he’s worried. his policy is that a good bear hug can fix most anything, but that’s not true for everyone! his restraint in the right moments shows just how much he cares for tolys <3

[callsignbaphomet]

Haven't slept so we're gonna talk a little about magic in the Oracle setting.

By the way, here's a post talking about magic a little more in depth and some of the rules.

Magic, just like 99% of all things follow specific rules tied to it but also some rules of physics. If you wanna look at magic in a more scientific (very loosely) way, magic is nothing more than waves. Wavelengths, radio waves, light waves (or if you prefer electromagnetic radiation), magnetic waves and so on. They're waves you can create that in turn build themselves into what you "will" it to be. It's a manipulation of life itself in its most primal form best understood by looking at it through a scientific eye. Magic is a different type of wave that can't actually be studied as there is no foundation upon which you can compare notes to, it exists but it doesn't. No one in the history of existence has named it so it's just referred to as magic. It's an umbrella term wrapped in a cop out.

And, yes, these waves can be distorted, refracted and even destroyed. How? Dampening stones. These stones are actually volcanic rocks (it's said that these rocks hold within them immensely destructive power and are the perfect tools for disrupting magic).

Dampening stones take a very long time to "make" and hard to just come by as they have to be harvested from recently formed volcanic rock. This makes them very expensive, one stone could make you 9,000 to 15,000 dollars poorer for a small one. Depending on the size of the stone is how wide of an area it'll affect and how expensive it'll be. Not only do these rocks have to be harvested as soon as they cool down, which is dangerous enough on it's own, the rocks are then blasted with failed spells for a year. Basically spells that failed, this is done either on purpose or beginners are used while they attempt very difficult spells. Then then rocks are manipulated further by expert magic users.

How do they work?

If magic can be seen as waves then the waves emitted by the dampening stones can be seen as a prism and any magic being used near these stones get refracted at a speed that's very creepily close to the speed of light. That violent destruction of the magical wavelengths tend to destroy the magic even before the caster even thinks of casting.

They have no permanent effects on anyone near the stones or anyone casting near them though some people report a feeling like someone is placing their hands on their heads and squeezing and the more the caster tries to cast the more prominent that feeling gets.

No one is exempt to the refraction of a dampening stone.

This is the part where I usually tell you who breaks this rule and if you guessed the divine and Makers you guessed correctly. The divine can be seen as the antithesis of the laws of physics and Makers can be seen as the spit the divine spat at the laws of physics only because they don't follow the same structures and rules as everything else. The wavelengths the divine and Makers use are completely different from the ones everyone else uses. The best you can get is if a Maker faces off against a divine or a Maker faces off against another Maker and cancel each other out.

Hopefully any of this made sense. Off to nap or actually sleep, we'll see.

[buckysforever]

what bucky would be like while you’re pregnant

PLEASE READ BEFORE YOU ENGAGE: i am a minor, i think it goes without saying that minors can read my work if they want to, but i do want to clarify that if you are an adult you can interact with my work (if you feel comfortable), if you are an 18+ blog you can interact with my work (if you feel comfortable, and i will not interact with yours). i only read and write fluff and angst, and small amounts of mature topics, the pinned post on my page goes more into detail. i write with black women in mind but most of my fics will have no physical description of y/n. trigger warnings are tagged! if you would like to learn more about my blog (which i highly encourage) please refer to the post on my blog titled “PLEASE READ”. thank you and happy reading! 

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trigger warnings: pregnancy, throwing up, anxiety, fluff, cursing, morning sickness (?), diet, calories, mention of showering together (?), pain (?)

word count: 872

a/n: i’m not sure what to tag the mention of showering together, i’m 99% sure it’s not smut, maybe a mention of smut, but i don’t think i implied that anything sexual was happening, so i’m not sure. if you guys could let me know, if you’re aware of what to call that so i can tag it as a trigger, that would be great. feel free to send in requests! thank you and happy reading!

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bucky’s very worried throughout the entire pregnancy. he’s always making sure you’ve eaten and drank enough for you and the mini super soldier. constantly monitoring how well you’re sleeping, massaging your feet, you’re pretty sure he has longer conversations with the obgyn then you have. it’s reassuring to know that he cares so much, but you know that it’s partially because he thinks the carrying a baby with his genes is hurting you. he isn’t wrong, your doctor did say the serum makes the baby stronger, which means it needs more energy, which means you have less energy, which means your body is more tired and can’t protect itself as well as it used to. you wouldn’t trade it for the world, bucky knows that. despite having a shitty immune system and carrying a baby that wasn’t meant for your body, you’re so happy, and that makes bucky happy. the first trimester was the worst for morning sickness, it was like clockwork everyday at 7 am. there were times you couldn’t keep dinner or lunch down and it would throw you off for the rest of the day. in order for you to get enough energy to support you and the baby, a strict diet was enforced. and when you threw up, it messed up your calorie intake for that day, but there was one thing the baby ever made you throw up. mangoes. bucky always got some when he went to the store, you were banned from the grocery store, or any store really, after what happened last time. he was nervous to take you places with lots of people while your immune system was so weak, but somehow you had managed to convince him to let you go with him after weeks of what felt like  quarantine. it had been about three minuets since you two had walked in the store, you were looking at the yogurt when you heard a sneeze. bucky’s head shot in the direction of the sound and started pulling you towards the exit, completely deserting the cart you weren’t allowed to push. he drove home, dragged you into the shower, washed you and himself twice, cleaned the clothes clothes with bleach, and made you apply hand sanitizer every hour until you went to bed. you have not been to a store since. bucky did pick the best mangoes, sometimes they’re all you want to eat, there’s no nausea after, no upset stomach, no allergic reaction. because apparently you can develop allergies while pregnant, saying goodbye to bananas was hard. the second trimester was worse than the first. you constantly were catching colds, bucky was into overprotective overdrive, the thought of being mad about not going to store was long gone, he would barley let you stand. it was getting hard to breathe, the conversation about letting you do some things for yourself was a hard one. it started a fight. but in the end he let you be a bit more independent, you guys started going on walks at night, because there’s not a lot of people. that was when things started to get better, your baby was growing quickly and by the sixth month you wanted it out. despite delivering babies for over 10 years, your doctor was not exactly sure how soon the baby could come out. it was bigger and more developed than other babies, and she thought 8 month would be a good estimate of when you might go into labor. as the third trimester started so did the braxton hicks, they are basically fake contractions, but boy did they feel real. wincing in pain, hands on your stomach or digging into your thighs, waiting for them to pass felt like an eternity. bucky was always there, holding your hand and telling you to breathe, and kissing your belly when they were over. he spent a lot of time down there, talking to the baby, telling the baby to stop kicking it mother at 3 in the morning, he wanted the baby out as much as you did. both to give you a break and so he could hold his child. it was probably about 4 in the afternoon, you had just woken up from a nap, when the strongest contraction you’ve had yet hit you like a truck. calling for bucky mid excruciating pain wasn’t an option so you waited it out, only about 30 seconds and by the send of it you were sweaty and hot. finally able to form words you yelled out his name, to which he came running, his face was priceless when you told him you think you’re in labor. he was asking a million questions while trying to get your bag’s in the car, it was pretty cute, when he finally got back to you he tried to pick you up. you protested, heavily. of course, he didn’t care and carried you to the car, making sure your seatbelt was on before giving you a kiss. 

“i can’t believe we’re doing this”, he said with a smile. you knew then it was going to be okay, uncomfortable, scared, and in pain, you knew it was going to be fine, because bucky was with you. 

[nancypullen]

I Think I’ll Live

Alrighty, I just tested negative for the first time since July 6th.  I think that does more for me psychologically than I’d imagined.  I am not one who wallows, I’ve always enjoyed good health, and I was, in fact, one of those annoying people who bragged that my colds only lasted three days, and I never got the flu. This stuff, this BA5 strain kicked my butt.  I’m glad I got to see my family on the 4th of July because I lost the rest of the month.  This has been me for the last several weeks.

Just me and the cats looking out at the world.  Poor Mickey has not had great meals.  Yesterday I felt almost normal and during a bout of optimism I asked. “Want me to make you something special for dinner?”  His resounding, ”YES!” had be scouring my Pinterest boards for a meal that would put a smile on his face.  Before I started dinner I decided to make a big pot of his favorite taco soup, something he likes for his week day lunches.  After doing that I was so tired that I took a two hour nap and woke up at 5:30 with no dinner plans.  Guess who had to eat taco soup for dinner?  Yep, the guy who was promised something special.  I should learn to keep my mouth shut. Having said that, I do feel like I’m getting stronger every day.  I just tire easily.  Still don’t now why it hit me harder than Mickey and Matt or why Tyler and Jamie have never tested positive.  We’re all vaxxed and boosted, apparently I’m just a welcoming host.  I imagine it will be years before we know all of the whys and hows of this nasty virus. I, for one, will be masking for a long, long time. Enough about all of that. Let’s talk about something cheerful...like the fact that we’re just 99 DAYS FROM HALLOWEEN!

I walked into my closet today, stroked my sweaters, and whispered, “Soon...”  I try not to wish my life away, my September birthday is looming and I feel like I’ve hardly used the last couple of years (I want a refund!) - but, oh, how I long for autumn.  Mickey mentioned last night that he’s trying to put together a Salem trip for October, but I put a stop to it.  Can you believe that?  First of all, if you start looking for lodging in August for a fall trip to Salem, you’ll be lucky to find a dusty closet for $200 a night.  Most importantly, there’ll be crowds, small shops, crowds, restrictions, crowds - you get the idea.  Normally, the crowds in Salem are a joy, loads of happy people with common interests having a fine time. Now they’re a source of plague. I’m sure we’ll enjoy it again someday, just not this fall.  I suggested a more peaceful getaway - either Chincoteague or Assateague.  A few days on the beach, after the summer crowds have left, watching wild ponies and enjoying the natural beauty...that sounds like a balm for the soul, doesn’t it?  I’ll take along my sketchpad and a couple books about the history of this stretch of the wild Atlantic - pirates, colonists, shipwrecks, whalers, I may take a stack of books.  Isn’t that something lovely to look forward to?  Time to do something with this day. Let’s see how far I get before I need a nap. I have laundry chugging, chicken thawing for dinner, and I may even work up the energy to deal with all this hair.  That really seems more like a team effort.  I need a hair stylist to make a house call.  It’s an emergency. 

Wishing anyone who sees this a beautiful day.  I hope you have at least one reason to belly laugh and one pleasant surprise in the next 24 hours, and I hope you appreciate both.   Stay safe, stay well, wear your mask. XOXO, Nancy

[taeyohonic]

the trophy wife (m)

summary: the proposal doesn’t go as planned (established relationship, idol au, fluff and angst) pairing: min yoongi x fem!reader rating: explicit (18+) warnings (containing spoilers): swearing, robbery, pandemic, vomit, description of injuries and blood (very abstract), mentions of depression, insomina and periods, a hella lot ugly crying info: when i tell you that this is a super-duper fluffy piece, i’m not lying! it was 99% sweetness, so i added a little... angst (but like... only 10%) related work: the stalker | baby, what’s wrong? | favoritism (m) | the trophy wife words: 5.7k

“would you still love me if i became your trophy wife?”

yoongi snorts into his iphone, your grimace too adorable to be taken seriously.

“how bad are these papers?”, he asks. jungkook next to him is stealing curious glances at his hyung’s screen. to hear your voice so distressed makes him worry. you’re the best thing that ever happened to his member – your well-being comes right after his need for homemade kimchi.

“how… can they not know which products contain dairy? how yoongs?”, you vent eyeing the ungraded test in front of you.

“i ate… so much yogurt. the whole class did. we tested so much dairy products… like… so much. we drank all of the banana milk… how can they get this wrong?”, you continue. unbeknown to you, the maknae is now furrowing his brows at your words. wait a minute…

“noona, did you steal my banana milk last week?”, jungkook questions and moves closer to yoongi. before you can hide you see his big eyes joining your boyfriend on the screen.

“wow, jungkookie – your undercut looks so good. damn!”, you say. it’s not a total deflection; he does look extremely handsome after his haircut.

“noona, i thought i sleepwalked”, he whines, not caring for your compliment… right now.

“taehyung even made a meme out of it”, he complaints and you have the audacity to coo at him. yoongi tries to hide his smile, but he can see his reflection grinning on the screen.

“it was oppa’s idea!”

and now his smile freezes as jungkook moves his accusing glare to him. you don’t usually call yoongi by this name. and he’d be all too happy to shut you up in your shared bedroom. but now he and the boys are in the outskirts of seoul to film the newest music video, far away from you and your treacherous mouth.

“hyung?”, jungkook asks with the voice of a cheated wife ready to sign the divorce papers.

“it’s for the kids, maknae”, your boyfriend defends himself to which jungkook only huffs in irritation.

“there was a time when i was the kid – what happened? am i not cute enough anymore? noona? am i not the most adorable?”

his deer eyes stare at you – big, brown and full. you can’t help but to take a screenshot of these two – your rapper visibly done with his member and jungkook in the middle of a banana milk breakdown. you’ll have to frame this picture.

“you’re the most adorable thing there is, jungkookie”, you reassure him. yoongi just snorts when he sees the faintest flush on his bandmate’s face.

“that’s enough praise for him, baby. save it for your students.” there is no humor in the smile you send him. after a beat of silence in which you burry all your frustration deep inside the pits of your stomach, you try to change the subject.

“how is nature?” they’ve been in the woods for weeks, completely closed off from all the city drama. you’ve never seen jimin so excited to drive – while namjoon’s sour face reflected how much the latest failed drivers test bothered him.

“jin-hyung nearly died in the water today. it was epic”, your friend instead of your boyfriend answers and you have to shift a giggle at yoongi’s eyeroll.

“be gone, maknae”

rudely blunt – just how you liked your partner. jungkook just winks at you in a silent goodbye and gets up. he’s nearly out of the picture before his upper body shoves against the rapper. his nose is way too close to the screen and you’d be worried about his eyes – if you didn’t know how often the singer spends his nights in front of his computer.

“noona, you’ll replace the milk, right?”

“jungkook”, yoongi growls in responds. the boy is not acknowledging his colleague, so you give in and nod.

“of course, kookie. it’s already waiting in the fridge for you to come back”, you tell him. as soon as these words leave your mouth, the maknae is satisfied and gone.

“you don’t have to baby him that much, ____”, yoongi says while moving the phone closer to his face. you can see the dark circles under his eyes better now.

“what’s keeping you up at night, yoongs?”, you ask instead of answering his complaint. the rapper smiles faintly at the screen.

“you, baby, always you” yu snort and let yourself lie down on the couch – the papers can wait another day, or a lifetime.

“i wish”, you say truthfully. you’d sell one of your kidneys to relax with the boys far away from the pandemic madness. after having yoongi to yourself for two weeks non-stop, you are way too spoiled. even though your legs are deeply grateful for this recovery time, you miss the constant calm radiating off of your boyfriend.

“i’ll be back soon, baby”, he reassures you and draws lines across the screen. your cheeks look colorless and it worries him just as much as his lack of sleep bothers you.

“make it sooner”, you mutter and close your eyes when you hear his chuckle in responds.

“have you had dinner yet?”, yoongi asks but you don’t want to open your eyes, not ready to face his criticism.

“nah, i’ll wait till sungho gets here.” you don’t need your eyesight to feel his disapproval.

“that’s not very socially distance of you, ____.” yeah, no baby anymore. still, you remain shut off.

“he’s just a friend. one friend. one work friend. one work friend that needs help with the new school cloud. the online grading program is a pain in the ass.”

“and why do you have to do that at six on a friday night in our home?”, yoongi notices the tiniest of smiles on your lips as he mentions your shared home. he, too, loves your little flat with a pandora of memories.

“because i am a loner and don’t have anything better planed for the weekend and my boyfriend is camping in the woods and oh – there is a global pandemic”, you snort and open your eyes to watch your boyfriend’s tensed expression.

“if you’re a loner – what am i then? a stone?”, yoongi asks sarcastically.

“maybe a boulder”, you shoot back with a soft smile that melts his jealousy away… nearly.

“just… don’t let him touch my stuff”, yoongi orders. he’d trade his own maknae to be the one at the other side of your door when he hears a distant knocking sound.

“that’ll be him, yoongs”, you say and move off the couch with as much dignity as one can muster after a whole work week and no motivation left in the bones.

“promise to call me back when you’re in bed?”, your boyfriend pleads, reluctant to let you go. with him going on world tours this phone conversation isn’t your first and it won’t be the last. still, his small request fills you with yearning.

