#sorry for not answering this ask for a while it. was sleeping

[obfuscateyummy]

One and One and One Makes Three

hi I am SO sorry this took me ALL week but its over 2,300 words so. The inspiration for the title is from the song Missing Cleveland by Scott Weiland. I appreciate you all! It might be a while before I put out another fic because I have a lot going on in my personal life the next week. BUT we will see. :) Everything medical I know I have learned from medical dramas set in emergency rooms starting Noah Wyle and Google. Mentions pregnancy. Cursing.

The next morning you woke up to your husband’s alarm, and him stirring to turn it off. He noticed your breathing change, meaning you were waking up. “Shh, go back to sleep sweetheart,” he whispered into the back of your neck as he placed a kiss on it. 

“I wish you didn’t have to work today,” you whined.

“I know. I want nothing more than to stay here with you and Lucy,” He rubbed his beard against the back of your neck and he kissed the side of it.

You rolled over as you talked to him, “I’ll come by as soon as my appointment is over. Hopefully, Vegas can get me in.”

He nodded. “Even if we don’t tell anyone, I have to tell Gloria. If anything happens and she doesn’t know-”

“I know,” you said. “I just want to wait.” 

“Why do you want to wait? You were so ready to tell everyone with Lucy?” he asked. 

“Honestly? I want to do one of those cute announcements, with Lucy in a big sister shirt. I think it would be cute,” you said as you laughed. 

Michael shook his head, “For some reason, that was not the answer I was expecting.” He went to kiss you, as his alarm went off for a second time that morning. He reached over and turned it off. He went back to kissing you.

“You have to get ready to go,” you said against his lips.

“I know,” Michael said. He kissed you one more time. “You sure you don’t want to-” his invitation to ask you to shower with him was interrupted by a little knock at your bedroom door, followed by the door swinging open. “Mommy? Daddy?” Lucy said as she walked into your bedroom with tears in her eyes.

“Hey, what’s wrong lovebug?” you asked as Michael helped Lucy into your bed. She got right in between the two of you.

“I have bad dream,” she said.

“It’s okay, Lucy, you’re safe here,” you said as you hugged her close. 

Michael kissed her forehead, “You know Daddy and Mommy would never let anything happen to you.” He turned and looked at the time on his phone. “I gotta get ready for work,” 

Lucy whined as her father got out of bed. “Hey, Mommy is still right here,” you said as the two of you cuddled in bed while Michael took his shower and got ready for the day.

Michael walked out of the bathroom in his scrubs. He went to grab his favorite hoodie and noticed that you and Lucy had fallen back asleep. He slowly exited the room, not to wake you. He got his coffee ready to go. Before he left, he walked back into the bedroom. He leaned over and placed a kiss on your temple. You started to stir in the bed. “Shh, go back to bed, sweetheart. I just wanted to kiss you goodbye. Love you.”

“Hmm. I love you, Robby,” you mumbled in your half-asleep state. 

Michael kissed Lucy’s forehead before exiting the bedroom. He left and headed towards work.

8:00 am on the dot you were on the phone with your OB office.

“Dr. Vegas’ office,” the receptionist said as she answered the phone.

“Hi, my name is Y/n Robinavitch, and I was hoping to get an ultrasound with Dr. Vegas today,” You exhaled a breath you didn’t know you were holding in.

“Please hold.” The receptionist put you on hold. Less than 30 seconds later they came back on the line, “Yes, Mrs. Robinavitch, it looks like Dr. Vegas is our PMTC location today, does that work for you?” Of course, he’s there today, you thought. “Yeah, that will work great.”

“Okay, can you be there at 11 am?”

“11 am today? Perfect.” You had a time. And it was possible Robby could get away. 

“Great. Dr. Vegas will see you then, have a great day.”

You pulled out your phone to text Robby.

Vegas is at PMTC today. Appointment at 11. Think you can sneak away?

He was quick to text you back

Yeah, I’ll figure out something to tell Dana.

I love you!

You smiled as you texted him back.

I love you too. See you soon.

You made breakfast for yourself and Lucy. Then, you started both getting ready. You made it to the hospital  Once you were back in the ER, Dana spotted you immediately.

“Kid, I thought you were off today!” she said.

“Hi, Aunt Dana!” Lucy said, running up to her.

“Hey, Kiddo is here too!” Dana said as she bent down to Lucy’s level and hugged her. “I thought I heard someone causing chaos out here!” Michael said as he turned the corner.

“Daddy!” Lucy said as she ran up to her father. 

“Hey, lovebug! How are you?” Michael said as he picked Lucy up and carried her back over towards you. 

“Mommy said when we leave here, we can go to the park!” Lucy said. 

“The park? Sounds like too much fun,” Michael said as he looked at you. “Hey sweetheart,” he said to you as he kissed your lips, softly. It was a short kiss. He didn’t kiss you in the ER. Not unless it was a quick kiss in the lounge or at the lockers. He tried to keep your personal relationship out of work.

“Hey Lucy,” Michael said, turning his attention back to his daughter. “Guess who is working here today?” Michael asked.

“TORIA!” Lucy screamed as Javadi walked out of Central 4. 

“Lucy! Hey,” Javadi walked up towards you and Michael.

“Hey Lucy, I bet Victoria would love to hang out with you for a little while,” Michael said, looking at Javadi.

“I-” Victoria looked shocked, “Yeah, uh, I can do that,” she said.

“Yeah!” Lucy said as Michael put her down. 

“If anyone asks, we went to the cafeteria. Tell them to page me,” Michael said as the two of you went towards the elevator.

“Yeah, sure.” She knew she was new, but she was pretty sure you didn’t need the elevator to get to the cafeteria down the hall. 

“Did we just pawn our daughter off on a med student?” You asked.

Michael nodded, “And it probably won’t be the last time we do it. Javadi is great with Lucy, and Lucy gets along with her,” Michael wrapped his arms around you, “and she’s not your mother.” He kissed your forehead.

You let out a giggle as the elevator stopped on OB. Michael and you walked up to the reception desk. 

“Dr. R, Dr. Robby, are you guys on the wrong floor?” The receptionist, Josie, sometimes coved the ER.

“Not today Josie, I’m here for an appointment,” you said.

“Ah are you the 11 o’clock?” she asked eyeing you.

“That would be me,” you said as you turned around and looked at Michael.

“We have a room that just opened up. I’ll bring you back now.” Josie buzzed you and Michael back, and took you to the room. “The nurse will be in shortly.”

“Thanks,” you whispered as Josie shut the door. 

You hopped onto the exam table as Michael took the seat next to it. The nurse came in and took all your vitals. “Dr. Vegas should be right in,” she said as she left the room.

You took a few deep breaths and looked at Michael. He took your hand in his. “Your hands are sweating..” Michael said. He gave you a worried look. He knew what that meant, “Why are you nervous?” 

“You aren’t?” you asked as you looked at him.

Michael shook his head, “I know everything is going to be okay. And there’s no one else in the world I rather go through this with.” You started to blush. “You’re so beautiful, you know that?” Michael said as he pushed your falling hair off your face.

“You tell me all the time,” you said.

“I just don’t want you to forget it,” he said. He held your hand and leaned in to kiss you, but stopped as Dr. Vegas walked in.

“Ah, my favorite emergency department doctors,” he said as he approached you. “So, what brings you in?”

“Ultrasound…If my math is right, I'm about nine weeks,” you said as Michael gently squeezed your hand. 

“Ah, well, congratulations you two,” he said.

You smiled softly, “Thanks Vegas.”

“Thank you,” Robby said.

“Let’s get you checked out,” Dr. Vegas said.  You pulled up your shirt to expose your stomach. “The gel is going to be cold.”

“I know,” you said as you giggled. 

“Gotta tell everyone,” Vegas said as he put the gel on your stomach. 

You took a deep breath as Michael rubbed the back of your hand. You looked at him and smiled. He smiled back at you.

“Let’s see what we got,” Vegas said. 

Dr. Vegas scanned your stomach. You held Michael’s hand nervously. After a few seconds, which seemed like an eternity, the sound of a small heartbeat filled the room. You let out a cry you didn’t know you were holding in. Michael kissed the back of your hand.

“I love that sound,” Michael said.

“Me too,” you said. Suddenly, as Vegas continued to scan, the heartbeat changed. You and Michael looked each other in the eyes. His eyes shifted directly to the ultrasound monitor. You followed his lead. There wasn’t one, there were two.

“Michael,” you whispered.

“Yeah,” he said.

“Twins.”

“I can see that,” he said as the two of you locked eyes again.

“I guess I don’t have to tell you two.” Dr. Vegas said with a chuckle as he wiped the gel off your stomach. “Congratulations. They look great. You are 9 weeks 2 days…”You began to zone out as Vegas continued talking to you, telling you everything you already knew. All the restrictions, how you’d start to show sooner, take prenatal vitamins. “I want to see you in 3 weeks. Josie will get you set up. I’ll be back with some prints of the ultrasound,” Vegas said as you came back to reality.

You nodded. “Yeah, okay.” 

He exited the room. You were still in shock. Not only did you realize you were pregnant later than you should have, you were pregnant with twins.

“Y/n? You good?” Michael said.

You blinked as you looked at him. He saw the tears forming in your eyes. “I’m great,” you said sarcastically as you pulled your shirt back over your stomach. 

“Y/n,” Michael said sternly.

“What?” you asked. He glared at you, and you continued to speak, “I didn’t even know I was pregnant 48 hours ago, and now I found out I am having twins. We’re having fucking twins, Michael. Hell, that’s probably why this shirt is so tight!” You hopped off the exam table and pulled at the shirt you were wearing.

“You’re spiraling,” Michael said, “C’here,” he said as he opened his arms.

You went into his arms and he wrapped you up in a hug. 

“Lucy and twins. One and one and one makes three. We’re gonna have three kids. Michael, what are we going to do?” you said as the tears in your eyes began to fall down your face.

“We are going to figure it out as we go. And it’s probably gonna be chaos. We will probably fuck up a few more times,” he said as you chuckled, “But in the end, it’s all gonna be okay. Because it’s you and me, and our kids, against the world.” He moved your hair that had fallen into your face. He kissed your forehead. You loved the way his beard felt against your forehead. You nuzzled into it. 

“You always know what to say,” you said, finally wrapping your arms around Michael.

“It’s a gift,” he said.

Dr. Vegas came back in, “Here are those ultrasound prints. Y/n, see you back here in 3 weeks. Congratulations again.” “Thank you,” you said. 

You and Michael walked out of the exam room, and stopped at the reception desk to make an appointment for 3 weeks out. 

The two of you got into the elevator and headed back down to the ER.

“After I take Lucy to the park, we are gonna stop at the store, I’ll get her a big sister shirt. We can tell her when you get home. We can have her put it on and take a couple of pictures to make an announcement,” You said looking up at Michael.

“Sounds good. I can not wait,” he said as he bent down to kiss your lips. 

The elevator doors opened and the two of you exited the elevator. You saw Lucy sitting on the nurse's station laughing. Dana and Princess were right there. Who knows which one of the two made her laugh.

“Mommy, Daddy!” Lucy said as she spotted the two of you walking over.

“Hey lovebug,” Michael said, “I have to get back to work. But I will see you as soon as I get home, okay?”

“Okay, daddy. I love you,” Lucy said as she hugged him.

“I love you too. Have fun at the park with mommy,” 

“I will, daddy” Lucy said. Michael looked at you and mouthed “I love you.”

You smiled and mouthed it back.

“Okay, Lucy. Ready to go to the park, lovebug?” you asked.

“Yeah!” Lucy said as you helped her down from the nurse's station. If Michael knew, he’d scold you for sure.

“See you guys,” you said as you exited the ER with your daughter and headed to the park.

Dana smirked as she turned to go find Robby. Once she caught up to him, she wasted no time drilling him.

“So, what’s going on with Y/n?” Dana asked.

“Nothing is going on with my wife,” Michael said.

“Hmm. Sure. Javadi said you were in the cafeteria. I saw you get off the elevator.” Dana said. Michael didn’t say a word. He ran his hands through his hair. “When is she due?” 

“She’s - Did Y/n tell you?” Michael asked.

“No, but you just did.” Dana said as she walked away smirking.

Michael mumbled some curse words under his breath. You were going to get him for this one.

[emilsendo]

Can make Mikey x top male reader fluff/smut/fluff/smut

Here you are, pal 😃

Type: Fluff/Smut

Request: ✅️

Warnings: Public sex(alley), sex on motorcycle, all characters 18+, sub!Mikey, dom!Reader, gay, cumming inside(they are healthy), late at night, swearing, etc.

Author: Sorry if it's too long or feels rushed🫠 I hope you like it anyway, if you want me to change something you're free to ask.

Scenario: Mikey couldn't sleep at night, so he went to your house and suggest you an "innocent" ride on his motorcycle.

The rumble of an engine cut through the quiet night, low and familiar. You didn’t even have to check the window, you knew that sound better than your own heartbeat.

Mikey.

With a lazy stretch, you wandered toward the front door, flipping the porch light on just as he killed the engine. His bike gleamed under the street lamps, chrome catching the moonlight. He straddled it easily, one hand on the throttle, the other pulling off his helmet to reveal a wild mess of blond hair and a grin that spelled trouble.

"You gonna keep staring or you gonna get your ass out here?" he called, voice carrying across the yard.

You leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. "You know it's like two in the morning, right?"

He shrugged, completely unapologetic. "Couldn't sleep. Figured you'd be up."

Mikey kicked the stand down and swung off the bike, sauntering up your walkway like he owned the place. His jacket was half-zipped, exposing the sharp lines of his collarbone, and his boots scuffed softly against the concrete.

"Come ride with me," he said once he was close enough to touch, his voice dropping into something smoother, more persuasive.

You raised an eyebrow. "Where?"

He just smirked, tilting his head like you’d asked something ridiculous. "Does it matter?"

You rolled your eyes, but the corners of your mouth twitched up. With Mikey, it never really mattered. Wherever he went, chaos and beauty followed.

Without waiting for your answer, he stepped closer, his hand brushing your hip lightly. "Come on," he murmured, a whisper just for you. "Just us. Just the road. You and me."

There was something in his eyes... wild and boyish, but also lonely, like the night was too big for him to face alone.

You sighed dramatically, grabbing your jacket from the hook beside the door. "You're lucky you're cute, Sano."

Mikey's grin widened like he'd won a prize. "I know."

As you locked the door behind you, he tossed you a helmet, hopping back onto his bike with easy grace. When you slid onto the seat behind him, his body relaxed instantly, like you were the missing piece he'd been searching for all night.

He glanced over his shoulder, smirk still in place. "Hold on tight."

You barely had time to wrap your arms around his waist before he kicked the bike into gear and peeled off into the night, laughter tearing from his throat like a battle cry.

Your ride lasted an hour because the hungry guy aka Mikey had a 5 minute discussion with you to stop and eat something. Of course, this childish cutie chose some sweets and forced you to share yours several times or he would whine like a child.

After eating your snacks, this time you took the controls of the motorcycle. (Mainly because Manjiro wanted to feel your warmth by hugging you. It's his comfort place)

The wind roared past you, whipping your jacket and stinging your cheeks as the motorcycle tore down the empty highway. Mikey leaned forward against you, his arms tight around your waist, his chin pressed between your shoulder blades. The hum of the engine, the scent of asphalt and sea air — it all blurred together into something intoxicating.

