#the rockies are a young team

[betweensaintsandmonsters]

What are these spectacular plays the Rockies have been doing? Is there video???

brenton doyle baby like that man is single handedly holding the rockies together (though ezequiel tovar and michael toglia are also coming in CLUTCH) the three of those guys are fighting for most home runs and they trade places truly every other game it's very fun

like doyle is a top tier center fielder

he makes it worth watching the team fight tooth and nail to come up hopefully better than the marlins (i need them to end third worst in the entire league, they can't finish the year only better than the white sox, i'll cry)

[yamujiburo]

Ketchum vs. Ketchum! Showdown in Cerulean City!

Woo! Finale time! I wanted to make this final battle feel special and give it more substance than I could do with just a comic. So! I got the help of @cyberwulf to write out this ending in fanfic form! Check it out here on AO3 if you prefer! If not, the journey continues below the cut~

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James Sidestory / Meowth Sidestory

A lot has happened since our Poké Moms began their journey. After a rocky start…

“*SQUAWK*”

…they’ve managed to catch some new Pokémon…

“Run! Run! Run!”

…in their own way.

“What a cute baby! You know, I have a son, too!”

With their month on the road almost up, Delia had just one more thing she wanted to do…

“I want to beat the Cerulean City Gym!”

But little did Delia know, there was a surprise waiting for her in Cerulean City!

“MOM??? JESSIE???”

“Let’s have a double battle! You and Ash versus Jessie and I!”

“You’re on! But I’m not going easy on you just cuz you’re family!”

“…What’s going on?”

Poké Mom Adventures

EP009

Ketchum vs Ketchum! Showdown in Cerulean City!

The water of the Cerulean gym battlefield glistened in the sunshine streaming through its crystal glass roof. Both teams gazed at each other with steely determination (and some lingering confusion, in Misty’s case) as above them, the Drone Rotom announced the rules.

“This will be a double battle between Gym Leader Misty and Champion Ash, and the challengers Delia and Jessie.” It projected a holographic image of both teams. “For today’s battle, each trainer may use two Pokémon. The battle is over when all of one team’s Pokémon can no longer battle.”

“All right!” Misty declared. “This is an official League battle for the Cascade badge!”

“And bragging rights!” Jessie added with a smirk.

“We’ll see about that!” Ash retorted. Misty glanced at him, taking in his clenched fists and gritted teeth. She’d seen Ash determined before, but… there was something here that she was missing. However, with the Drone Rotom hovering expectantly overhead, finding out what that something was would have to wait.

“Come out – Corsola!”

The Coral Pokémon landed on the rock in front of her, eagerly crying its name.

“This is a water-themed gym, so I’ll go with a Water-Type,” Ash remarked. “Oshawott, I choose you!”

“That’s the spirit, Ash!” Misty exclaimed. “It’s the job of a Gym Leader to help trainers learn type advantage and weaknesses by specialising in one kind of Pokémon, and around here that’s Water-Types!”

“Water, huh?” Jessie frowned as she considered the three Pokémon she had on hand. “Well, I don’t want my delicate little Ziggy to get her fur wet.” With a flourish, she tossed a Pokéball high in the air. “Go, Venomoth!”

The Poison Moth Pokémon emerged, hovering over the water.

“It’s a shame we don’t have any Grass or Electric-types,” Delia mused. “I guess we’ll just have to do our best with what we have.” Pushing her bangs out of her face, she called, “I choose you!”

Ash and Misty’s jaws dropped as the light from Delia’s Pokéball coalesced into a very large, very stern-looking Kangaskhan.

“I didn’t know your mom had such a strong Pokémon,” Misty whispered.

“Neither did I,” Ash whispered back. Movement at the corner of his eye caught his attention and he looked down at his starter Pokémon. “Something wrong, Pikachu?”

“Pika…”

Pikachu gazed across the water at Kangaskhan, ears and tail up, alert to… something. But before anyone could figure out what had caught his attention, there was a small cry.

“Kangaskhan!”

The baby squirmed, spooked by the glistening water lapping all around the rock. She buried her face in her mother’s belly and cried again. Cradling her young protectively, Kangaskhan gave Delia an apologetic look.

“Oh, of course!” Delia exclaimed. “I’m so sorry. Kangaskhan, return.” Cupping her hands around her mouth, she called across the battlefield. “That doesn’t count as one of my Pokémon, does it?”

“Of course not, Ms. Ketchum!” Misty shouted back. “Please choose another Pokémon!”

“If she’s got one,” Ash said with a confident smirk. “I’m betting she’ll send out Mimey.”

“I choose you… Clefairy!”

“Looks like you bet wrong, Ash,” Misty laughed as Ash stared in surprise at the Fairy Pokémon.

Above them, the Drone Rotom moved into position.

“Begin!”

“All right, Oshawott!” Ash called out. “Open up with an Aqua Jet!”

With a determined cry, Oshawott blasted a jet of water across the field, hitting Clefairy square in the belly and knocking the Fairy Pokémon off the rock and into the water.

“Ash Ketchum!” Delia exclaimed reproachfully. “That wasn’t very nice!”

Thrown off-guard, Ash gulped. “S-sorry!” (Oh man - I can’t believe I’m actually battling my mom!)

On the opposite side of the battlefield, a wet and bedraggled Clefairy clambered back up on the rock ridge, scowling at her attacker.

“Shake it off, Clefairy!” Delia urged as her Pokémon did just that, sending a fine shower of water droplets flying from her pink fur. “Use Disarming Voice!”

With a deep breath, Clefairy shot a vortex of pink hearts towards Oshawott, taking the Sea Otter Pokémon by surprise and knocking him into the water.

“Good work, Deerling!” Jessie shouted triumphantly. “Now it’s my turn!” She pointed at Corsola. “Venomoth, use Poison Sting!”

Venomoth hovered uncertainly for a few moments, then looked back at her.

“It doesn’t look like Venomoth knows that move, honey,” Delia remarked.

“Well, Dustox knew that move!” Jessie protested. “Venomoth should know it too, aren’t they both Bug-types?”

Venomoth just blinked at her.

“You really don’t know what moves your Pokémon knows?” Misty asked incredulously.

“Of course I do, just – just let me think!” Jessie spluttered, clenching her fists. “All right, Venomoth – use Gust!”

Venomoth didn’t move.

“Whirlwind!” Jessie tried. “Psybeam! …Tackle?”

Venomoth looked back and forth between Jessie and the battlefield as it fluttered about agitatedly, utterly confused by the barrage of unfamiliar orders.

“This is just sad,” Misty muttered, getting a nod of agreement from Ash. Raising her voice, she called out, “Corsola! Use Spike Cannon!”

Corsola glowed, and a split second later a shower of glowing white spikes slammed into Venomoth, driving it backwards towards the trainer box.

“Oh, no!” Delia groaned in dismay, wringing her hands. “Maybe we should’ve practiced with our new Pokémon before coming here!”

“We’re not giving up!” Jessie snarled, clenching her fists. “Venomoth! Get back out there!”

With a trill, Venomoth shook off the spikes, and floated towards its opponents again.

“Corsola!” Misty called. “Hit it with another Spike Cannon!”

Corsola began to glow.

“Well don’t just hover there!” Jessie barked out. “It’s about to attack again!” Venomoth looked back at her, and Jessie gestured angrily towards the battlefield. “Just do something! Anything!”

Once more, glowing white spikes shot towards Venomoth. This time, however, Venomoth dove towards the attack, sweeping its wings in front of itself at the last minute. Blue blades of light cut through the barrage of spikes, one hitting Corsola and driving it back.

“That’s Air Slash!” Ash exclaimed.

“Air Slash, eh?” Jessie shot her opponents a triumphant smirk. “Venomoth! Use Air Slash on that pitiful pink Pokémon again!”

“Hang in there, Corsola!” Misty called as her Pokémon was driven back for a second time. “Use Recover!”

“Don’t let it recover, Venomoth!” Jessie yelled. “Air Slash again!”

As her Pokémon geared up for another attack, she noticed Delia gazing at her in rapture.

“You’re so ferocious when you battle, Smoochum,” Delia remarked dreamily. She lowered her voice, waggling her eyebrows. “It’s kinda hot.”

Jessie blushed and giggled. “Baaabe, not in front of the twerps.”

Misty wrinkled her nose in disgust. “…Smoochum?”

“Freak out later, Misty!” Ash yelled. Venomoth was bearing down on Corsola, and the Coral Pokémon didn’t have much left. “Oshawott! Use Hydro Pump on Venomoth to protect Corsola!”

Leaping high into the air, Oshawott sent a powerful jet of water directly at Jessie’s Venomoth. With a cry, the Poison Moth hit the floor between Jessie and Delia, bounced once, and fainted.

“Hey, no fair!” Jessie bellowed, stamping her foot. “I was distracted!” She recalled Venomoth with a scowl. “I ought to ground you for making me look bad!”

“This is really weird,” Misty mumbled.

“You have no idea,” Ash sighed wearily.

“All right, you big blue blob,” Jessie growled to her faithful Patient Pokémon, “get out there and let’s win this thing!”

Saluting, Wobbuffet waddled forward, straight into the water. Jessie pinched the bridge of her nose as Wobbuffet awkwardly clambered up onto the protruding rock.

“Wobbles can’t attack unless he’s attacked first,” Delia murmured to herself. “Oshawott is strong, and Corsola can use Recover to gain back health. That means I’ve got to make this next move count!” She looked to Clefairy, wet and winded but not out of the battle. It was risky, but…

“Clefairy! Use Metronome!”

“Metronome?!” Misty exclaimed as Clefairy began to move her fingers hypnotically back and forth. “Now anything can happen!”

“Hold tight, everybody!” Ash called, just as the Fairy Pokémon’s fingers turned white.

Razor-sharp leaves whipped through the air, striking Oshawott and Corsola. The Grass-Type move was too much for the dual Rock/Water Type, and Corsola collapsed into the water, fainted. Oshawott was driven back against the rock ridge, and Ash held his breath, but the Drone Rotom only counted Corsola out.

“Oshawott! You hanging in there, buddy?”

With a grimace, the Sea Otter Pokémon gave him a determined nod. “Osha!”

“Ha!” Jessie cried triumphantly. “Now we’re even!” She clenched her fists, calling tauntingly across the battlefield. “Who’s next, twerpette? Togepi? Psyduck?”

“She sure is cocky for being down to just Wobbuffet,” Ash muttered.

“Not for long,” Misty replied with a smirk. She plucked her second Pokéball from her hip.