“of course”, you promise, eyes still on him as you open the door without a second thought.

a fist connects with your skull while your eyes widen at the sight of two ski-masked men. the pain is instantly blinding your senses and you start to scream with tears clouding your vision. you fall to the floor before they push their way inside your home. one of them, muscle clad with wide shoulders kicks you in the stomach just to move you out of their way. the other, smaller in statue, crushes your phone with his shoe, the cracked screen frozen with your boyfriend starring at you in horror.

**

namjoon will never forget the bone chilling scream waking him this evening from his nap. he’s never heard yoongi’s voice filled to the brim with pain. not even registering his movements, he tumbles into the living room where is friend is still yelling your name, his face a mask of panic.

“hyung, what’s wrong?”, namjoon asks as footsteps behind him signal the arrival of his bandmates.

yoongi’s hands shake as his eyes stay fixed on the screen of his form. the leader moves first, not able to watch his friend losing himself. when joon steps behind yoongi’s figure to calm him down, a cold shower travels through his body. the screen shows you lying on the floor with red dripping from your mouth. your eyes are closed, but namjoon notices the uneven rise and fall of your chest – you’re breathing.

“jin, call the police”, the leader orders without turning around. his hands try to pry the phone out of yoongi’s fingers, but they are white with pressure and unforgiving. his lungs are still screaming and namjoon’s heart breaks at the scene.

“hyung, - just… calm down”, he says, not quite believing in his own words. he wouldn’t calm down either in yoongi’s position.

“what am i reporting?”, seokjin asks, close enough that the question answers itself as soon as he peaks over yoongi’s shoulder.

“i’d like to report a break-in – there is a person, hurt. the address is-“

yoongi can’t hear his oldest colleague, the voice drowned by his worry for you. at first, he doesn’t register namjoon’s chest pressing behind his back, but then his body shudders when the fellow rapper hugs him from behind.

“hyung, we – sh – it’s gonna be okay. it’ll be okay, she’s okay… we… you have to calm down, yoongi”, namjoon sooths his friend of ten years and rocks them both from side to side.

“taehyung, call the building manager – there should be security in the foyer”, seokjin commands the young man who watches the scene in front of him passively. as soon as he hears his name though, the singer moves to grab his iphone with shaky fingers.

“look, hyung, she’s awake”, joon points out and yoongi shakes his head to move these stupid tears out of his vision. indeed, your eyes are open as you try to even your breathing. it looks like you are crying as well and yoongi has never felt this kind of searing pain before. to see the love of his life in tears and burglars destroying your home while he is in the middle of fucking nowhere, makes him sick. when he sees you trying to get up, only to drop back onto the floor, his stomach turns. yoongi vomits onto his lap and namjoon has to hold his friend upright as he loses consciousness.

**

you’ve never been this glad for the heavy painkillers your boyfriend has tugged away in the bathroom due to his immense shoulder problems. the icepack pressed to your forehead cools for body down; still, you are shaking with adrenaline as you watch the security guard pace in front of you.

“yes, sir, yes – no, of course sir, negative sir”, he looks at your shaking form and grimaces before answering. “minor injuries”, the guard holds his phone further away when his caller answers a few decibels too loud.

“the paramedics are on their way”, he responds, not daring to look you directly in the eye. after another game of “yes and no”, the security ends his call.

“how are you, ma’am?”, the man in uniform asks, but remains standing a few feet away. when he first got here after receiving a hectic message from his boss, you were crying on the floor – alone. his colleague is already checking the floors, while another is combing through the surveillance footage. it’s been five minutes and you still look like a ghost.

his instructions were crystal clear – don’t touch the subject. but his heart clenches when he sees your trembling form trying to calm yourself down.

before you can answer him, two paramedics arrive through the door. they zero in on the blood drying across your forehead. their hands press gently against your skin and ask you questions you try to answer. soon, they move you to a standing position, with your head wound dressed and your vitals checked.

“we’ll take you to the hospital, ma’am”, the older woman explains. with a few steps you are at the door – there, right on the threshold where your nightmare began half an hour ago, stands sungho, chinese take-out and laptop in hand. your fellow teacher looks at you with widened eyes.

“_____ - what the hell?”, he curses and nearly drops his food when you smile at him – your teeth unbeknown to you still tinted red.

“are you her partner?”, the paramedic asks.

“just a friend”, he answers, not letting you out of his sight.

“we have to get her to the hospital – will you accompany us?”, the medic questions and sungho nods. your little crowd moves to the elevator and the security guard closes your door with a soft click. the police will be here soon, he thinks as he watches your beaten figure step onto the elevator.

**

“this cannot be the way to do this, ___”, sungho exclaims while you are staring at the iv-drip connected to your arm in distress. you hate needles.

the hospital’s v.i.p room is normally reserved for celebrities, but they made an exception for you, the girlfriend of min yoongi. sejin’s hunched form outside the room might have played a role in that. bangtan’s manager arrived half an hour ago, worried and disheveled. his posture calmed when the doctors reassured him, you’d be okay. now, he’s waiting for seven idols in various stages of panic to arrive.

“it’s the way this works – just… do as i say, okay?”, you huff. there is a part of you not willing to let the last hours crash into you; not without your partner here. so, you’ve spent the last sixty minutes showing him how to use your new school cloud – the easy way, not the right one.

“but the course still doesn’t show in my settings”, he whines, and you roll your eyes while pushing cold pad thai in your mouth. the rich flavor appeases your hungry stomach and you swallow the take-out down in one breathe. songho is a godsend for bringing the ordered food with him to the hospital. it’s a much-needed distraction from the horror of your cracked rib and light concussion.

“you have to set the course to ‘official’ – it’s still private”, you explain with another mouthful of oily noodles slurring your speech.

sungho’s brows furrow in concentration when you hear heavy footsteps in the hall. the boys are there – and they are not slowing down.

before sejin can even try to greet the idols, yoongi pushes through the door – all six of them only a breath behind.

the second you see him, the tears start without your consent. yoongi looks crazy – his eyes gleam with insanity – as he sucks in the hospital air through his mask.

you’re here. you’re alive. you’re safe. you’re here. he’s here. you are both here. his thoughts are running in circles – not ready to slow down, not ready to expand.

your boyfriend resembles a statue; just standing in front of the hospital bed. his face screams for help and it breaks you as the first cry leaves your throat. in a flash yoongi is moving to you, bumping into a shocked sungho. his finger brush against your wet cheeks like you’d break under his touch, while your body collapses.

“baby”, he whispers – the first word his members have heard since he regained consciousness.

“yoongs”, you answer and throw your arms around his neck. the smell of vomit and sweat makes your nose crunch up, but your boyfriend hugs it all away. his forearms rest on each side of your head – supporting his weight – as he lets you hold on to him, the boyfriend who was playing idol life in the woods instead of being at home with his girlfriend. even through his mask he can breathe in your unique smell, clouded by disinfectant.

“noona”, the youngest whimpers from the doorway. jungkook is silently crying, his mask discolored from the tears. every member looks at you with sorrow, the younger ones visibly not as professional at keeping their emotions together. namjoon looks like he’s aged a decade, but there is a small smile pressing his eyes together behind his mask. you try to reciprocate his smile, but yoongi’s head his pressing against your cheeks with vigor.

“why don’t we give them some space?”, sejin says to which your coworker nods instantly. he’s your friend for sure – but this is a level of intimacy he’s not willing to share with you.

the members need more convincing as hoseok tries to gently pull jungkook back. the maknae vehemently shakes his head, not ready to leave you and yoongi alone.

“we’ll wait right outside, kookie”, seokjin coax him out of the room. he’s still reluctant so go, but jimin’s small body pushes against his back. soon, namjoon closes the door, leaving you alone.

your tears won’t stop and you try to move closer to your boyfriend – you want to feel him all around you. without words yoongi understands your need and presses his body down on yours. there is a sharp pain when his stomach meets your fractured rib.

“ah”, you breathe, hurting. yoongi extracts himself from you in a flash; every fiber of his being furious at your injury.

“baby”, he calls out as his fingers ghost across your ribcage.

“it’ll… it’ll heal soon”, you say timidly.

“how could this happen, baby?”, he asks, still more interested in your upper body than your eyes.

“i-i i should-d have che-checked the door before, ah before answering”, you whimper, ready to face the blame.

with yoongi’s lifestyle comes a certain level of danger. you’ve been trained to be more cautious with everyday things like grocery shopping, inviting new friends over, answering the door without checking the cam.

“no, no, no, no – baby – no…”, he hushes you. “they should have never been able to pass the foyer, nor should they have been able to move to the penthouse level.”

“i-i was so scared”, you admit, linking your fingers with his and pressing them close to your still beating heart.

“i know, baby, me too”, yoongi soothes you and flexes his fingertips against your warm skin.

“i’ve never felt this worthless… you got hurt… right in front of me… and i … i couldn’t do anything.” his voice shakes with emotions and slowly his stare moves to your bruised face. the madness has nearly died in his eyes – but there is still so much pain hidden behind his brown iris.

“i- i could have lost you”, he whispers darkly, speaking a truth into reality he is not ready to face. your crying has stopped now that the both of you are calmer and connected.

“nah, never, remember?”, you say with some form of humor behind your words. “i’m your trophy wife. trophy wives don’t die. first, they’d kill their rich husband”, you remind your boyfriend of your conversation half a lifetime ago.

“it’d be an honor getting murdered by you, baby.” his mask is gone in a flash and then you feel the warmth of his lips against your temple. “just let me finish my third mixtape first.”

**

“don’t move, noona”, jungkook pleads as the warm sunlight irritates your skin. the fresh air is caressing your body while the youngest tries to finish his painting. trees surround the both of you, resting on a soft picnic blanket. it’s the first time since your release from the hospital that yoongi has left you out of his sight. granted, you’re still not totally alone with the strongest bangtan member watching over you like a hawk. but it’s definitely a much-needed break from yoongi’s fretting.

after nearly throwing a tantrum in front of his manager und some staff members who wanted to continue the filming of their new “in the soop” show, all the members knew they’d have to handle their rapper with care. leaving you alone wasn’t an option, so taehyung and seokjin packed your suitcase with essentials and after your doctors determined you ready to rest at home, all eight of you moved back to the chill vacation home in the middle of nowhere.

the last few days have been difficult – the filming staff getting more and more irritated because the members flocked around you 24/7. sejin had to come up with a different schedule allowing every bandmate time to reconnect with you as well as time to do their work. only yoongi was allowed to not leave your side most of the day – him working on the new music being the cover for his absence.

but after days of your boyfriend breathing down your neck, you’ve had enough. so, now yoongi is out on the water with seokjin fishing, while you’re spending time with jungkook.

“when did the police say they are coming?”, you ask the painter. his nose is crunched in concentration as he tries to outline your hipbone.

“they should be here before lunch – if your boyfriend even manages to catch some lunch”, he answers. you snort, messing up his grasp of your proportions.

“i do have faith in seokjin’s ability.” jungkook chuckles but keeps his eyes on your drawing. you look so delicate, so soft, he can’t believe they nearly lost you.

“i got robbed – i didn’t die, kookie”, you read his mind as his eyes darken.

“you got hurt”, he responds through clenched teeth.

“and they’ll pay for that”, you vow. the police had called this morning with the news of your robbers being captured during another crime. you’re still not sure how the officers can be so sure they’re the same criminals, but you’re eager to close this chapter with your statement later that day.

your painting session gets interrupted by namjoon. “the detectives are already here, ____.”

jungkook is by your side in a flash and together with the leader the both of them help you up. the rib is healing and harsh movements still hurt. yoongi had a near meltdown when you tried to ride him yesterday morning only to topple over in pain.

“yoongi and jin don’t have a signal out in the water – but they won’t be long”, namjoon explains and guides you indoors to meet the two officers.

“ms. ______, a pleasure to meet you”, the older policeman says in greeting. the younger one only shifts uncomfortable when he sees you flanked by two famous idols.

“thanks for coming all this way”, you respond and bow slowly, not to put extra pressure on your rib.

“is there somewhere we could talk – uhm- privately?”, the old man asks and you show them to one of the office rooms in the back. jungkook reluctantly leaves your side and joon only squeezes your hand in passing.

“just holler when you need us, _____”, he says before ordering the maknae to clean the art supplies.

with both officers sitting across from you, you nervously fiddle in your chair.

“the two intruders were caught this morning while pawning off their haul”, the younger policeman states and shows you a surveillance picture of two familiar men. their figures alone invoke iced fear in your heart, and you push the picture out of your sight. after a moment of silence, you collect yourself enough to absorb the information.

“what did they steal? i – i didn’t report anything missing, sir”, you question. sure, they trashed the painting yoongi brought for you during your last vacation in italy. and some cloths were thrown across the bedroom – but there was nothing stolen. you even signed your statement last week before leaving for the woods.

the officers look at you like you’ve grown a second head.

“miss, you reported the item missing days ago. there is even a harsh voicemail left with your fiancé demanding a swift investigation.” you shake your head at their words – no, you didn’t.

“which item?”, you ask the men with narrowed eyes. you’d been off the pain meds for days now. but to call yoongi your fiancé? clearly, they’d switched up cases. the older officer opens his briefcase to retrieve a plastic bag with a… ring in it.

“in my days, my wife would have never forgotten about her engagement ring”, the man snickers as you watch the cold metal in front of you. it’s beautiful – it’s so yoongi, you wouldn’t be surprised if he himself crafted the asymmetric diamond set on roughened silver.

you’d dreamed of this moment for over a year – to lay eyes on the ring cementing your future in stone – or diamonds.

never would you have imagined it to be this tainted with two officers starring you down and the jewelry wrapped carelessly in plastic – a piece of evidence – while your boyfriend is fishing with kim seokjin.

“uhm”, you hesitate as emotions swirl around your brain. he was going to propose? to you?

“i had half a panic attack carrying it around with me the whole day – that thing could pay off all my debt, as well as my kid’s college fees”, the officer jokes, still not recognizing your surprise as genuine.

“uhm”, you try again to form words.

“we’ve all the papers here for you to sign; after that we’ll be ready to get out of your hair… for now”, the youngest states and moves different documents across the table. they lie next to yoongi’s engagement ring – your engagement ring.

“uhm”

giving up on forming a coherent sentence, you move along and sign your name on the different protocols. the paper from your insurance company makes your heart still – reading all the zeros on the price of your ring.

this… is by far the worst engagement set up you’ve ever heard of. your hands shack and your signature looks just terrible, but it’s enough for the two detectives. they still don’t seem to find your reaction odd as they collect their stuff and bid you fare well. like a zombie you get up and follow them to the front door, your ring clutched between your fingertips.

jungkook and jimin are waiting for you next to the foyer and jump at the sight of your pale face.

“everything alright?”, jimin asks and places a protective hand on your back. your slow nod does not convince them and their eyes sour at the policemen.

while the younger officer takes a step back, the oldest just chuckles at your idol friends.

“all is well, kids”, he sooths them. then both bow to you and you can only muster an awkward smile, the jewelry heavy in your hand.

“happy wedding planning, ms. ____”, he winks at you before they leave. the soft click of the closing door is the only sound in the hallway. you’re not even sure you’re breathing.

after a beat of silence you flinch at the sound of jimin’s high-pitched squeal.

“weeeedding”, he asks, way too loud and way too joyful. the mochi-cheeked idol excitedly jumps up and down, not really caring that you remain silent.

jungkook on the other hand looks … really upset. “you told the police but not me?”, he whispers betrayed.

you could cry as you feel the headache from your concussion clouding your mind. this is… too much.

“uhm”, you’ve decided to stick with your running-gag answer and push both idols out of your way.

your feet carry you out of the house, through the terrace door and before you know it, you’re running across the green gras. the smell of the lake invades your nose while you search for you boyfriend. yoongi’s boat is still on the water and you spot both men resting against each other with their rods, ready to catch your lunch. sunshine shimmers on the lake’s surface as you run onto the dock. your bare feet press against the wood while your hair rushes around you – the wind breezing through the unkempt strands.

**

“is… is that _____, yoongi?”, seokjin asks his fishing buddy who’s more focused watching the water for prey than his surroundings.

“huh?”, he hums, not really listening to his friend.

“i- i think your girlfriend wants to talk to you, yoongi”, the old singer says hesitantly as he sees you jumping up and down on the wooden dock. this can’t be good for your health.

swiftly, the rapper turns to the spot seokjin is pointing at. and there you stand – beautiful and barefoot, dressed in his t-shirt and some old leggings. your hair is a mess and the sun dances across your skin like the tiniest firework.

“MIN YOONGI”, you shout at the top of your lungs. your boyfriend flinches hearing your loud voice across the water.

“she sounds angry”, seokjin whispers.

“YOU FOOL”, you continue to yell and see seokjin’s shoulders shake with silent laughter.