For a while, neither of you said a word. It was just the road, the stars scattered above like lazy witnesses, and Mikey's steady heartbeat where his chest met your back.

Eventually, he tapped your side — his silent signal.

"Pull over," he called over the engine noise, voice muffled against your jacket.

You eased off the throttle and rolled into a patch of field off the road, letting the bike growl to a stop. Crickets sang around you. The moon hung low and swollen, washing the world in silver.

Mikey slid off the bike first, stretching his arms overhead with a loud, exaggerated groan. His blond hair was a mess, his grin even messier. "You're slow," he teased, tugging off his helmet and tossing it onto the seat.

"You just can't sit still," you shot back, stepping off beside him.

Mikey cocked his head, lips curling into that familiar, cocky smile. "Maybe I'm just excited," he said, stepping closer, his fingers catching in your jacket. "Or maybe I just missed you."

Before you could answer, he tugged you down by the collar and kissed you — all teeth and mischief at first, a spark of adrenaline still running hot in him from the ride. You caught his hips, steadying him against you as he nipped at your bottom lip, daring, playful, asking. He tasted like the night air, like candy and trouble. The kiss deepened. Mikey pressed against you more insistently, fingers bunching in your shirt like he couldn't stand the distance. His body was warm, electric under your hands. His cocky little smirk faltered when you bit gently at his throat, making him shudder against you.

"You always act so tough," you murmured against his skin, dragging your hands down his sides. You just love the feeling of his slim but still toned waist.

"And you love it," he breathed out, voice already shaky.

You pushed him back gently until his back hit his motorcycle, the cool metal making him hiss and squirm. He looked up at you with half-lidded eyes, pupils blown wide — needy, wrecked already and you hadn't even touched him properly yet.

"Let me," he whispered, tugging you closer by the belt loops, "just—" You grabbed his wrist, stopping him from going any lower. Causing Mikey to pout and frown. He doesn't like being told no. Unless it's you.

"A-A-A. Don't touch without permission. You really can't help yourself, huh? touching me in the middle of the street..." You said with low tone, so he could feel shame in his behavior. But he didn't. It's Mikey after all.

“Then why don’t you take your good boy somewhere…” The shorter man’s other hand traveled down to your crotch, pressing lightly to feel the outline of your dormant member. "Private?" the black-eyed man added, his voice suggestive as if he wanted to provoke something from you, and his eyes filled with passion to encourage you to act.

You groaned throatily, feeling the tightness forming in yours pants and boxers, looking around covertly to see if anyone was coming before you grabbed his hand and his motorcycle. Leading them to the nearest dark alley.

Mikey giggles at your sudden outburst, he didn't even have to try! He knew you wouldn't last long under the provocation. Adrenaline shot through his blood, knowing you both were going to do it RIGHT NOW in this dirty alley.

"AHHHhh~" Mikey let out a loud moan, throwing his head back, holding onto your hair as you were between his legs, giving him the best blowjob imaginable as he sat on his motorcycle. Your hand held his thigh steady, tightening your grip on him to keep him from expressing his pleasure too loudly. Not like it helps. Your boyfriend can be a little too loud than he need to be... Your firm lips were wrapped around his dick, your tongue skillfully licking the tip and base, wetting him more than possible. Pre-cum was leaking out of Mikey like crazy, perfect proof that your skills were too much for him. Not even 3 minutes had passed and he already felt like he was going to explode in your mouth. He was so good for you...he moans, whines, shakes and arches at your beck and call, always ready for you. He NEEDS a reward. He was already without his Toman jacket and white T-shirt, nipples abused from your earlier sucking and nibbing all red and hard.

"Babyy~ Lemme cum....! Your mouth is soooo good, pwwweaseee." he whined desperately, holding back his thrusts into your warm and wet mouth, his tongue hanging out and his eyes half rolled back, cheeks turning pink from the intense feeling of euphoria. Still holding onto your hair, because at this point it was the only thing keeping him grounded. Your hand on his thigh now felt like fuel to the fire, fueling the fire in his body, feeling like your property.

"Nuh-uh." you declined with a teasing smile, but also with love and flirtation in your eyes that made Mikey's stomach do backflips.

"You're ready for me, aren't you?" you asked sarcastically after giving him one last suck and then pulling away from his hard-on. Mikey whined desperately, releasing your grip on your (h/c) hair, already knowing what to do. The blond nodded stupidly, standing up from his CB205T and then turning his back to you, sticking his ass up and his stomach press into the seat of the motorcycle.

"Good boy." You said before spanking Mikey's ass, making him chuckle again through his moan. Already numb from the euphoria and need of begin wrecked. You pulled your pants all the way down, they fell to your ankles and you grabbed your boyfriend by the hips, teasing him with the tip of your hard and heavy dick.

"Oh c'mon! Put it inside me already, I want to feel everything so much that everything hurts." he said frustrated, pushing his ass towards you, this time he was teasing you with his wet and tight hole. Then you slid into his hole, which was already widened from the stimulation of your fingers earlier, stretching his walls so that you could enter completely. Mikey closed his eyes and bit his lower lip lightly, burying his face in his folded arms.

"Yeahhhh~ That's it...Fuck me!"

You fucked him like that for a few minutes, hitting his prostate to the point where Mikey thought he would pass out from the pressure in his head and lower stomach. Allowing you to use him in every way possible without any unnecessary conflict. Because who needed conflict when his brain was being dissolved into space at that moment.

"Fuck, Mikey... You're clenching around me so tight~ Argh..." you moaned, throwing your head back in ecstasy. Speeding up the thrusts of your hips, which only made the blond moan louder. You had already come in him a few times, giving better conditions for faster tempo and deeper penetration. The boy beneath you looked absolutely majestic, shaking all over, body hot and wet with sweat, marked by your teeth. Eyes completely unfocused on anything, and tears were running down his cheeks. Not to mention those juicy moans and sounds he made himself, and those his body made connected to yours.

You picked him up without removing yourself from him, then turned him around to look at you. Manjiro didn't protest, wrapping his strong yet shaky legs around your waist.

Mikey's breathy moans broke the silence of the night, soft and sweet as you pound him against the bike this time in missionary position, his body pliant under your hands, wanting. His fingers scrabbled against your jacket, legs locking around your waist to drag you closer, closer, closer—deeper.

Afterward, you stayed like that for a while, tangled up beside the bike, the smell of grass and leather clinging to the night. Mikey curled into your side, jacket half-slipped off his shoulder, his face buried against your chest.

"Next time," he mumbled, voice thick with sleep and satisfaction, "I'm taking a charge"

You snorted, kissing the top of his head. "Not a chance, blondie."

He just grinned against your skin, holding you tighter, like if he let go, the night would disappear.

Once you both got back into your clothes, you got back on the bike after you'd wheeled it out of the alley. (More like YOU since Mikey just sat there with shaking legs.) You rode back to your spot together, washed up in the romantic atmosphere of candles and rose water, and then went to sleep in your warm bed.

However, the black-eyed boy had other intentions. He dozed off for a moment in your arms, and when he woke up and saw your handsome and relaxed face, he smiled slyly through his sleep. He began kissing your bare, muscular chest, slowly going down to your V-line. Ignoring whether you were asleep or slowly waking up. Manjiro got under the covers, his fingers slowly and precisely pulling down your pajama bottoms, exposing everything below. Despite the fact that you had sex many times before, he still felt the same emotions before he even touched you. Pink and slightly swollen lips from earlier, began to give light kisses along the shaft, wrapping around your tip to make you hard again.

Your reaction is up to you :) in total you have one possible option to choose from: Wreck him.

The only thing I can promise you is that Mikey is very much in love with you. He doesn't do such intimate things just like that, it requires trust and complete commitment from him. So if you happen to get crazy, don't forget to tell him that you love him very much. He needs it more than he thinks.

Love this man ❤️

[crystalshard]

A shadow slid into the booth seat opposite.

Blinking, Danny lifted his eyes from the screen of his brand new WayneTech laptop - a gift from Sam when he'd received his acceptance into Gotham U - as he fumbled blearily for his coffee cup. The man seated across from him was lithe and dark-haired. Concern emanated from every part of his face, and the searchlight intensity made Danny blink again.

Danny worked his jaw, loosening the built-up tension. "Uh. Hi?" Lifting his cup to mask his confusion, Danny refocused into the white ceramic cavern when no delicious dark liquid met his tongue. Empty? Betrayal.

The man pursed his mouth, reaching out to rest a hand over Danny's wrist. "Tim," he began.

Danny pulled away instinctively, his eyes narrowing. Why was this stranger acting so familiar? And who was this Tim guy?

Thankfully, the man pulled back. "Tim," he repeated, "you need to go home. Hiding from Tam in here so you can work overtime without her noticing isn't a good thing, despite what guys like Lex Luthor say about being productive.”

Danny wrinkled his nose at the mention of the bald asshole. The guy had worked with Vlad once, so he was definitely on Danny's no-go list.

Stranger Danger nodded as if Danny had said that out loud. "Exactly. Look, Tim, this isn't like you. I used to catch you napping everywhere instead of avoiding sleep, and you always preferred soda to coffee. Is the job stressing you out that much? C'mon, buddy, you can tell me."

Huh. Whoever this Tim guy was, he must be having a rough time. At least he had his brother looking out for him. (Had to be a brother. If it wasn't for the voice and the appearance, he'd have sworn it was Jazz in front of him. The Older Sibling vibes were unmistakable.) "Uh," Danny said, a noise meant more for buying time while he thought than an actual answer. He really should tell this guy that he wasn't Tim.

Older Brother sighed. "Look, I'm sorry I've failed you as an older brother. I should have believed you about B, and I didn't. I can understand why you don't want to tell me. But would you please just let me take you home so that you can sleep in your own bed for a while?"

He really should admit he wasn't Tim.

But . . .

A good night's sleep sounded really good. And it was nice having someone there who cared about him, even if Older Brother thought he was someone else. He could get the bus or an Uber or something back to the dorms in the morning.

With his brain drenched in cortisol and adenosine, his thoughts slow and hard to reach, Danny nodded and began to pack up his things.

Older Brother brightened and led him out to a waiting car. Danny considered briefly that he might be being kidnapped, but the car was a Porsche. He was fairly sure that most kidnappers didn't use Porsches.

(That ought to have been the first warning sign.)

The passenger seat was comfortable, and Older Brother didn't seem inclined to talk. Danny leaned his head back and let himself doze off.

"Tim! Tim, wake up, we're here!"

Danny blinked awake and stared at the garage in front of him. The enormous garage that held at least five cars and had space for more. Even Vlad didn't have a garage that big. When you could fly, why drive unless you had to?

(Warning Sign 2.)

"C'mon, buddy, you look like you need a good ten hours."

Danny unclipped his seatbelt after two tries, staggering out of the low-slung car and nearly falling when the ground was closer than he expected. "Bag," he muttered.

"I've got your bag. We'd better go in through the side door, you don't want Alfred catching sight of you like this."

Warm, supportive hands guided Danny into the house and down a corridor. And down another corridor. And up a set of stairs, and this house was bigger than Sam's and maybe bigger than Vlad's cheese castle, and who the hell were Tim and Older Brother to be living somewhere like this? "Huh?" Danny asked.

(Warning Sign 3.)

Older Brother winced slightly. "Okay, so it's the Manor and not your apartment or the Nest, but I wanted you somewhere I can keep an eye on you. Don't worry, I'll let B know you're taking tonight off."

Danny frowned, something about that phrasing sounding a little odd, but he couldn't quite latch on to the exact issue with it.

"Aaaaand here we are! Alfred's washed the sheets since the last time you were here, they're all clean. Sleep well!"

The door shut behind Older Brother, leaving Danny to stare at the bedroom. Whoever Tim was, he was probably around Danny's age and as much of a technophile as Tucker. And, given the quality of the furnishings and the sheets, richer than Sam.

Sheets. Bed. Soft, warm, bed.

Too tired to shower, and unwilling to use someone else's toothbrush, Danny stripped to his boxers and curled up under the covers.

The next thing he knew, the door slammed open. Light streamed through the window, and Danny squinted against the too-bright sun as a dark-haired figure who bore a remarkable resemblance to him stomped over to the bedside.

"You," said a voice both icy and full of rage. "Who are you, and what are you doing in my bed?"

A batfam member lecturing tim on how he needs to go back to the manor and rest because they know hes been overworking himself and hasn’t slept

Danny who is definitely not this tim person, however he has been overworking himself and hasnt slept either and a nap sounds really good right about now, agreeing and just going with them

[steddiehyperfixation]

let the sun rise

this is pure self-indulgent angst sorry. inspired by this post; written for @steddiebingo prompts: time loop + established relationship + saying goodbye | 2.9k words | T | ao3 |

Steve has been living the same three days over and over again. Just before the sun rises on Thursday, March 27, 1986, the day they’re supposed to defeat Vecna, he wakes up again in the Wheeler’s basement on Monday, March 24. He’s been at this for a long time now and he’s gotten pretty good at blending in with each loop, letting all the major events play out more or less they way they’re supposed to and being careful not to do or say anything that might make anyone think there’s something weird going on with him. But sometimes he slips. Sometimes, just sometimes, he loses track, the days all blend together and he says something he shouldn’t—a mention of Vecna’s plan that won’t be told to them until the sunrise that will never come, an offhand comment referencing a conversation that only happened in a previous loop and not the current one, or an exhausted complaint about going through something again. 

It’s always Eddie who notices these slips, always Eddie with his big worried eyes and careful attention who demands to know what’s going on with him and won’t let up until Steve either tells him the truth (which rarely ends well) or gives him a believable enough excuse (which is no small feat either; Eddie has always known how to see right through him). 

“I'm in a time loop,” Steve grudgingly admits this time, too tired to come up with anything else as he crawls into Eddie’s haphazardly remade bed, fresh bat bite wounds still aching. It’s been a while since he’s told the truth, and the loop will reset soon anyways. All they have left now are these few quiet hours while Nancy collects herself after her Vecna vision and the rest of them try to sneak in a couple precious hours of sleep. 

“Oh shit.” Eddie believes him instantly, always does. Still standing at the opposite side of the bed, he looks down at Steve with wide eyes. “For how long?”

“Dunno. Years, probably. It’s a three day loop and I lost track of how many there’ve been a long time ago,” Steve answers boredly, dismissively, hoping maybe this time Eddie won’t make a big deal out of it. “It doesn’t matter. It’ll reset soon and I’ll wake up on Monday.” 

“On Monday? Steve- sweetheart, why the hell didn’t you say anything sooner?” Eddie seems agitated already, hands moving fretfully as he speaks. So much for it not being a big deal. “You should’ve told me—the kids, Nancy, Robin—we could’ve helped you get out of it! We could-” 

“I don’t want to get out of it,” Steve cuts him off. It comes out a bit sharper than he intended, but it succeeds in giving Eddie pause. 

Eddie freezes, blinks, frowns. “What do you mean you don’t want to get out of it?”

“I asked for this,” Steve says. “I chose this.” 

“The fuck you mean you chose this?”

“I mean I chose it, Eddie. It's not a riddle.” 