“Go – Gyarados!”

Delia’s eyes widened and Jessie took several steps back as the gigantic Pokémon appeared in the water. It glowered down at both trainers, making Delia swallow hard.

(Now’s not the time to lose my nerve! Gyarados is just a Pokémon like any other. All I have to do is-)

“Hey!” Jessie exclaimed angrily. “No fair using such a powerful Pokémon! What, are Staryu and Starmie at the Pokémon Centre or something?!”

Taken aback, Misty gaped at the former Team Rocket member in disbelief. “Since when do you care about playing fair?”

“Since you decided to use that monstrosity on a first-time trainer!” Jessie retorted with a shake of her fist. “That’s cheating!”

Misty paused, almost second-guessing her choice of Pokémon, when she remembered who she was dealing with. Squaring her shoulders, she shot back, “You’re not a first-time trainer!”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Ash muttered.

“I heard that!” Jessie bawled.

“It’s okay, honey,” Delia murmured, placing her hand on Jessie’s shoulder. “We can beat them. We just need to use strategy!”

“Gyarados!” Misty called out. Jessie may not have been the best trainer, and her track record with him was hit or miss, but Wobbuffet could reflect almost any attack. It might just have been luck, but Clefairy’s Metronome had taken out Corsola and left Oshawott just barely hanging on. There was only one choice of target.

“Use Hurricane on Clefairy, now!”

Rearing back, Gyarados shot a powerful blast of air directly at the Fairy Pokémon, sending her flying back to the trainer box.

“Oh no!” Delia cried. She knelt by her stricken Pokémon’s side, but it was obvious even without Drone Rotom saying so that Clefairy couldn’t continue. “You did a wonderful job, Clefairy.” Recalling her Pokémon, she rose, pushed her bangs out of her eyes, and called her second Pokémon.

“Mimey, I choose you!”

Ash clenched his fists. No more surprises – he knew what Mimey was capable of. Oshawott was tough, but he’d taken a lot of damage. If the Sea Otter Pokémon only had one move left, then Ash had to make it count.

“Oshawott! Hit Mimey with Aqua Jet!”

“Mimey, dodge it!” Delia cried out.

The Barrier Pokémon leapt high in the air, leaving Ash to watch, powerless, as Aqua Jet splashed harmlessly on the ground between his mother and Jessie. But before he could call out another attack –

“Now, Mimey, Focus Punch on Oshawott!”

There was no time for Oshawott to get out of the way. Mimey dove straight down, fist outstretched, and scored a direct hit. Both Pokémon vanished underwater. All four trainers held their breath. After a few seconds, Mimey burst out of the water, effortlessly leaping onto the rock. A moment later Oshawott floated to the surface, fainted.

“Good work, Oshawott,” Ash murmured as he recalled his Pokémon. He turned to Pikachu. “Looks like my mom’s a tougher trainer than I thought. You ready, Pikachu?”

The yellow mouse nodded, one tiny fist raised. “Pika!”

“You be nice to us now, Pikachu!” Delia cheered brightly.

Jessie was less optimistic.

“Babe, this isn’t looking good,” she murmured urgently. “I’ve been beaten by that Pikachu a zillion times! And that Gyarados looks strong. And mean! I don’t know if…”

She trailed off as the other woman took her hands.

“Now you listen to me, Jessie Ketchum.” Delia gazed into her eyes, a look of fierce determination on her face. “A zillion battles. A zillion losses. Against that very Pikachu. And you never gave up. So you’re not gonna give up now! Okay?”

Jessie stared back at her. Time seemed to stand still. Delia’s fingers were warm on her own as her words of encouragement hung in the air.

“Jessie… Ketchum?”

With the briefest of nods, Delia turned to face their opponents.

“Ash honey, don’t you hold back just because I’m your mom!” she called. “We’re going to give it our all, even if we lose!”

“She’s a lot like you, Ash,” Misty laughed. As Ash tugged the brim of his hat down to hide his blush, she raised her voice and called to the challengers. “You’re doing great, Ms. Ketchum! I’m really impressed by your abilities as a trainer. Now show me you’re worthy of the Cascade badge!”

“Hey!” Jessie yelled indignantly. “What am I, chopped liver?! My Venomoth pushed your Corsola to the brink!”

Misty grimaced. This was all still too strange – Jessie was a good guy? Jessie and Ash’s mom were… partners? She struggled for something positive to say about Jessie’s performance so far.

“Uh – yeah!” she managed. “It was, uh, really great how you figured out that one move.”

Jessie put her hands on her hips. “Ugh, could you sound any more insincere?!”

With a growl of impatience, Ash cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled across the battlefield. “Hey! Are we gonna battle or what?”

“Oh, we’re battling, twerp,” Jessie shot back. “And we’re gonna win!”

Ash grinned. “You ready, Pikachu?” The yellow Pokémon turned to look at his trainer. Ash pointed. “Quick attack!”

“Ha!” Jessie scoffed as Pikachu zigzagged along the rock ridge. “Wobbuffet, use Counter!”

Pikachu leaped forward…

“On Mimey!”

Delia and Jessie gasped as Pikachu pivoted and went straight for the Barrier Pokémon. Taken by surprise, he took the full brunt of the attack, losing his balance and hitting the water.

“A fake out!” Delia exclaimed. She beamed at her son with pride. “That was so smart of you, honey! You had us completely fooled!”

“Baaabe!” Jessie hissed. “I get that you care about him – I do too – but right now he’s the enemy!”

Delia tapped her fist against her head, grinning nervously. “Oh, right!”

“This is hurting my brain,” Misty groaned.

“How do you think I feel?” Ash grumbled.

Delia took a moment to centre herself and assess the situation. Pikachu didn’t have a Type advantage, but his Electric attacks were powerful – not to mention that Mimey was still wet. Of course, using them ran the risk of electrifying the entire battlefield, including Gyarados, but only one Pokémon needed to be left standing in order for that Pokémon’s team to win.

“Mimey!” she commanded. “Use Psychic on Pikachu!”

“Mr Mime!”

Mimey fixed Pikachu with an intense stare, his eyes and hands glowing blue. Blue light enveloped the yellow mouse as he was lifted into the air. Pikachu strained and struggled, but couldn’t break free.

Ash groaned in exasperation.

“Misty, go for Mimey!” he called. “If you weaken him, maybe Pikachu can break free. Plus, he’s a lot stronger than Wobbuffet!”

Misty nodded. “Right!”

“Hey!” Jessie objected. “Just because it’s true doesn’t mean you have to say it!” She shook her fist at them. “I raised you better than that, Ash Ketchum!”

“Wha – ” Ash took a step back, flabbergasted. “You didn’t raise me at all!”

“The heck I didn’t!” Jessie retorted. “Who kept an eye on you while you twerped your way through eight regions, huh?!”

Misty rubbed her temples. The whole situation was giving her a headache.

“Gyarados!”

The Atrocious Pokémon stirred itself and looked her way.

“Use Crunch on Mr. Mime, now!”

“Oh no, not Crunch!” Delia fretted, as Gyarados reared back, a sinister purple aura swirling around its fangs. “That’s a Dark-Type move!”

“Wobbuffet!” Jessie barked. “Get between Mimey and Gyarados and use Counter!”

Saluting, Wobbuffet leaped in front of Mimey, his body outlined in orange light. Crunch hit, hard, and bounced back twice as hard. Both Gyarados and Wobbuffet recoiled from the damage.

“Wobbles!” Delia cried out, as Mimey caught Wobbuffet in his arms.

“Don’t you quit on me now, Wobbuffet!” Jessie shouted.

Wobbuffet saluted weakly as Mimey pushed him back onto his paws. The distraction worked, and Pikachu dropped back to the rock, freed from Psychic.

“Keep the pressure on, Pikachu!” Ash yelled. “Use Iron Tail on Mimey, now!”

“Quick, Mimey!” Delia shouted as Pikachu somersaulted through the air, tail glowing white. “Use Reflect!”

Pikachu hit the invisible barrier and flew backwards, landing in the water.

“Gyarados!” Misty commanded. “Use Crunch again!”

“Mimey, keep using Reflect!” Delia shouted. “Don’t let them in!” She had to think. Poor Wobbles, he didn’t have much left – one more shot from that big Gyarados and that would be it. Not to mention that if Crunch hit Mimey, the battle would be over! She’d completely forgotten Gyarados could learn that move! Oh, maybe she should’ve used Zaggy instead…

Mimey obediently continued to use Reflect as Gyarados and Pikachu attacked from either side. Slowly the invisible barriers began to box them in, till Mimey and Wobbuffet were crowded together on the rock.

“Babe!” Jessie urged. “We have to do something or we’re gonna lose!”

“I know!” Delia groaned. “I just…” She cupped her face in her hands, pulling down on her cheeks. “…I don’t know!”

“Ms Ketchum!”

Delia lifted her head.

“You can’t let us back you into a corner!” Misty called. “Use your environment to find a way out!”

Ash shot her a glare. “Hey, whose side are you on?!”

“It’s my job as a Gym leader to help trainers to learn,” Misty explained with a smile. “Did you forget?”

“You didn’t help me when I battled you for the first time!” Ash replied indignantly, poking his thumb into his chest.

Misty glowered at him.

“That’s because you still owed me a new bike, Ash Ketchum!”

“Aaagh!” Ash placed both hands on his head, tugging his hat down. “Can’t you let that go already? It got repaired, didn’t it?”

While their opponents bickered, Delia had taken Misty’s words to heart.

“Use the environment…” she mused. There was only one place Mimey and Wobbles could go – but first they had to do something about the double attacks coming their way.

“Jessie!” she hissed, beckoning her partner to come closer. “Can you have Wobbles use Counter?”

Jessie looked at Wobbuffet, sweating nervously as he stood behind Mimey. She nodded.

“Okay,” Delia replied. She whispered quickly in the other woman’s ear. Jessie grinned, then straightened up.

“Wobbuffet! Use Counter on both those attacks!”

Without any hesitation, Wobbuffet moved in front of Mimey, body once more enveloped in an orange glow. Crunch and Iron Tail came back double on Gyarados and Pikachu, sending the two flying backwards. Both Pokémon landed hard on the rock, Gyarados almost wrapping around it with the force of the blow.

“On your feet, Pikachu!” Ash called. “It’s not over yet! …Huh?”

He blinked at the empty battlefield. Mimey and Wobbuffet had both disappeared. Ash tensed as he scoured the water for any sign of the enemy Pokémon, but the surface was still settling from the last bout of attacks. The sunlight streaming through the roof didn’t help either – it made the rippling water glitter.