“oh, i hope the crew gets this on tape”, he says with glee while yoongi really, truly tries to find a reason for your anger. he’s left you alone today, at your request. maybe you didn’t really want him to go? was it a test to see how much he wanted to stay with you? did he fail?

“I GOT YOUR RING!”, you shout and flash the evidence bag high in the air.

immediately, the rapper shoots up from his sitting position, rocking the boat dangerously form side to side.

“yah, yoongi, what the hell?”, seokjin swears but your boyfriend’s eyes rest on you, holding your engagement ring in a plastic bag. there is no air in his lungs – he’s been thinking about this moment for the last two years. he dreamed of your joyful tears, how soft your hands would feel while pushing the silver banner on your finger.

and now… he’s an ocean away from you holding on to the jewelry that got you hurt weeks ago.

“DO YOU WANT TO ASK ME SOMETHING, MIN YOONGI?”, you scream and your boyfriend’s eyes widen when they see the smile on your lips; do you – do you find this funny?

without thinking, he takes a step forward.

You can only watch seokjin’s helpless grimace as yoongi brings the boat out of balance. both idols topple over and splash into the cold sea.

the icy water doesn’t bother the rapper as he pushes to the surface. the sun shines high up while he speeds to the dock. you’ve never seen your boyfriend this determent – his laps forceful and quick, leaving a still shocked seokjin behind.

your fingers shake as you watch him come closer and closer to you. in mere moments he’s close enough for you to hear his heavy breathing.

yoongi heaves himself out of the cold, his shoulder screaming in pain, and then he is dripping in front of you. your boyfriend looks like a wet dog, the black hair plastered to his forehead as he steps forward. you can smell the sea salt across his drenched clothes.

the engagement ring screams from the bag to be acknowledged and yoongi is just… staring at you deeply.

“i had it all planned”, he whispers wringing his sweater. the gush of water drops on the deck, but the idol only looks at you. “weeks ago.” his fingers wrap around your writs, a silent plea to give the ring to its rightful owner – for now.

“i wanted to take you to the restaurant where we had our first date”, he admits and opens the bag. your first date had been a disaster – you’re still vividly remembering the food poisoning.

“then all the restaurants closed down; we were both so stressed… and… life went on”, yoongi continues as the ring dances between his fingertips. it looks like art without the plastic cheapening its presence.

“i... wanted it to be perfect.” his whispered words fall to the floor as he kneels in front of you. warmth is coloring your face, seeing your idol submitting to you.

“baby… you know how much i love you… how much you inspire me every day to become the best version of myself”, yoongi’s voice cracks against his words and you can’t help the softest coo from leaving your lips.

“i promise i’ll make you the best trophy wife of south korea.”

you snort as you hear boyish snicker from behind you at yoongi’s joke.

“will you spend the rest of my life with this ring on your hand?”, he asks and without waiting for an answer, he pushes the silver band on your finger. it fits perfectly.

“am i not supposed to agree first?”, you respond as your eyes stay on your future husband.

“oh baby, you agreed the moment you ate my burned pasta.” yoongi gets up and pushes a lose strand of hair behind your ears.

“you agreed the moment you moved in with me, a struggling insomniac.” his hands cradle your face, framing the expression of love between his palms.

“you agreed the moment you let me change your tampon because you were too drunk to move.” he gives you airy butterfly kisses.

“you agreed the moment you didn’t kill me for stealing your favorite ice cream from the freezer.”

“that actually was a close call”, you chime in, only to hear his soft chuckle.

“you agreed all those nights staying with holly in our shared bed while i traveled across the globe.”

a kiss is planted on the fresh scar across your temple. “you agreed all these moments where my depression was too much, where i was trapped in my own misery.”

a line of kisses travels to your mouth. mere millimeters from your lips he stills. “you do, right?”

under all the layers of love, confidence and familiarity, there is still a shy boy unsure of his worth. your smile is infused with giddiness as you close the gap, pressing your lips together in the softest kiss.

“i do”, you whisper in his mouth, only to meet his tongue with your own in a joyful dance. the boys around you are cheering, while the soft waves of the lake clash against the dock. you’re in pure bliss, kissing your wet fiancé fiercely.

and then you hear a loud thud, a wet slash on the wood. surprised, you both jump away a step – only to see a heaving seokjin lying flat on the deck, chest rising at a fast pace.

“i near- i nearly died for th-this engagement, ____. if – if i’m am not the be-best man, i’ll… will cast a spell on all- all yo-ur children.”

____

ah, this fic is crazy and totally not what i imagined it to become. i hope you enjoyed the read! there is only one chapter left (the stalker) – who’s excited for it? i hope you are doing well! to you, your family and/or loved ones i wish only the most festive time this week! love, dana

[amydancepants-peralta]

in the spirit of 4/28: if you’re willing to write non-peraltiago POV, could you maybe write the moment(s) that leas terry to decide he needed to tell jake to propose?

Terry loves love ♥

It all comes to Terry a few weeks after the squad captured the fugitives, on what seems like just another Friday night at Shaw’s.

(Which hardly feels like the ideal setting for an epiphany, but Terry supposes that’s what makes it so … epiphanic.)

It had been a long week - New York seemed to be feeling particularly felonious lately - and he was doubly tired from spending his Wednesday off helping Jake move apartments. With Sharon and the kids staying overnight at her mother’s, and high odds for a sleep-in the following morning, Terry’s plans didn’t stretch much further than washing his week away with a glass of whiskey or six.

That is until Terry noticed, about an hour into the squad’s drinking session; that a suddenly quiet Jake had removed himself from their booth, relocating to a seat by the bar where he could keep a close eye on the entrance. Amy was late - a rarity for any Santiago, but doubly so for Amy - and as Boyle plonks a fresh glass in front of him; Terry remembers watching her bolt out of the bullpen a few hours ago, a sudden lead on an otherwise dormant case too important to delay.

Terry hadn’t heard any updates since then; but given the lack of detailed reports landing in his inbox, and the look on Jake’s face whenever he checked his messages, he would have to assume the lead hadn’t panned out the way Amy hoped.

He’s in the midst of an argument with Rosa over which Friends character was superior (clearly Ross - Terry does not get all the Ross Hate) when Amy arrives ten minutes later, and Terry watches from his position in the corner as she heads straight towards Jake’s outstretched arms, her sense of defeat stretched clearly across sunken shoulders.

As though reverting to his detective days, Terry continues to observe the couple as Jake orders his girlfriend a beer, leading her over to another booth and sliding alongside her until their heads bow in quiet conversation. He thinks, as they talk and he sips, that there was once a time where Amy would have spent the rest of her evening at the precinct, pouring over paperwork, certain it’s the reason why they can’t catch the perp. Just as Jake would have taken the opportunity to boldly declare how he could have done it better - consequences (and unintentionally, feelings) unconsidered.

But now, Amy laughs with her head thrown back while Jake beams with pride; and in the past year or so has been known - after three drinks - to steal her boyfriend away to a slightly more secluded corner of the bar, dancing cheek to cheek to music only the two of them can hear.

It truly was the greatest thing to see, and part of Terry wishes he’d picked up on it sooner.

He watches Jake and Amy for the rest of the evening - even if they weren’t in the bullpen, these people were his work family, and Terry would look out for them anywhere - and as the empties begin to pile up at the squad’s table, the most simplest of truths comes to light. Somewhere along the way - in-between fire extinguisher roller chair derbies, robot captains and covert jimmy jabs - Jake Peralta had transformed into the man that Terry had always known he could be.

Gone was the promising detective that hadn’t quite figured out the puzzle on how to grow up, monopolising too much time in Terry’s therapy sessions. And in his place was one of the 99’s greatest detectives: a brilliant mind at solving puzzles, and a gentle soul who brought two extra gifts to last year’s Secret Santa, ‘just in case Scully and Hitchcock forgot again’.

Who's grin grew impossibly huge each time he’d said the words ‘our apartment’ since the move three days ago. A man who couldn’t get over Amy after that very first crush - no matter how hard he tried - because just like when Terry met Sharon, and they talked about Meatloaf until the bar closed around them; your heart always knows when you’ve found The One.

Jake had grown into someone that finally understood how worthy he was of love, and had a world of it to give in return. A man that was clearly ready to marry the love of his life - the one and only Amy Santiago - and her eyes already sparkled with an unspoken yes to any question of forever.

He thinks about the conversation they had that day in the squad car, racing to find escaped convicts and venting about wasted acrylics; and Jake’s muttered ‘Cool. Basically telling me to never get married or have kids’ in response. Terry hadn’t been lying - a march towards the closet does begin with a single step - but he’d neglected to mention all the great things that came with that closet.

Like coming home to see Sharon and the girls dancing to Destiny’s Child in the living room, or late afternoon naps with tiny heads snuggled into your side. Chaotic mornings filled with stress that melted away the instant you heard “I love you, Daddy”; and treasured moments of peace with Sharon, the couch, and a bottle of wine.

Terry would give up all the acrylics in the world for a hundred more moments just like that - and as the last drop of whiskey drains from his glass, he knows exactly what he needs to do.

***

Terry calls Sharon on the way home - waiting until he’s said goodnight to each one of his angels before telling her his plan. “So. I think Jake should propose to Amy.”

He can almost hear her smile down the phone line, and it makes him wish they’d be back from Sharon’s mother’s sooner. “You do?”

He shrugs into the otherwise empty interior, flexing his grip on the steering wheel out of habit. “Yeah. They’re clearly in love with each other, and … you know. He has that look.”

Sharon laughs - the same laugh Terry heard from his kitchen one morning, a year into their relationship, and just knew that he wanted to hear it for the rest of his life - before asking, “What look?”

“You know. The one I kept giving you when we first started dating. Like I’d finally found the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. So excited and completely scared that somebody could try and take it away.”

“Mmm, I know it well. And when it comes to Jake and Amy, somebody almost did .. right?”

Nodding, Terry thinks of the afternoons he’d find Amy crying in her car, the devastation of another day not knowing where Jake was hiding too hard to conceal for another minute. “Yeah. Almost.”

“Well … if you didn’t try and play cupid, you wouldn’t be the man I married, Terrence Jeffords.”

Terry’s shoulders bounce as he breaks into a tiny happy dance, and he grins. “Terry loves love, baby. Almost as much as Terry loves Sharon.”

“I love you too, baby. And we’ll be back home the day after tomorrow, just in time for you to hatch a plan on how to play matchmaker with my god-husband. I have a pretty good instinct he’ll make a great actual husband … and hopefully it’s someday soon. I am ready for a night of serious dancing.”

* * *

Terry wears his lucky red tie the following Monday, settling into his desk to focus on paperwork as the question of exactly how his plan will unfold remains unanswered at the back of his mind.

Before it’s even 10am, he manages to catch five not-so-secret glances between the two lovebirds (a private joke of some sort dancing in their grins); and pretends to be pre-occupied with his work when Amy sneaks in a quick good luck kiss before Jake leaves for the interrogation room. Terry watches it all with a suppressed grin, switching between several versions of his How To Encourage A Proposal plan as he signs off on the last form in his tray.

These two were clearly in love - and Terry couldn’t wait to see them take that next amazing step.

He catches Jake in the kitchen an hour later, watching as the detective rescues the puzzle section of Scully’s newspaper from certain destruction, placing it on Amy’s desk with a grin. As they stop to discuss Ocampo - a dealer that Jake and Rosa have just begun to tail - all of Terry’s pre-conceived plans of a casual topic change fall quickly by the wayside. As it turns out, telling a person they should propose is not something that comes up easily on it’s own.

And then he opens the fridge for his next scheduled snack, and realises that all this time, Terry’s inspiration was waiting in the very things he cherished the most.

The blueberry and vanilla yogurt containers feel cool against his fingertips, and with his stomach growling at the promise of a delicious meal, Terry nudges the door shut with his hip and calls out to his detective.

“Hey, Jake. Let me show you something amazing.”

(Terry really does believe that yoghurt is the solution to everything.)

[wolf-in-a-suit]

An exercise in plumbing

Summary: Jake messed up, what a surprise. Now he has to find refuge from the harsh winter temperatures. Along come Kevin and Holt, who really should have seen this coming.

The white isolation thingy that was “supposed“- to keep his pipes from freezing, melted under the extreme heat of Jake's hairdryer like a marshmallow at summer camp.

No, not good! Thinking about the delicious, soft, gooey snack would just make him hungry, as well as cold!

Winter had taken hold of Brooklyn fast. Almost with as much vigor as Amy had launched herself into this new 'paper- filling-super-important-system- conference - on the other side of the country, thank god!

The cheerful ringtone of his smartphone halted Jake's thoughts, now circling around s'mores.

Damn it!

One hand holding the hairdryer high above his head, the other reaching for his pocket, Jake supposed he made quite a good Statue of Liberty impression.

"Hey, Charles... not the best time, Bud." The ladder under him swayed threateningly, as to drive Amy’s point about the safety hazard of not using ladders appropriately further home.

"Hey, Jake. Just wanted to make sure if you’re okay!? I mean I would love to have you inside, with me,-" "-Charles! I wish you wouldn't say it that way!"

But as always, his complaints about “the misuse of language“ fell on deaf ears. "-but with my whole family over, there simplify isn't any more room. Although, if we squeezed reeeeally tight, we could-"

"You know what Charles, that's totally fine!" Jake interjected hastily "I'll manage. I mean, I am a grown adult, I can take care of a few pipes? That is what grown men do! Fixing pipes, and stuff...right?"

"You know, as your BFF, I have the utmost faith in your abilities, but perhaps you should call Terry, or Rosa?"

"Whaaaaat, noooo! Terry would crumble in an interrogation with Amy superfast and Rosa would snitch on me as soon as I offend her the next time. No, Amy cannot know! I mean even if I hadn't forgotten to raise the temperature- which, I didn't- it seems quite wasteful! Heating the space, when nobody is home, right!?"

 So, being the responsible adult and enviromentalist that he was, Jake snuck into the precinct. No one would be the wiser, all his coworkers were part of the day shift at the 99. And the night shift wouldn't care about another soul in their warm office anyway. Although, watching Gary make his way through the room, moving sluggishly like a Zombie stalking for brains, ‘souls‘ was probably a too good a word to use here.

Said creature of the night regarded him with eyes dulled by years of exposure to darkness and fluorescent computer screens in equal measures. He sniffed once, and continued to shuffle farther. Having lost all ability to recognize a mere mortal snack, even when standing right before him.

Jake sniffed his Jacket. It wasn't that ba - never mind!

 Like John McClane he weaved through the office of fiends and made his way to the Captain's office. As long as he didn't disturb one of the bazillion accurately arranged things, he could catch a warm nap there, without Captain Da- Holt being the wiser.

'Smort!' His brain proudly announced.

 Though, that thought froze as quickly as his pipes when the door to the office swung open and out stepped Holt, followed by an immaculate dressed Kevin.

 "Peralta?"

"Kevin!"

"Jake?"

"Captn' '" 

…

Ah, the soothing sound of silence, grating like sand in an engine.

Gary stumbled past them grunting something that was probably the Ghul equivalent of a 'Hey".

 "So, Jake. What are you doing here?" Holt's right eyebrow climbed about a millimeter higher up his brow. God-damn, that was Holt for: I am extremely startled and suspicious! Come now Jake, think of something... something normal, fitting for you…

"Ah, you know. Just starting to work early, I’d hate to be late!"

Yeah, that's just great. As expected of the current amazing genius / detective.

A deep sigh escaped Kevin. "Come now Peralta, out with the truth! The sooner you admit what you did, the sooner we can leave!"

"Whaaaaat, I didn't do anything, that's prepostous" "-preposterous" Holt corrected "that's what I said! I can talk like a grown person and am in no way searching for a warm room to spend the night because I messed up and let my pipes freeze!"

„So, you did not turn the heat up enough?!“ Both husbands helpfully supplied. „Well, no! But I wanted to get more resistant to cold temperatures, anyway! So that’s just like, part of my super, awesome, ninja training program!“

Without another word the two adults looked at each other and resumed their way to the elevator. Jake, counted that as a win. Coming out of the argument without a stern talking to, or a lecture seemed a win on all fronts! As he turned to Holt’s office Kevin voice stopped him, mid-step. „Peralta. We do not have all night! Come, please.“ Jake turned and felt his heart clench, in a probably unhealthy manner. If the tugging on his heartstrings was a result of the cholesterol of his nacho gummy bear diet, currently blocking his blood vessels, or the scenery before him, he didn't know.

Holt and Kevin both standing at the elevator entrance…, but turned towards him. Waiting! As if, it was the most natural thing, to expect Jake to come with them, without a second thought! 

„Please, do hurry. I would hate to miss the Midnight news!“ Holt added.