(Steve couldn't cope after Eddie died. They got back from the upside-down, the hospital declared Eddie DOA, and Steve shattered. Not just his heart and his soul broke, but his mind snapped too. He put on a good face in front of the others, like a mask with artfully placed cracks to let only the appropriate levels and displays of grief through, but behind it he'd gone mad. He'd become obsessed. In private, he pored through books of ancient mythologies and occult rituals, lighting candles and chanting nonsense and spilling his own blood. Because if psychic kids and monsters from parallel dimensions exist, then surely there must be other things out there too—surely there must be something that could bring Eddie back. 

For weeks nothing happened, nothing worked, but Steve kept on trying, again and again, the very definition of insanity, until finally something did. Something came to him. In the dark, in the candlelight, the shadows gathered into a shape just at the edge of his peripheral. It hurt his eyes to try to look at it, and so he closed them. He didn’t need to see it, didn’t need to know what it was—spirit or demon or god; there was only one thing that mattered: “Can you bring him back?” 

It spoke to him in a soundless voice, words that bypassed his ears and slithered straight into his brain. I cannot, it said. 

“Then what’s the fucking point of you!?” Steve shouted, hands clenched into fists, fingers pressing into the gash in his palm.

I cannot raise the dead. I cannot undo what’s already been done. But I can give you more time, the thing whispered. He felt its presence move closer. I can take you into the past, let you relive the days before his death as many times as you need to. You will not be able to change anything, try though you might, but you can see him again, touch him and hold him as he was, alive. I can give you that, if you wish. 

Steve shuddered, the shadowy entity cold at his side. “Yes,” he exhaled. “Please. Take me back.”)

Eddie shakes his head, a refusal to accept that answer. “Why would you do that?” 

“It doesn’t matter.” Steve sits up and reaches across the bed to take Eddie’s hand. “Just come here and get some sleep. Please.” 

“Tell me why.” Eddie squeezes Steve’s hand but doesn’t budge, standing firm. “Why the fuck would you willingly choose to relive three of probably the most stressful days of your entire life over and over again?”

“Eddie.” Steve tugs at his hand, begging him one more time to drop the subject. 

“Why?” Eddie insists. “Why would you do that to yourself?” 

“Because you die, Eddie!” Steve blurts out, emotion getting ahead of his better judgement. “Because you die tomorrow and there’s nothing I can do to change it except make sure that tomorrow never comes. Because if I let this next sun rise, it’ll be the last one you ever see, and we didn’t get enough time. We deserved more time. So- so I was given a choice and I took it, I had to. This was the only way I could be with you again. This was the only way I could keep you alive.” 

(That’s as much as he can say without giving away his insanity. He told Eddie the full truth once, only once, in one of the earlier loops when he was still half-mad, manically pouring out the whole story of his grief and obsession and witchcraft. Eddie had backed away from him as if from something monstrous. “Steve, you’re scaring me,” he said, and Steve made sure to never tell that story again.)

“Fuck, Steve,” Eddie mutters vehemently. He drops Steve’s hand and turns away from him, raking his fingers through his hair and exhaling a sharp, heavy breath through his nose. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” 

Steve lets his dropped hand fall onto the bed like it weighs a ton, as heavy as the air between them and the words he’s confessed. “Please don’t get angry at me,” he pleads. He doesn’t want it to be a fight this time.

“What did you expect?” Eddie whirls back around. “You’ve been in this loop for years, I take it we’ve had this conversation before. So tell me, honestly, has there ever been a version of me that isn’t upset to learn that not only am I dead, but also that I’m the reason that you have been basically fucking torturing yourself for years?”

“No,” Steve admits. He doesn’t always act the same, so Eddie doesn’t always act the same—but whether it’s loud and angry or quiet and sad or somewhere in the middle, there has never been a loop where Eddie has reacted positively to any of this. And yet Steve still finds himself here, in loops like this one, desperate to make Eddie understand. “But it’s not like that. It’s not- I did this for you, so you could live!” 

That only makes things worse, it always does. 

“What, are you expecting a fucking thank you?” Eddie shakes his head, mangy curls flying. “You didn’t do this for me, you did this for you. Don’t you dare try to pretend like it’s anything other than purely fucking selfish. You haven’t given me any more life or any more time; I just reset, for you. You get to have all these extra years with me, but I’ll only ever have these three days with you.” His voice, though harsh and bitter, cracks; his eyes, though they blaze, are fractured and watery. “That’s not fucking fair, Steve. That isn’t right.” 

“It’s not right that you’re gone either! It’s not fucking fair that you died and you left me!” 

“Of course it fucking isn’t! But that doesn’t mean you go and stick yourself in a time loop, you idiot-!” 

“Fuck! Just stop yelling at me!” Steve sags back against the headboard, scrubbing his hands over his face and his stinging eyes. “I know, I already know. You’ve said all this before. I get it.” He drops his hands into his lap, tips his head back and closes his eyes as he sighs. He’s too fucking tired for this. Too fucking tired and in pain, and all he wants is to fall asleep in his boyfriend’s arms and wake up last Monday with this conversation erased from Eddie’s mind and a fresh loop ahead of him.  

Because Eddie’s wrong, he’s not torturing himself. Yes, they spend each loop in a near constant state of fear and stress, but they can still seek comfort in each other in the quiet moments; and even a panicked breath is still a breath, even a racing heartbeat is still a heartbeat, and Steve will treasure every second, every moment of proof he can get that they’re both still alive, together. That’s not torture when it’s all he’s got left. That’s worth everything. 

“There’s only a couple hours left of this loop,” Steve mutters wearily. “Can we please not waste it arguing with each other?” 

Eddie sighs in surrender, a slow, controlled huff like he’s still seething a little, but Steve can feel the worst of his anger beginning to curb into something softer. After a moment, the bed dips beside him and an arm slides around his shoulders. “I’m sorry,” Eddie says. He tugs Steve close and presses a kiss into his hair. “I don’t think you’re an idiot. I think you’ve just got too much heart for your own good, and I’m flattered that I mean so much to you. But…I also think that you need to let me go.”

Steve opens his eyes to Eddie’s soft, sad ones. It’s unbearable. He ducks his head, settling it onto Eddie’s shoulder and burrowing even further against his side. “Yeah,” Steve exhales a humorless laugh, “you’ve said that before too.” 

“And you’ve never listened,” Eddie says the obvious part out loud.

“No,” Steve confirms. His eyes close again, exhaustion pulling at him. “I don’t want you to die.” 

“Well, shit, sweetheart,” Eddie gives a dry, shaky laugh of his own, “I don’t want me to die either. I’m kind of really fucking terrified actually. I mean, given what we’re up against, I’m sure it’s gruesome and horrible—and don’t tell me,” he adds quickly when Steve starts to open his mouth to comment. “But you already know, don’t you, because it’s already happened for you. I’m already dead. I’m just…I’m nothing but a ghost to you now.” 

“No, you’re real,” Steve insists. He shifts to wrap both arms around Eddie’s waist and rest his head against Eddie’s chest, right over his heart. It’s beating a bit fast now—contemplating your own mortality will do that to you—but it’s beating, it’s beating. “You’re not a ghost. You’re alive.” 

“Only for these three days,” Eddie says, quiet with the effort of keeping his voice steady. “That’s not living, that- that’s not life, it’s just an echo of it. Countless echoes, but the real me is already gone. You have to let me go.”

“Don’t say that.” Steve holds him tighter, desperately, throat closing up with panic and grief just at the thought of losing him again. He buries his face in the dingy, unwashed fabric of Eddie’s Hellfire Club shirt like an ostrich burying its head in the sand. “Stop saying that. Just let me keep you.” 

“Oh, Stevie,” Eddie whispers, and he holds him tighter too, his other hand coming up to run gentle fingers through Steve’s hair, “my Stevie, I’d let you keep me forever. But not like this. Not if I can’t keep you too, and especially not if keeping me is keeping you from living your life. I need you to live, Steve.”

“And I need you to live, Eddie,” Steve counters, mumbled petulantly into Eddie’s chest. This conversation is going in circles and Steve wishes Eddie would just let him sleep. He’d be lulled off in seconds by Eddie’s warmth and his soft hands if only he’d stop talking and making Steve want to cry.

“Steve-” 

“Stop,” he begs, voice breaking into something just short of a whine as it passes through the lump of emotion in his throat. He doesn’t want to hear this anymore. 

“Steve, look at me.” Eddie tugs lightly at Steve’s hair to get him to lift his head, pushes gently at his shoulder to peel him away from Eddie’s side. Steve tries to fall back into him, but Eddie’s hand slides from his hair and holds his chin up with firm fingers, forcing Steve to remain locked in Eddie’s intense gaze. Which would be incredibly hot if only the circumstances weren’t so devastating. 

Steve has to look at him now, no matter how tumultuous an ache it leaves in his chest. Eddie’s face is tear-stained, water tracks tracing streaks in the layer of grime left there from all the trials of the past few days, but his expression is hard-set, determination and resolve pulled tight over all the quivering emotions behind it. Steve has never seen him look so grave, so serious and sad and scared all at once. And even like this, he’s beautiful. 

“I don’t want to die. There is so much more I want to do with my life, and if I have any choice at all in the matter, I’m gonna fight like hell to keep it; I can promise you that,” Eddie tells him, words a little rough around the edges with how much he means them. “But if everything you’ve told me is true—if I really am doomed, if I’m already dead—if I can’t live, then you have to. Not just the same three days on repeat, none of this time loop bullshit, I mean really, actually live. If you do anything for me, do that. Let the sun rise, let me have my last day, and go have the best fucking life.” He speaks emphatically, urging, demanding, pleading. His unwavering eyes never leave Steve’s, even as fresh tears well up and collect in beads on his lashes. “Please. Can you promise me that?”

Steve manages a tiny, noncommittal nod and pitches forward to pull Eddie into a kiss—if nothing else just to shut him up, but also, maybe, just in case this time it might really be their last. It certainly feels like a last kiss, has all the desperation of one, all the clumsy fervor and salty taste of tears.

But Eddie recognizes it as the evasion it is and doesn’t let him get away with it. Though he indulges the distraction with equal, if not more, desperation for several long moments, he soon pushes Steve back. “Promise me,” he says again, a bit breathlessly now but still just as serious. “I need you to promise me you’ll let the sun rise. Don’t just placate me, don’t just shut me up, promise me.” 

Steve’s stubborn tears finally spill over as for the first time he finds himself truly considering it. For the first time, his denial is not as immediate; for the first time, Eddie’s words and pleas have started to sink in somewhere he can’t ignore, and he knows, somewhere deep, that he should let go, he should move on. If only the idea didn’t make his whole body shake and the monster of his grief tighten its claws around his heart.

They look at each other with haunted eyes, hold each other with trembling hands. Just a couple of scared kids—Eddie scared to die and Steve scared to live without him, both of them trying hard to have the courage to face the inevitability. But Eddie has always been the braver of them (though he’ll never quite know it), and being in a time loop has made an excellent liar out of Steve. 

“I promise,” he says, with enough softness and sincerity that Eddie lets him kiss him and curl up close again without any more argument. They whisper goodbyes to each other instead of goodnight as they lay down to sleep, Steve settling his head back on Eddie’s chest and finally drifting off wrapped blissfully in his arms. 

He wakes up on Monday, March 24th, and he tells himself it’s only for a little while longer. 

[blackcoldcrackedheart]

"And then I text Bobby, make sure he's okay"

"Tommy, right?" Tommy turns to see a young woman, maybe early twenties. He had seen and met her briefly before.

"I don't know if you remember me from the medal ceremony? I'm Athena's daughter."

Tommy vaguely remembers, "Yeah, I-" her name is a month but he's blanking on which month. "I'm sorry, it's May or -"

She smiles, it awkward and tight, but it's there as she goes to shake his hand. "It's May." She licks her lips and looks towards the direction of where Evan, Howie, Hen, and Eddie are standing at- they're in small group, their head bowed as they talk amongst themselves.

Tommy tries to give them space.

Bobby's wake is heavy and a lot all at once. Tommy tries hard to not cry and while he's giving Evan his space, he doesn't want to go too far.

"I'm sorry. About Bobby, I can already imagine how great of a step-father he was."

May nods, wiping away a few tears, "He was a great dad, I'm gonna miss him." She sighed, she looks over again. "I know it's none of my business, but are you and Buck together again?"

Tommy flinched, he looks down at his cup of water, unsure what they are or even if he could answer the question. "I rather not misinform you." He hopes it sounds diplomatic enough if it gets back to Evan that May asked him about their relationship status.

She sniffs, huffing out a soft laugh. "It's just-" she looks at Evan again, her brows furrowong with worry. "I know that Bobby saw Buck as his kid, and I know Buck saw Bobby as his dad."

Tommy knew that.

He knew what it was like to lose a parent.

He lost his mom.

He had seen people react to losing their parents during calls.

He saw Evan lose Bobby that night.

He watched the man he loved more than anyone breakdown in grief as he lost his father.

"I don't know if Buck has talked to you or the others about losing Bobby, I tried but he basically said it wasn't about him."

That has Tommy frowning now too.

He doesn't want to disclose what Evan has told him, he doesn't want to break Evan's trust and tell May that he's had to hold Evan as the other man sobbed till he fell asleep twice now.

"We've talked. He knows I'll be here for him as long as he needs." Tommy tells her softly.

"Good." May nods, "I-I know that Buck and I aren't close, but I-I just want to make sure he's okay."

Tommy hums in agreement, he notices that she hasn't stopped fidgeting since she approached him. "How are you holding up?" He asks her.

He sees May's eyes fill with tears and he quickly gives her a napkin from the table besides them that had a small serving of food and water.

"Thank you." Her voice sounds so wobbly and young that Tommy feels himself start to tear up. "I'll be okay," she sighs, "I'm just really worried about my mom. She isn't talking about what happened but I know her. I know she's angry about losing Bobby."

Tommy believes her, he had heard the others admit the same thing. Especially Howie, who was riddled with guilt about losing Bobby.

"She's probably not going to be in a mood to talk about what happened for a while, the best we can do right now is just be there for her and the others." Tommy tells her, he knows it's generic advice but it's the only thing that makes sense to him. He can't fix what happened, he can't make it all better.

He can't bring back Bobby.

As much as he wishes he could.

"I know." May tells him dishearteningly, blowing her nose on the napkin. "It's not fair." She admits in a small voice as she looks at her mom, Athena is consoling an older woman who Tommy thinks is Bobby's mom.

"None of this is fair." He agrees quietly.

-

There's pain radiating from his neck to his shoulders and he's pretty sure the cool damp spot he's feeling on his chest is from Evan drooling on him.

The living room is still pretty dark, but Tommy could see strays of light from the sun rising coming through the front window.

He squints at the timer on the DVD player.

It's just 6:38 am.

So they managed to sleep for at least 2 hours more.

Progress.

Evan had woken up from a nightmare. The same nightmare of losing Bobby and waking up in a panic.

This was the third time now and Tommy had used Evan’s phone of sending a text message to his therapist about booking an emergency session (with Evan's permission).

They had moved from their bedroom to the backyard to get some fresh air and drink some herbal tea to the living room.

He knew Evan slept better when they were cuddled together so he tried not to move despite the pain in his neck and shoulders.