Misty spotted movement a second too late.

“Look out-”

In tandem, Mimey and Wobbuffet burst through the surface, taking up positions either side of Gyarados and Pikachu, trapping their opponents between them.

“Good work, you two!” Delia cheered. She pointed dramatically. “Now, Mimey – use Psychic on both of them!”

Once more, Mimey’s eyes and hands glowed. Both Gyarados and Pikachu rose into the air, enveloped in blue light.

“Great strategy, Ms. Ketchum!” Misty called, earning a dirty look from Ash which she ignored. “There’s no point going for Wobbuffet – he’ll just Counter our attacks again.”

“Right,” Ash agreed. “We’ve gotta take out Mimey!” He raised his voice. “Pikachu!”

Misty did likewise. “Gyarados!”

Delia grinned. “Just as I thought.” She looked at her partner. “Get ready with Mirror Coat!”

Jessie blinked in confusion. “…Huh?”

“Thunderbolt –”

“Hydro Pump –”

“On Mimey!” both young trainers yelled in unison.

“Mimey!” Delia called, just as both Pokémon charged their attacks. “Drop them, use Light Screen and aim at Wobbles!”

“Aim at WHO?!” Jessie exclaimed.

There was no time to explain. Everything turned on a split second. Pikachu and Gyarados began to fall through the air. Several volts of electricity and a powerful torrent of water hit Mimey’s Light Screen and barrelled towards Wobbuffet.

The diabolical beauty of Delia’s devious plan suddenly caught up with Jessie. That pair of pathetic Pokémon were in for a –

“Now, honey!”

Jessie almost fumbled the command.

“M-Mirror Coat!”

Wobbuffet glowed, shrouded in a reflective aura. Everything seemed to slow down. The attacks hit. They bounced back at Mimey. Pikachu and Gyarados fell. Ash’s mouth opened in a silent noooo.

The timing was perfect.

Gyarados and Pikachu fell in front of Mimey, taking the full brunt of Thunderbolt and Hydro Pump, doubled by Mirror Coat. The sheer force of the attacks drove them along the surface of the water, causing huge plumes of water to rise into the air either side of them. The battlefield disappeared in a shroud of surf and spray.

“Pikachu!” Ash cried out.

All four trainers held their breath as the mist began to clear.

Jessie cried out in dismay on seeing Wobbuffet floating belly-up in the water. Ash groaned on spotting Pikachu doing likewise. Draped over the rock, Gyarados lifted its head weakly, then dropped it again.

Delia scanned the water, a smile spreading across her face as Mimey swam to the rock and clambered up, standing tall with a cry of, “Mr. Mime!”

“Wobbuffet, Pikachu, and Gyarados are unable to battle,” the Drone Rotom declared, as Ash sank to his knees. “The winners are the challengers, Delia and Jessie!”

“I… I can’t believe this…” Ash moaned.

“We…” Jessie couldn’t stop staring at the battlefield, Drone Rotom’s words ringing in her ears. “…we won?” She looked to Delia, and the joyful look on her face confirmed it. “We WON!!!”

Delia shrieked as Jessie caught hold of her and lifted her high in the air, doing a twirl before setting her back on her feet and peppering her face with kisses. “Hahahaha!” She turned to their opponents, pulling down on one eyelid while sticking her tongue out. “Suck it, twe – I mean, Ash and Misty! I knew this day would come sooner or later!”

“Jessica, I know you’re happy, but don’t be a bad winner,” Delia chided gently. “Magnanimity in victory goes a long way.”

“But baaaabe!” Jessie whined. “I’ve never had a victory this magnificent before!”

Delia just smiled and gave her a peck on the lips. “I think poor Wobbles wants you,” she remarked, nodding to the battlefield. “We’ll need to get him to a Pokémon Centre with Venomoth and Clefairy.”

Jessie nodded and went to haul Wobbuffet out of the water.

“Come on, you,” she grunted as she dragged the Patient Pokémon back onto dry land. Briefly she removed her cap and wiped the sweat from her brow. Fine, so she couldn’t taunt the twerps any more. Victory still tasted pretty sweet.

In her arms, Wobbuffet stirred and smiled weakly up at her. Jessie couldn’t help but smile back.

“How about that?” she murmured to him. “You’re a winner, Wobbuffet. I bet you can’t wait to tell the others.”

He managed a salute and a quiet “Wobba…” before Jessie recalled him to his Pokéball.

Ash, meanwhile, remained on his knees in the trainer box. “I can’t believe we lost to my mom.”

“You gotta admit, that last strategy was a thing of beauty,” Misty replied with a smile. She’d made her way out to the rock and was cradling Gyarados’s head, absently rubbing its crest. The big Pokémon opened its eyes and let out a quiet rumble. “I guess now we know where you get your battling skills from, champ!”

Stepping out of her sneakers, Delia carefully negotiated the slippery rock and fished Pikachu out of the water. A couple of vigorous rubs from his head to his tail, and the Electric Mouse Pokémon opened his eyes.

“You were great, Pikachu,” Delia murmured. She tickled him under his chin, getting a weak “Chaaa” in response. She made her way back to the side of the battlefield to find Ash, Misty and Jessie waiting. “You were great too, honey.”

Ash managed a smile as she handed Pikachu to him. “Thanks, Mom.” He gasped as he was pulled into a hug.

“That was such a fun battle!” Delia exclaimed. She loosened her hold just enough to look at him. “I can see why you like this so much.”

“Watch out, Ash,” Misty teased. “You might just have a new rival on your hands!”

Ash let out a distressed yelp.

“Oh no, I don’t have time for that,” Delia assured him with a wave of her hand. As Ash sighed with relief, she cupped his cheek and tilted his head up to look at him. “But travelling around this past month and battling with you today… it’s made me feel a little bit closer to you.”

Ash blushed, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

“Aw, Mom,” he mumbled with a grin.

“Ahem.”

Ash and Delia turned to see Misty holding out a Cascade badge.

“This is yours, Ms. Ketchum,” the Gym Leader declared. “You made the battlefield, your Pokémon and their moves work to your advantage. I’m impressed!”

“Oh, you’re too kind, really,” Delia replied, blushing as she accepted the badge. Its blue surface seemed to glitter in the sunlight streaming in from the roof. “I’ll treasure this, always. Thank you.”

“That’s how you win a badge fair and square,” Misty teased, shooting a wink Ash’s way.

The Champion rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

“Aren’t you forgetting something?”

All three turned to see Jessie holding out her hand.

“What about me?” she demanded. “The perfect Pokémon battle partner? Trainer of vicious Venomoth and wild Wobbuffet? Where’s my badge?”

Misty sighed. Jessie had been on the winning team, and she had won a badge fair and square, but the whole situation was still bizarre.

“I’ll give you a badge if you explain what all…” She waved her hand between Jessie and Delia. “…this is about.”

“Delia and I dating,” Jessie scoffed with a shrug. “It’s not that complicated.”

“I got that part,” Misty shot back irritatedly, “I just…” She looked from Jessie, standing with her arms crossed, to Ms. Ketchum, who had one hand on Jessie’s hip, to Ash, who looked like he was hoping the floor would open up and swallow him. “…you know what, never mind.” Reaching into her pocket, she took out a second Cascade badge.

“I can’t believe this is happening, but… you earned this!”

Jessie let out a little cry of joy as Misty put the badge into her hand.

“Oh, Deerling, look how pretty it is!” she gushed. “Do you think maybe we could just get the prettiest Gym badges?”

“I don’t see why not,” Delia replied. “With James to run the restaurant, I can take vacations more often!”

“James is –” Misty glared at Ash, who pulled the brim of his cap down and giggled nervously. “We’re going to the Pokémon Centre and then you’re telling me what’s been going on, Ash Ketchum!”

“Let’s all go to the Pokémon Centre,” Delia suggested. “Our Pokémon battled hard today, they deserve a good rest.”

It wasn’t long before Nurse Joy’s tender care had Venomoth, Corsola, Oshawott, Clefairy, Wobbuffet, Gyarados and Pikachu feeling like their old selves again. Delia squeezed Jessie’s hand, murmuring “that’ll be you one day, Smoochum” as they watched Joy work.

“Well, we should get going,” Delia declared once they had their Pokémon back.

“We were going to stay and have dinner, Ms. Ketchum,” Misty said. She eyed Jessie reluctantly, but made the offer anyway. “…You’re welcome to join us.”

“That’s sweet of you, Misty, but we’ve been away long enough,” Delia replied, to both kids’ relief. “It’s time we headed home. Thank you both so much for such an amazing battle.” She hugged Ash tightly. “Don’t stay away too long, honey.”

“You know I won’t, Mom,” Ash replied, blushing. He shot Misty a grin. “I’ll be home right after I kick Misty’s butt in our rematch!”

“Then I’ll see you soon,” Delia murmured. She let go of her son and gave Misty a quick hug and a wink. “Try not to beat him too badly!”

“Hey!” Ash exclaimed indignantly.

Delia stepped back, joining her girlfriend near the door of the Pokémon Centre. She gave her a look and nodded to both kids. With a sigh, Jessie trudged up to Ash and gave him a stiff hug.

“See you at home, kid,” she mumbled. Letting go, she turned to Misty. “Thanks for the battle and the badge, I guess...?”

The two gazed at each other for a few awkward moments, then Jessie took a step closer, slowly lifting her arms.

“Aah!” Misty hurriedly moved back, holding her hands up in front of her. “I don’t think I’m there yet.”

Jessie dropped her arms with a huge sigh of relief. “Great! Me neither.” She offered her hand instead, and the Gym Leader shook it.

Ash and Misty stepped outside the Pokémon Centre to see them off, their goodbyes ringing in the air as Delia and Jessie got on the road. Jessie slung her arm around her girlfriend’s shoulder.

“Happy, babe?”

“Yes and no,” Delia sighed. “I’m sad my journey’s over, but I couldn’t be happier about how it went. I made three wonderful new friends, foiled a nasty poacher, and that battle today –” She clenched her fists in front of her. “ – I never felt so alive! I can’t wait to tell Professor Oak and James and Meowth all about it!” She slipped an arm around Jessie’s waist. “I’m so glad you talked me into this.”

Jessie preened. “Oh it was nothing, babe, I –”

She broke off as Delia took hold of her hands.

“Thank you for making my dreams come true,” the other woman whispered. Jessie’s heart caught in her throat as she saw tears shining in Delia’s eyes. “Not just today, but every day we’re together.”