At the end of the day, Jake thought, suffering through the boring news broadcast, was a small price to pay for sitting on a warm couch, beside Kevin and Holt, feeling his eyes drop with each added, extremely boring word.

[yumefag]

OK this is going into a read more because that’s 10 questions. i really did become the sp/mton mutual didn’t i 💀

also doing it in alphabetical specifically to torture y’all

Art: Do either of you do some kind of art? Music, drawing, writing, baking, etc. Do you make gifts for the other?

well, obviously i do because *gestures to my art tag*. of course there’s also stuff i don’t post :3c

spam’s a creative i think but he doesn’t give himself much credit for it because, well, he’d describe it as lacking execution. he loves making cards and trying to create as a hobby but he has a hard time living up to his standards. it takes a lot of reassurance you love anything and everything he makes.

Early: Are you two early or late to events? Why?

LATE. oh my god. even if spam had a car he’s too unmedicated to have a sense of time. he’s the one who takes a long time to get ready while shouting that no one else is.

Garish: Do either of y’all have just… godawful fashion sense?

WE BOTH DO!!!! but we make it work. his big shot era really shines through in choice of fashion if he got the chance. he fully intends on making everything match with me, which i personally think is corny but you’d never stop your partner from doing what they love.

Kiss: Any preferred ways of showing affection? How about PDA?

it’s me 99% of the time lifting him up, whether it be for kisses or hugs or to see something better. i do think he hangs on my shoulder a lot when on the go because he also likes to feel tall.

on his side though he likes to be a little smarmy, grab butt and such. but that’s all i can say, i don’t think he’d do anything more tacky.

Marriage: Would y’all ever consider getting married? If so, what’s the wedding like?

OK so real talk, with the F/Os i DO want to marry, i’d prefer eloping on the virtue of my family being very judgmental of my tastes. i don’t even think a lot of them have family.

splam on the other hand- like, even though he has nobody, he still wants a giant fucking wedding. renting out a whole church, big band, giant cake, releasing doves (or an equivalent - maybe he just hoards a fuckton of maice and releases them into the empty crowd). and of course, you indulge on that, because as he puts it, “I DID NOT SPEND 15 YEARS IN A DUMPSTER TO NOT HAVE A MAGICAL WEDDING”

though what little choice i have in the wedding he respects and is more dedicated to than his wants.

Nap: Do y’all take naps together? How does that generally go?

i already nap a lot. i think initially he would hate that because he’s such an active person and i doubt he would need that much sleep, but soon after he would love it. he just lies on top of me and we accidentally oversleep. and we hold hands. we hold hands....

Oser: How adventurous are y’all? Do you try new things (new foods, going new places, etc) very often, or do y’all stick with what you know?

he likes exploring if i’m able to take him into the light world, but he also likes showing me places. at the same time we’re both autistic so we are absolutely limited on foods and how long we can go out before flopping on the living room floor.

Party: How do you act at parties? Have either of you been dragged along, or were you enthusiastic about going? 

i have been rotating the concept of being with big shot spam in my mind (as that’s the only context this would be applicable i think), and he’d probably be with me the entire time to calm down and show me off. that low self esteem still has a death grip on him...

Reassure: How do you comfort them when they’re upset? How do they comfort you?

we are both touch-starved kindred souls, so it’s mostly just cuddling. i try to talk him out of the space he’s in, run my hands through his hair.

he’s however naturally a goofball so initially he says stupid shit to try and make me laugh. if it doesn’t work because i’m so out of it, he just quietly holds on to me and rubs my back.

Sing: Do either of you sing along when music plays? What does the other think?

if we’re both alone we both do! in public it’s less likely to happen. but i’m assuming he thinks my voice is cute and sweet like most people think but probably to like 11 like he wants to pounce me.

i also think his voice, even if it ends up being scratchy (maybe he naturally has autotune? much to think about) would have its own charm that would make me sigh dreamily and want to smooch him.

anyway, end thread. i’m gay @clover-garden-selfshipping​ @haidahyena​ @sluggieships 

[morganas-pendragons]

Light | Wrecker

This is #1 of at least half a dozen or more fics I am gifting my Twitter kids for Christmas! I wanted to give back this year, and so I decided to write some things for characters I haven’t really tried anything for yet. Regardless of that, I hope you enjoy! 

I played around with the clones ages for this considering we don’t know how old The Bad Batch is - like with Rex physically looking like he’s in his twenties but not actually being so. 

This reader is a mom to the clones and uses she/her pronouns - exactly like the type in my headcanons - and she happens to have a favorite... 

***

This was supposed to be a no strings attached type of job. The Kaminoans had recruited you, a simple human, to be a caretaker - of sorts - for the hundreds of babies that occupied their nurseries within the cloning facilities. 

  “There’s no point in forming attachments, Miss. Soon enough they’ll be handed a gun and told to go play war.” 

Yeah. Well. You intend to give these children as much love as you are physically able, and that all starts with the first gaze you set upon one of the clones in the back of the nursery with the mutation. 

He’s among 3 others who are specifically mutated for purposes you are not privy to know as a civilian. That doesn't matter. You pass through lines of cradles and approach the four in the back, peering over the side to gaze into the wide and vulnerable eyes of the largest baby. 

  “Hello, sweet boy.” You murmur, grinning as he coos happily at your voice and lifts his arms upward for you to sweep him upward and into your warm embrace. “You’re stunning. I bet you’re going to be such a big, strong boy!” 

The baby’s response - despite only being old enough to hold himself upright in your lap - is only to clap joyfully and pound his tiny hands against your legs. 

Big, strong boy. You’re gonna change the world. I just know it. 

Wrecker, Age Four 

His brothers named him Wrecker. It’s fitting, given how much larger he became then the other clones, but you’re too attached to the boy to leave Tipoca City at the time that the Kaminoans have asked you to.

  “Buir!” You’ve been moved to the rooms in which they house the clones who are toddlers, and the first thing you see upon waking from your nap is a child sprinting as fast as he’s able to launch himself into your lap. “You’re awake!” 

You beam and press a kiss to his forehead. “Hi ad,” You whisper, peering over his shoulder as he wraps his arms around your neck and buries his face in your shoulder. “Something you need to tell me? I gotta go take care of your brothers.” 

  “They gave me a name today!” He says, and your eyes widen as you gaze at his three brothers who stand before you. 

  “Only because he nearly broke Viper’s nose!” 

You raise an eyebrow and gently pry Wrecker away from your chest. He’s definitely larger then the other clones despite how young he is, but he’d never use his size and strength for violence. Never. Your son is soft, innocent. He’s good. 

  “Wrecker, what’s-” Your gaze snaps back to the clone with the darker hair who then replies to your query with Hunter. It’s a fitting name. “Hunter, talking about?” 

That’s the same day you learn that the clones who will eventually make up the spec-ops team known as The Bad Batch are fiercely protective of each other. They must have learned it from the person who protected them. 

Little to the knowledge of most people, you took these four clones - the special ones, the ones who got the stares, the ones who got picked on and bullied by their brothers - under your wing. You saved them. 

And in turn they save each other. 

You are so proud to be Wrecker’s mother in that moment as he hastily recants a story of how he almost broke Viper’s nose simply because he was bullying Crosshair. 

  “Ad,” You ruffle his hair and beam with pride as you wind your arms around his body. “I am so proud of you.” 

When Wrecker climbs into bed that night, the words he never hears from his trainers and superiors rings in his mind as he burrows under the thin blanket the Kaminoans have given him and his vode. 

  “I am so proud of you.” 

As he falls into sleep, he dreams of his mother. A home, a family, and a mother standing in the kitchen unit - who gives him real food, real food he likes and he’s allowed to eat that tastes salty and sweet and sour and he’s so excited to have it - who treats her son as if he’s the whole world. The whole galaxy. 

Wrecker, Age 10 

The day he returns from a training mission with the rest of Clone Force 99 is the same day you have your first real battle with panic. According to what Crosshair and Tech tell you upon return, Wrecker was injured in a way that leaves him partially blind and with significant scarring. 

You’re terrified. He and the rest of the Batch have already had a difficult time integrating themselves in with their brothers to the point where they’ve taken to calling the non-mutated clones regs and now only associate with each other. You don’t particularly care much about that anymore. As long as they’re looking out for each other. 

When Wrecker is released from the medbay, you search the cloning facility for your son until you find him in the quietest room - the nursery - with his back against the wall and his chin resting on his knees. His face is scarred. His eye is cybernetic. 

Maker, you love him. 

  “Wrecker,” Hunter had warned you about approaching him - claiming he’d become hard of hearing with the explosion that had injured him - and had brought up a fantastic idea with Tech’s help that you were going to initiate as soon as he was ready. “Ad.”

Your son lifts his eyes to meet yours. 

  “Buir,” He replies softly, always so careful to not disturb the babies who lay in their cradles around him. “Did you need something?” 

You tilt your head and sit in front of him, parting your legs and resting your elbows against your knees. Wrecker watches you intently as you do so. He’s always been perceptive - not as much as Hunter, but enough - and with the lack of his sight, he’s having to rely more on his limited senses. 

  “Do you see this?” You take your fingers, press them all together, and rest them against the bottom of your chin before moving your hand forward. “This is sign language. It means thank you. It’ll be an easier way to talk to your vode when you can’t hear them so well. Is that something you’d be willing to learn?” 

He nodded and frowned. “I’m gonna miss blowing stuff up.” 

You reach outward, brush what remains of his hair away from his eyes, and repeat the sign for thank you and you’re welcome. He watches your hands mimic the movements before repeating them for you to see. Wrecker does them perfectly. 

  “Don’t worry.” You murmur. “You’re gonna get to blow stuff up again. I promise.” 

Your only response is his smile. It’s more than enough. 

Wrecker, Age 12  (Set during S7) 

'Сause you are loved You are loved more than you know I hereby pledge all of my days To prove it so

After a while, the Kaminoans have had their uses for you. Your services are no longer required and so you are sent back to the boring home world that you have barely stepped foot on since being sent to Kamino to be the caretaker to infant clones. 

Your experience with the formed Grand Army of the Republic is what gets you into the military, has you trained, and eventually what lands you on Anaxes. 

Though your heart is far too young to realize The unimaginable light you hold inside

  “Ma’am,” Cody’s voice rings out from behind you as you stand in the hangar bay, arms crossed over your chest with your eyes on the horizon as if waiting for the arrival of a ship. “I’ve cleaned your blasters. Just how you like them.” 

You turn to acknowledge the Marshal Commander and smile softly at him. While you spent much of your time with The Bad Batch on Kamino, the greater majority of the Commander Batch and the younger clones have considered you one of them for quite some time. 

  “Thank you Kote.” You murmur. He nods his acknowledgement and before he turns back to Kenobi, lays a hand on your shoulder and says something about the arrival of Clone Force 99 for a mission they’re assigned to do with Rex. “What?” 

The less then graceful landing of the ship known as the Havoc Marauder signals their arrival. You don’t dare move. It’s been too long since you’ve seen them, seen him, and you want to value the moment while you can. 

I'll give you everything I have I'll teach you everything I know

They had never really known the lengths you went to in order to protect them - to protect him - and give him the life, the childhood, you felt he deserved. The Bad Batch had still had it rough, but your gentle nature upon meeting them had impacted them significantly. 

  “The Calvary has arrived!” 

The first thing you see is the personalized armor. You are not the slightest bit surprised they threw in all their effort into ensuring their armor - out of the entire army - was the most notorious. Not to mention that as someone who watched them all grow up, you can see each of their personalities within the way they’ve painted it. 

Then you see him. It’s unmistakeable that it’s Wrecker considering how much taller and broader he is then the rest of The Bad Batch, but it’s not him that notices your presence first. 

It’s Tech. Ever the perceptive, constantly absorbing as much information as able, constantly recording everything, who sees you standing in the hangar and nudges his brother in the midst of speaking to Rex and Cody to point you out. 

  “Mom?” Cody asks skeptically, followed by a gasped “Buir? That’s the buir I never got to meet?!” 

Kix is laughing hysterically at the way Jesse guffaws upon realizing that you are the infamous mother to the clones, but only these four and specifically Wrecker, but the way your heart swells when Wrecker notices you standing there far outweighs the reactions of all the other vode around you. 

Instead of a greeting, Wrecker does one thing. He sees you, beams like the sun lives deep within him, and very promptly tosses you upward to sit on his shoulders. He looms over all his brothers. That doesn’t stop him. 

Oh... oh, that boy has not and will never change. 

With every heart beat I have left

I will defend your every breath

Bonus: 

  “I get to blow it up? The whole stinking thing?” Wrecker asks, to which he then looks to you with wide eyes. “You made a promise!” 

You smirk and pat Anakin’s shoulder as you pass him. “Oh, I know I did.” You reply. “Anakin is keeping up on my promise for me.” When Wrecker begins to take the detonator, you turn to the Jedi and meet his gaze. I’ve been promising him this since he was old enough to know how to blow things up.” You coax him into fully handing over the detonator to your son. “Go on. Make his year.” 

Admiral Trench’s cruiser explodes in a cloud of sparks behind The Havoc Marauder. 

[leafs-lover]

Because Two People Got Drunk: 32

Series Masterlist

Chapter 32

A/N: I finished this kind of quickly and wanted to get it out so I didn’t re-read it, So I hope it’s okay. Italics indicates flashback.

Summary: You and Fred adjust to a home life with three kids, and attend Sidney and Kathy’s wedding.

Warning: Drinking, swearing, smut, oral sex (m+f) receiving

Word Count: 5800

“Hey” you smile wrapping your arms around Kathy.

“Hey come in” she smiles pulling to the hotel room. You walk in seeing the five other bridesmaids and a bottle of champagne already empty on the table. A couple of the girls have face masks on, laughing about something; others are sitting on the couch with half empty glasses. Tomorrow is Sidney and Kathy’s wedding, being a bridesmaid you are staying with the group for a relaxing night before all the festivities begin first thing in the morning.

“You must be so happy to get away for a night” one of the girls says to you, Kathy passing you a red solo cup with champagne.

Tonight is the first night you are without the kids, and its Fred’s first time watching the three of them for a night alone. You chuckle slightly “yeah I feel bad for Fred” you say taking a sip.

“You don’t have to lie to us” Kathy says smirking over her cup.

You smile and chuckle “okay I kind of feel bad for him but I’m also super happy to be away and have a night off. A night with an entire bed to myself, it is going to be amazing.”

“And no diapers or someone puking on you” one of the girls jokes causing everyone to laugh.

The twins have been home for almost 5 weeks and it has been just as crazy as you imagined. You haven’t left Fred alone with the three of them for more than a couple hours at a time; not because you don’t think he can handle them but because you feel bad given how crazy it has been. That is until three weeks ago.

“Freddie” you call walking out to the living room. Fred is lying shirtless on the couch, Noah resting against his chest and Lucas sleeping in his arm. Fred doesn’t respond and you walk further in “shhh daddy’s sleeping” Oliver calls from the floor playing with a puzzle, causing you to smile placing your groceries on the counter.

You had some errands to run and left Fred alone with the three boys for the first time. You felt bad leaving but Fred said he would be fine, but you remember the time you were alone with them and how terribly it went. Fred reassured you everything would be fine so you headed out.

You had a dentist appointment and a hair cut in preparation for the wedding. After your haircut you checked your phone not seeing any notifications and went to get some groceries; but you didn’t notice you had accidentally put your phone on flight mode; preventing calls and texts from getting through.

Your smile quickly fades as you scan the room taking in what has unfolded during your absence. Dishes and bottles were pilled all over the counter; Fred’s shirt is thrown over the back of a barstool. You see some vomit staining his blue t-shirt and chuckle lightly. Oliver has a million toys strewn across the floor his shirt nowhere in sight.

You walk over to Oliver, dodging the blocks scattered around the floor and kiss his forehead “you good for daddy while I was gone?” you ask softly and he nods not looking up from his puzzle.

Your eyes shift to the couch, soft snores leaving his mouth and he has some dried vomit in his hair. You carefully pull Lucas from his arm and Fred doesn’t move. You walk across the room and put him in his baby swing turning it on a soft setting.

When you pick up Noah Fred stirs and his eyes flutter open “hey” he mumbles through a raspy dry voice.

“What happened to his clothes?” you ask eyeing to Noah who is just in a diaper.

“He had a um…incident” he mumbles rubbing his eyes. “Diaper, poop” he pops his hands open to mimic an explosion. “After cleaning him in the sink I never managed to get him some new clothes.”

You sit beside him on the couch bouncing Noah in your arms trying not to laugh, but secretly thankful you missed it. “Lucas projectile vomited all over me” he groans rolling on his side while you brush his hair out of his eyes. “Oliver had something, I don’t even know. He picked up on the stress or wanted attention, I don’t know. He had a meltdown; threw his toys around spilt lunch on himself and the floor. Twins were screaming bloody murder, it was a fucking disaster.”