He thought Evan was still asleep, but he heard the other man groan, his voice rough with sleep and pain as he asks Tommy, "What time issit?"

Tommy cards his fingers through Evan's sweaty curls, "Quarter to 7, almost." He presses his lips to Evan's hairline, believing the other man will just go back to sleep.

Instead Evan reaches over to the side table, the friction between them as Tommy gritting his teeth as Evan reaches over his head to grab his phone.

Tommy doesn't say anything but he can see Evan opening up his text messages and messaging Bobby.

'Hey, are you okay?'

Tommy doesn't say anything but he can see the message from the day before.

It's not a different number, Tommy knows that it's Bobby's number that responded back yesterday.

'Hey, are you okay?'

'I'm okay, Buck.'

He's not sure what to say or even ask as Evan lays his head down back on Tommy’s chest. The hand clutching the phone is splayed to the side and hanging off the couch.

Tommy knew about Evan messaging Bobby, it was something Evan started after coming out of a coma. It was something he did because, as Evan explained it, in the coma dream he couldn't save Bobby, so he needed to know that in reality Bobby was okay.

It was the first thing he did every morning since.

Now...

Evan's phone buzzed, and Tommy could only frown as Evan blearily looks as the screen.

'I'm okay, Buck.'

Evan makes huffs out in relief and let's his arm hand down again. There's a soft thud sound that Tommy knows is Evan dropping the phone.

"Athena's okay." He tells Tommy sleepily, there's an edge to his voice that Tommy knows is about nightmare.

Tommy clutches him and despite Evan's eyes are closed, he can see the tears clutching and falling from Evan's lashes and down his nose and cheeks.

-

"Hey."

"Hey."

Tommy passes a glass of lemonade to May as he sits next to her.

She looks at the glass and then at him, "Lemonade? Really? Tommy, I'm over 21."

Tommy purses his lips and tries not to smile as he take a sip of his own glass of lemonade. "I'm not giving the Sergent's kid alcohol. Even if the kid is an adult who has a degree from USC now."

May laughs, looking around the room at her graduation party. She had told her mom it wasn't necessary for them to celebrate her graduation.

But May figured the party was what was needed after coping with losing Bobby 8 months ago.

"How is he now?" May asks, nodding in the direction of Buck. He was standing with Athena and Michael and David, his face bright as whatever he was saying got the trio laugh. Athena was clutching his arm, her head tilted back as Buck waved his hands excitedly around.

"Better." Tommy answers honestly. Evan was doing better, he still had rough days- days in where he would shut down and made Tommy worry.

But those days were getting farther in between now.

"How's Athena?"

May turns to him, smiling. "Better."

They look at Buck and Athena again, the two laughing together as David starts talking this time.

-

"Wasn't expecting to see you here, Buckley." Athena knows she sounds cold, but she can't help it. She's annoyed that Buck is here.

Buck isn't religious as far as she knew.

She had went to Bobby's church to feel something.

Anything besides anger and hurt.

Bobby's funeral was only a day ago.

She was going back to work tomorrow.

She needed to get her head back into the game by tonight.

She thought attending mass would make her feel better. She wasn't expecting to see a familiar head of curls sitting three pews in front of her.

"Wasn't expecting to be here." Buck admits, his voice is rough and Athena can hear the cracks in it. She looks at his face, his skin is blotchy and she sees how blood shot and teary eyed he looks.

She wasn't close to Buck.

But she knew how much Bobby loved him.

She knew how much Buck loved Bobby too.

She feels her lower lip wobble as she sits next to him.

"Is it helping?" She asks him, looking straight ahead because she knows she's close to breaking.

She doesn't want to break again.

"No." Buck admits tearfully, he sounds fed up. Athena still isn't looking at him but she hears him sniff. "I-I don't know, Bobby always relied on God to get through the bad days, I thought maybe if I came here-"

"That God could help you too?"

"Uh, no? I-I thought it could help me feel close to Bobby. I-whenever I had a bad day I would go to him."

Athena feels her eyes burn with tears again.

"Why are you here?" Buck asks her after awhile.

She feels herself become fidgety, her knee won't stop bouncing as she looks ahead still. "I figured coming here would bring me some peace for tomorrow." She answers half honestly.

She hears Buck scoff, "is it working?"

Athena feels herself tapping her nails against the pew, she feels tears start to fall. "No." She whispers as she realizes that despite her best efforts she breaking down again.

She feels Buck's arms go around her and she breaks more, clutching Buck's shirt as they both cry.

"I don't- I don't know how to move on from this, Buck."

"Me neither." He tells her once they pull apart, the crying was cathartic. Buck holds her hand tightly, needing something to ground him.

He looks nervous as he asks, "Uh, there's this thing. That I do with Bobby- did, I guess." He frowns as he corrects himself. He wipes away more tears as he tries to speak but his voice his horse. "I-I would message him, every-every morning and ask if he's okay."

Athena chuckles softly, she knew about Buck's early morning texts. How much Bobby adored it, it made him smile every morning.

"I know." She tells him, waiting for his point.

"I-I was wondering, maybe I -I could text message you now? I-I don't know when you're planning on sto-"

"Not yet."

Athena knows it silly to keep paying for Bobby's phone line but she can't do it yet.

"Sooo, maybe I can text message Bobby and you- you could answer?"

Athena looks at him.

Buck hangs his head down, his laugh sounds so self-deprecating to her own ears.

"Yeah, I know stupid-"

She squeezes his hand, "I think it sounds like a great idea, Buck."

She knows that Buck has the 118, Maddie, and Tommy.

She has her kids and Michael has been there for her, so has Anne and Charlie.

But Buck was special to Bobby.

He was his kid.

And Athena didn't want to lose that part of Bobby.

Buck knew he wasn't Bobby's family, not officially. But he wanted to be. He wanted to make sure that the people Bobby loved where okay, but he also wanted to be apart of their lives. He wanted to have something to still tie him to Bobby.

Athena allowing him to be there meant the world to him. It meant he was really a part of Bobby's family.

"You going to be okay?"

"Getting there, you?

"Getting there too."

[epletsplayhouse]

Authors note: I’m sorry, it’s taken me a long time to finish the episode! I’ve been really busy lately, and it’s also been hard for me to get out of my writer’s block! I must admit it’s not as good as I wanted it to be, but my mind is about to explode!😂

Word count: 4,2K

Warning: Smut! +18 dni!

Dontcha’ think It’s time

Part 7 (Part 6 here)

The sun streamed through the windows of Graceland. You had never woken up this happy in your life, remembering that kiss, a kiss you had longed for.

In the living room, Elvis was sitting cross-legged on the couch. He had a cigarette in one hand and a small notebook in the other. In front of him, Colonel Parker spoke with his usual overwhelming energy, gesturing with a half-finished cup of coffee.

“I’m telling you, E,” he muttered, “if we don’t confirm Houston before Wednesday, the whole summer tour’s gonna fall apart. I need your answer today.”

Elvis nodded seriously, but he was playing with the pen, distracted. The Colonel’s words slid right past his ear.

Then, without announcing yourself, you entered.

Barefoot, you wore a short cotton dress still wrinkled from sleep, and your hair held the last traces of last night’s waves. Your steps were light, as if you belonged in that space without asking. As if nothing had changed.

“Good morning,” you said, with a bright smile meant only for him.

Elvis blinked.

You crossed the room as if it were yours and sat beside him on the arm of the couch, nestling close to him for warmth. Your leg brushed against his. You leaned in slightly, looking at him with puppy-dog eyes, waiting for him to turn toward you. To do something. To continue what he had started.

But he didn’t move.

Elvis fixed his gaze back on the notebook, his jaw tense. “Morning, honey,” he mumbled without looking at you, almost automatic.

The Colonel didn’t even flinch, but Elvis knew any misstep could raise suspicions.

You leaned closer, playful, teasing, like a kid fishing for attention. “What, no good morning kiss?” you whispered, your voice light, like it was a game.

He turned his head just a little, his eyes scanning your face with a strange look. There was something about you that didn’t fit. That calmness, that confidence… didn’t you realize what had just happened?

“We’re in the middle of business,” he said under his breath, forcing a tight smile. “Later, okay?”

But you didn’t want to wait.

The Colonel stood up for a moment to check some papers on the back table, turning his back to you while continuing his monologue. And then, without a second thought, you turned Elvis’s head and kissed him. Quickly. A stolen brush at the corner of his lips.

You didn’t even think about it. It was sweet. Warm. Intimate. Like a new ritual, like a game between lovers.

Elvis froze.

His whole body tensed up. His eyes opened just slightly, and his hand moved away from you, shaky. He didn’t say a word, but the pressure in his chest was overwhelming. He didn’t look at you. He didn’t touch you. He just gave a quick “uh-huh” to the Colonel, who hadn’t noticed a thing.

The Colonel turned back around just as Elvis rubbed his nose, playing it off.

“All good over there?” the Colonel asked, flipping through his papers, not suspecting a thing.

“Yep,” Elvis said, clearing his throat, his voice rougher now. “All good.”

But you felt it. The way he pulled back without moving an inch.

Then, while the Colonel went on with his speech, Elvis leaned toward you, his voice so quiet it was barely there, sharp but unsteady:

“You can’t do that.”

You frowned, confused. “What?”

“Not here. Not now. Not like that.”

He looked at you, and his eyes were a mess.Part desperate, part scared. Like half of him wanted to pull you close and kiss you again, and the other half wished he could disappear for letting it happen at all.

He clenched his jaw and shook his head.

And for the first time since you’d met him, it seemed like Elvis Presley was afraid.

In the pool, the air smelled of chlorine, freshly cut grass, and the faint whiff of warm beer wafting from scattered bottles.

Lisa was floating on her inflatable ring, rocking loud palm-tree arm floaties, shouting, “I’m a mermaid!” and splashing like a tiny hurricane. The guys were in their element: Red sprawled on a lounge chair, a sweaty beer in hand, sunglasses crooked; Sonny juggling an empty can while dipping just his toes in the pool, like the court jester; Joe bobbing on another floatie, and Jerry perched on the pool steps, cooling his neck in the water.

You stepped out into the garden barefoot, your short white cotton dress clinging to your skin in the sticky heat. Lisa spotted you and let out that heart-melting giggle, waving wildly.

You grinned, and without a second thought, slipped off your dress in one smooth motion, revealing a red bikini.

The air froze for a split second. Red straightened his sunglasses, Sonny let out a “Holy shit, what an entrance!” and Jerry raised his eyebrows with a quiet, “Well, damn.” You sprinted toward the pool, hair flying like a flag, and cannonballed in. The water erupted like a bomb, sending waves that soaked the lounge chairs and triggered hysterical giggles from Lisa, who clapped at Red’s reaction.

Red jumped up, clutching his drenched beer. “Goddamn it, kid!” he roared, shaking his shirt like a wet dog as water flew everywhere. “That was the last cold one!”

“Wouldn’t be an issue if someone hadn’t downed so many they ended up cuddling a plant instead of their girl last night,” Joe quipped, nodding at

Sonny’s antics from the night before.

Sonny cracked up. “Yeah, last night was wild.”

Red turned to you with a devilish grin. “Kid, those friends of yours from last night…” He let out a whistle. “You gotta introduce me. Ol’ Red’s still got some fuel in the tank!”

Jerry rolled his eyes. “Red, for Christ’s sake, tone it down. You sound like a horny teenager.” His voice was sharp, but there was a glint of amusement in his eyes, like he couldn’t believe Red was this unhinged.

Red shot him a glare. “Let he who’s without sin cast the first stone, or did you forget your ‘sex guru’ lessons in her room?” He tilted his head toward you.

“Red’s definitely not cut out to preach with that mouth,” Joe said to you, chuckling as Red and Jerry bickered.

Sonny, staring into the void with a grin, added, “Best part of last night was that Godfather scene we pulled. We’re gonna end up living up to that silly Memphis Mafia nickname.”

“That bastard Mike won’t set foot in Memphis again, that’s for sure,” Red said. “But yeah, seeing Elvis in action was something else.”

Jerry, who’d been quiet, raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, it was… intense.” His tone was dry, but his eyes sparkled with amusement.

You sank to your shoulders in the water, leaning against the pool’s edge, letting the droplets slide down your arms. The guys’ laughter wrapped around you, but a knot started tightening in your stomach. “What happened to Mike after?” you asked, your voice more serious than you meant, glancing at Red and Sonny. “I didn’t see him again.”

The vibe shifted. Red straightened, setting his beer down with a dull thud, and gave you a crooked smile that screamed trouble. “That asshole? We left him in a puddle on the street, scared shitless.”

Sonny hopped onto a lounge chair, miming a gun with his fingers. “Best part was Elvis pulling out the piece…Damn, the guy’s got style, though I nearly shit myself watching.” Lisa, clueless, shouted, “Pew, pew, that’s my daddy!” flailing her little arms like she was shooting.

Red added, “I’m serious, I thought he was gonna lose it and pull the trigger.”

Joe sighed from his floatie, shaking his head. “Poor kid.” He looked at you, eyes soft and warm. “Don’t worry, babe, you’re safe with us.” His smile was so kind it almost untied the knot in your gut.

Red spun on Joe, incredulous. “Poor? Poor my ass! That son of a bitch said he was gonna hurt her! Mess her up! If we hadn’t overheard his plan, or if E hadn’t bashed his face in, we’d be crying right now.”

You froze, the water suddenly feeling icy. “He said that?” Your voice came out shaky, cheeks burning with a mix of shame for doubting Elvis and raw anger. You could barely believe Elvis had pulled a gun.

Sonny nodded, a fierce glint in his eyes. “Yeah, kid. That’s why we kicked his ass to kingdom come.”

Lisa swam over, clambering onto you like a soggy monkey, her sticky hands wrapping around your neck. She planted a wet, chlorine-scented kiss on your cheek.

You smiled, feeling genuinely cared for, protected. They really had your back. But the heat in your cheeks lingered. The image of Mike, bloody and raging stuck in your mind, and the mention of Elvis… made your heart race, even though he hadn’t shown up yet.

Some time later, Elvis strode into the garden with heavy steps, sunglasses slipping down his nose, his face etched with exhaustion and a flicker of irritation. He wore an open shirt, not fully buttoned, yet somehow looked sharper than ever.

“The Colonel again?” Joe asked, already knowing the answer.

“Again. And again. And again. He’s burnin’ me out, man” Elvis muttered, shaking his head like he was trying to fling the old man’s words off his neck like stubborn dust.

Red let out a gravelly laugh and straightened up a bit with a grunt.

“I’m so damn sick of that guy. For real.”

But Elvis wasn’t listening anymore. His eyes had caught on something reflected in the pool.

Lisa, fast asleep on her floatie, drifted on her back with her mouth slightly open, blissfully unaware of the world.

An unexpected, tender smile crept across Elvis’s lips. He slipped off his sunglasses with slow, deliberate movements, crouched down… and gently placed them over his daughter’s face with all the care in the world.

“Much better,” he whispered, barely audible.

Everyone burst into soft laughter,some stifling giggles, others placing hands on their chests at the sweetness of it. Even you, holding yourself back all this time, let out a quiet laugh.

But he didn’t look at you.