Jessie smiled, warmth blooming in her chest.

“It’s the least I could do,” she replied. Delia deserved more, so much more, for putting up with her, believing in her, loving her. Not to mention all she’d done for James and Meowth too. Maybe one day –

- but before Jessie could continue the thought, Delia leaned up and pulled her into a tender kiss.

THE END

“Oh, I can’t wait to get home to our nice comfy bed!”

“Ugh, me too. I hate sleeping on the ground.”

“…who said anything about sleeping?”

[vatelixx]

On the concept of ‘want’, (part 1):

Spencer Reid x afab!BAU!reader (written with early-ish seasons Spencer in mind)

part two here.

SMUT!! (and fluff, and aftercare because im not a total hedonist), allusions to both Spencer and Reader being switches (but he’s mostly just down bad), autistic Spencer (the way it should be), mean reader (to everyone but him), reader has a very very high IQ when it comes to everything but a pretty genius— Spencer just wants that cookie so fucking bad.

Warnings: sub spencer (but also not entirely; he talks about human anatomy as he destroys her), maaaaaybe slight corruption kink (what? who wrote that there???), mentions of prior bullying and insecurity, first time (for Spencer, yess devirgin that hot nerd!!— do you think the BAU will get him a cake after?), brief mentions of past hypersexuality for reader, kinda rlly domestic. Some undertones of degradation but predominantly praise. Begging, crying (pussy so good he cried), etc etc

w.c: 5k (I feed)

a/n: Spencer’s first time getting fucked, my first time writing smut (we’re both going through it here). I’ve been watching too much Criminal Minds recently, so i’ve reverted back to my tumblr roots (im home i’m home). This is a new acc so like…. hi!!!

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Right person, right time. It’s a concept that Spencer Reid is more than aware of. Define luck, at surface level, it’s a made-up hypothesis, idealistic, fantastical. Conjured up to aid the desperate (or the delusional). It’s something he refused to humour, obstinate to the notion, well, that was until you came spitballing into his life, sharp features, sharper tongue. You could cut with your words alone, a weapon to the BAU, jagged and fast-thinking, and so entirely unattainable. Rorschach tests, and an endless sea of profilers, it doesn’t matter— he’s not sure anyone is ever capable of truly pinpointing you.

Rocky start— after you became a permanent member to the team, it took months to coerce you into dropping your guard. A year and 14 days, to be exact.

But, it was possible. Hardened words and blunt comments shifted into something more with time. A gravitational pull, perhaps, that led to evolution— you, softer with him, more tender than you’ve ever showcased before.

Maybe it was that night when he told you about highschool, about what they did to him, boys like him, who were too intellectual for their own good. Different, in every sense of the word. Bullying at such a young, impressionable age can have prominent effects, chronic stress inflicted on an underdeveloped brain, they tied him to goal posts, stripped him naked, endless torment that he still carries with him now. Maybe that’s why you lowered your defenses. Put down the sword.

And sure, he never expected anything, nor asked for anything. He was definite that he wouldn’t get to experience cliche-dating. Longing glances and anticipated moments. It’s not like he was ever the most appealing candidate, too nervous, too neurodivergent. It’s hard to grow out of the mentality that no, everyone isn’t making fun of you, not when it consumed the entirety of his adolescence. That you can walk into a room, and not be seen, targeted, as an outcast. He’s just different. But he’s also human, and the chemicals in his brain do make him want.

You apparently. Because, you looked at him softly once, and he was done. Ruined. Gone for good. Or, in Morgan’s personal opinion, whipped.

And illogically, you wanted him too. That wasn’t ever part of the equation.

But theres a pattern now— dates every weekend. Movies, cafes, museums, an endless onslaught of you. Because somehow, thanks to luck, you reciprocated. He’ll never understand why, you’re too beautiful (it’s a hazard), but he tries. He tries.

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December. A haze of christmas markets and blanketing coldness. You kiss him outside and he thinks he might be dying. You make him burn cold. He’s a logical person, so obviously he’s aware that he’s only freezing because your hands are shoved in his pockets, a desperate bid to seek warmth, but regardless, it’s more than he ever expected.

He laughs against your lips, fingers gripping the front of your coat as he draws you backwards so that you’re resting against a wall. “Mm..” he hums, “You should kiss me more often.”

Everyone knows. The entire team is aware of this, an unspoken agreement that your lingering moments and aimless touching are not platonic in the slightest. You work with profilers, secrets are never quite effective. Everyone knows, but it’s taboo, something that needs to be left undisturbed. Do they expect you to break him? Does he? Maybe, maybe it would be worth it— to hurt for you, because it’s always been you. He’ll take anything, he’s not greedy. He’ll live off scraps if he has to, anything to satiate this want that burns solely for you.

“Actually.. you should just always be kissing me,” he suggests, tone soft, “Every day of the week. All the time. And—“ he laughs, “You should also stop stealing body warmth. It’s rude. Hypothermia usually occurs when body temperature dips to around 95F, oh oh but there are so many factors to consider—“

“Is this you trying to imply you’re cold?” you ask.

“Perhaps. Or maybe i’m implying you should be working harder to warm me up.”

You’ve grown soft, he thinks. He shouldn’t be allowed to get away with this level of affection. But its okay, you justify, mostly because it’s him. Spencer, and his pretty smile, and strange habits (sitting cross legged on tables, drinking coffee with excessive sugar, endless facts and a plethora of soft yearning glances at you when you’re interrogating— as if you’re not tearing an unsub to pieces). It’s terrifying, constant eggshells, because you can’t hurt him. Not like the others, distant fragments of your past.

You laugh in response to his comment, admiring the sight of him: flushed, with swollen lips and dilated eyes. He deserves to be like this, so thoroughly assured that despite all odds, you’re invested. All cards on the table. “You have a lot of requests, boy genius.���

He smiles boyishly. You’re hard lines, sure, a blade that can draw blood, but somehow, somehow, he’s always left unscathed. “Alright,” he answers, “You want requests? Here’s one, stay the night. Come over, stay over, i’ll cook breakfast and try not to burn it— and, and you can have the good side of the bed.”

“Spence,” you mutter, because of course there’s an underlying intention to ‘staying over’ and you're trying to be good here. To not let this fall into your past mistakes of sex and inevitable self-inflicted disgust. A cyclical cycle that clings to your skin. Everything is so new to him, the intimacy, the affection, and it’s nice being able to witness it— to see his reactions to innocuous touches, always disbelieving that he’s capable of this.

Fresh-eyes, so untainted to the sharpness of modern ‘love’.

You cup his face, god, under the dim shadows of the streetlight he’s beautiful. It’s a little alarming to be honest. More so disheartening really, because despite how much you remind him, he never believes you— obstinately refusing your compliments, as if you’d ever mock him. No, he’s different. He’s tender and disarming, and sometimes it feels unholy to touch him with calloused hands.

But, to Spencer, there is nothing unholy to this; the second you touch him, the entire universe crashes down into a singular moment.

“Just stay the night,” he reaffirms. It’s taken him over a month to get to this point, to be able to voice his wants, to comprehend his wants. Now, his thumb traces its way down the side of your face, tangible, real. “And tomorrow morning, there’ll be coffee and pancakes and—“ he laughs, “And there won’t be any regrets. I promise.”

You’re looking at him, wide-eyed and slightly disbelieving (because he’s somehow stumbled through the minefield of you without any consequences). He leans forward, his forehead resting against yours. “Don’t make me beg. I will beg.”

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To confirm, he makes you incautious, irrational, willing to blatantly disregard any sort of control. Of course you end up at his apartment; the moment he mentioned begging, you were already half-way down the street.

Spencer’s place is… well, it’s everything you’d expect of him. Scattered novels adorning the floor, a mess of untidy thoughts, neglected papers on science, endless open textbooks left half-abandoned for other pursuits. It’s so him, clean but discombobulated.

He wants to apologize, make excuses for the lack of order, he probably should. He doesn’t do that though. He only crosses the room, stopping when he’s standing right in front of you, just gazing down. He has no idea what’s to come— for once, there are no patterns, no statistics he can reference.

So, he reaches for you, fingers tugging at the edges of your jacket. “Arms. Up,” he instructs and god, it’s a stupid order, but you follow it without any protest. He folds it over the couch, abandoned. Putting it back on alludes to leaving, and he’s hopeless enough to never want you to leave.

His hands then gravitate back to you and he starts to tug aimlessly at the material of your shirt. It’s been raining, and the fabric is soaked. “Hm,” he hums, “Off. Take it off.”

You laugh at that. Straight to the point. You don’t follow his orders, because one was certainly enough, and you’ve never been the type to obey blindly. Instead, you grip his waist, drive him back towards the nearest surface. An end table, some books go clattering, light damage, they’ll survive. His response is a gasp, a hitch of the breath.

“I was promised the good side of the bed, breakfast, pancakes. But sex? Hm, did you invite me over just to get in my pants? I’m wounded, Reid.” you mutter, pressing a series of soft kisses along the curvature of his jaw.

“No! No,” he retorts, breathless, “I was going to get you some comfortable clothes to change into. Damp clothes breed bacteria. You made this dirty,” Adding, “And not in the way I was concerned about.” under his breath.

You roll your eyes, “Oh, here we go—“ sure, you have the experience he lacks, but you’ve been on your best behavior. Dirty? That’s an insult to the exhausting self-restraint you’ve upheld recently.

“Yes— i’m the dirty one here, clearly.” you scoff, “Just casually corrupting you,” You tug him away from the end-table because you don’t want him bruised in any way, shape or form (it’s actually distressing; when you’re working, you seem hellbent on making sure no one even thinks about laying a hand on him. Unsubs be damned.)

Ego-centric, completely independent, individualistic until he came along.

You push him back against the couch, watching as he stumbles, as he falls. For a minute he just lies there, looking up at you with hazy eyes— pupils dilated and lips parted on a half-pained gasp.

And it’s a sight to see, the brilliant prodigy, the young genius, his normally-composed features now twisted into something stricken. His hands tighten around the material of the couch and he lets out a sound that’s a cross between a whine and a groan.

“Oh—“ that’s just a clear-cut moan, “You can definitely definitely keep corrupting me, in fact I endorse it. Completely.”

“3 PHDS, 2 B.A’s and you’re currently asking me to corrupt you? I don’t know, Doctor Reid, that’s certainly very forward,” you say, moving to sit on his lap, aware that you really should entertain this spot more often, even if you’re at severe risk of deflating.

Deflating. God. When did it come to this?