“Why didn’t you call me?” you ask watching his eyes close again feeling extremely guilty being gone for so long.

“I did, it went right to voicemail, texts undelivered. I figured you just wanted to enjoy your time away” he laughs.

“Sorry babe” you respond lightly placing a soft kiss on his forehead.

“It’s okay, I just don’t remember newborns being this tiring” he mumbles rising up on his elbow. His eyes go wide while he takes in the disaster in front of him..

“Last time we were younger. There was also only one baby then” you respond laying him back on the couch.

“Calling me old babe?” he laughs eyes closing. You kiss his forehead and place a blanket over him “no never” you joke smiling at him. ”Go have a nap I’ll clean up and make dinner.”

“Babe don’t leave me again” he mumbles which causes tears to prick the corner of your eyes; guilt washing over you. You shoot him a soft smile and stand up to get some clothes for Noah.

Since that day three weeks ago neither of you have left the other alone for an extended period of time. That is until now; he reassured you he would be fine, having a few more weeks to adjust to having three kids. You promised to make sure your phone wasn’t on airplane mode and he promised to message you if something happened. But you honestly doubt he would call you tonight, the night before the wedding unless the house was on fire.

A few hours later you are in your pyjamas in your room alone, you want to just curl up under the duvet and wait until the morning light filters in through the window but you know you shouldn’t. You pull your phone out Facetiming Freddie.

“Hey babe” he mumbles. The screen is dark for a second while you wait for him to turn on a lamp. He presses his eyes closed, gently rubbing the sleep from them before squinting at the bright lights.

“We’re you sleeping?” you ask. You look to the clock and it reads 11:06 and you feel a tinge of guilt.

“Yeah well looking after three babies for almost 8 hours gets can be exhausting” he sighs resting his phone against the pillow. “Fell asleep at like 9:30.”

“Sorry go back to bed” you say softly “I’ll see you tomorrow anyways.”

“No I want to hear about your night of freedom” he laughs. “You girls do anything crazy?”

“Room service, mani/pedi’s, face masks, champagne” you say smiling.

“Sounds really nice” he yawns eyes struggling to stay open.

“It is, now I have this king sized bed all to myself” you respond.

“It sucks I miss you in this bed” he whines.

“I’d miss me too” you giggle into the phone.

The corners of Fred’s mouth curl up, “drunk babe?” he laughs.

“We didn’t drink a lot with the wedding tomorrow and everything” you explain, a hiccup coming out of your mouth. You laugh a little bit “maybe I am a bit” you reply and Fred laughs back into the phone.

“I like slightly drunk (Y/N)” he says seductively. “Drunk (Y/N) is fun.”

You grin into the screen and talk a little bit longer, he tells you about his night with the boys. You tell him more about the night with the girls, your buzz from the champagne making you extra talkative. You notice Fred is quiet and see his eyes are shut, having fallen asleep holding the phone. You chuckle and hang up, quickly falling into a deep sleep.

“Oh we’re having kids right away, by this time next year I want there to be a baby” Kathy says from her chair getting her hair done. Sarah the maid of honour walks around handing out some mimosas to everyone before sitting down for her hair.

“I’m legit getting my IUD out 5 hours before we leave for our honeymoon, we aren’t messing around” she says taking a sip.

“Oh I need to get mine” you say quietly, with how busy the past few weeks have been you forgot to make an appointment.

Kathy all but chokes on her mimosa “what do you mean you need to get yours?”

You turn your head meeting her gaze not realizing she heard you. You feel all eyes on you while the hair stylists continue quietly working on your hair. “I’ve just been so busy the past month or so, I completely forgot to make an appointment. Three babies are a lot, were constantly busy.”

“And you think four will be easier?” she scolds from beside you. “Are you trying to get pregnant again!?”

“God no, we are done, we decided pretty soon after finding out it was twins we were done” you saw laughing.

“Then why aren’t you on birth control? You guys are obviously very fertile” Sarah jokes taking a sip from her glass.

“Well the plan was for me to get an IUD after giving birth, but after the emergency C that didn’t happen. But we’ve been so busy since the twins came home; I mean we barely have time for sex.” That part isn’t a lie; you would only need one hand to count how many times you have had sex. Lucas and Noah are on opposite schedules during the night, so when you get one to sleep, you get about 2 hours or so before the other wakes up. Between the limited sleep and chasing a rambunctious toddler who has been boycotting nap time it has led to you and Fred spending most nights actually sleeping instead of tangled in the sheets.

You get some suspicious glances from the girls “a couple nights ago we were getting ready for bed and Fred came up behind me in the bathroom kissing my neck. I finished my routine and walked into the bedroom less than ten minutes later and he was snoring on top of the sheets. It’s pretty common in our house” you laugh.

“Kay, but Oliver took one time” Kathy says.

“Yeah but I’m breast feeding, it’s 99% effective until they are 6 months. I will get an IUD but until then my doctor says we’re protected.” you reply smiling. The women drop it and continue with casual conversation while you finish getting ready.

“You look stunning” Fred says finding you after the ceremony at the fountain outside the venue. The entire wedding party and family members are scattered around in various conversations while the pictures are taken. His hands rest on your waist he leans down to kiss your cheek.

Kathy picked out a navy spaghetti strap dress with a deep v-shaped neckline, the fabric gathers just above your waist. There is a slit coming up your leg, stopping high on your thigh. You have a natural look for makeup complete with nude lips and gold eyes. You have a braid in your hair creating a crown around the back; it then is pulled into an updo at the back of your head with a few loose curls framing your face. Your hair being held back by a million bobby pins shows off the cut of your dress.

“Thanks babe” you respond smiling. You run your hands over his suit jacket “you look amazing too” you rise slightly on your heels to kiss him on the lips. He is wearing a new crisp burgundy suit with a black skinny tie.

“Ok, I look good, but have you seen yourself? I’ll have to thank Kathy later” he jokes placing a hand on your lower back. “This dress babe, absolutely stunning” he leans down to place another kiss on your lips when you get interrupted.

“(Y/N) we need you for a picture” Sarah calls causing Fred to groan and pull away from you.

“Guess I’ll just have to stare at you for the next few hours” he brings his lips to the side of your face “and think of what I’ll do once you’re out of that dress.” He pulls away smirking at you and walking away from you, you feel some wetness pool between your legs. You take a couple deep breaths before joining the group for pictures.

The rest of the wedding goes off without a hitch, throughout the dinner you feel Fred staring at you from his table across the venue. Every time you catch him staring he smiles at you and turns his attention away briefly, only to bring it back a few minutes later. You shake your head at him slightly; your eyes go wide when he licks his lips with his eyes locked on you.

“You know the entire ceremony all I was thinking about was what you’re going to look like in a wedding dress” he whispers hand sliding onto your lower back dancing slowly to the music.

You smile looking past him but turn to meet his gaze “I mean it” he says kissing your forehead “I can’t wait until it’s our wedding.”

“Want to push it to next year?” you ask while he spins you back into his hard chest. You had been discussing taking two years for the wedding just so you aren’t rushed and don’t have to pull time away from your family to get everything done.

“Think we can get everything done in time? Won’t be too stressful for us” he’s holding you close; you can smell his cologne causing your breath to catch in your throat.

“Yeah I was looking at places, and this one castle has a planner that will help coordinate most of the stuff” you respond. “They do the food, alcohol, décor and have an in house photographer and videographer.”

He turns to look at you slightly confused “didn’t know there were any castles in North America.”

“Oh I was thinking Denmark” you say smiling up at him.

Fred stops dancing looking down at you “you want to get married in Denmark?”

“Yeah” you smile. “It’s so beautiful there, and it’s where you’re from.”

“And you’re from Canada; there are a lot of beautiful places there. You don’t want to get married there?” he asks.

“Canada doesn’t have castles, besides we can leave the boys at your moms and go on our honeymoon” you say causing a large grin to cross his face while he resume dancing.

“So Denmark, next summer” he repeats with a smile on his face. You nod in agreeance feeling Fred’s lips press against yours; you release his arm sliding a hand up to the back of his neck. You open your mouth to deepen the kiss. You feel Fred lean forward, tilting you back your other hand gripping the back of his neck. Your moans are swallowed by the kiss, his hand sliding slightly lower to your ass where it stays for a few more songs.

You see the other guests making their way to the roof and follow the crowd. You lean your head back onto Fred’s chest, his hand resting on your stomach. You tilt your head to the sky, watching as it lights up in a colourful display. Fred’s thumb gently rubs circles on your stomach, a soft sigh leaving your lips while you watch the fireworks.

“I love you” Fred whispers in your ear part way through the show “I’m so lucky to have you.”

You turn around in his grip, wrapping your arms around him under his jacket resting your head on his chest. A slight shiver courses through your body from the cool night air, arms tightening against his body. Fred pulls away and pulls his jacket off and drapes it over your shoulders. You tilt your head, your gaze shifting from the fireworks to Fred’s eyes.

The colours in the sky reflecting off his eyes while he smiles down at you. The heels you are wearing help to close the gap, but you still have to lift up slightly to press your lips to his. One of Fred’s hand rests on your back inside his jacket, the other gripping the back of your neck. It runs slightly into your hair getting caught in the curls and bobby pins currently holding it in place.

You open your mouth for him, his tongue sliding in. Your hips involuntarily arch forward into his touch, hands sliding up his stubbled chin. His hand on your back slides down giving your ass a firm squeeze causing you to pull away slightly with your draw dropping open,.

“Relax my jacket is long enough nobody can see” he mumbles bringing his lips closer to yours again. You can see the half smile tugging at the sides of his mouth when his lips come crashing back against yours.

“How long do we have to stay” you mumble into the kiss.

You hear Fred groan and feel his half erection pressing into your stomach. He pulls his left hand away to look at the watch wrapped around it “its only 11” he responds causing a loud groan to slip from your lips. Luckily the firework display muffles you from nearby guests.

“We have a very comfortable bed waiting for us” you continue resting your hand on his chest feeling some moisture that has collected from the dancing throughout the night.

“A bed where we can sleep uninterrupted” he jokes “no kids.”

You laugh turning your gaze back to the firework show as they prepare for the finale. “Sleeping in, breakfast in bed” he groans under his breath, you clench your legs

A few hours later after many more drinks you are finally walking into the hotel elevator. As soon as the door closes Fred is on you, hoisting you up with ease. He presses your back to the wall, your legs naturally wrapping around him. His hand slides to the bottom of your thigh, while his other to your thigh where your leg slit has left you exposed. He runs his hand up your skin stopping when he hits your hip bone. His thumb plays gently with the cloth covering your core his mouth peppering kisses along your exposed collarbone only stopping when the door dings open.

He sets you down, adjusting his jacket while you fix the fabric that has shifted from your breasts. He leads you down the hall holding the door open for you. You step out of your shoes and Fred immediately loosens his tie pulling it over his head, throwing it along with his jacket on the floor. Fred turns and bends down throwing you over his shoulder while making his way to the bed.

He throws you onto the bed a light squeal escapes from you. You hear his shoes be kicked to the side, next is a belt buckle clanging on the hardwood floor and last his vest is discarded on the ground. You rest on your forearms watching as he undoes a couple buttons from his neck. You swallow the lump in your throat feeling wetness pool between your legs.

You think about how you could stare at Fred all night while he rolls the sleeves of his dress shirt up, showing off his muscular forearm. Before you have a chance to stare much longer Fred crawls over you locking you in a hungry and passionate kiss. He bends your knee his hand running up and down the exposed skin from your slit.

He crawls down you climbing inside the bottom of your dress hooking your legs over his shoulders in the process. He slowly arches your back off the bed pulling your underwear down your legs. You feel him alternate between kissing and sucking the side of your thigh, while a deep exhale leaves your lips.

He nips your skin slowly approaching the area you need him most, his beard rubbing against your folds. He turns his head, warm breath blows against you coming closer to you. His nose presses into your clit first, followed by his mouth gently attaching to you. He flattens his tongue and licks a stripe up you, your head falling back into the pillow.

He groans against you “you’re so wet baby” he mumbles placing long licks, cleaning up what has been pooling all night.

“You’ve seen yourself right” you moan while he dip his tongue inside your walls. You feel the corners of his lips curl up at your comment licking deep inside you. Your heels dig into his back; you reach down to grab his hair but are met with the chiffon fabric of your dress. You bring them down to your side and grip the bedding his nose digging in deeper into your clit.

You buck your hips up towards his face, his hands slide over your hips pulling you down closer to his face. You start rocking your hips against his face and tongue moaning loudly. He flicks his tongue sucking against your clit.

“Oh fuckkkkk” you moan loudly. Too loudly; feeling his tongue hitting inside your sweet spot. He throws his arm over your hips pinning you to the mattress; he rolls his head around in circles, grunting and moaning into your pussy. You feel your orgasm building when he curls his tongue inside you. He brings up two fingers sliding them in and opening you up further moaning at the taste of you.

Your legs tighten around his head holding him closer to you while you clench around his tongue. He works you through your orgasm continuing the pace until you stop. You relax against him when you are finished and he pulls his tongue out all the way cleaning you up. You expect him to stop but he continues to lick up and down your pussy, flicking at your clit when he gets to it. His fingers curl in hitting your sweet spot he hits it a few times tongue flicking against your clit. He brings you to another quick orgasm, this one so strong your legs shaking around him. Your knuckles are white and you tremble; his tongue still working you through it.

He pulls his head away slowly, his beard grazing along your thighs. You shiver at the contact and the feeling of your sensitive cut being released.

“You need more clothes like this” he says head popping out from your dress “the leg slit is very useful.”

You tilt your head laughing while your grip eases on the bedding. “I’ll be sure to add some in to my wardrobe, flowy dresses are very convenient with newborns.”

Fred crawls up towards you, juices glistening off his beard a smile plastered on your face. “Good” he mumbles bringing his lips to yours. You moan tasting yourself on him and feeling his painfully hard member pressing into your stomach.

He pushes your straps down your shoulders and he gently lifts your back feeling around for a zipper. “It’s on the side” you whisper turning slightly to allow him better access. You hear the zipper while he slowly drags it down you helping you out of it. He throws it over to the side, falling off the chair onto the floor.

His mouth immediately attached to your breast sucking on the nipple. You bring your hands down to his waist fumbling with the button as his thumb reattaches to your clit. A loud gasp leaves your lips having not recovered from your previous two orgasms. He chuckles mumbling something against your exposed flesh while you try to focus through the pleasure to push his pants down his thighs.

His mouth switches to the other breast; you bring your hands up to address his shirt. You lift a leg trying to push his pants down with your foot. Fred’s thumb presses harder into your clit causing a loud moan to leave your lips.

“Freddie” you whine unable to concentrate on stripping him. His head pops up “yeah babe?” he asks knowing exactly what you want.

“You need to stop so I can take your clothes off.”

He just smiles at you and pulls away resting on his knees. He undoes the final two buttons and pushes his dress shirt off his body; you see beads of sweat rolling down his chest. He pushes his pants and boxers of his legs his cock springing free. A light moan escapes your lips watching it slap against his stomach. It’s painfully hard, head glistening with precum your mouth waters thinking about wrapping your lips around it

“You can’t” he whispers following your gaze. A pout comes across your lips “just a little” you whine back.

He groans and falls onto his back shaking his head at you “just a taste” he responds bending an arm behind his head. “Thanks” you hum adjusting yourself between his legs.

You wrap your lips around the tip, and slowly take more and more into your mouth until he is hitting the back of your throat. You can hear Fred moaning, you look up at him through your lashes half expecting him to cum then and there from the sounds he is making. You swirl your tongue around him, running it up the vein on the underside, he attempts to grab your hair but is met by a mess of hairspray and pins.

You rise up leaving just the tip remaining in your mouth. You smirk up at him and bring your mouth down, your nose hitting his pelvis. His hips lift off the bed while you do this a few more times. Finally you feel him grip your hair and pull you off him, saliva dripping down your chin.

“I said a taste” he growls pushing you onto your back. You feel him poke at your entrance and slowly push into you. You take a sharp inhale feeling him stretch your walls from the limited sex you have had with him recently.

He continues to gently push in you, staring at you and watching your expression the entire time while you accommodate him. He goes slowly but with determination, gently thrusting back and forth as he works his way deeper inside you. Your hands find the back of his neck, gripping his chain pulling his forehead down to yours.

The pain slowly turns into pleasure while he continues his gentle but persistent pace. His forehead is glued to yours, his brown eyes never leaving yours. Each thrust going slightly deeper than the last, Fred biting his lower lip the entire time.