He stood up and walked over to sit with Red and Joe, lighting a cigarette without saying a word. He started chatting about random things: a Hollywood story, a problem with the sound crew… Every word felt like a carefully placed brick in some invisible wall. Even his laughter sounded just a little too rehearsed.

You watched him quietly. Waiting for him to look at you. But he didn’t. And that got under your skin. He’d ignored you once. You weren’t going to let him do it again.

Minutes passed. The sun was beating down hard. You dipped your feet in the water to cool off, still staring at him. And then, like the devil himself gave you a little nudge, you stretched out your leg… and sent a small splash in his direction.

He didn’t move.

You tried again. A drop here, a flick there. Still nothing.

Jerry, who was a few steps away, frowned at you.

“You alright?” he asked, voice low.

“Yeah. Sure. Perfect,” you replied way too fast.

The third time wasn’t subtle. You kicked harder, sending a wave of water right at his back, soaking his shirt.

He turned slowly, one eyebrow raised.

Red whistled under his breath.

“Uh-oh… someone’s picking a fight.”

Joe chuckled, glancing at Elvis with a grin.

“Come on, boss. Give the girl some attention.”

Elvis stayed silent for a moment, his gaze locked on you, cutting through you inch by inch. A look that gave nothing away. Then, without a word, he unbuttoned what little of his shirt was still fastened, shrugged it off, and let it fall onto the lounge chair. Your heart was already beginning to race.

He walked toward the edge of the pool, placed the cigarette gently in the ashtray… and without another word, climbed up onto the diving board.

“Oh, no…” Jerry muttered, covering his face.

“He’s not gonna do what I think…” Red started.

“He is,” Joe confirmed.

“What the hell are you doing?” Sonny asked, brows furrowed as Elvis approached the edge still in his pants, socks and all.

“What needs to be done,” Elvis murmured.

He took a few steps, rolled his shoulders like he was about to perform in front of thousands, and then he cannonballed into the water.

The splash was outrageous.Vengeful. And it hit you square on, soaking you head to toe.

Elvis emerged, shaking water from his hair with a crooked smile, droplets streaming down his body as he drifted closer to where you were sitting on the edge. Lisa stirred on her float, mumbling something in her sleep. You spat out a mouthful of water, torn between laughing and fake outrage.

The tension knotted in your throat as he approached with that dangerous calm of his.

He rested his arms on the edge, right in front of you, dripping wet, eyes locked on yours.

“You was itchin’ for some attention, wasn’t ya, darlin’?” he asked, voice low, rough, heavy with a meaning only you could decipher.

Before you could answer, his hands grabbed your ankles and with one sharp pull, he yanked you into the pool. No time to think, no time to breathe.

A muffled shriek, a wave of laughter in the background—and then you were under, tangled in his arms as he playfully dragged you beneath the surface.

“Elvis!” you gasped between bursts of laughter, splashing him hard when you came up.

“This what you wanted, huh?” he teased, mock-serious as he dunked you again for a second.

You managed to escape underwater, pulling away until you reached the edge and leaned back, breathless with laughter, soaked to the skin, your pulse racing. Elvis stayed near, floating lazily beside you, as if he hadn’t just dragged you in front of everyone.

Then, without turning his head, you heard him say, so softly it was almost just breath:

“We’re gonna get caught…”

His tone wasn’t playful. It was something else, lower, darker. A warning… and an invitation.

You turned to him, but he was already looking at you. Steady. Intense. Under the water, his leg brushed against yours. Slowly. Not by accident.

He smiled…barely. Just a ghost of a grin. A crooked line on his wet lips that had nothing innocent about it.

Your stomach flipped. That look froze you in place. His fingers slid along your arm beneath the water.

But then he backed off. Just slightly. And with that voice that set your skin on fire, low, dangerous, never looking away, he whispered:

“Hold on for me in my room, honey”

——————————

You had been waiting in his room patiently, just like he asked. You were fearing the worst. Maybe Elvis was going to set things straight and say this was all a mistake. You started praying it wasn’t.

A while later, you heard the door open. Elvis walked in, his eyes searching for you.

“C’mere, honey” Elvis said in a low, gentle plea.

You crossed the room with hesitant steps, and when you were close, he took you by the waist with a delicacy that masked the storm within him. He guided you to the bed and sat, pulling you gently until you settled in his lap, straddling his right thigh.

He looked into your eyes, with heavy and uneven breathing, and caressed your waist with his thumbs, a light touch that made you hold your breath.

Elvis whispered tenderly, “Forgive me, honey. For how I’ve been today… avoidin’ ya, puttin’ up walls.”


You frowned, but he continued, his fingers tracing small circles over the fabric of your dress, moving up and down your sides as if trying to soothe the chaos consuming him.

“All day long, I have been watchin’ you laughin’ with the boys, givin’ me those eyes that cut straight through me… and it’s been killin’ me inside. But I gotta keep it together. The Colonel, the press, the whole damn world… I can’t let them see what I feel for ya. Not yet.”

You asked softly, almost a murmur, “Why not? What’s wrong with that?”


Elvis shook his head: “It’s not wrong, honey. It’s just that who I am… and who you are…make… make things a lil’ harder than usual,” he said, planting a kiss on your cheek. “Give me some time, darlin’.”

You nodded, moved by the raw plea in his voice, and he smiled, leaning in slowly to kiss you. It was a tender, pure kiss. Your tongues met, and you sighed, your hands rising to tangle in his hair.

Then, Elvis slightly lifted you with his leg to kiss you deeper. The kiss continued, intense yet calm, until you pulled back a little, panting with flushed cheeks. You looked at him hesitant, and then you spoke with a shy voice but full of curiosity.


“The other day… in the pool room, when you were moving your leg under me like that… I felt something. I don’t know what it was, but it was… strange.”

Elvis frowned, his hands paused at your waist. He looked at you surprised but with tender eyes, his thumbs resumed those small circles that keep you on edge.

“What d’ya feel, darlin’? Tell me everything,” he purred

You lower your gaze, the blush spreading from your neck to your chest.

“It was like… a tingle, but stronger. Like something inside me wanted to… explode. It scared me a little, but… I liked it a lot.”

He took a deep breath, processing your words, then tested it, moving the leg beneath you with a slow, intentional gesture. Your hands flew to his shoulders, nails digging in, your body tensing, surprised by the intensity.

“This what you meant hmm…?”

You nodded, biting your lip, and he grinned, a mix of awe and desire in his eyes. His hands slid up your sides, stopping just under your breasts, and he inhaled deeply, as if fighting to maintain control.

“You ever felt that before, honey? Just… when you are by yourself?”


You looked at him, genuinely lost.

“No… I don’t know what you mean by that.”

“Oh lord,” Elvis swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. The thought of your innocence hit him like a shockwave, and the bulge in his pants grew instinctively, straining against the fabric, a dull throb pulsing in his groin. He ran a hand through his hair, messing it up more, and breathed deeply, loosening his shirt collar as he searched for words.

Then he spoke in a low, tender voice, “Now listen close, baby… I wanna explain somethin’ crucial to you.”


You nodded, and he began, his voice soft but laden with an intensity that enveloped you like an embrace.

“See, baby… your body’s wakin’ up” he explained, tracing lines down your back with his hand.


“When you feel all hot and twitchy like this… it’s ‘cause that spot down low’s callin’ for ya. Right there, between your legs. Touch it gentle, real slow… and you’ll find out just how powerful you are.”

He moved his leg again, firmer, with a hint of mischief, and you gasped, a soft sound that made him shiver. His hands dropped to your hips, guiding you slightly, and he continued, his voice cracking under the effort to stay gentle.

“Y’okay honey?”

You nodded, but your breathing quickened, and your hands gripped his shoulders more tightly. The heat between your legs intensified, a growing wetness soaking through your panties.

“It only gets deeper from here, under that dress.”

Elvis said, his voice so velvety it sounded like a sin. One hand slid up your leg with a slow, heated hiss, disappearing beneath your dress.

But then, you stopped him.

Your hand shot to his wrist, gripping it tightly. Your body tensed as you leaned back slightly, putting space between you.

“God… I can’t. Just… don’t look down there, not yet, please…” You implored with a shaky, timid voice. You trembled at the idea of Elvis looking down,of his eyes taking in the most private part of you for the first time.

He froze, his fingers hovered just there. His eyes widened, caught between desire and a fresh wave of doubt. The demons came back, louder, whispering that this was a mistake, that he was crossing a line he shouldn’t.

“I shouldn’t… damn, honey, I shouldn’t be touchin’ ya like this. I don’t know what I’m doin’… shit, m’sorry,”.

You looked at him, panic rising in your chest. That’s not what you meant at all.

“No, please… don’t stop. Just… don’t look.”

You leaned toward him, seeking his lips, and kissed him urgently. He stiffened, glancing aside as if wanting to escape from you, from himself. But you wouldn’t let him. Your small, firm hands grabbed his cheeks, forcing him to face you.

You kissed him again, harder, pressing your trembling lips against his, your hot breaths mingling. You couldn’t describe this feeling, it was a drug you were starting to lose control over.

“Please… keep going. I need you… don’t leave me aching like this,” you gasped between kisses.

Elvis resisted for another second, the demons kept roaring in his head, voices screaming that this would destroy him, that you were too pure, too young. But then you bit his lower lip, a desperate nibble, and he shattered. A wild growl escaped his throat, his hands returned to you like magnets, grabbing your ass and pulling you against him with a force that made you gasp.

“Damn baby…” he cursed, his voice hoarse and surrendered.

Elvis kissed you back, hard, hungry, his tongue claiming you as his leg moved again, a steady rhythm that made you moan against his mouth. His hand trembled as it slid under your skirt, rough fingers brushing the inside of your thighs, moving slowly, torturously, until they found your panties.

“You’re so wet… God, you’re killing me,” he groaned.

His heart felt like it might give out, knowing what was about to come, the first time someone would touch you, and it would be him. He kept his promise, his eyes never leaving yours for even a second as his fingers moved in.

His fingers began to stroke your hot, slippery folds with a slow, torturous rhythm. Then, he pushed your panties aside and found your swollen clit,and pressed softly, tracing delicate circles that made you arch into him.

“Here, honey… this is the spot. Do ya feel it?” he purred.

You trembled, your hips beginning to move on their own against his hand, craving more. You nodded, eyes half-lidded as the pleasure began to envelop you. Elvis quickened the pace, his fingers firm, precise, knowing exactly what to do.

“It’s… it’s too much, too intense,” you gasped, desperate not sure if that kind pleasure was even real

He growled low in his throat, the bulge in his pants pressing hard against the fabric, thick and throbbing.

Then he leaned in, his breath hot and damp against your cheek, and his fingers kept moving, rough and sure, dragging wave after wave of pleasure through you.

“It ain’t too much, honey… it’s perfect.” he murmured.

His fingers moved faster, intense circles that arched your back, your legs trembling around his thigh. The pleasure swelled, a pressure building in your belly, hot and wild, and you moaned louder, a sound that shook him to his core. Your nails dug into his cheeks, marking his skin, and he groaned with you, his voice breaking from the desire he could barely hold back.

Almost crying, you begged, “Elvis… I can’t bear…”

The orgasm began to build, a current surging through you, and you tensed, your whole body vibrating against him. Your breathing quickened, and his blue eyes glowed with a mix of tenderness and lust as he guided you to the edge.

“That’s it, honey, you’re close. Feel how it burns, how it fills ya… don’t fight it. The best is comin’,” Elvis whispered.

You let out a choked cry, your hips thrusting against his hand, and the pleasure exploded like lightning, a violent spasm ripping through your pussy. Your body shook, a tremor coursing from your core to your fingertips, and a broken scream tore from your throat, echoing through the room like a raw release. Your legs quivered, collapsing around his thigh, and the wetness of your climax soaked his fingers and pants, leaving a stain on them.

He kept stroking you gently, drawing out the aftershocks, your ragged breathing slowly steadying as you returned to reality while he held you, his free hand rising to caress your cheek, his thumb brushing your lips reddened from kisses.

As you came back to yourself, you realized how loudly you’d screamed. Shame washed over you, and you whispered, vulnerable, “What was that? Sorry, I… I broke apart…”

He chuckled softly, a warm, exhausted sound rumbling in his chest, and leaned in to kiss you, tasting the salty heat of your skin.

“That, darlin’, was an orgasm. And don’t you dare be sorry for it” he said gently.

You looked up at him, a nervous little smile tugging at your lips, your cheeks still burning.
“So… does this mean I’m, like, actually a woman now?”
you paused “like…officially?”

Elvis smiled, a mischievous glint dancing in his eyes, his lips grazing your forehead, then the corner of your mouth. His arms tightened around you, pulling you against his steady, warm frame.

“I’ll save that answer for another day”

Tags: @atleastpleasetelephone @iloveelvisss @makethemorning @i-r-i-n-a-a @kawaiiwitchy @beaupr3sley ❤️

[tgmsunmontue]

You put a ring on a wild thing - 7/? WIP Hangster

Affectionately titled "Drunk Vegas" fic until I gave it the title above.

Explicit Hangster. Drinking, dubious decisions and complete disregard for actual facts.

ONE TWO THREE FOUR FIVE SIX

PART SEVEN

                His life has gotten weird, but also so good. Bradley is… Bradley. Amazing. Funny and smart and a little bit snarky. He matches Jake’s flirty comments with humor and makes plenty of flirty comments back. He feels like he’s a teenager again with his first crush. Except it’s on his husband. Which is totally allowed. That fact that he has somehow accidentally found a guy and married him while drunk and he seems… well. Jake knows no one is perfect, even if he holds himself to a high standard, Bradley seems pretty fucking perfect for him.

                “Married,” Javy hisses through the phone when he answers it, and he freezes.

                “What?”

                “You’re married.”

                “Uh… where did you here that?”

                “From your husband.”

                “Fuck…” There’s no point denying it.

                “Jake! Why didn’t you tell me! I almost clocked him because I thought he was two-timing you…”

                “What?”

                “He wears his wedding ring around his neck and fiddles with it when he’s relaxing. It’s pretty fucking cute. I’ll take a picture for you next time.”

                “Could you?” Jake asks, because hearing this makes him feel all warm inside, more than he expected, that Bradley wears his wedding ring with his dog tags and just… talks about him. He hadn’t thought about that.

                “Oh man… you got it bad for him huh?”

                “He doesn’t send me enough selfies,” Jake replies, because he’s not going to dispute the fact that he does indeed have it bad. He’s self-aware enough and Javy knows him too well to not call him on his bull shitting.

                “Well I’m not taking the kind of pictures that he might want to send you in private.”

                “Just send me normal pictures you dick.”

                “Just not of his dick.”

                “No. Come on man… send me cute photos of my man. Or embarrassing ones. I’ll accept embarrassing ones too.”

                Honestly Jake doesn’t want dick-pics. He doesn’t remember what they got up to, doesn’t remember what Bradley’s dick might look like, but he’d rather reacquaint himself in person. It’s definitely something to look forward to. Plus he’s going to put his ring on his dog tags.

…            …            …

                He’s in the rec room practicing darts, enjoying the peace and quiet while mostly everyone else has headed out for some liberty leave. Mostly everyone.

                “Seresin!”