He laughs, “You’re the only person in this entire world that makes me act without a single coherent thought,” IQ abolished. “So yeah,” he murmurs, fingers tracing mindless patterns across the exposed strip of skin above your waistline. “Defini-definitively corrupt me.”

It’s taken so much to get to this point. So much to unpack, to understand, from Spencer’s perspective. There’s a lifetime of bullying that he has to dismantle, and sometimes he still anticipates the punchline when you kiss him— the biting laughs, not entirely dissimilar to school, when someone would belittle him, fake being his friend just for entertainment value.

So, when you stumble into the bedroom, when you remove his shirt, he knows this is improvement. He’s fighting this internal battle, unsure on how he should act: coy or defiant. Both, really. He wants to cover himself up, to pretend like you don’t disarm him, to fight and fight until you make him bleed. Anything, he’ll take anything from you.

“You are so so pretty,” you mutter when he’s sprawled out across the bed. You’ve never been someone to resort to praise; sex had always been cold and clinical, something to relieve stress, to undermine the burden of work, and the endless weight of sanguinary. But now? If he is the eye of the storm, then you’ll happily commit to the chaos of this.

“Careful, you’ll make me inherit a disorder here.” he mutters. Narcism— he’s the least likely to ever develop such symptoms. “Or cry. I could cry, it’s a potential. Maybe break-down?”

“Or,” he adds, his hands tracing up towards your shoulder blades. “All of the above. The trifecta of issues. It’s very likely.”

He rolls over on top, you’re down to just your lingerie now, pretty lace contrasting against your skin. Removing your clothes had been a whole ordeal, he’s fairly certain he almost died; you’re the epitome of beautiful, and he’s not sure how he ended up with everything when he was so resolute, silently accepting, he would always obtain nothing.

“I want to kiss you, but I don’t know, I feel like my body has lost the ability to function at the moment.” he breathes out.

“You should definitely kiss me,” you confirm, posing it as a choice, one that he has any say over— when in reality, youre already tugging him closer. Lips meeting lips. It’s not sane how the world fades into a nebulous haze the moment your mouths connect; time remains constant, logistically, nothing has changed. But it’s just so much that for a moment you doubt the concept of existence, doubt everything but him.

Genius falling for genius. Only you could laugh when he traces molecules into your skin. Spelling out words with elements: Livermorium, Uranium. LV U, it might not be an exact replica of the three worded phrase, but it certainly gets the point across.

“Spence—“ you bite into his lip, tugging the soft tissue between your teeth.

He groans, whimpers, pulls you closer, eliminating every infinitesimal distance between, slotting his hips against yours. He draws away from your mouth, lips leaving a trail of kisses down your neck as he reaches for your hand, interlocking his fingers with yours and pinning it against the bed. His free one is now wandering, slipping beneath your panties to touch.

“Do you know how much I studied about human anatomy after you first kissed me?”

“Weeks.” he answers when you respond with a muffled groan. Your hands are on his back now, tracing the journey of his spine. He’s in over his head, but there’s so much want, so much he wants to do but never thought he would be capable of. And oh, when he begins to draw circles against your clit, slow experimental halos, those soft touches of yours evolve into grasping, gripping. By the time he’s got a finger slotted inside, he’s fairly certain he’s being scratched. Nail indents and faint white lines, souvenirs.

“I know about every erogenous zone the human body possesses, every single one.” He says, because whilst he might lack in physical experience, he has enough intellect to memorize placement, biology. Plus, he’s a fast learner. His finger bends, and both of you moan.

“Spence— fuck, feels good.” you gasp, tangled hands clutching tighter, tighter again until your knuckles are white and you’re trembling.

The human body is something of a fascination to him; the way it reacts, how each nerve and ligament can respond to even the most tentative of touches. But you aren’t every human, you are you, and he has an insatiable desire to discover and catalog every single response your body gives.

He adds another finger, slowly, eyes fixed on your face, gauging the reaction. When he curls both digits, a sharp exhale is your response. “I’m convinced I’ve discovered new anatomy facts in the last few months, just because of you.”

Maybe it’s not fair that he’s so good. First times are supposed to be fumbling and awkward, a mess of hormones and inexperience. To say you haven’t been touched like this before is a severe understatement. The meaningless sex, the onslaught of bodies doesn’t measure up to him, the way he’s so focused on how you respond, on what your body enjoys— it would be endearing (and it is!), but you're currently too preoccupied to voice such a notion.

“Doing so good, holy shit—“ you mutter, blissed out beyond comprehension. You're making art on his back, only vaguely aware of the pain. Though when you realize you’ve scarred his skin, you're drawing away, moving to tangle your hand in his hair instead. But Spencer doesn’t even care, doesn’t even register the inflictions; he likes the physical marks you leave behind, a tangible remnant of all you do to him.

And sure, he’d laugh, usually, at your responses. But it’s hard to laugh, when his own ability to form any coherent sound has been completely destroyed. He’s a mess, his breathing shaky, and his brain is a constant buzz of fragmented musings consisting of you, you, you.

He draws his fingers out, earning a discernible groan, maybe a fuck you (which he does intend to do). But right now, he’s already slotting his face between your thighs, removing those soaked, ruined, panties of yours. He doesn’t have a single thing to compare it to. But he already knows this is his favorite place to be, and he’s fairly certain he’ll be spending most nights between your thighs, learning and memorizing every reaction and noise, each movement, and the ways to repeat them.

He runs his tongue along your clit, savoring just how wet you are, a mess that he can bury his face into. You’re looking down at him with something akin to shock now, and he can only laugh, blow air against your clit, then drag his tongue back over the sensitive bud, drawing it into his mouth to suck.

His movements are tentative at first, unpractised, but soon gaining confidence. He doesnt need to do this, you're aware— you could take him now. And yet, hes here, between your thighs for no reason other than want. Your reaction is visceral, because it’s always been about efficiency in the past, quick touches to get you there before the other person can derive their own pleasure from the act.

He’s not like that. God, hes not like that at all.

“Oh,” is all you can say, gripping his hair down to the root, instructing each movement until he gains incentive, finding repeat patterns that your body reacts to. Then, you can only arch and moan, noises filtered out into the air. He’s back to opening you up now, two deft fingers pressed inside, working diligently to tear you apart.

“Oh? That’s all you have to say to me? Oh?” he retorts.

“Shut up,” you huff, “Put that mouth of yours to work.”

“Mhm— I plan to. God, you’re so perfect.” he mutters, voice distorted, muffled. “That’s it—“ he fights the urge to explain exactly what’s occurring in your body every time his fingers abuse that spot. Instead, he keeps his mouth busy.

He’s certain he’s memorized most areas of your body from years of pining, and that’s what brings him an unrepentant sense of satisfaction. Because he was memorizing your body, you, long before he even got the chance to touch or taste you.

“Wanna stay here,” he says, and he’s being petulant now, because there’s something so good about being reduced to movements. To follow the pattern, to take care of your body, mindless to anything else but you. Pussy-drunk, to put it less eloquently.

“Shit,” you buck up against his mouth, watching as he buries his face entirely into you, as he replaces his fingers with his tongue, nose bumping bumping your clit, consuming his senses entirely.

“Use my face, yeah. ‘M all yours anyway.”

“Fuck, fuck fuck— Spence. Gonna cum—“

When you fall apart, inevitable, he doesn’t stop— not until you’re boneless and spent beneath him. Back arching, stars burning through closed eyes. Pretty constellations that have you blissed out beyond belief. The pleasure is white-hot, feverish in intensity.

And then he’s moving, shifting his body back over you. He’s all soft touches and languid kisses against your mouth, not bothering to break contact as he settles himself fully over you, the weight of his hips pressing into yours. He’s hard, dick pushing up against his boxers, his sexual libido had always been low until you came into his life. Now, his wants seem to fight for release constantly.

“My turn, I believe.” he grins, pressing a kiss to your jaw, “Not that you have to, of course. It’s not an obligation, uh— more so a beg?”

“Of course it’s an obligation,” he goes to protest, to say you don’t owe him anything, so you sigh. “A thankyou, maybe?”

Fumbling hands, still shaky from pleasure, undo buttons. Unclasping his belt, removing loose fabric until he's bare before you. There’s something nervous to his gaze, something unspoken, lingering in the air. “Hey, hey. I’ve got you, yeah? You’re okay,” you promise, before your eyes shamelessly look down. He’s straining, pre-cum lingering at his tip, dick pressed up against his stomach now. “Fuck, okay— yeah. Good. Great even.” first time you've ever stumbled over a sentence in your life.

There’s so much to be concerned about. The fact he’s naked, that you could destroy everything with a few serrated words, years and years of rebuilding, reconstructing. But you don’t— and he can’t help but laugh nervously. “Glad to be up to your standards. I’d uh, hate to disappoint.”

“Always the over-achiever,” you respond, shifting away from him— there’s amusement to your expression when he groans, pitifully, when he rolls onto his back, draping an arm over his face.

Predictable. Condoms in his bedside table. At least he's prepared. You open the wrapper with your teeth, discarding it somewhere amongst the tangle of limbs and sheets, too hellbent on finding him again.

Oh, in this position, you have full, unrestricted view of his body. Endless planes of skin, begging to be marked, sentenced indefinitely to your touch. By the time you straddle his hips, hes a flushed mess beneath you. “I— um, you look really really pretty right now.” he stumbles, idiot.

His dilated eyes take you in. Every contour and curve, the way your hair hangs over your face, eyes up eyes up eyes up. He fails when you run your hand across his dick, thumb brushing against the tip. By the time you’ve slipped the condom over him, hes gone. Bucking and moaning, and so so much better than his hand could ever be.

He wants to be inside of you, but it’s hard to think right now, let alone vocalize the words. I want, he thinks, I want everything, with you.

Your name is on his tongue, muttered and repeated, a reverent prayer of sorts. He needs to gain back his control here, to return to equal footing.

“Yeah—“ he breathes out, “So much of an overachiever, considering I had you making all of those noises—“ his words falter, die out, when you sink down. When you take him. Wrapped around, tight. Warm heat that sets alight every nerve in his overstimulated body. He has half the mind to apologize for his comment because you’re about to ruin him, he knows.

“I thought you wanted me to corrupt you, hm?” you retort. The pace is slow, mostly for his own sanity. Though, the feel of him, the way he slots into you, warm skin pressed against warm skin is intoxicating, and it’s a battle to keep your composure. To not just fall apart under the weight of him.

“What’s that, pretty boy? Struggling? Because you were so egotistical a few seconds ago? Where’s all that ego gone? Straight between your legs, I think.”