You can hear how wet you are every time he thrusts into you, finally he bottoms out. His pelvis connects with yours, the head of his cock pressing up against your cervix, just gently pushing it. He softly grunts feeling your warm walls holding him in; muttering under his breath. "So sexy …Fuck..Milking my cock".

Your legs wrap around his waist, a hand sliding down his neck to his bicep. Fred picks up the pace, your nails digging crescent shaped marks in his muscles. He moves your legs so they are against his shoulders, getting even deeper inside you. You turn into a writhing mess under him, your third orgasm swiftly building. Fred snaps his hips, fucking into you faster and faster.

Your hips arch off the bed, the room being filled with your loud moans. Fred smirks knowing exactly where you are thrusting faster as you cum for him. You clench around him holding him tightly inside you, walls fluttering around his cock.

And then, Fred groans, and you are met with his familiar warmth filling you up. He gives you a few more slow thrusts before releasing your legs and he practically melts on top of you. You lightly rake your hand over his sweaty back while he moans softly, your heart rates slowly returning to normal.

His soft moans turn into soft snores. He is fully on top of you, his dick still resting inside of your walls. If it wasn’t for the exhaustion you would have woken him up, but you know how much he needs the sleep so you allow your eyes to close using the man above you as a blanket.

You are the first to wake up in the morning, Fred now lying beside you on his back. At some point you both made your way under the sheets which are hanging low on his hips. You cautiously crawl out of bed, careful to not wake the sleeping man beside you.

You return from the bathroom a few minutes later having pulled out a bunch of the pins in your hair and notice the sheet had slipped down past his waist. His beautiful cock right there on display.

You consider waking him up in a way that has been appreciated in the past but decide to let him sleep a little longer. You walk around the bed lifting the sheet and crawling back in. Fred feels the bed shift and his eyes flutter open, you lying on your arm looking at him.

“Morning” he mumbles through a hoarse voice.

“Hey” you whisper brushing the hair from his forehead.

“What time is it?” he asks rolling onto his side to look at you. He smiles, his brown eyes opening completely to look at you. You reach for your phone but it’s off causing you to groan and rise up to look at the clock on the table beside him. “Fuck your beautiful” he says bringing his thumb to rub up and down your arm.

You go to smile until you see the time “fuck Fred it’s after 11.” You quickly throw the sheet off to get out of the bed but he easily grips you pulling you back down to the bed.

“Babe” you whine “checkout is 10.”

“Well that’s long gone” he laughs. You try to push him away but he firmly holds you to his chest. He chuckles at your meek attempt to free yourself “it’s not a big deal, we’ll just have to pay for another night.” Fred rolls on top of you, his entire weight pinning you below him.

“But Christie” you start. You only have her booked until 12, and you still have to pack and do the 30 min drive across the city.

“I scheduled her til 2” he mumbles lips attaching to your neck. Before you can process what he said or respond there is a knock on the door forcing him to pull away. He stands up and throws his dress shirt your way for you to cover up with while he quickly pulls his dress pants up his large thighs.

He waits for you to do some of the buttons and adjust the blankets around your waist then opens the door. You hear some muffled talking and some creaking and are met by a man wheeling in a table with breakfast. His eyes go wide seeing you in bed, Fred’s white dress shirt doing little to hide your perked nipples. His eyes linger a little causing your cheeks to heat up; when Fred clears his throat causing the man to excuse himself and leave the room.

“You planned this” you exclaim hearing the door shut.

“That guy couldn’t have been any more obvious” he ignores you walking over to pour you some coffee.

“Fred” you say grinning at him waiting for a response.

“Yes I obviously planned this. He pours some syrup over the french toast and brings a piece to your mouth. You open slightly the fork sliding between your lips. You moan, your mouth being filled with amazing flavours.

“When I booked the hotel I made it for three nights. I actually considered trying to get you stay, but I knew there was no way you would leave the boys for three nights.” You smile at him over your mug loving that he knows you that well. As much as you have enjoyed the 36 or so hours away you can’t wait to get back to your sons.

“That and I felt bad for Christie if we had of left her alone for two nights” he laughs biting a piece of bacon.

“I figured we both could use a day to sleep in” he says bringing more french toast to you. “So I ordered us a late breakfast.”

“And my phone” you respond knowing you had an alarm set, picking up a fork and dig in to the hash browns.

“You put it in my pocket and wandered off to the bar. I just turned it off” he shrugs while you laugh. He places a quick kiss on your cheek “have to admit it was a good plan.”

He quickly returns his attention to the breakfast shovelling in a few more bites. You laugh resting your head on his shoulder “yeah you’re pretty awesome” you respond setting your mug back on the table. You feel a pin digging into the side of your skull and pull away, walking to the mirror you pull out the few you had forgotten earlier.

You hear the clatter of cutlery on the table, and Fred wheels it a few feet out of the way. His arm grips around your waist pulling a squeal from your mouth “you look incredible in my shirt” he groans pulling you to the bed. His thumb grips your hip while he bends you over the foot of the bed, his pants quickly landing in a pile at his feet.

You press your hips back feeling his erection press into your ass. He pushes his shirt up exposing you to him, he brings a hand firmly to your ass. You groan feeling pain radiate in your cheek and wetness build in your core. His hard cock grazes your folds soaking up some of your juices before he slams in to you.

Unlike last night you aren’t given time to adjust. Your ass is immediately met by his stomach, him pressed fully inside of you while he begins a fast pace. Your fists clenched on the sheet, your pussy clenches around his cock. You moan loudly, screaming into the duvet and pushing yourself back onto him.

Wedding look:

Next Chapter

[clemanime]

Artistic

A/N: Here you go. Another one. This took me some time cause I was having trouble with staying focused instead of being distracted.

WARNING: Smut, unprotected sex, and if you use an oxygen mask thigh riding

     “Excuse me Miss?” She looked up from her spot under the tree. Him. The man she’d been sketching for over a month now. When he first ran past her, she couldn’t help but pull out her sketch book and get to work.

     “Yes?” She questioned.

     “I’m sorry to bother you.” He cleared his throat. “But I’ve noticed that you’ve been under this same tree every day.” Steve put his hands on his hips, smiling slightly as he tried to catch his breath.

     “And you’re on lap number 99?” She shot him a sly smirk.

     “And you, correct me if I’m wrong, are shading my features.”

She looked down at her sketch, closing it and pushing it in her bag. “I’m sorry.” She cleared her throat, scratching her head.

     “No, it’s fine. Honest.” He smiled as he walked towards her, large arms crossing as he unintentionally towered over her. “I’m glad I could be someone’s inspiration for art.” He leaned his head to the side as he squatted down next to her.

     “Well you have a nice body and you’d make a great character for a Webcomic or a superhero comic in general.” She smiled to herself. “Piercing blue eyes, broad shoulders, bulging biceps, anything you wear would look great on you.” She couldn’t stop talking. “I bet a smirk from you could stop a war.” She stood up. “Can’t blame a girl for admiring your physique.” Her eyebrows rose in shock, her hand flying to her mouth. “I...” She grabbed her things, going to walk away but stopping. “Can we pretend that we didn’t have a conversation? Go back to me being the silent woman drawing under a tree?” She could see the sadness in his eyes, her hands shooting out to comfort him but stopped. “Or...” She adjusted her bag on her shoulder. “Or we don’t forget this conversation?”

     “The first woman I’ve approached in over 100 years.” Steve smirked, putting his hands on his hips. “If you want to draw me it’s fine. I don’t mind.”

     “Really?” She seemed to light up, stepping towards him. “You’d be my model?”

     “Sure.” He shrugged. “If you want to meet up later-”

     “Yes.” She cleared her throat. “I mean. Yeah sure I’m not busy or anything.” She tried to play it cool but the boyish smile on Steve told her that there was no coming back from it.

     “Great." Steve nodded. Steve pulled out a small notepad from the pocket of his sweatpants, motioning to the pencil she had placed behind her ear. "Can I borrow that?" Before she could respond, his large hand was near her face, the heat radiation from him different than the summer heat. It was comfortable, a temperature that one wouldn't mind surrounding themselves in on a chilly night. Or a night full of sensual fun that would end with bite marks, scratches, and hickies. Even though Steve looked composed, inside he was just as excited as she was. As he wrote down his address his excitement grew. “I’ll see you later then.”

     “Yeah.” She smiled brightly, taking the small piece of paper and her pencil. A car pulled up behind Steve, the window rolling down.

     “Hey!”

The pair looked at the car, Steve giving the man in the car a friendly smile. “It’s time for you nap Old Man.” Sam smiled.

Steve turned to face her, holding the pencil out to her. “I’ll see you later then.”

     “Hold on to it.” She put her hands in her pockets. “That’s my favorite mechanical pencil so I’ll be taking it back later.” She smiled.

     “I’m Steve by the way.” He walked backwards, the boyish smirk on his lips again.

At HQ Steve fixed up his room as Bucky leaned against the door frame with Sam behind him. “So this Dame you’ve been talking about is coming over to draw you?” Bucky questioned his friend but didn’t receive an answer.

     “Ask him about the pencil.” Sam chuckled, nudging the other super soldier.

     “Don’t ask.” Steve looked around his room, nodding before looking at his friends.

     “What pencil?” Bucky looked from Sam to Steve, his curiosity peaked.

     “The mechanical pencil that he’s been staring at since he got in my car.” Sam teased.

     “Come on.” Steve put his hands on his hips, sighing as he shook his head. “She’s going to be here soon. I need everyone on their best behavior.”

     “You plan on courting her?” Bucky questioned. “Taking her on dates?” Steve looked down, scratching his head as he started pacing back and forth. “You really like her. Steve you just started talking to her today.” Steve looked at his friends. “Alright.” He put his hands up, backing away from the door.

     “I think it’s adorable that our Steve Rogers is going to get a girlfriend.” Natasha appeared next to Sam. “And he actually took a duster to his room.”

     “I thought he was tired of living like an artifact.” Tony walked up. “Come on kids. Stop bullying your older brother. He’s hit puberty and he’s thinking about girls. Disperse.” Everyone walked away and Steve walked into his bathroom, getting himself ready for his “modeling” session.

She got out of her car, looking at the building in awe. “He’s rich.” She spoke softly to herself. She walked towards the door, clutching her bag as she rang the bell.

     “You must be the artist.”

She jumped, looking at the small speaker. “Hi.” She leaned forward. “Is, uh, Steve here?” She questioned, leaned her head to the side.

     “If by Steve you mean Captain Steve Rogers then yes.” He answered. “Come on in.” The door opened and she walked in after thanking him.

Moving through the building, she could tell that it was built to house multiple people. She stopped at a painting, leaning her head to the side as tried to figure out the chaotic energy coming from it. “So this is the artist.”

     “Oh.” She looked at Tony, smiling. “You’re Tony Stark.” She held her hand out, smiling. “You’re one of the best Engineers I know.” She smiled. “I can’t believe I’m meeting the man that created a suit of armor that can fly and is also a weapon.”

     “Glad to know that you have taste.” He turned and the pair walked down the hall. “Are you an Engineering major?” Tony questioned.

     “No. I’m an Art major.” She squeezed the strap of her bag, waiting for the insults.

     “So you can draw a perfect circle.” Tony questioned.

     “I...” There was obvious confusion on her face.

     “A lot of people don’t know how to draw the perfect circle.” He crossed his arms when they stopped in the kitchen.

     “Tony I hope you’re not trying to scare off Steve’s guest.” Natasha walked towards the fridge, opening it and taking out a bottle of water.

     “Not really trying to scare her off. Just wanting to get a feel for who Rogers won’t shut up about.” Tony crossed his arms as he looked at Natasha.

     “I’m sorry?” She questioned in confusion.

     “Don’t worry about it.” Natasha said quickly. “I’ll take you to Steve’s room.” Natasha led the way, heading down the hall and stopping at the door at the end of the hallway. “Just knock.”

Natasha walked away, leaving her to her own devices. She mentally kicked herself, telling herself to known on the door. She raised her fist, knocking lightly. She didn’t know if he heard her but she stood there, clutching her bag as she waited. When the door swung open she was met with Steve in a fitted tank top and some denim jeans. “You made it.” He smiled.

     “Yeah.” She breathed. “Uh... yeah.”

     “Come on in.” He moved to the side, looking down the hallway at his team as they sent him thumbs up and silently cheering him on. Steve moved in, closing the door behind him, a nervous smile on his face as he rubbed the palms of his hands on his jeans. “So, how do you want me?”

     “What?” She turned to face him, her paint tubes falling out of her hands and on the floor. She dropped to her knees, gathering them up. Steve helped her out, picking up the tubes and placing them on his bed. “I... uh... I didn’t know if you wanted me to paint you something or if you just wanted a sketch.”

     “I don’t mind if it’s both.” He crossed his arms, moving to sit on the bed.

     “Okay. Let’s get started then.” She smiled, moving to the other side of the room. She wanted to be as far from him as possible, watching as Steve found a comfortable position on his bed. She pulled his desk chair into position, sitting down and pulling out her sketchbook, getting started.

Biting her bottom lip, she got started, sketching him in a cartoonish way so that she had a reference to go back to if Steve ended up needing a break. Switching over to her other pencils she got started on a more realistic form of her sketch. “How long have you been doing art?” He broke the silence between the two.

     “I’ve been drawing my entire life.” She smiled to herself. “My mom told me that since I was in diapers I was fascinated with crayons. Other than trying to eat them.” She laughed slightly at her own statement, shaking her head. Looking at Steve, she saw a bright smile on his face, seemingly in his own thoughts. She bit her lip, focusing on the piece of art in front of her.

After about an hour or so she stood up. “You can move now.” She looked at him as he stood up, stretching his limbs. Steve put his hands on his hips as he walked towards her seeing her visibly tensing. She stepped away from him, fidgeting with a pencil in her hands.

     “This looks amazing so far.” Steve praised.

     “I still have to work on the shading.” She smiled slightly.

Steve smiled, putting her book down and turning his attention to her. “Do you like when people look at your art?” He questioned.

She laughed nervously. “When they aren’t finished I think they’re terrible.”

Steve nodded, looking at her. “Do you want some tea? A coffee or...”

     “No I’m okay.” She smiled, still a little tense.

Steve tried his best not to show that he was bothered by how tense she was. “I think your art great. No matter what process it’s in.”

She smiled, picking up her book and started flipping through. “Here’s the other one’s I’ve drawn.” She handed him the book so he could take a look. He looked at them, flipping through as he nodded. She stepped closer to him, pointing to a realistic sketch of an empty hospital bed. “I drew that when my grandmother passed.” She explained. Steve turned the page, looking at an image of him with his shirt up doing the action of wiping sweat from his forehead. She snatched the book from him, laughing nervously. “You didn’t see that.” Steve turned around, standing so close that he could smell her perfume.

She moved to step back but Steve grabbed her hands, stopping her. “You’ve been tense for a few minutes now.” He spoke softly.

     “What makes you say that?” She questioned quickly. Steve let her go, moving over to the bed and watching her intently. She seemed at ease.

     “You feel better when I’m sitting down?” He questioned her, his eyes narrowing as he stared at her.

     “I...” She sighed. “I have my reasons.” She moved over to her sketchbook, grabbing it and contemplating on starting up again but ultimately deciding against it.

     “What’s the reason? Maybe I can help.” Steve smiled and she let out a sigh.

     “Well...” She started pacing, trying to gather her thoughts. She looked at him as he sat patiently, waiting for her to say something. “Can I kiss you?”

     “I’m sorry?” Steve’s expression was that of shock and confusion.

     “I’m sorry. I overstepped.” She moved towards the chair, grabbing everything in her hands and plopping down. “We’ll continue.”

Steve sat with his elbows propped on his knees, staring at her intently as she drew. He could see her shuffling uncomfortably in the chair, his eyes on her thighs as they tensed and relaxed a few times. His eyes darkened.

She finished drawing him, standing and prepping her easel. She moved in silence, her hands on her hips when she finished. “Do you have a cup I can use?” She looked at Steve as he sat, eyes still on her. “Steve?” He stood up, walking into his bathroom and pulling out one of his disposable cups and filling with the water. He walked back out, placing it on the small table next to her. “Thanks.” Steve stood behind her, his large hand touching the small of her back when she started to paint. Her body jerked and she whipped around to look at him, backing up but hitting her easel.

     “Can I kiss you?” He asked this time. She hiccupped, staring up at him as she nodded quickly.

Steve leaned in, brushing his lips against hers. His hand cupped her cheek, his thumb resting just below her lip. He moved his hand to the back of her neck, kissing her. His other hand moved to the small of her back. Her body trembled slightly at the feather like touch on her heating skin. She couldn’t help but take his bottom lip between her teeth, nibbling and sucking.