                “Trace…”

                “Where did you get the shirt? Doesn’t seem like quite your style…”

                “Well, you would be right there. It’s not mine. It’s my husband’s.”

                Jake has become quite partial to the shirt, not the print and colors so much, but the softness of the fabric is amazing, he finds himself rubbing the corner of the front between his thumb and forefinger. Has started sleeping in it. She stares at him.

                “You’re married?” she asks, suspicious. Jake’s glad now that the ring is around his neck and he pulls it out, likes having the evidence so close, can understand why Bradley does it now.

                “Yep, got a ring and everything. Sorry to disappoint Trace.”

                “Oh… I’m disappointed. But not with you for once. I guess we better get to know each other.”

                “Uh. Okay?” Jake asks, because he’s confused. He and Trace have always been friendly enough, a little snarky, but not friends. He’s not quite sure how getting married is going to change that.

                “What you need to know is that Bradley spent far too much money on this shirt, and the fact you’re wearing it… hmm. He must be pretty gone on you.”

                “He did marry me…” Jake offers, swallowing nervously, not really sure how he should play this. Not sure what Bradley has told her, if anything. She’s looking at him with narrowed eyes, head tilted to the side.

                “He was drunk wasn’t he? Bet he was… God. You were probably both drunk. Told him he’d end up doing something stupid. Ended up marrying stupid instead. Stand over there. I’m going to take some photos of you…”

                “Uh. What?”

                “Oh. He’s going to get shit for not telling me he went and got married. Wait. Wait wait wait wait wait wait. Oh. He’s a walking fucking cliché. It was when he went to Vegas. Right? You got married in Vegas?” Jake nods slowly, because clearly she knows Bradley well. “So you’ve been married all of a couple of weeks. Congratulations.”

                “Thanks?”

                “Look. Bradley is my best friend. He should have known I would find out. Dumbass. Oh. Do you mind if I fuck with him?”

                “What?” Jake asks before his brain catches up with the fact she wants to fuck with him, not actually sleep with him. Guess he’s a little possessive.

                “I’ll tell him I have my eye on a decent looking guy in my squad for a quickie… send him a picture of you… see how he reacts.”

                “That seems kind of mean. Wait, what do you mean decent looking?”

                “Oh, it’s definitely mean, but he didn’t tell me. He deserves a little shit. He’d expect no less.”

                Jake is pretty sure he doesn’t get a say in the matter, her phone already in hand, sending a message, or maybe several judging on how fast she’s typing. Then she’s offering to show him photos of Bradley from a few years ago and he jumps at the chance. She ends up sending him some, which he then dutifully shares with Tyler and Hannah, most of them captioned with look at how cute he was! After he’s explained to them that he’s stationed with Bradley’ best friend from flight school.

                Then his phone is ringing and Bradley is calling, he smiles, ignores Trace’s eyeroll as he answers.

                “Hi there…” Jake greets, and Trace is making silent vomiting motions. So mature. He flips her the finger.

                “Hi. How are you?”

                “I’m good. Didn’t think you had time for a call today until later…”

                “I don’t. Not really. I just wanted to hear your voice.”

                “Yeah? Want to hear it say anything in particular?” Jake asks, and they’ve flirted plenty, but they haven’t yet delved into phone sex but he suspects it’s only a matter of time. Trace doesn’t need to know that though, and she’s pulling a face.

                “Uh… fuck. I really don’t have time for that. But, uh, later?”

                “Yeah. We can talk later…”

                “God…” Bradley breathes and the sound makes his skin prickle.

                “Mmm…” Jake hums, and Trace reaches over and slaps Jake on the thigh, hard and sharp and he yelps.

                “Natasha is there isn’t she?” Bradley asks and Jakes scowls at her, rubbing his leg and giving her the stink eye.

                “What makes you think that?”

                “Because she lives to fuck with me. She’s figured out we’re together and is trying to make it my problem. But I’m on to her. I’ve got to go. Talk to you later?”

                “Later.”

                He ends the call and looks up to find Trace watching him speculatively.

                “Well. That was enlightening. You have family?”

                “Yeah, obviously. Why?”

                “Because Bradley doesn’t.”

                “I… I know. He told me.”

                “Good.”

                “You… you want to see some recent photos of him?”

                “You have recent photos? Is he dressed?”

                “Yes! Oh my god… My best friend, Javy, he’s deployed with Bradley. He’s been sending me photos.”

                “Oh… that’s cute. Sure. Show me.”

…            …            …

                Admiral Kerner kind of gives him the creeps. He is pretty sure no one else is quite under the same level of scrutiny as he is since they all reported in a week ago and it’s confirmed when the Admiral calls him over after a training hop, both of them standing there in their flight suits.

                “Sir?”

                “At ease lieutenant. Nothing wrong. Just wanted to say congratulations on your marriage.”

                Jake blinks, wonders why Admiral Kerner of all people knows he’s married. Because he’d have had to look up Jake’s record to find out, and that’s definitely a little creepy.

                “Uh. Sir?”

                “I flew with Bradley Bradshaw’s father. Considered him a friend. Was part of his Top Gun class when he died during training… he’s still got a lot of people looking out for him.”

                Oh. This is a shovel talk. That is actually somewhat of a relief, and knowing that it was more likely Bradley’s record that he’d been keeping an eye on, rather than Jake’s is also reassuring.

                “He has mentioned his father, and the passing of his mother,” Jake says, because Bradley had called himself an orphan and Jake knows there are no siblings to speak of.

                “Just… We’re… I’m happy to know he’s found someone. Keep up the good work Lieutenant. Would be a shame to make Bradley unhappy.”

                Jake blinks, wonders if he’s imagining the threatening tone or not.

…            …            …

                “Come on Bradley. Pick up. Pick up…”

                It’s later. A couple of days in fact, the two of them trying to align their private time so they can maybe have a different type of phone conversation. However those plans for this call have kind of gone out the window because he just wants to double check he’s not going to have a squad of Admirals watching his every move.

                “Hi…”

                “Yeah. Hi. So. I’m going to need a list of everyone that flew with your dad because Admiral Kerner just like, cornered me earlier today and told me in kind of threatening tones that you have a lot of people looking out for you and I’m scared they might never find my body…”

                “What?”

                “Uh. Admiral Kerner –”

                “Yeah. Sorry. I heard you. Just. Um. Uncle Slider’s harmless.”

                Jake makes a sound he will deny making on his death bed.

                “Uncle Slider?”

                “It’s his call sign. I just… fuck. I’m sorry Jake. There’s probably an alert on my file or something. Sorry you had to deal with that.”

                “It’s… it’s okay. Just. Uh. Should I expect this often?”

                “Yeah. Probably. My dad was pretty well liked. And a lot of them kept coming around when I was growing up.”

                “A lot of who exactly?”

                “Shit. Uh. Well. I’m not sure where to start…”

                “Start with Uncle Slider. Holy shit. The worst one of my uncles will do is make you try his hot sauce…”

                “Well, Slider was Uncle Ice’s RIO.”

                “Ice?”

                “Uh. Admiral Kazansky.”

                Oh shit. Jake needs a drink. Except that’s how he got into this in the first place.

                “And, uh, then there’s my godfather. Captain Mitchell. Maverick.”

                Fuck it. He’s having a drink.

[postmortemnivis]

you rolled onto your side, arm stretching to touch his chest, but when your hand was met with nothing but warm sheets, you opened your eyes.

on most nights that not, you’d find him laying on his back, staring at the ceiling while his fingers brushed against the necklace his younger brother’d gotten him so many years before. one am, four am, it didn’t matter if you’d made sure he was asleep before letting yourself rest; you’d find him awake, swallowed by his own thoughts.

“honey?” you called softly, voice thick with sleep, and when you heard no answer, you rubbed your eyes, standing up from the bed.

you walked out of the bedroom, eyes looking for him everywhere in the small living room, in the kitchen. the bathroom door was open and you could tell he wasn’t there either.

“baby?” you kept calling, padding around the apartment.

dean stood on the balcony, both hands gripping the railing as if he needed to feel something under his touch to know he was awake.

“dee, what’re you doing here?” you asked, minding your steps as you walked out with him. the cold night hit you and wrapped itself around you like a freezing blanket. you looked at deans profile, visible in the pale lights of the street above you.

“didn’t mean to wake you.”

“you didn’t. aren’t you cold out here?” you asked, looking down at the worn-out sweatpants he was wearing.

dean shook his head.

“why don’t you come back inside, mh?” you softly cooed. you’d grown used to deans silent episodes, and you knew—even if he didn’t wanna talk with you about it—that it was about the sam-shaped hole his brother left in his chest.

you’d heard the calls with his father, you’d noticed how he stopped talking about his brother. he didn’t need to tell you for you to understand that sam had finally left. you’d understood that much when dean had shown up on your doorstep one late evening, eyes tired from driving and red from crying.

you hadn’t seen him in weeks, thought that in your last argument you’d both made yourselves clear on not wanting to see each other ever again. dean claimed he had to go help his father and brother on a case, you claimed they could manage without him just for once, you didn’t.

“it’s just…” dean sighed, still not looking at you. you could see the goosebumps forming on his arms and bare back. “he hasn’t t called since he left. not dad, not me.”

“you try calling him.” you crossed your arms over your chest to shield yourself from the chilly air, leaning against the railing. “maybe he’s just as scared as you are to pick up the phone.”

he shifted and you spotted an half drunk beer bottle at his feet. “i mean, god- what if he’s in danger, what if he needs help with somethin’-”

“call him and ask him.”

“it’s not that easy.” he snapped. you didn’t flinch, and he immediately apologised.

“sorry, pretty.” dean sighed, wrapping one strong arm around you, pulling you closer to his side. “‘m a mess.”

“you’re upset. i’d be upset too, in your situation.”

“always so understanding…” he whispered, pressing his lips to your forehead. “why’d you take me back?”

“needed someone to reach the top shelf and blame when the tv isn't working.”

he finally let out the first laugh in weeks. “smartass.” he tightened his hold on your and buried his face in your hair.

“really, though,” you said softly. if you’d learned something in the time spent getting to know dean winchester, was to handle him with care, that he was fragile. “sam’ll come around. and if he doesn’t- be the one who calls first. he’s alone in a new environment, he’ll feel lost.”

“that’s what scares me.” dean whispered, letting your nails scratch the firm muscles in his back. “him bein’ alone, on his own.”

“that’s what he wanted.”

in these moments when dean felt like a sailor lost at sea; you knew you had to be the lighthouse guiding him back towards normality, if he’d ever known one.

“you sound like a shrink.” he muttered.

“you feeling better?” you argued back, looking up into his green eyes.

he nodded softly, kissing your forehead once more. “yeah, feelin’ better… let’s go back to bed.”

you knew dean was just saying that to make you feel better, like the worries swirling around his head were suddenly gone, but you didn’t press it. you just stood on your tiptoes to kiss his stubbled jaw and led him back into the apartment, closing the balcony door behind you, hoping a part of his troubles would stay there in the freezing cold, just to give him one night of peace of mind.

[starshipsofstarlord]

lap girl (7) | daryl dixon

summary. one last night for y/n to be curled up on daryl’s lap in hilltop after he escaped from the sanctuary before the war against the saviours grow with intensity (0.9k)

warnings. angst, fluff, nightmares, grief, cuddling, mentions of death, imprisonment and violence, nudity, pet names, 3rd person

divider credits. @cafekitsune

He laid awake, eyes dry and throat parched as he stretched atop of a mattress - a luxury he had certainly not had whilst holed up in the dark depths of the Sanctuary. His body was exhausted, and so was his mind, but despite that he could not slip into the void of rest. Daryl looked to the figure upon him, Y/N was asleep, breath escaping from her lips, her body mirroring his own in its state of undress. This was the only eve they had to share, for his girl was set to return to Alexandria, as not to rouse suspicions of the saviours.

Daryl would remain at Hilltop, slipping into hidden corners whenever Negan’s servitude of followers came knocking, looking for him. “Wish ya could stay ‘ere for me.” The bowman spoke to his unconscious lover, watching her with utmost adoration in his eyes. She had been so strong, relenting against her impulses to hurt those that had taken him, she had continued to fight, but not on her own accord nor by her lonesome. “Love ya so much sunshine, ‘m sorry I was forced to leave ya.”

Guilt riddled every single millimetre of his mind - it was because of him a second dead in that horrific lineup had occurred. Glenn. Oh god, Glenn. The memory of that barbed bat beating down on his brain was engrained within Daryl’s mind, forever. There was nothing that could be done to retract his actions, they were in the past, and his friend was dead for the fault of his fist aiming for Negan. It scarred him, all of it had, and he just needed Y/N close, but the pair of them were running on a limit of time.

He’d have no choice but allow Y/N to leave against her own wishes, if they were to ever win this war Rick had to keep Negan as appeased as possible, and that would require for Y/N to be visually by her friend’s side. Her clothes were entangled in a mess upon the floor with Daryl’s own, and he caressed her bare shoulder with shaky fingertips. There was blood and dirt staining the fabric that Daryl had undressed Y/N from, serving as evidence that she had experienced her own separate hardships.

Her hands had been forced when it came to particular things, such as scouring almost every square inch of the state for ammunition and guns, putting herself into dangerous predicaments for the sake of the people that were left within their community. Y/N had kept herself busy on a constant, and although she dwelled in stewing anger towards the saviours and frail misery from Daryl’s perilous absence, she forced herself onwards even despite the exhaustion that persecuted her bones.

Daryl’s thoughts swayed from the then and to be, back to the present as he felt his chest become damp, and as he looked down, he realised that Y/N was crying in her sleep. The sight fractured his heart, through the loss and grief she had dealt with it all alone. He understood how tired his girl was, his body too ached frivolously, but he pushed himself to wake her, unable to bear the sight of Y/N appearing so broken.

His hands lightly shook her shoulders, watching as her body shuddered, reverting to a slow state of consciousness. “Sunshine.” Daryl murmured, watching with love filled eyes as her own flitted open, the whites of her eyes reddened from the mountains of pain that she had bore witness too. “Ya okay?” It was a foolish question to ask her, as neither of them were, but she stifled a small, meek smile, mustering up all of her courage for just him. It wasn’t a shock as she tossed the covers away and settled herself to be sat on his lap, feeling as though their bodies could never be close enough.

“Better than I have been for a while now that you’re no longer at that place,” she answered him with utmost honesty, not masking the fragile state that she had been in without him by her side. He had always been there, for her in both an emotional and physical depth. Y/N’s hands rested on Daryl’s ribs as she curled in closer to him, their bare bodies pressed against one another. She still wanted to cry, the instinct kicking her in the gut as she realised that they only had a handful of hours left until she was forced to depart from Hilltop. From him.

They were clueless to how this war would end, there would no doubt be bloodshed in its finale, but they were willing to give their all to ensure that the red did not run from either of their veins. And when it was all over and Negan was dealt with, then they could finally return to one another. “I ain’ goon’ back there.” Daryl stated solely for the purpose of his words bringing his girl comfort. Negan would have to kill him before he could drag his body back to the god forsaken Sanctuary.