A whimper. It’s a whimper, a pained thing ripped straight from his throat. He’s making indiscernible noises now, messy sounds pooling from his swollen lips. The praise, the strained undertones of degradation? It’s too much. But god does he love you for it, because that’s you through and through. Sharp, and brittle to everyone but him, he wants to look, he does, albeit he has to turn his head to the side, bury half of his face in a pillow because he’s gone. At this point, he can only take it.

“I— um, mhm. Yeah,” he slurs. He’s almost incoherent at this point; he’s been reduced to nothing, just a mass of skin, bone, and flesh at your disposal, to own and use and he can’t find it in himself to feel humiliated about it, not when it’s you.

“Can’t— um, I was wrong, you’re— oh god,” the sounds of your body hitting his, back arching as your pace picks up. “Oh, ‘m sorry, ‘m sorry —baby, can’t, can’t take it. That’s…”

It’s a lot for his first time, that’s for certain.

“Yes, you you can. I know you can, Spence.” you mutter, interlocking your fingers, letting them hang near your hips. “You feel so good— so so fucking good. Look at you, so brain dead for me. Taking it all so well, love.”

Love?— oh he wants to be buried with that one. He’s a mindless disaster, impenetrably devoted to you alone.

He doesn’t even know how he’s saying words at this point, it’s as if his brain-to-mouth connection has been severed by your very presence itself. It’s not possible to form a coherent thought when you’re riding him like this, taking him so deep that he’s seeing stars. There’s tears pooling in his eyes, he looks pretty when he cries. Especially when it’s derived from pleasure, when he can let go of the burdens, everything he’s endured, when it’s just sensation. Nothing more, no more thoughts.

There’s safety here, an element of home, home home bliss, that has him keening. He wants to stay buried here forever, where nothing can ever hurt him again. When it’s just you, and your pretty words, and your exploitative power to destroy him. You never do, anyway. Even when you could, you restrain.

“Can’t, ’m gonna…, Please, please, don’t stop.” he whines, “Pleasepleaseplease— oh, can’t— I can’t.”

He grips you tight, rolls you over, mostly so he can feel you closer. The sight of you riding him was excruciating, but this is worse because now there’s no gap separating you. Now, he can bury his face into the crook of your neck, burn himself in the warmth of your touch.

“Spence..” you mutter.

“I know. I know—“ hes ruined, sloppy thrusts, whimpers catching against the stifling air. “Feels s’good.”

He doesn’t know what to do, how to breathe, so he just runs his thumb over your clit, watching your prominent reaction, watching as you gasp, moan— oh, and then you’re clenching around him, tightening the pleasure, and yesyesyes.

You’re too gone, moving still, and he can only cant his hips forwards, buck and squirm until he’s sobbing under the weight of your ministrations, releasing so hard that he can barely remember his name, no cognitive function, in the haze of his orgasm.

“There’s my boy— so pretty for me.” he can vaguely hear you saying, and if you’re talking him through it, he can only hear snippets of praise now anyway.

“Mhm— mhm. Yours, yeah.” he mumbles, body sinking against the sheets, a few little whimpers escaping his lips as you milk the rest of his pleasure from him.

Tangled limbs and sweat-stained skin. “You okay?” you ask in the aftermath.

“So okay,” he agrees, shifting closer, back pressed against your torso— sue him for being little spoon.

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The next morning, you wake to an absence of Spencer. It’s unsettling, to say the least. So, you're quick to fumble over the buttons of one of his shirts, fabric creased, matching the tousled nature of your hair, disheveled, remnants of the ruination of last night.

For a moment, you consider that he might’ve left — but there he is, in the kitchen, attempting to make breakfast.

“Hey,” you mutter, leaning against the counter to watch.

Scratches adorn his back, indent marks from your nails, crescent reminders, stain his waist, and he’s content to wear them. If anything, he can’t wait to add to the budding collection.

Pancakes. The good side of the bed. Coffee. All of his promises from last night are being thoroughly met, even if he’s burning the food, and shit, he didn’t realize the coffee would be finished so soon. For all his calculations, he’s fairly off-center today.

And then, you come padding across his kitchen, embellished in only his shirt, unbuttoned near the top to expose your collarbone, and he’s fairly certain the last remainders of his IQ disappear.

“Hi! Hi,” he says, wide-eyed, “Um, making.. breakfast. You look, wow yeah.”

Breakfast lays forgotten.

[othercrossee]

them being so chummy in the 5 years time skip is so funny cuz i make them so blood thirsty to each other when they both first became leaders

[woso-dreamzzz]

Loss

Hardersson x Child!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: You lose

You wanted to crawl into a hole and die.

You wanted to take all your gloves and throw them into the fire and just watch them burn.

What use is a keeper that can't stop goals anyway?

Three goals went passed you today. Four if you count the one that was ruled offside.

Three balls shot passed you in the semifinal of the FA Cup. Arsenal would not be going to the final.

Faith had been put on you to carry the team through but you had fallen at the first hurdle.

A shot fired at you from point blank range in the first five minutes.

It skimmed your gloves and buried itself into your net.

The second came from a corner. A header that went just past your outstretched fingertips.

The third was during the second half. A cross into your box and a shot that zoomed past your body.

The fourth goal, the one called offside, had been whipped in just in front of you after you came out of your goal to collect.

It was a shocking performance from you and you fell face forward onto your bed to scream into your pillow.

Your phone keeps ringing and you know who it is.

You ignore it, turning your head so you can stare at your bedside table.

You watch your phone ring over and over again. The screen lights up and then goes dark again. It repeats again and again but all you can do is stare.

You don't want to think about the match. You want to crawl under your sheets and just die.

You've got to go out to get groceries tomorrow. You don't know how you're going to show your face in public.

Your performance was so embarrassing.

Your coach shouldn't have thought that putting an eighteen year old as keeper was a good idea. His faith in your ability was unfounded and you wonder briefly if it's too late to go back to school for something other than football.

You didn't think you needed a backup option. Football was everything to you. Football was your whole life.

You don't know what you're going to do without football.

Your phone rings again and you flip it over so you can't see the screen anymore.

Rocky looks back at you from his spot on your bedside table.

"Don't," You say to him," Don't look at me like that."

His blank googly eyes stare back at you.

"Stop it."

He keeps staring.

Your hand closes around him and your arm rears back in anger.

Rocky collides with your bedroom wall, clattering to the floor.

You scream into your pillow, forcing yourself not to cry.

You know everyone is going to be talking about your bad performance today. You knew you single-handedly sunk Arsenal's dream of the FA Cup this year.

Your phone rings again and again and you wish you had turned off your sound.

You never realised how annoying your ringtone was. If you remember when you wake up tomorrow, you'll have to change it.

The stupid jingle runs through your ears like how those goals run through your mind.

"I don't want to talk," You say when you finally gain the courage to answer your phone after watching it ring for at least an hour.

"Princesse-"

"No," You cut her off firmly," I don't want to talk. Stop calling me."

"No," Momma says," I watched the match-"

"I don't want to talk!" You insist," Why can't you leave me alone?!"

"Princ-"

"Stop it!" You say, tears running down your cheeks," Just stop!"

"It's not the end of the world." That's Morsa now.

"You weren't there! You don't know!"

"You think I haven't lost matches?" Comes Morsa's dry voice," I know all about losing, princesse. It's one match out of countless others. You'll get them next year."

"I don't want to get them next year!" You spit back," I wanted to get them this year!

"And that didn't work out," Momma says to you gently," And that's okay."

A sob rips through your throat. "Momma, I played so badly."

"You're still young," Momma says," You're never going to have a perfect game all season. It was unfortunate that it was today but it is what it is. You'll spend the weekend sulking about it but you'll improve yourself. You'll get better next time."

You crouch on your bedroom floor, picking up Rocky and wiping off the dirt from him.

One of his googly eyes has fallen off so you stick it back on.

"It's not just your fault," Morsa says," You're in a team sport, princesse. The blame never falls on one person's shoulders. You're still young. You've proven yourself to your team. One bad match doesn't ruin everything. You'll improve."

You wipe away your tears, clenching your fist around Rocky. "Really?"

"Of course. You're going to be great one day but you need to stumble a bit first. Learn from your mistakes and you'll get them next time."

You sniffle. "Thanks."

"Good girl," Momma says," Now, I want you to order food tonight, alright? You had a hard day. Treat yourself."

"I will."

"We love you."

"Love you too."

You look down at the rock in your hand and wince. "Sorry I threw you, Rocky. It won't happen again."

[enwoso]

If you’re still doing requests, how about grumpy is desperate for a dog but alessia’s allergic, but in the end she finally caves

PRETTY PLEASE! — alessia russo x child!reader

honestly quite enjoyed writing this, based off my own experience of begging my mum and dad for a dog when i was wee little one xo

grumpy masterlist

ever since beth and viv welcomed their new puppy into their family but also to the team and even more specifically to you. you had constantly been asking sometimes it would be more than once a day, when you could get a puppy of your own.

sometimes it would be a the first thing you'd ask in the morning and most of the time it would be the last thing you asked before falling into a deep sleep.

"mummy can we please get a puppy like beth and viv?" you asked after meeting myle for the first time, "not right now lovie, mummy doesn't have time to look after you and a puppy"

"mummy look at the picture i drew, there's me, you and a little puppy! can we please please get a puppy?" you smiled holding up your drawing proudly. "oh that's lovely, maybe when you get older you can"

"mummy! do you like my list of names i have for my puppy when i'm older!" you held out a piece of paper. "lets hear a couple then!" mummy asked, "um ollie, luna, rocky, oreo..." you trailed off.

"mummy please please please can we get a puppy?" you asked as a yawn escaped your lips as mummy was tucking you into bed, "we'll see okay, sleep tight lovie. mummy loves you lots"

alessia had been toying with the idea for a while, now while she was most definitely a dog person. like she loved being around dogs, and loved nothing more than having a good puppy snuggle.

however there came an obstacle with alessia getting her own little puppy herself. she was allergic. not like deathly allergic but still would end up with itchy eyes and a runny nose if she spent too much time around dogs.

and admittedly alessia had been very against getting you a dog, not just because she was allergic but also because it was already difficult for her to manage her schedule around your needs without having to factor in looking after a dog too.

but it was getting hard to keep saying no, your sad little nod as alessia never gave the answer you wanted to hear along with the fact you were very persistent in your attempts in trying to convince your mummy. even getting one of the girls to go as far as helping you write out a letter on how you would look after the dog and give it snuggles anytime it needed. writing the words please, please, pretty please in big giant letters.

alessia was starting to crack as a few times she found her self doing some research before backing down and coming back to the same open google tab a few days later.

which is what she found herself looking at now, puppy's which needed to be adopted.