An animal like growl escaped his throat and his hands moved to pick her up. Steve sat her on his desk, his hands holding her. He pulled his shirt off, tossing it to the side leaning on his hands as she stared at him. She pulled the hem of her dress up, biting her bottom lip when his large hands slowly moved up her thighs. She started unbuttoning the top her dress.

Steve kissed her neck, nipping and sucking to leave a mark on her. She moaned, closing her eyes when he moved to the other side of her neck. “Steve.” She mewled, arching into his touch. “I can’t wait.” Steve nodded, pushing his hands under her dress and grabbing her underwear. He tore the lace from her skin, tossing it to the side. She whimpered when his large hand squeezed each of her cheeks. He picked her up, moving towards the bed and sitting down. She bit his lip as she ground her hips against him.

He pushed her dress around her waist, moving so that she was on his thigh. “Go ahead.” He encouraged.

She looked at him, slowly circling her hips. Steve’s hands slowly moved down to her hips, guiding her so that her pace could quicken. She moaned, tensing slightly as her climax built. Steve’s fingertips dug into her flesh, guiding her so that she moved faster. She trembled, her nails digging into his shoulders.

Her embarrassment was getting to her. They hardly got into it and she finished. Pressing her forehead against his exposed chest she whimpered again. “I didn’t...” She sighed. “I masturbate and all that. But it’s been a long time since someone else...” She trailed off. “I’m talking too much.”

     “No it’s fine.” Steve chuckled, pulling her so that she was pressed against him. “It’s been a long time for me too.” She unbuttoned his pants, pushing them down slightly and releasing his stiff member. She slowly pumped him, looking into his beautiful eyes. She pressed the head of his member against her wet folds, her eyes fluttering shut as she slid down. Her thoughts, so good, on repeat.

Steve wrapped his strong arms around her, biting his tongue at how tight she was. His animalistic urge to destroy her grew the longer it took for him to take in all of him. She bit his chest, moaning when he filled her completely.

Steve Rogers, the man that is Captain America, King of keeping a cool head... was slowly losing it.

He picked her up, taking her by surprise and walking her into his bathroom, slamming the door behind him. “Steve wha-”

     “Trust me.” Was all he said, sitting her on the counter and adjusting her so that she was slumped back, her shoulder blades pressed against the cold mirror. Steve started pounding into her, surprising her. She yelped, her hands flying towards his waist as Steve grabbed her ankles.

Her eyes were shut tight, body on fire the more he hit her cervix. The dull pain she was feeling sent a new sensation of pleasure through her and hot tears down her cheeks. She clamped around him, biting the base of her thumb to keep herself from screaming. Steve switched his grip to her wrists, holding them in on hand away from her face as he leaned in to kiss her lips. “Too much.” She cried.

     “Want me to stop Doll?” He questioned, deep down wanting her to scream No and beg him for more.

     “God no!” She hollered, moving her hips to meet him as best as she could.

     “Good girl.” He smirked, letting her wrists go and grabbing the back of her thighs. Steve stared down at her trembling body, slowing his pace to see how she would react. He enjoyed the way her eyes slowly opened to meet his as they already stared back at her. Her mouth falling open just to breath his name. Her tongue darted out to lick her lips and Steve took the opportunity to kiss her, sucking on her bottom lip and pulling a small moan from her. Steve pulled out of her, licking his lips as he slowly pumped himself. “Turn around for me.” She slowly got off the counter, turning around and looking at him through the mirror. “I want you to see how beautiful you are.” He slowly moved towards her, leaving her in anticipation. “How pretty your face is when I’m inside of you.” His hands made quick work of guiding his member into her soaked hole. Her eyes closed and her mouth fell open. “Open your eyes and look.”

She did as commanded, eyes on her own face as Steve started to relentlessly pound into her. She shook violently, falling over the edge one more time. Steve didn’t stop, holding her in place as he continued. She felt her mind escaping her. His name spilled from her lips as if it were the only thing in her vocabulary.

Steve felt himself growing closer, his thrusts becoming off beat and frantic. He pushed himself deeper, growling when he spilled into her. She leans against the counter, huffing. Steve was the only thing keeping her up, otherwise she would have fallen.

She looked at herself in the mirror, her hair a mess and a slight shine in her eyes. Her skin was littered with bites and hickies. She looked at Steve as he caught his breath. “I didn’t expect this to happen first.” Steve chuckled.

     “What you wanted to take me on a date?” She laughed.

     “That was the plan.” He nodded slightly.

     “Then Friday.” She stood up, looking at him. “After class you can take me to lunch.” He nodded, smiling.

     “There’s this place I went to as a kid and it’s still up and running.” Steve explained, his eyes lighting up. “Since I got back I haven’t been there. Now I have a good reason to.”

She smiled, standing up but hiding the fact that every small move she made sent shockwaves through her. “Great. Should we finish the paintings?” She questioned, moving towards the door on shaking legs.

     “I had something else in mind.” Steve put his hand on the door, closing it as he looked down at her. “I think the both of us could use a nice shower.”

[emy-loves-you]

Wrong Numbers and Useless Gays Chapter 6

Who the F*ck’s Rebecca? OR How the 3 Gays got Together

Virgil learns about Roman’s childhood, specifically his sister and how he ended up dating Patton and Logan.

Warning: Misgendering of a character (but no one knows that the character is trans)

Yes, Roman and Remus are brothers. Explanations are listed at the bottom

Chapter 5 | Masterlist | Chapter 7

V- (2:07 PM) Let it Go was the best song in Frozen and you cannot convince me otherwise

R- (2:07 PM) I respect your opinion, but hear me out: Love is an Open Door

V- (2:08 PM) No

R- (2:08 PM) What about Fixer Upper?

V- (2:09 PM) Still no.

P- (2:09 PM) I really liked Olaf’s song about Summer!

L- (2:10 PM) I personally enjoyed the reprise of First Time in Forever.

R- (2:10 PM) You like almost any song with a reprise

L- (2:10 PM)I will not argue that, as successfully executed reprises are “lit.”

R- (2:11 PM) Ah, and who among us could forget the absolute BOP that is… that weird ice-cutting song.

P- (2:11 PM) I don’t know, Roman. I think that song is, pretty COOL

R- (2:11 PM) Oh, lookout

V- (2:12 PM) What? He’s just saying it’s a CHILLED out groove.

R- (2:12 PM) Ugh

L- (2:12 PM) We might need you two to leave this chat if you don’t stop.

Virgil laughed, throwing his phone on the bed and stripping out of his clothes. He just finished jogging home from Janus’ (he didn’t own a car right now, preferring to walk or have Janus pick him up). It was a lazy afternoon in late September, and all Virgil wanted to do was get out of these sweaty clothes and maybe take a nap. He heard his phone go off multiple times as he got dressed, probably Patton and Logan arguing about the purpose of puns. He flopped down onto his bed and grabbed his phone, checking the new messages.

P- (2:14 PM) Lo, the Princes are calling.

L- (2:14 PM) Tell Roman not to answer, Patton. We’ve been over this.

P- (2:14 PM) They’re asking about us, Lo.

L- (2:14 PM) Tell Roman to hang up. They’re not worth it.

P- (2:15 PM) They’re yelling now, L. They brought up Rebecca. What do I do?

L- (2:15 PM) Just walk into another room, Patton. Ignore them. Do you want me to call you?

P- (2:15 PM) No, I’m good. Just keep texting me. I need a distraction.

Now, Virgil had no idea about what the fuck was going on. But he knew how to distract someone. He’d just have to trust them to tell him later.

V- (2:16 PM) Did you know that octopi have 3 hearts?

L- (2:16 PM) What

P- (2:16 PM) That just means they have more love to give!

V- (2:17 PM) The longest recorded flight of a chicken is 13 seconds

P- (2:17 PM) Such a good bird!

V- (2:17 PM) Babies do not regularly produce tears until they are 1-3 months old

L- (2:18 PM) Ah, I think I understand now

V- (2:18 PM) A ‘jiffy’ is an actual unit of time. It stands for 1/1000th of a second

L- (2:18 PM) Falsehood. A jiffy is 1/100th of a second

V- (2:19 PM) Sorry, my hand must’ve slipped.

L- (2:19 PM) You would be unable to walk on Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus or Neptune because they have no solid surface.

L- (2:20 PM) An asteroid about the size of a car enters Earth’s atmosphere roughly once a year. However, it burns up before it can reach us.

L- (2:20 PM) The highest mountain known to man is on an asteroid called Vesta. It is approximately three times the height of Mount Everest.

P- (2:21 PM) I think they hung up. Thanks for keeping me company, Kiddos!

L- (2:21 PM) It was not an issue, Patton.

V- (2:21 PM) Yeah, no problem Pat. Now can someone explain what just happened?

L- (2:23 PM) As you can probably tell, I am not home at the moment. Apparently, Roman’s parents decided to call him and an argument broke out. The rest is not my place to say.

Virgil bit his lip, refusing to look at his phone screen. Did Virgil have the right to ask about that. It was obviously a very sensitive topic, and Virgil had only known Roman for about 3 months now. Virgil felt like he knew a lot about his 3 crushes (their quirks, their favorite sweets, their goals in life), but he knew very little about their lives before Virgil had met them. Which was fine; they knew very little about Virgil’s life, too. But he desperately wanted to help Roman; to make him feel happy and safe and loved. Virgil sighed, setting his phone on his nightstand. If Princey wants to tell me what’s going on, I’ll listen. If not, I’ll just have to deal with it.

Virgil woke up from his nap to the sound of his phone going off. He blindly felt around for it, his face still firmly planted in his pillow. He finally found it, turning it on before he lifted his head to read the text. It was a private message from Princey.

R- (3:02 PM) You’re probably wondering what happened today.

V- (3:02 PM) I am, but you don’t have to tell me if you’re not comfortable. I’ll respect your privacy.

R- (3:02 PM) As much as I appreciate that, you still deserve to know.

R- (3:03 PM) Do you mind if I call you? This doesn’t feel like a conversation to have over text.

Virgil thought about it for a moment. He originally never wanted to call Roman, simply because he might recognize Virgil’s voice as Anxiety’s. However, not only was Virgil 99% confident that Roman had never even heard of The Dark Sides, Virgil’s head was still foggy after his nap. Before he knew it, he was already calling Princey’s phone.

“Virgil?” Roman didn’t sound as… grand as Virgil expected. His voice was subdued and slightly hoarse, probably from the screaming match with his parents.

“Heya, Princey.” Virgil cringed at how gravelly his voice sounded. He’ll need to get some water after this conversation is over.

“You sound so tired. Oh my stars, did I wake you up? I’m so sorry. I’ll let you get back to sleep-”

“Princey, it’s okay. Just finished my nap. Might not talk much, but ‘m all ears.”

“Alright. Where do I even begin?”

“Take your time. ‘m not pressurin’ you or anythin’.”

“(sigh) You’re right. I guess I should start at the beginning. I grew up in a very... conservative household. My parents expected me and my sister, Rebecca, to be perfect. ReeRee was my partner in crime. We did everything together up until highschool. My parents expected me to get a football scholarship and date the hottest girl in school. I did those things, not because I wanted to, but because they wanted me to. ReeRee was a different story. When my parents signed her up for cheerleading, she tried to join the football team instead. When they told her she should wear her hair in a ponytail, she cut it off to match mine. I didn’t understand, and it made me angry. It was like looking in a funhouse mirror; she was starting to look more and more like me, and yet each change made my parents angrier. Why was looking and acting like me a problem? I thought they liked this version of me! One night in the summer before junior year I was really frustrated and I took it out on her. I told her to stop acting like me. I knew she didn’t deserve my anger, so I went to Patton’s place to cool down. By the time I came home, my parents refused to acknowledge that I even had a sister. I pushed her away, and now I’ll never get her back.

After that, things changed. I was so angry, and everything I saw reminded me of her. I quit the football team, because every time I went down to the field I expected to see her. I dyed my hair, because every time I looked in the mirror I saw her staring back. I stopped caring about what my parents thought, ‘cause it was their opinions that dragged me into this mess!

I had already been friends with Patton since Freshman year, but me and Logan had been at each other’s throats . We were always bickering about something, and sometimes I used our arguments to vent out my anger at whatever was wrong at the time. I didn’t even realize how much I had cared about Patton and Logan until I learned about the LGBTQ+ community. My parents were super strict, and Patton and Logan didn’t exactly flaunt their relationship. I had no idea that liking guys was even an option . Once I learned about it, my parents quickly tried to shut it down. Everyday, they’d start their day telling me that ‘homosexuality is a sin’ and ‘God made you to be the gender you were born with!’ If they had told me that before ReeRee left, I might’ve believed them. But by this point, I didn’t care about a single thing they told me.

So one day, I’m arguing with Logan about who knows what, and suddenly we’re inches apart, and I remember pa saying ‘ a boy should never kiss another boy.’ And just think, ‘Fuck it.’ And now me and Pocket Protector are suddenly making out behind the school building. Microsoft Nerd asks why the hell I decided to make out with him of all people, and I break down right there. He agreed to keep it a secret, but he refused to do anything more than a simple make-out session until he had Padre’s consent to do so. Which I understood, consent is important, cheating is bad.

Now we’re having these ‘sessions’ at least once a week for almost 4 months. Patton eventually walked in on us and he was understandably upset. I explained what had happened and that I’ve had a crush on both of them for a while. And they’re like ‘cool, we’re polyam.’ And now I’m starting senior year dating two men, which mom and pa were not okay with. I told ‘em to fuck off and we moved away as soon as we graduated. They still call occasionally, asking when I’m gonna get my life together and get over losing ReeRee. I haven’t blocked ‘em yet in case they find her or change their minds.”

Roman finally took a deep breath. “Sorry about the rant. Didn’t realise how badly I needed to get that off my chest.”

Virgil snorted. “Don’t worry ‘bout it. Told ya I’d be a good ear. And Princey?”

“Yeah?”

“You don’t gotta do anything to impress someone else. You bein’ you is good enough. And if Rebecca could see you, I’m sure she’d be proud as hell. And don’t be ‘fraid to hit me up if you need someone other than your SOs to rant to; I’ll always be here for ya, Princey.”

“... Thank you, Virgil. I didn’t realize how much I needed to hear that until you said it.” He sighed, and Virgil could hear the sound of running water. “I’m gonna go drink some water. My throat burns like a bitch right now.”

“Same. Catch you later?”

He could hear Roman chuckle to himself. “I guess you shall. Farewell, Storm Cloud. And pleasant dreams!”

Virgil blushed. The way Roman said his nickname… it made Virgil’s gay heart nearly explode. He quickly hung up and buried his face back into his pillow. I’ll get water later. AFTER my heart stops racing.

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Now, for those of you wondering about why Virgil doesn't realize that Roman and Remus are brothers, I'm gonna put a quick explanation here, 'cause I don't know how to casually fit this into the story. 1.) Remus has never told Virgil his deadname or his last name. He's probably told Janus (since their pretty close) but Virgil doesn't know. 2.) Remus has never told Virgil that his brother's name is Roman. Additionally, when Virgil is talking about the 3 gays, he only calls them "Pat, Lo and Princey." 3.) Roman's parents didn't tell him that Remus transitioned, so he doesn't know that Rebecca now goes by Remus. Also, none of the characters have actually sent pictures of their faces, so none of them have any idea what the other looks like. 4.) It is a total coincidence that both twins moved to the same town. Remus believes that Roman still lives in their hometown, and Remus could be dead for all that Roman knows. There is no logical reason for them to think "maybe Virgil's friends with my long-lost sibling" 5.) Virgil would NEVER out his friends like that. He tells Janus and Remus everything, but he would NEVER betray Roman's trust like that. Same thing for telling Roman about Remus. Roman might know that Remus is trans, but he doesn't know about Remus' background. ONE LAST THING: Roman and Virgil will eventually see each other face-to-face but WON'T recognize each other's voices. This is because during the phone call Virgil is still groggy from waking up and Roman is still hoarse from screaming.

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Taglist: @bisexualdisaster106 @self-taught-mess @itawalrus @arodynamic-enby @sanderssides-angst

[29-pieces]

Whumptober day 23 - Good Omens

Day 23: Sleep Deprivation Fandom/setting: Good Omens - pre-Apocalypse, shortly after Crowley wakes up from the century he decided to snooze through Read on AO3 Read on FF.net

~*~

The pain was more than he could stand, a coursing, biting, stinging, agonizing pain. Crowley slumped forward in the chair he was bound to, wrists tugging desperately at ropes that had been secured by a duke of Hell and therefore weren't going to come loose no matter how much he struggled. Blood dripped from a dozen different cuts across his face, chest, and limbs... he'd lost so much of it already, it was a wonder his body didn't discorporate...