“I wouldn’t let them take you back,” Y/N told him, squeezing her calves around his thighs as Daryl reached out to stroke the side of her face. She would bring a reign of hell down on the saviours if they so much as tried to make him a prisoner again. She was done playing nice. And whilst she could not make a promise on it, Y/N refused to watch Daryl be dragged away once more. Last time she felt weak, and penetrated by the grave shock of watching her friends be murdered, and she was helpless to save her beloved. This time however, she was ready.

[tanobatcher]

heyyy!! I have a request for hunter x fem!reader. i'd love something sort of soft and domestic, taking place after the bad batch finale where they've settled down on pabu together. hunter's just gotten out of the shower, and reader is already in bed waiting for him. but when he walks in the room, all relaxed and shirtless with his curls still wet (literally screaming rn just thinking of it), and she can like absolutely not look at him. like, she knows if she makes eye contact she'll go into full flustered mode. Blushing, giggling, kicking her feet type of feel. she just adores how he looks like that, and it's honestly unfair how gorgeous he is 🥲. it'd also be cute if Hunter notices she's acting weird and he gently teases her about it and she tries (but totally fails) to keep it cool. just something fluffy and intimate, with warm vibes, soft teasing, and maybe a kiss or two at the end? thank you!! 💛

this had me blushing, giggling, and kicking my feet too ehehe hope u enjoy and ty for this <3 apologies for the delay, i had such a busy week!!

shower thoughts

hunter x fem reader

summary: your nerves are hard to handle during a cozy night in with hunter.

warnings: none!!

a/n: i'm ngl i always listen to lana del rey while writing him

˚₊ ⋆ ☠︎︎ ⋆ ₊˚

Hunter’s helmet is a lot heavier than you expected. It doesn’t fit quite well in your hands, too large and bulky for the right grip. Still, your fingers try to follow the lines crossing the dark, worn-out plastoid like veins devoid of blood. You haven’t asked him much about where he comes from—the life he’s escaped from—and you’re not sure if you can handle the answer. Maybe one day, when the days have long been spent on Pabu as time heals old wounds, he’ll speak. And you’ll listen.

The faint sound of running water from the next room over trickles into a tapping rhythm, stirring your attention from your queries. Within a few minutes that aren’t enough to let you catch your breath, the bedroom door opens slowly but steadily. Your instinct is to look up and smile, happy that he’s returned to your company. But that expression quickly fades when you drink in his presence—his appearance—just everything that he is.

He’s standing tall in nothing but loose sleeping pants hung low around his waist, about to step inside as he pushes some wet hair out of his face with a calloused hand. If he notices that you’re frozen and staring, he doesn’t say anything until he crosses the distance toward his bed, where you’re comfortably tangled in his sheets. A burning flush stings your face, becoming an itch that can’t be scratched with mere fingernails. Quickly averting your gaze from him, you stare into the black visors of his helmet and hear your heartbeat pound even louder when he asks, “What do you have there?”

“I was just looking,” you explain apologetically, “You left your case open, so…”

He’s in front of you now, looming over your figure as if waiting for you to meet his eyes. When you don’t, he simply takes the helmet from your lap and turns around to put this old relic away. You catch sight of some water droplets clinging to his bare skin as he crouches before tugging out a large case from a corner that has already started to collect dust. His back is turned to you, flexing with his movements. You watch his arms open up the top, feeling even more at risk of embarrassing yourself with every rippling evidence of his perfection.

“Um…I’m sorry,” you begin rambling, cringing at how nervous you sound, “I didn’t mean to go through your stuff like that. I was just curious…I’ve never seen something like this up close before…”

He takes a moment to observe the contents of this case—the rest of his armor—before shutting the top with a definitive click. “Don’t apologize.”

His voice sends shivers down your spine, only heightening the butterflies giggling and spiraling in your stomach. It’s like they’re echoing through your insides, distracting you from his next question.

“Sorry—what was that?” You laugh quietly, tucking your knees under your chin as he stands and steps closer to you again, “I wasn’t—I didn’t hear you.”

He cocks his head to the side a bit, staring you down with an amused smile. “I asked if you’re feeling better.”

“Oh…yeah,” you answer, “I was just tired before.”

“What about now?” He steps even closer, and his eyes flick between your face and your legs as you tighten your body together, “Still tired?”

“No!” You respond in an effort to sound normal, but it only comes across as more panicked.

He chuckles under his breath and brings the back of his hand toward your forehead. You’re about to exhale a breath until he slides his touch down to your cheeks, skimming across your jawline like he’s teasing you.

“You’re a little warm,” he points out as his hand retreats.

“It’s warm in here,” is all you can squeak out when you realize you’re at eye level with his abdomen. You feel as if he’s waiting for the right moment to pounce, drawing out your nerves just to consume them.

“Yeah?” He considers your response, “I can—”

“Are you going to put a shirt on?” you blurt out.

His head snaps in your direction, clearly surprised, but all that’s written on his face is something too mischievous for your comfort. He leans over the bed, over you, planting both hands around your body as he cages you into an inescapable position. It’s slow but deliberate, letting the tips of your noses touch for a fleeting second that leaves you breathless.

“Why?” He studies you closely, tilting his head.

You don’t speak, afraid the stammers bubbling behind your lips will slip out.

“I’m not…” he leans forward, “…making you uncomfortable, am I?”

His lips brush over yours, but he doesn’t kiss you. You swallow the lump in your throat and try to level your expression, wanting to appear as unbothered as him. It’s not easy, though. Not when it’s him.

“No,” you whisper unconvincingly.

“You sure?” He lowers his mouth to your jawline, and you melt despite how lightly he kisses you there. Your hands tentatively squeeze his upper arms, hoping to use him for stability even though he’s the reason you feel like you’re floating off the ground.

“No,” you say again.

He laughs and climbs into bed, rolling you on top of him so that you’re chest to chest in his arms. The change is so sudden that you squeal a little, and your following laugh meshes with his behind the doors you wish could stay closed forever. Being here with him is the bliss you’ve been searching for your whole life, and little do you know that he just might feel the same. Thinking about this only warms your insides even more, though. You suddenly bury your face in his chest, unable to control the humiliating blush that can’t seem to go away.

“Hey,” he murmurs, “Look at me.”

Inhaling a deep breath, you slip away from his embrace and turn over onto your side, away from him.

“What’s wrong?” He questions through a slight chuckle that tells you he knows exactly what’s wrong. His hand slides up your torso, tugging so that you’ll turn back around. You’re fully aware that he can just make you, but he doesn’t.

“Nothing,” you mumble.

“Then come here,” he insists.

“I am here.”

He sighs, and the conversation pauses for a moment that makes you believe he might just let you off the hook for this one. You’re proven wrong when he moves over you, now face to face, as he pulls you into him. You shift under the covers a little more, hiding slightly despite throwing your leg over his side. And even though you haven’t mustered the courage to look him in the eye again, you simply breathe in the fact that you’re just holding each other through your wild nerves. His arms feel so strong, so right when they’re around you. This truth only brings a smile to your lips, which he unsurprisingly catches.

“Something funny?”

You shake your head. “No.”

“Is that the only thing you’re going to say to me?”

Your smile widens. “No?”

He rolls his eyes before setting his jaw, both expressions of exasperation that you’ve seen many times before. What’s unpredictable, though, is the moment he leans forward and kisses you slowly. Your body molds further into his as you push your hands through his hair, still damp and heavy from his shower. It’s also soft like his lips, reminding you that he’s your warmest source of comfort above anything else. Your faces are still pressed together when he pulls away with hardly any distance, just enough to tell you, “Relax. I won’t bite.”

You blush and press your thumb into his bottom lip. “Sure you won’t.”

“Only if you ask nicely.”

He takes your hand and drapes it across his hair again, like a telling sign he wants you to keep touching him there. So you do, running your fingers back and forth while occasionally applying a little more pressure to your nails. His eyes flutter shut, calming his expression, other than the small smile that remains attached to the mouth that just kissed you. It’s like you’re given some more space to breathe now that you’re looking at him without his returning stare. Exhaling softly, your hand travels downward and caresses the side of his tattoo. The angular ridge of his cheekbones. The faded scars through his stubble. You touch it all so gently that he feels safe enough to fall asleep, which you believe he is, until he murmurs something under his breath. Leaning closer, you hear him say, “I want you in my bed every night. Can you do that for me?”

An excited flare brings a quiet laugh to your response. “Only if you ask nicely.”

He grins with his eyes still closed and turns so that he’s lying on his back now, bringing you with him toward his chest. You hear his heartbeat against your ear, and you can’t help but press your face into him even more to hear it louder. To feel it closer.

“That was me asking nicely,” he says, kissing the top of your head.

“I figured,” you yawn, settling yourself in his arms, “But yeah. I can do that for you.”

He reaches for your jaw, caressing it lightly as he replies, “I’m glad.”

You hardly notice that the tumultuous butterflies in your stomach have calmed to a silent pause, replaced with a comfortable serenity you wouldn’t trade for the world. Your pulse still quickens when he touches you, but you’re not nearly as nervous as you were before. It happened much faster than you could perceive. Or, maybe, it was so slow that you missed the way this homely feeling snuck into your heart like a child tiptoeing through a sleeping household. Exhilarating, but quiet. You like that, just as you like him. The light shuts off, and his room darkens as you drop a kiss to his chest right above his heartbeat before smoothing over the same spot with your palm.

“Me too.”

[selencgraphy]

— 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐂𝐀𝐍’𝐓 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐋𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐓𝐇

PAIRING: dean winchester x f!reader

TAGS: supernatural 6x6 plot with canon divergence, jealousy, angst, ‘unrequited’ feelings, hurt/no comfort

A/N: was going through the show again and remembered this episode’s existence so ofc i had to put my own twist to it and make it even angstier :D lmk if you want a part two (might do it anyways) but yeah, not-so-happy happy reading <3

WORD COUNT: 807

masterlist || request box <3

It had been a year since you’d seen Dean face-to-face last — since he had left to be with Lisa and Ben after Sam sacrificed himself to save the world, leaving you alone. It hurt to see him do all the things he’d told you about — things he told you while you laid atop Baby’s hood and looked up at the stars in Bobby’s junkyard when neither of you could sleep after a hunt. Conversations about any and everything where the walls that Hell built crumbled brick by brick. It had always been you in the picture you’d painted in your mind that he’d do it all with. Until it wasn’t.

Even a year later, you couldn’t really blame him. He’d told you that the door was always open for you to visit, and you almost took him up on it, but then you saw him with them. He looked so happy. Who were you to fuck that up?

Don’t think I can make it over after all. Enjoy your night. Tell Lisa and Ben I’m sorry.

Now Sam was back, and Dean was hunting again. It should have been easy to keep it all buried—as if you hadn’t spent the last year doing just that but, of course, the thing you had to be hunting was the Goddess of Truth. You thought you could hide it, but the jealousy that boiled underneath your skin had grown too hot, and she saw it. “All three of you are the worst liars I’ve ever seen, but you,” Veritas scoffed as she turned to look at you. “The brothers have nothing on you.”

Your jaw tightened as she crouched in front of you, Dean snarling from behind her. “Leave her alone.”

“Oh, trust me. You’re gonna wanna hear what she has to say, Dean,” she crows over shoulder. “It’s all about you, ain’t that right, Y/N?” As she spoke, she dragged a finger down your cheek and across your lips. “I just know your tongue tastes exquisite. Let’s get it out in the open, shall we?”

Of all the scenarios you’d imagined where you’d bare your feelings to the man across from you — the man who you’d fallen in love with and had been in love with since you met him — this wasn’t one of them. It was worse than anything your brain could have possibly ever imagined. “He’s your best friend, but… how do you really feel about Dean?”

Your mouth moved before you could stop yourself. “I’m in love with him.”

As the words slipped past your lips, Veritas let out a breathy laugh. “How long have you been in love with him?”

“Blackwater Ridge.” You didn’t dare look at Dean as you spoke, but you caught him flinching at your mention of the forest in your periphery. It was where you had met the brothers first. You still remember the way your heart skipped at the way he looked at you even while beaten and scratched to shit, his green eyes were alight with admiration and it made your heart melt.  

“The whole time…” Veritas crooned, a sick smile on her face at the chaos she was causing. “And now he’s got a cute little family, doesn’t he? How does that make you feel?”

No. Anything but that. You tried to hold yourself back, but it was useless — like trying to stop yourself from vomiting even though it was rising from your stomach. “It hurts,” you gasp, biting your tongue as you try to stop yourself from crying. He shouldn’t be finding out this way — he shouldn’t be finding out period.

“Oh, I know you can do better than that, Y/N. Spit it out.”

“Stop it,” Dean hissed, but it was too late. She had asked, and you had to answer.

“It hurts, and I don’t know what I could have done wrong for him to leave after Sam died. He’s my best friend, and he just left and ran to her. He chose her, and I’ve spent the last year asking myself what could she possibly have that I don’t?”

“Why not tell him?”

“Normal was everything he’s ever wanted. He looked so happy with them. I’m fucked up. Lisa’s not. I wasn’t gonna beg when he’d already made his choice.” Veritas hummed in satisfaction before standing up and dusting off her skirt. The weight that pressed on your skull subsided as her gaze pulled away from yours, and the chill of the room at your coerced confessions crawled across your skin. You couldn’t bear to look at Dean knowing that whatever you were met with would break you — that it’d confirm your worst fears. He wasn’t supposed to know. He was with Lisa now, and he was happy. Your words would mean nothing because he chose her. It was always gonna be her. 

[asexual-abomination]

Parental Yandere JayVik X Reader Part 2 - Forced Agere

Aaaaa sorry this is so late after I said I’d be writing it the day after the last one but my writing steam is very inconsistent as it’s finals season for me TwT, will be continuing to write whenever I have the energy now though!