"less, what are you doing?" beth asked as she dragged alessia out of her own little bubble in the arsenal canteen. beth having spotted the blonde staring off into space, her phone opened on something on google as alessia sat by herself.

"oh, nothing. just- do you think lovie is too young for me to add a puppy into the mix as well?" alessia asked, beth probably being one who would be able to give her the best advice, maybe not fully on daughter situation but most definitely on the puppy advice.

"i see your starting to crack!" beth teased knowing that for months you'd been asking for nothing more than a little fury friend as alessia sighed a little bit before nodding. alessia was in fact starting to crack and warm up to the idea of getting you your own little puppy.

"i just can’t keep seeing that sad little face of hers each time i tell her no, but i don't know where to start!" alessia huffed placing her phone down on the table, beth giving a knowing nod and hum.

"i get that, well your slightly allergic aren't you?" beth clarified as alessia nodded, "well i would say start looking at breeds which are hypoallergenic first and then go from there!"

since the conversation, beth had been helping alessia find the perfect puppy to fit into your little family.

and to alessia's look she had found the perfect dog, in the form of a labradoodle puppy and he was coming home with alessia today.

you had been at nursery all day, so alessia had time to go and pick up the puppy and then get everything on the list of things that beth said would be needed before dropping off the puppy at her house where beth and viv would be, to stay with the puppy while alessia went to go and get you from nursery.

it had taken weeks of planning, organising and more planning along with more pleads for a puppy from you to make sure one alessia could give a puppy a loving home while still looking after you but also to make sure alessia wasn't biting off more than she could chew at the moment.

"have you had a good day lovie?" alessia asked as you were sat in your car seat in the same line of traffic, that you would always be stuck at just before the last turn to your home.

"yes! we played outside and then we learned to write and i drew!" you grinned as alessia took interest into what you did throughout the day as you began to explain in more detail of what you did in the day.

the traffic finally eased and alessia was pulling into the driveway of your home. alessia got out first before opening your car door and unbuckling you.

"jump out then lovie" alessia held out her hand for you to hold as you jumped the same distance from the car to the gravelled driveway. alessia grabbing your little backpack before leading you inside.

"bethy! viv?" you looked at them confused, wondering how on earth they got here. "what are you doing here!"

"can we not come and see are favourite russo ey?" beth joked as a small scoff came from alessia as she placed your back and shoes away, before her owns.

"yes, but where myle?" you walked over to them both as they were sat on the couch, slotting yourself into the small gap between the both of them as you talked with them.

"she's out with steph and calvin" viv said as you hummed a small pout coming into your face, you loved myle. she was so small and bouncy and loved to play. whenever you were at beth's, myle would always bring her toys to you and you would run around the garden and she would chase you around, it was your own special game.

you always wanted a puppy of your own but mummy said to wait until you were older but that was too long in your mind.

"but we did bring something else that we think you might enjoy" viv nudged you once seeing your frown as your mummy came from the kitchen small little scratches on the wooden floor following behind her.

"who dat?" you asked your mummy moving out the way to reveal a small fluffy brown puppy with a little bit of white on its face.

"he's your puppy" your mummy smiled as she moved to sit on the floor the puppy immediately going to sit in her lap, as you looked on a little confused not sure how to react as beth was nudging you forwards.

"he look like calvin" you grinned, moving off the couch towards your mummy as you sat next to her to stoke the small puppy, he was so soft. the puppy moving to lick your hand as you giggled.

"he does, what are you going to call him?" mummy asked as you hummed, your thinking face appearing on your face.

"um rocky!" you called out as some looks came your way from beth and viv before they both agreed on your name choice.

"you sure?" mummy asked knowing you had a tendency to change your mind quickly but you shook your head firmly as you carried on stroking rocky.

"rocky it is then!" alessia giggled as rocky moved from her lap and towards you, him placing his head on your outstretched legs.

alessia moving to sit on the other couch near beth and viv and the three of them watched on in awe of your little interactions with rocky. knowing you were 100% on cloud nine, your wish had come true.

"oh tiny!" beth blurted out remembering she had something else for you, you head snapping up from watching rocky as you looked towards beth.

"i got rocky a little elephant too, cause i know you have your elephant teddy which you take everywhere" beth smiled as viv passed the small elephant dog toy to you. it having a squeaky noise in its tummy, making rocky’s head tilt every time he heard it.

a smile not leaving your face as the elephant toy was pretty much identical to yours but it was a slightly darker grey meaning there was no chance of getting the two mixed up.

"what do you say lovie?" alessia looked at you with a nod of the head towards beth.

"thank you bethy, thank you vivi" you hugged them both as they both hugged you tightly back, as you gave the toy to rocky. he immediately putting it into his mouth and leaning his paws on it.

"thank you mummy for rocky!" you ran over to hug your mummy, knocking her back slightly into the couch at the speed at which you came flying in at. alessia attacking your cheek with multiple kisses as your giggled, repeating over for her to stop in between your giggles.

mummy let you go and you went straight back to where rocky was lying on the floor, lying on your tummy next to him as you stoked and cuddled him. him having a little nap in your arms.

"thanks for helping me with all of this, this will have made her entire year" alessia smiled appreciatively at the two, as viv waved the blondes thanks off, "anything to see her happy"

it's safe to say you and rocky were now inseparable.

[bones4thecats]

Tfp Ratchet x fembot, here it goes back to when Ratchet got the Synthetic Energon, Ratchet treats the reader well, acting when they were both young before the war, they are both Conjux and they were when they were young Bots before, Inspiration, "ancient marriage".

TFP! Ratchet w/ S/O while on Synth En.

Character: Ratchet (Transformers Animated) Requester: @zinnia1506 A/N: Short but good maybe? Idk, you tell me! Have fun reading! ⚠️ Spoilers/Trigger Warnings for: Mentions of injuries, bleeding (energon), and Ratchet not being his grumpy self (a crime in my world) ⚠️

╔══════════════════════════════════════════╗

╚═════ Ratchet ═══════════════════════════════╝

⚕️ When you first met Ratchet, you loved how sweet and fun-loving he was, but as he and you aged and eventually became, as Miko says, 'titular old-people', your love for him never wavered

⚕️ But, when Optimus confronted you and asked if Ratchet had done anything with the Synthetic Energon recipe, you were very confused. Why was he asking you this?

"Y/N, my dearest sparkmate!" Ratchet yelled, wrapping his arms around you and picking you up, making you squeak in shock.

⚕️ He spun you around as you clung your limbs inside, trying not to break anything as he spun you around the base. You're not the biggest bot, but certainly not the smallest

"Ratchet, what is going on with you?" You asked as he set you down.

"Nothing's wrong. Is it so bad that I wanted to show my one and only some affection?"

"Considering the fact that whenever you try picking me up after a battle, your spinal-cord gets sore, resulting in you whining about how much it hurts... then yes."

"Well, my spinal-cord feels fine. So, do you wanna go on a drive?" Ratchet asked as he reached out and grabbed your arm, pulling you away.

"What- whoa!"

»–•–«

⚕️ It was when Ratchet's signal came back online and you, with the the rest of the team, went off and you saw Knockout attacking your sparkmate when you snapped, pushing your warrior-strength out once more

⚕️ You ran up and allowed your arm to become a spear, which you used to stab the Decepticon's abdomen. As he yelled in pain and stumbled back, you kicked his backwards and into the rocky-walls

"You scratched my paint and stabbed me! What is wrong with you?!"

⚕️ Ratchet walked over and grabbed the tube full of synthetic energon, making the 'Con and you look at him with either anger of confusion

"What are going to do? Drink it?" He yelled.

"No. I'm going to destroy it."

⚕️ Throwing the energon next to the 'Con, you smirked. Now that was the mech you loved

"You idiot! Megatron will have my head!" Knockout exclaimed, making you snort in amusement.

"How fortunate for me." You said.

⚕️ Knockout then drove off as the rest of the team arrived, and that was when you heard Ratchet fall behind you. And when you turned around and looked at him, you saw he had a massive wound in his chest and it was letting out a lot of energon, and fast...

»–•–«

⚕️ Optimus walked away from Ratchet, whom was awakening from a stasis-nap, and nodded to you as you laid down a few more cubes of the energon down

⚕️ You walked up to him and sighed, gripping his servo in your own, which made him groan and attempt sitting up. And, as the only clearly-thinking one in that duo, you pushed him back down, telling him to stay

"Y/N... I need to say something."

"If it's an apology, it's not needed, Ratchet."

"No, you need it. I- I was being a jerk-"

"No. You were being the you I fell for back then. But the thing is... I don't want that mech anymore. I want the one that I've aged with."

⚕️ Smiling down at him, Ratchet chuckled before groaning in pain once more. You rolled your optics and leaned down, laying your head down on his, which made him close his optics and sign gently

"Don't ever change yourself again, Ratchet."

"As long as you don't do it either." He teased.

"I promise."

[wileys-russo]

Kyra cooney-cross "I don't know how you managed to make me your girlfriend" (in a funny way) london colney

kyra cooney-cross

if there was one key attribute that no one could ever deny you had, it was patience.

hell you had to in order to date kyra, the girl was like an energiser bunny on a slow day and didn't need any sort of substance to be bouncing off walls.

you'd grown up together and gone through the youth teams side by side, so overtime you'd learned exactly what it took to try and navigate being her girlfriend rather than her babysitter, though that wasn't to say there wasn't days where that line felt blurred.

today was one of those days.

with the weather outside set to storm all day the training program had been altered to mean no one needed to train outside, the flu making its way through london and a big game coming up on the weekend the the coaching staff weren't ready to take any risks.

most of you didn't mind the change, taking the opportunity for further strength training in stride.

one person who did not like the change however was kyra, whose pent up energy coupled with the shitty weather meant she was like a ticking time bomb, unpredictable and ready to go off at any second.

"ky, baby please stop that." you sighed, your girlfriend stood in front of you as you sat up on the weights bench, repeatedly punching the air in front of you, her fists mere millimeters from your nose.

"can't, i'm like rocky!" kyra puffed, making all sorts of strange noises as she continued, another sigh leaving your lips as you dropped down to your back and continued with your exercises, kyra reverting to now kicking the air.

"kyra! do your program!" kim yelled out from across the gym, the words falling on deaf ears as the captain gave up for the day, having been pushed to her very wits end by the young energetic aussie who seemed allergic to sitting still.