A dagger flashed, taking another slice out of his cheek. Crowley cried out with pain and it was too much, it was all too much, the relentless torment. As the blood flowed, his vision started going grey at the edges, then darker grey, then black... Somewhere in the distance, a nasty voice was saying nasty things, but Crowley lost all sense of it as he dipped at last into blessed, merciful, beautiful unconsciousness.

ZAP!

Crowley heard himself screaming as the electric current tore through every muscle in his body, the heat burning his throat where the collar made contact with skin. Jolted back awake, he straightened in the chair and panted, trying to breathe through the sobs.

"Ah-ah," Hastur said, crouching down in front of Crowley and patting his cheek. "Best stay awake if you don't want that to happen again." He grinned, though, jagged teeth showing that he very much wanted that to happen again.

Crowley trembled as the electric current slowly dissipated, then looked up at his tormentor.

"Come on, fellas," he wheezed plaintively, watching Hastur stand and start to stalk around him, while Ligur lounged nearby with a grin. "I got it, okay? I learned my lesson, we- we don't have to keep doing this-"

"Beelzebub thinks otherwise," Ligur reminded him. "Hastur and I got the whole year off just to keep this up and make sure the lesson sinks in. It's only been... what's it been, Hastur?"

"A week," Hastur replied. The toad on top of his head croaked delightedly. "So get used to pain for a while, Crowley. You got fifty-one more to go."

"Can't- can't we talk about this? I swear I'll do better-"

"A century, Crowley. A century of temptations and spreading evil and potential souls for our side, gone to waste."

Crowley leaned away from the dagger hovering over one of his snake eyes, still shaking. "I already said I was sorry-"

"You're here to do a job, not sleep."

"I told you, I was recovering, my angel nemesis had-"

"You got a boo-boo and decided to have a nice lie-in? For a hundred years? And thought that was going to go over well?" Hastur tsk-ed. "And you claim to be so clever. Well, you had your nice little century long nap, so do you know what you'll be doing for the next century?" Hastur pressed the dagger into Crowley's cheek, letting the snake demon's blood drip down the blade as he flashed his teeth again. "Not sleeping."

"Your new little collar will see to that," Ligur tittered. "Every time you fall asleep..." He punched a fist into his palm. "Zap!"

"For a hundred years." Hastur pulled the dagger away, then plunged it hilt-deep into Crowley's abdomen.

Crowley had spent the first two days trying not to give them any satisfaction, but that had quickly gone out the window under Hastur's skillful hands: he threw his head back and screamed. This, of course, only ignited the bloodlust in Hastur's eyes. The toad croaked again as Hastur withdrew the dagger and then stabbed it in once more several inches away. Crowley choked on blood, feeling the hot liquid dribbling from his mouth. The edges of his vision were going dark again, the pain too much to tolerate even as he frantically tried to stay awake to avoid the jolt of electricity that would be following soon.

He couldn't stop... he was slipping...

...

...

ZAP!

Crowley screamed again and sobbed, writhing in his chair as he rode through yet another wave of the electricity. A year of this?! Hastur wasn't going to get bored and leave him alone, Crowley was really going to spend the entire year tied to this chair in unending torment. They'd already warned him they had pre-filed the paperwork to fast-track his recorporation in case he died, which meant there was no mercy coming. Hot tears slid down Crowley's face, hating that it had only taken a week for them to break him of any pride.

"Let's start again," Hastur beamed. "Ligur, you want a turn?"

Crowley shrank back as much as he could in the chair, but of course he was helpless...

The door to the shack burst in suddenly, blown off its hinges. Crowley had just enough time to see a blinding ring of heavenly light, his befuddled mind whispering "angel", before a concussive whomp knocked him senseless.

...ZAP!

Crowley shrieked as the electric current ran right over the pathways it had just burned through his muscles before he'd had the slightest chance to heal, only multiplying the pain. He writhed and shook, his own body no longer under his control, while somewhere beside him he heard a horrified, frantic voice calling his name. Then he was pitching forward, wrists free of their bonds, straight into something soft and sturdy.

"Crowley, oh Crowley, my poor boy, what in Heaven's name have they done to you? What- what is that thing?"

Hands at his throat, ripping the shock collar off his neck, and Crowley trembled with relief.

"Angel," he whispered hoarsely. Weakly, he smiled up at his savior, meeting Aziraphale's stricken eyes. "Good timing..."

"Why are they hurting you?" the angel cried. "I haven't seen you in... must be a hundred years, at least..." He blanched, then gasped, "You haven't been here that whole time?"

Crowley shook his head in reassurance, rubbing his shredded wrists painfully. "Week," he murmured. "They- they weren't happy with me..." He looked around Aziraphale to see Hastur and Ligur unconscious on the floor. Pity they didn't have a demonic shock collar to wake them, he thought resentfully.

The angel rumbled with displeasure, then quietly offered, "Let me heal you."

He reached for Crowley, but the demon pulled away. "Best not," he said mournfully. "Be hard enough to find a convincing lie for Beelzebub what happened here... an angel bursts in and the one demon who's already down for the count is rescued and healed?"

Aziraphale slumped but nodded, then tensed. "I- I suppose I should... kill them," he said doubtfully. "I came investigating because of all the demonic energy coming from this place..."

As much as the idea genuinely appealed to Crowley, he shook his head with regret. "Can't do that, either," he decided. "Be even more suspicious, wouldn't it? That you killed two dukes but I escaped."

This did bring a conundrum, the more he thought about it. Even if he did "miraculously escape" the angel, he hadn't finished his punishment from Beelzebub. Crowley trembled with the idea of enduring the remainder of the year like this, and another 99 without the ability to sleep. He couldn't do it. But... Crowley's mind began to race as the beginnings of a plan came together. He looked up at Aziraphale and grimly smiled. ~*~

Aziraphale tried not to pace, but really his nerves were shot. Crowley had sworn he would come back up as soon as he'd checked in with Beelzebub, but until he did so, the angel had no way of knowing if Crowley's clever tongue was going to be enough this time. It sounded like he'd been in dreadful trouble, now he was walking straight back into Hell? Then again, what else could he do short of running away and being hunted forever? Aziraphale wrung his hands, already toying with the idea of how he might justify to Heaven that he simply had to go and rescue a demon from Hell...

The door opened and Aziraphale spun around, then nearly sagged with relief to see Crowley trudging in, clearly exhausted and still covered in horrible wounds, but still very much alive.

"It worked?" he asked anxiously, hurrying to meet his friend.

Crowley nodded, managing a smile. "Beelzebub bought it," he said with a shrug. "I just said that collar woke me up after you knocked us all out, and that you decided to brutally torture me for information-"

Aziraphale squeaked in dismay, even though he knew of course this had always been part of the plan, and that of course he hadn't actually done so. But, just, the thought...

Ignoring him, Crowley went on, "And I had to use all my wiles to trick you into believing false information, that Hastur and Ligur were considering turning traitor. So of course you spared their lives, not wanting to kill potential future informants."

"And Beelzebub believed that?" Aziraphale couldn't help but repeat incredulously.

Crowley shrugged. "S'not like Hastur or Ligur can dispute it, being unconscious for the whole thing and all. Told them you'd decided to let me go afterward as payment for the 'information', then I brought the dukes down to safety. Saved their miserable lives, I did. Two dukes, and I out-wiled a principality to boot. Beelzebub commuted the rest of my sentence for it."

Aziraphale shook his head, watching the snake demon with pure admiration. "I must say, you have quite the clever mind, my dear. Now then... I understand you can't be sleeping a whole century through again, but mightn't it be prudent to rest for a little while and let your body heal from that horrid Hastur? You... you can stay here at my place, if you like," he added, feeling a touch of heat on his cheeks. He hurried to add, "I mean, no demon is going to think of checking up on you here, especially now that I'm the, er... brutally torturing principality. You might even let me have a look at those wounds now?"

Crowley glanced down and raised a noncommittal shoulder. "Er... yeah, alright," he said. "Not sure I could even get back home, to be honest. So exhausted..."

"Then it's settled," Aziraphale decided decisively. "You make yourself at home, I'm going to put some water on to boil. You're safe here, Crowley."

The demon nodded, a wan smile crossing his face. "Erm... you know..."

He trailed off, but he didn't need to finish. Aziraphale smiled back, then hurried to fetch the water.

You're welcome, he silently replied.

[boltwrites]

Misfits - Chapter 3

Fandom: Star Wars - Clone Wars / The Bad Batch Pairing: The Bad Batch / Reader (Polyamorous) Rating: M (Rating May Change) Tags: Polyamorous Relationship, Force-Sensitive Reader, Slow Burn

Work Summary: After a year working with the 501st, you've been assigned a new post - Clone Force 99, aka the Bad Batch. You're concerned about the transition - you found it hard enough to fit in with the 501st, and now you had to acclimate to an entirely new squad. As it turns out, the Bad Batch is very accommodating.

Chapter Summary: Hunter insists that you nap on the way to Kamino.

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“Get some sleep. It’ll be a while until we reach Kamino.”

Hunter gestured towards a bunk that you could tell was well used. You worried the inside of your lip, considering the offer.

This ship was a far cry from the accommodations you were used to. It reminded you more of quarters you once shared with a pirate crew – cramped, but cozy.

You didn’t mind it, per say… but it wasn’t what you were used to. On the Resolute, you had your own quarters, completely separate from the rest of the clones. It had been both a blessing and a curse – it afforded you some privacy, being the only female Captain, and working with a majority of clones who had never experienced such direct contact with a woman. It was honestly tiring dealing with their staring – which wasn’t even a majority sexual, honestly. They were just curious about you, and while you didn’t blame them, that didn’t mean you wanted eyes on you while you were just trying to get some rest.

The Bad Batch didn’t seem to be quite as bad as the 501st, and you suspected that perhaps because they were a smaller, elite squad, they had encountered women in different environments than just a club full of clone chasers like 79’s. You could feel Wrecker’s eyes on you half the time, and his curiosity reminded you the most of the 501st’s own sneaking glancing. You also caught Tech looking a few times as you set your meagre belongings in the cargo area – he had seemed flustered and turned away, datapad in hand. You had no idea what his fascination with you was, but you assumed you would find out soon enough. It was almost cute seeing how you flustered him, if only because your own men – or, former men – had grown so used to your presence that they had gotten harder to fluster.

But then, there was Hunter and Echo, who both reminded you of Rex. Rex hadn’t been bothered with your gender if only because he had worked so much with Ahsoka the years prior. You didn’t know who Hunter had worked with that made him so comfortable with you, nor Echo, but you were glad that at least your gender wasn’t causing any more awkward tension than it should. You felt strange enough barging into Hunter’s team, where you technically outranked him as a Captain, but knew about as much as a shiny when it came to this squad.

At least everyone was better than Crosshair, who avoided you like a bad smell. He obviously had some kind of a stick up his ass.

But that was besides the point – the real question was: did you trust these men enough to sleep out in the open like this? You didn’t think they would hurt you, or anything quite so dangerous, but you did value your privacy. And it seemed strange to sleep in their communal space while you still felt like an outsider. That was far too… intimate for your liking.

“I’m fine,” you tried to respond to Hunter’s offer with a polite smile and a nod. You didn’t want your refusal to read as rude – you just didn’t want to open yourself up to something so intimate as sleeping in another clone’s bed, even if it was simply a matter of convenience. You didn’t doubt that the clones crashed in whichever bunk was available – the blankets on the bottom two looked more worn than the top, which alluded to the fact that they shared these.

You denied the offer, even though you were tired. You hadn’t slept since the Resolute had returned to Coruscant, and the fatigue was wearing on you. But you were a force sensitive. You could draw energy that way, you hoped. And maybe with an extra cup of caf from the small galley on the ship.

Hunter frowned at you. It wasn’t that he was outright offended by your refusal – he looked exasperated instead.

“I know you’re tired. Rest. We don’t have private rooms like on the star cruisers you’re used to, but it’s safe.”

Your eyes widened, and you shook your head. “No, I- I didn’t mean-“

“I know. I know we don’t have much,” Hunter shrugged, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms. “But it’s what we’ve got. Took Echo some time to get used to. I don’t blame you.”

You sighed, remembering Echo. Hunter’s looking at you and seeing Echo – another 501st member adjusting to a new place. And, he’s right, to an extent. Maybe you’re overthinking things. The Bad Batch has been nothing but kind to you so far.

“I’m sorry,” you shook your head. “You’re right. It’s different from the 501st. Over there, I had a private Captain’s room. And here-“

“You’re right in it,” Hunter finished. You nodded, sighing. Hunter nodded at you, understanding, before he continued.

“Ain’t no use in separation here. Each member here was selected for a purpose, and each is an expert in that field. I’m a superior in name only – I’m more like a coordinator, if I’m completely honest,” Hunter admitted, and you breathed a sigh of relief.

“So, you guys operate more like pirates or something than an actual military unit?” you asked, with a raised eyebrow and a little quirk of a smile. Hunter shrugged, making a little noncommittal noise.

“I’ve never worked with pirates, but maybe.”

You laughed, relaxing. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, taking a nap in the open. After all, you were going to be working with these men for the foreseeable future. You had to learn to trust them, and if there were any issues with boundaries, you would work it out. It would be fine, especially if the crew operated the way Hunter said they did – you understood that structure far more than you did military hierarchies of command.

“Thank you, Hunter,” you patted his shoulder gently, well aware of the armor that covered it. “If you don’t mind, I think I will take that nap. Maybe up there, though.”

You gestured to one of the top bunks, and Hunter even cracked a smile himself.

“High ground. Good choice.”

You shared a smile, shaking your head at him as he clapped you on the back and made his exit towards the cockpit.

His touch left you warm, even thought it was friendly, the sort of thing the clones took part in all the time. You kind of hated the way your cheeks flushed as you hopped on the bunk, untying your boots and kicking them to the floor, discarding your jacket and what little armor you had (shoulder plates and forearm guards, really) at the end of the bunk.

Not only was the Bad Batch different from the other clones in terms of their operation style – casual, bound by trust rather than duty – they were also different from other clones in certain physical aspects. Hunter’s hair, in particular, caught your eye far more often than it should in a professional sense, even as you tried to ignore it. And that little smile he just gave you –

No. No, you couldn’t do this. You had to work with Hunter, and if something happened between the two of you, you couldn’t count on the fact that you both would be able to remain professional.

You wrapped the blankets around you in a little cocoon as you tried to talk yourself down from all of this. It had been easier with the 501st. Those degrees of separation prevented you from forming those attachments. But here – this wasn’t a military structure. This was a team, a crew. You couldn’t get away from these men – for kark’s sake, they all shared these bunks.

The bunks, including the one you were occupying. They were homey – the blankets wrapped around you were plentiful. A couple were standard issue – you recognized the distinctive Republic insignia emblazoned on them. But some were clearly handmade. There were scraps of fabric entwined, one around another, weaving together to make a sturdy blanket. Another looked to be a quilt, hardy and thick, made to withstand the chill of space travel.

You were enveloped in them, completely cocooned, and you were already starting to warm up again despite the absence of your jacket. You tried to turn your brain off, for just a moment, and relax into the softness of the blankets, into the homey little bunk. The Bad Batch had obviously taken care to make their beds cozy and warm, and you appreciated it – it spoke to how they valued their space, their comfort. It was nice.

You started to drift off, and you couldn’t help but notice that even the blankets smelled nice. Not from a fresh wash, necessarily – no, it smelled more like it was pleasantly lived in. But didn’t it seem like the bottom bunks were the most used by the Batch?

Maybe this was Hunter’s bunk, you considered with a little smile, curling in on yourself. Hadn’t he mentioned the high ground? You imagined that a veteran officer like Hunter might care about things like that – about being able to get a jump on anyone trying to disturb his sleep. He would feel safer up here, like you did. The way this bunk was angled, there was a good view of the outside hatch, so Hunter would be able to see anyone trying to enter the ship.

Maybe it smelled like him, then. You could imagine him wrapped in these blankets too, maybe ones that thankful civilians gave him for his help.

You had told yourself you didn’t want to get attached, but as you drifted off into a light slumber, you couldn’t stop the visions that danced behind your eyes – Hunter in the bunk with you, his broad chest pressed to your back, his arms wrapped around your waist. If he snuggled too close to your shoulder, his hair would tickle your jaw. Maybe he would tell you the stories of the blankets wrapped around the both of you – his fingers tracing over yours as you thumbed over the handmade details, as his low voice hummed in your ear.

You drifted to sleep thinking of him, the thrum of his voice, rough hands against yours. And if those thoughts spilled over into your dreams – that was only for you to know.

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