CWs: Forced Agere (NON-SEXUAL), Yandere, Infantilism

~~~

Dada- Jayce- gently bounced you in his arms as he lifted you up bridal style. He hummed softly while wandering out to the living room, where he dropped you onto the soft couch.

The apartment, in the bright light of day, was full of gold lining and shiny tiling. Paid for by the Kirramans and Medardas, it was the pinnacle of Piltover excess and luxury. Still, your eyes widened as you took it in anew this morning, as you saw that the living room was practically overflowing with gifts, all wrapped in cute pastel paper.

The pile reached two-thirds of the way to the ceiling, entirely swallowing the corner it sat in. You heard Jayce chuckle from beside you, amused as he watched the amazement wash over your face.

“Excited? Those are all for you! Your Auntie Mel got very excited and went a bit overboard for you, didn’t she?” He said through a laugh while a hand rested on your shoulder, as if the two of you were sharing in a cute family inside joke.

Mel… knew? You had met her in passing, back when you were their assistant. Now that you thought about it, she was a bit infantilising to you, even before you noticed the behaviour in Viktor and Jayce.

Did she know the extent of what was going on? Did she know it was you, not some actual kid they adopted?

“We’re thinking of letting her come visit and see you soon, would you like that? Couldn’t let it happen too often, you know she loves to spoil you,” he continued chuckling, acting like the idea didn’t horrify you beyond belief.

If they were comfortable with her seeing you, that meant they were confident that she’d somehow be alright with the situation. You knew they were delusional, but they weren’t idiots. She already knew, and was happy to keep playing along.

Your hand sunk into Baa-nie’s soft wool, squeezing at his stuffed body for comfort as this day got worse and worse. Jayce’s hand tightened on your shoulder, and he slowly pressed down. Quickly, you noticed that he wanted something from you.

“U-uhm- yeah! I’d… love to see Auntie Mel!” You piped up, and immediately he lifted his hand, you looked over your shoulder to see a wide smile spreading across his face.

Even if she would just reinforce their delusions, it has been months since you had seen another person. And maybe, just maybe, she’d listen to reason.

“Do you wanna have breakfast before your birthday cake? I think you should, but Papa says we should let you do what you want on your special day…”

You debated your answer heavily. Jayce fancied himself your ‘good parent’, always being insistent on your bedtimes and making sure you finished your greens at dinner, so he’d probably appreciate you making the healthy choice to eat something normal before gorging yourself on cake. But on the other hand, any normal kid would obviously choose to go straight for the cake.

How closely did they want you to play along?

Staring a hole through the floor as you tried to weigh up the pros and cons of your choices, to reconcile how much dignity you were ready to give up with how much they planned to take from you, you didn’t notice Viktor wandering into the living room before it was too late.

“Is someone feeling scared of growing old?” He asked, full of mirth and lighthearted joy. Leaning up against the wall he raises an eyebrow with that knowing smirk he always wears when you’re unwittingly doing exactly what he wants.

Before you can think of a response, Jayce is crossing the room towards him, “Someone is feeling cranky after getting too much sleep.” He leaned forward and gave the other man a kiss on the cheek which Viktor turned into, kissing Jayce quickly in the lips. The pout that formed on your face at having your agency being taken away could be mistaken for one of a child finding their parent’s affection disgusting. Which you did, to be honest, but that was beside the point.

“Told you we should have woken them up normally, given them breakfast too.” Jayce continued, wrapping his arms around Viktor to hug him from the side, endlessly touchy as usual.

Viktor made pointed eye contact with you before rolling his eyes, happily playing into his role as the ‘fun parent’, “But the cake is already ready, Jayce! Let them have a little fun on their special day!”

Jayce peeked at you over Viktor’s shoulder, a silent warning that you couldn’t decipher. A warning to be good and choose breakfast? Or a warning to act like an adorable, fun kid and choose cake? Why the hell did it have to be so complicated and confusing?!

Every day was like this, a constant tightrope walk, toeing the line between being a good kid and being a kid.

Looking up at them, waiting expectantly spurs you to answer. You’re more scared of Jayce, you reason, Viktor likes to play and tease, but Jayce is much more insistent on punishments to keep you in line.

Besides, maybe gorging yourself on chocolate cake immediately after waking up would give you a stomachache as Jayce always warned—

And before you have time to realise that thought might be a little too big for you, you blurt out, “Breakfast! I’ll- um- I wanna have breakfast, p-please.”

You barely manage to stutter out your request as a cold shiver races down your spine when both their faces drop. Shit shit shit— You made the wrong choice.

“Sweetheart…” Jayce lifts his head to rest on Viktor’s shoulder, “Are you sure? The cake’s ready… It’s your special day…” He spoke slowly, hesitantly, reminding you gently of exactly where you went wrong.

Viktor leaned back against his lover, a look of piercing frustration in his eyes directed at you. It had been weeks since you’d done anything bad enough to draw out that stern, frightening frown. “Are you sure you’re thinking straight, honey?” He said without an edge of humour, “I’m sure our little one would prefer a cake.”

Jayce winds his arms tighter around Viktor before he can make a move towards you. He speaks loud enough for you to hear in Viktor’s ear, “They’re scared of getting bigger, V! You know they love their routine, they’re scared that getting big means things are gonna change, we shouldn’t get mad.” He spit that last part out through gritted teeth, clearly holding back his own anger. “Isn’t that right, sweetie.”

It’s a statement, not a question. A demand for you to make this right.

“Please don’t be mad, Papa.”

The nickname slips off your tongue easier than you expected, but it seems to reach Viktor.

He sighs sharply, his eyes scolding you all on their own, but eventually seems to cool off. Jayce was the one who cared about your health, but Viktor was the one who cared about you being a kid, and he liked taking matters into his own hands when you fell short.

Thankfully, that gave you an easy defence.

You sniffled, wrapping your arms around your stuffy and hunched your shoulders, shrinking into them and muttering, “I’m sorry, papa… thought I should be careful but… we can have cake if you want…”

Viktor finally softened at your tone. Sometimes it felt like pulling teeth to get you to act as small as you are, so it was always a victory when you did it without direct encouragement.

“Cake, then! Jayce, will you help me carry it?”

As Viktor turned back to the kitchen, Jayce glanced at you with a stern frown, before winking and breaking out into a bright grin. You return a watery smile and settle into the couch as you’re left alone for a few precious moments.

The game wasn’t impossible to play. You just had to keep your balance, and remember that with patience, awareness, and a little bit of luck, you could escape.

~~~

Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed!

[studentinpursuitofclouds]

Sorry if my english is bad

i had a wholesome idea regarding stardew characters

So the thing is we never ask the parents of the bacholer/ettes

For their permisson to have a realtionship or marrige with them

So i wanted to ask: what does the parents or the family members of the dateable characters do or say to the farmer who ask permisson to from them eg. Pam to penny richard to ysabelle etc

Also if you can do sve and rsv i would love it

Also the farmer in this sceniro is a male or gender netruel if you are more comtfrable

Sorry for horrible english im trying to write this without translator

Regardless if you do this or not thank you for reading <3

Hey hey! Don't worry, your English is fine 😊 Thank you for your ask! I'll use gender neutral farmer in these headcanons, hope it's ok ❤️

_________________________________________

Stardew Valley:

Robin is definitely not one to emphasize the tradition of waiting for the blessing of her children's marriage. If she honored all those traditions, she would never have become a carpenter! She explicitly tells Farmer that they don't need to ask her permission to marry her daughter/son. "You love each other, that's the most important thing to me. Just give us a heads up when you're going to have a wedding!" Demetrius is basically of the same page as his wife.... in the case with Sebastian. If Farmer asks for his blessing to marry Maru, he has made some sort of speech and will give his blessing, adding that what matters most to him is that his daughter is happy. I mean, his opinion on this tradition is the same for daughter and stepson, just that the answers will be slightly different, i think.

"Kiddo, my daughter is not property, you should have known that." The slightly harsh answer immediately made Farmer regret the decision to ask Pam's blessing to marry Penny. They had no intention of offending their girlfriend's mother. Pam noticing the slight fear in her daughter's eyes (she was sure Penny had insisted on honoring the tradition as well) and Farmer's, softened a bit and explained that they didn't need to ask her or anyone else for permission. This woman has seen all along how Farmer loves and treats her daughter well, polite, caring, romantic. And rich too, hah! ("M- Mother!"). Her little girl has found a worthy partner, and they both love each other, so "why the heck are you asking my permission?"

It was quite a surprise to Jodi. She hadn't expected Farmer to come to her and ask for the blessing to marry Sam. But she was immediately enthusiastic about it, and quickly remembered what her mother and father did when Kent asked for her parents' blessing (in an earlier time, this tradition was more popular). Speaking of the military man: while Jodi gave the couple her blessing, Kent decided not to bother with all the formalities. He's known Farmer for a long time, and he can see right away how they make his oldest son happy. Jodi will still make him participate in the blessing according to tradition, heh.

Caroline hadn't expected to be asked for a blessing at all. With her daughter Abigail, who definitely didn't fit the category of a 'traditional woman' with her interest in occult things and adventurer's hobby, anything to say about tradition was pointless. Not that she loved her daughter any less because of it, just accepted that she was old-fashioned. So Farmer's request for a blessing, where Abby is also waiting for her response, is a surprise. A pleasant surprise, by the way. Pierre is pleased too, and even teases them a bit with:"Hmm, I don't know, what about the other contenders?" for which he got the stink eye from Caroline, who silently promised her husband he'd sleep on the sofa tonight if he ruined this touching moment. The shopkeeper quickly gave his blessing, and the congratulations and discussion of the upcoming wedding began.

In Alex's case, Farmer asked for Evelyn and George's blessing (because his parents, well... you know). The old folks were shocked by Farmer's question, but not because they didn't like them. On the contrary, for the old Evelyn Farmer had been like family for a long time, Alex talked about them all the time and they are so happy together - that's the main thing, why should they ask her permission? George will confirm her words, telling Farmer that "my wife's parents didn't like me and didn't give me their blessing. Guess what - we got married anyway!" They still will both be touched by the sign of Farmer's deep respect for them. Evelyn will burst into tears of happiness, George will let out feeble tears and deny it ("Evelyn was cutting green onions again...").

Stardew Valley Expanded:

"A blessing? From me? Oh, my dears, you don't need to ask me such a thing at all!" Even in the days when Olivia was younger, she and her husband didn't observe all those outdated traditions such as asking her parents for a blessing, that her husband should be the breadwinner, and so on. No, Olivia respected her parents and her in-laws, but she was not going to indulge in traditions, some of which are inappropriate and offensive. The former Joja accountant realizes that Farmer and Victor are just giving her a sign of respect, but they really don't need to "ask her permission." What she does need to do, though, is open the best bottle of wine, because her son is marrying Farmer! How wonderful!

"Tradition, huh? We certainly fit the concept of traditions, ha ha!" Scarlett knew her step-father Hank would make a joke about it, but as much as she tried to look serious, a wide smile appeared on her face. The smile was also on Farmer's face as they held her hand and waited while Hank laughed. Trayvon stood nearby the whole time, just smiling and looking at his daughter. Jokes aside, Farmer didn't have to ask for their blessing at all, both Scarlett's parents said. After all, they had quickly become like one big family, and already knew each other well. But if they did need that blessing, both Hank and Treyvor would give Scarlett and Farmer one right away.

Ridgeside Village:

"Come, we need to talk about the preparations." Yes, Farmer heard Maive right - asking Zayne's parents (Maive as well, she's a boss here, after all) for the blessing is not only obligatory, but a whole event is organized for this occasion at Amethyne Mansion. Kinda weird to get everyone together for this, oh well... All relatives are invited to the banquet, formal attire and, most importantly, the event itself and further discussions of Farmer and Zayne's future wedding. There will be some deviations from the plans (which one should ask permission, or the fact that Maive decides everything here, not Zachary and his wife). Traditions aside, Maive is just glad that her grandson is marrying not only for the benefit of the family, but also for love - a rarity for an Amethyne family. She won't say it out loud, though.

Ezekiel didn't understand why the heck Farmer was asking him for permission to get married. "She should be asked, are you dummy?" and pointed his hand in the direction of his daughter. Okay, okay, he'll tone it down a bit ("Corine, don't look so angry at me..."), but nevertheless his question remains the same - why is Farmer asking for his blessing? Corine loves them, Farmer loves Corine. That's it. Yes, he was a little bit protective about his daughter, but his girl decides for herself what she wants and who she wants to be with. He cried tears of happiness. "Helen would be happy too...." And he was right: not far from them stood a dark figure behind the trunk of an oak tree, who quietly said: "Bless you, my children..." and then vanished into thin air.

"Wha- Honey, did you hear that? Our daughter... is getting married! Oh, how happy I am! Of course we'll bless you! Oh, my children... I'm so happy, so happy!" Farmer would have heard this from Malaya, but she was so overwhelmed with joy, surprise, and happiness that she began to cry loudly, and it was difficult to make out her speech because of the great flood of tears. Kimpoi, to be honest, was no better - his face was also wet from the tears that were streaming down his cheeks. Seriously, they cried for about five minutes, Farmer and Alissa even got a little worried that they needed to calm them down. But quickly coming to their senses, both parents happily blessed the couple and all hugged each other. Malaya catches a note of sadness a little later.... If her parents had been as accepting of her and Kimpoi back then...

Oh ho ho! Richard's granddaughter has grown up so fast! The old man just blinked, and his princess is already getting married! Blessing? Well, according to tradition, Farmer should ask Ysabelle's parents for their blessing, not his.... But he realizes that the situation with them is still a bit complicated. He hopes that they will accept Farmer and the fact that Ysabelle has the right to choose her own destiny and her own partner. The hotel owner will be deeply honored that Farmer has asked for his blessing as a sign of respect. He will, of course, bless the young couple. And will support them if Ysabelle's parents begin to resent them after the news.

Carmen did not immediately realize the meaning of the words said by Farmer, standing in mute shock and looking at her daughter and her partner. And as soon as the fisherwoman realized what Farmer had just asked her, she was already sobbing like a child. Her daughter... Her little hija is getting married... Excuse her, it's just that Carmen is incredibly happy for Blair and Farmer. A blessing? Farmer, you don't need to ask her for her blessing! But since the young couple insists, of course Carmen will bless them.

For Naomi, waiting for her blessing from Farmer to marry her eldest son wasn't that very important or necessary for her, but still, she, like her parents and their parents, held to that tradition. If Farmer didn't ask for it, it's no big deal since they and Shiro love each other and are a wonderful couple. But it's still nice that the young people are sticking to the old tradition. Asking for a blessing from her husband Shoto had to be done via cell phone - the poor guy was totally swamped with work. But he gave his blessing too almost right away.

[ping-ski]

You mentioned an ex-wife for the sugar daddy au, what's up with that whole thing if you don't mind me asking??

(Also will this be an y/n au or not for context???)

ok ok so..! i call her ex-wife, literally just so i can make the "i miss my wife tails" joke but more accurately she's actually his ex-fiancée! now im trusting myself not to share too much because eventually i wanna write this all out:

This is a y/n au!! They have a tiny bit of established lore that I'm reusing from what was initially a separate au that I combined with the sugar daddy au 'cause why not? I've been meaning to share some doodles I have for them but I've had no time/motivation

Now, I'm waving my hand vaguely here for this next bit: Eclipse only got into sugaring/sugar dating AFTER he and his ex-fiancée broke things off for good. It wasn't on good terms and there wasn't much of a proper goodbye from either. He's grateful that Atlas was too young to understand it or know what was happening; with his ex-fiancée gone, Eclipse had to be both "mom" and "dad" for the kid.

Sugar dating, for Eclipse, is a means to scratch that itch for companionship and intimacy- even if only superficial. It makes the loneliness sting a bit less for him. Of course, he still desires to be in a genuine relationship! Though it doesn't help that when his personal feelings do get involved, he gets hurt every time.

By the time y/n comes into the picture, Eclipse will have been sugaring for a while.

AAA I FORGOT ABOUT THIS IN MY DRAFTS IM SO SORRY </3 i have a terrible habit of losing asks in my drafts because i try to answer these between jobs oof

[somehhuuuhh]

MWHAAHAH YOU ASKED FOR SHIP REQUESTS!!! I request an Kist (Killer × Dust) please!!

I really like seeing people's opinion on this ship!! I like seeing toxic ships- I MEAN REALLY INTERESTING CHARATER DYNAMICS-

-Passive Anon

Two fucking hot murders being together? YES! I mean like sometimes I wonder when Killer gets his happy ending, would Killer leave Dust or will Dust join Killer with him and his happy ending.

So I give this ship 8/10

[stephantom]

When the baby cries really hard for more than like 2 minutes and I can’t figure out how to make it stop (usually gas is the main problem—which, kid, I get it, that stuff can hurt), it breaks my heart, but also, I feel like I could really just stare at her face and tell her I love her over and over forever