"ky, honey please do your weights." you sighed as you finished your reps, your girlfriend returning to her punches, again only millimetres of space between her hands and your nose.

"fine! spot me." kyra groaned as the two of you swapped, her laying down on the bench, your own program long finished as kyra wasn't even halfway through hers.

"babe, focus please." you reminded as the brunette chattered away mid chest press, the bar slipping slightly as you hurried to grab it but she assured it was fine and continued on her way.

"whats next?" you held your hand out for her program as she tossed it to you, causing you to sigh and unravel the crumpled up ball, running your finger down the list. "bicep curls." you nodded for her to grab the hand weights.

"don't need those. i'm massive!" kyra stood up on the bench and began to pose, grunting and heaving as she flexed and moved like a body builder, rolling her sleeves up as you watched on unphased.

"wonderful, bicep curls please." you held up the hand weights as the brunette dropped back down with a huff. "you're no fun sometimes you know babe, like a wet blanket." your girlfriend accepted the weights as you chuckled.

"well you have enough fun for both of us, someones gotta keep you on the right track." you gestured for her to start, the girls around you watching on in wonder at the utter patience and the fact that kyra seemed to listen, able to work through the rest of her program with minimal interruptions.

"ky maybe thats not the best idea." you warned as she moved into the other section of the gym, grabbing the ropes and starting to pull herself up. "its fine! look im like a monkey." the brunette started to make noises as she swung herself back and forth and you took a seat.

"you've got twenty on the bike and ten on the rower and you're done. can we please get it done? then you've got free time and lunch." you tried to encourage, most of the other girls long finished as your words fell on deaf ears.

"you have the patience of a saint." steph sighed pulling herself up to sit beside you as kyra continued to swing. "just the practice of one is all." you chuckled, again try to coax kyra into finishing her program but to no avail.

"kyra i really don't think thats a good idea." steph warned as the girl dropped and started to try and wrap her ankles up to hang upside down from the hoops.

"sometimes you just need to let her do something dumb, its the best way she burns off energy and learns a valuable lesson." you shrugged as steph looked to you to continue her warnings.

and sure enough, your words rang true as kyra swung about upside down.

"im the king of the castle and you're all dirty rascals! oof." with a loud thud and a grunt she fell from the ropes to the floor with a groan, wincing as the ropes all fell down on top of her to complete the accident, the girls who were left in the gym all roaring with laughter.

with a sigh you hopped down and offered her a hand up, her face flushed bright red with embarrassment as you shook your head.

"ky baby some days i really don't know how you managed to make me your girfriend."

[hoao]

post-haikyuu movie thoughts. i love you haikyuu. i wish i was kidding but this manga has absolutely changed my life and my perspective on very common themes and ways of thinking. i think i’ve been shaped forever. people matter, hard work pays off, the beginnings are always humble, the process is always rocky, but the results are your blooming dreams. you meet someone and they shape you forever. you feel like you’re average and very normal but you might be someone’s inspiration and motivation for them to work hard. you say a sentence one day and someone thinks back to it with comfort three years from now. you’re really passionate about something today but you can still choose to do something else tomorrow. the end is upon you but it’s that gratifying feeling that really makes it worth it. you doubt yourself to no end but someone out there thinks you’re the coolest ever. you want to give up but hardships and tribulations will eventually be overcome. you need to start somewhere, you’re not born made, you make yourself. i’m a teen and i want to beat your team and then suddenly we’re old and we’re coaches and our legacy and dreams are being carried by young passionate kids. you can’t do much by yourself, you need people. you’re alone and then you aren’t anymore. everyone dreams but not everyone makes it, who deserves it more?. i want it i want it i want it, i take it i take it take it. one day you win, one day you lose, and it’s never entirely up to you. this, too, is volleyball. i love you haikyuu.

[rinniereads123]

One-Shots

SOME OF THESE STORIES ARE MATURE! READ THE WARNINGS AND TAGS BEFORE YOU READ!

Last updated 10/29/2024

★ - personal favorites | masterlist | other recs

★blurred lines - @ellemj

When choosing a female agent to send back in time to gain young Sergeant Barnes's trust, everyone's in agreement that it should be Sharon. Until Bucky, the man that you barely get along with, speaks up and lets everyone know that it could only be you.

Shared desires - @veltana

You and Bucky decide to explore something new with Steve.

The Push and the Pull - @delaber

There’s nothing Bucky wants more than to be with you - and for that reason alone, he has to break both your hearts.

Little Bookworm - @heytheredelulu

Your boyfriend can’t think of anything more adorable than watching you read. One night while you’re in the shower he picks up the book you left on the nightstand: “Haunting Adeline by H.D. Carlton” and thumbs through it, very quickly realizing just what kind of books his sweet little bookworm is really into.

Anywhere Away With You - @thevillainswhore

Old ghosts from your past threaten to disturb the peace you’ve made with your new life. Will temptation steer you away?

★The Ties That Bind Us - @thevillainswhore

Even though Bucky is your ex-husband, you still have to see him often because of your shared son. But the heated tension, the spark that is still very much alive after your divorce, finally reaches its peak when you come home from your date.

Warrior/Worrier - @delaber

After a mission gone awry, Bucky finds himself on your doorstep in the middle of the night.

Pink in the Night - @d0wnb4df0rf1cm3n

Some interesting rumours have been circling around about Bucky. Little do you know, it's kinda your fault.

Love Hurts - @urdepressedslut

You and Bucky get into a heated argument, things are said and done and now he won’t speak to you. You don’t think you can handle him ignoring your existence.

in losing grip, on sinking ships (you showed up just in time) - @mellowsaturns

When the Avengers pick up unusual activity, they realize that not all of Hydra was destroyed. One unidentifiable face sends the team into a frenzy but Bucky knows it. He could recognize those eyes anywhere.

I Hate You - @ellemj

After ending up on SHIELD's radar, you're moved into the tower against your will. Of course, you can't stand the one man that you have the most in common with.

One More Night - @marvelouslizzie

You and Bucky Barnes are fuck buddies for a while. The problem is you have feelings for him but you don't think he reciprocates and it just makes it impossible to continue your relationship. Little did you know how much he wants you and how hard he's trying to keep it casual.

The Things We Carry With Us - @pellucid-constellations

You were injured on a mission and didn’t tell anyone, leaving your already rocky relationship with Bucky crumbling. Was it really hate he harbored for you, or was it something else? 

Control - @bucky-bucket-barnes

John Walker makes the dire mistake of messing with Bucky’s girl. This misstep causes a major fight to break out between the two, ending in nothing but blood and rage.

I Can Save You This Time - @pellucid-constellations

It’s the 4th of July and you’ve never been more sick. Turns out you aren’t the only one in the compound that stayed home from the celebration.

Shaken Up - @jamesbuchananxsteviegrant

Steve and Bucky find their girl passed out.

Under Pressure - @banditthewriter

Y/N hides a nasty injury from the team until they know everybody is safe, and then they collapse. Bucky worries about Y/N.

Injuries - @flowinglocksofbuck

you get injured on a mission and Bucky freaks out

Wicked - @str-spangled-banner

You were injured during a mission two weeks ago and put to much pressure on your healing wounds, doing more damage than you thought possible. Bucky fears he will lose you.

Necessary Evil - @bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky

Y/N gets seriously injured and Bucky takes care of her.

fingers fantasy fulfilled - @purple-babygirl

If Bucky's doll wanted his metal fingers then that was exactly what she was going to get.

Lavender - @wkemeup

Not every nightmare is the same and Bucky doesn’t always wake up as the man you know. 

Give Me A Sign - @lostgirlmuseum

Bucky asks the universe for a reason to live. The universe delivers you.

Fulfilled Fantasy - @sergeantbarnessdoll

Y/N admits to Bucky that she wants to have a threesome so he has Natasha help fulfill her fantasy.

Hottest Night of Your Life - @bossbtch1

Bucky and Steve joined you for a night out at the club, but things took a dark turn when a stranger spiked your drink. Bucky and Steve were more than willing to "take care" of you.

Sharing is Caring - @sad-not-glad

Soft Dom! Steve x Sub! Bucky x Dom! reader

My Queen - @adrinktostopyourthirst

The post-battle energy rush needs a release. Suddenly, there's a willing soldier at your disposal.

all the apple cider and no more haunted houses - @witchywithwhiskey

you and bucky barnes have a love-hate relationship—you love him and you believe he hates you—but when your friends insist on going to the scariest haunted house attraction in the area, the experience ends up forcing your real feelings for each other out into light

my everything - @mrsbarnesblog

The last thing that Bucky ever expected to see was the love of his life from the past trapped in one of the Hydra bunkers in the cryofreeze chamber. Yet here he was almost two days later, staring at your still unconscious body through the window at the medical wing, imagining the horror and disgust on your face when you found out that he was no longer the innocent and happy boy you knew before.

you were mine just yesterday - @notafunkiller

It's been a while since your break up with Bucky happened, but you're still not over him. You try to move on, go out, and have fun with your friend, Steve, but you end up in the same bar you two went to often. It also just happens that Bucky is there too, with Natasha by his side. It doesn't take long for you two to end up getting into old habits.

[padfootdaredmetoo]

Complete master post of all spicy stories below!

Peaky Blinders

Comfortable - Thomas Shelby x Reader - Pt 1. Pt 2

While everyone else is away you get stuck at home with Tommy planning Polly’s Birthday party. Normally the two of you fight and bicker constantly. This time something different happens.... Loss of virginity, sex, enemies to lovers

Jealous - Thomas Shelby x Reader - Pt 1. Pt. 2

Tommy gets jealous when the reader runs into an old friend at the ar. Friends to lovers, confession of feeling, Pt 1 is all fluff & Pt 2 is all spice

Are You Asking? - Thomas Shelby X Reader

A younger reader (legal) who is friends with Ada surprises Tommy when she comes back from a trip abroad. Fluff and Smut

Tipsy - Thomas Shelby X Reader

Tommy teases the reader for getting tipsy, he walks her home and sees what happens. Hurt /Comfort & mild smut

The Italian Spy - Thomas Shelby X Reader

The Reader is an Italian girl who wants Tommy's help but gets a lot more than she bargained for. Hurt comfort & smut

Bloody Hell - Thomas Shelby X Reader

Things get messy when Tommy goes after the Italian cook in the kitchen. Explicit sex while being covered in blood

Threesome - Thomas Shelby X Reader X Alfie Solomons Pt.1 Pt.2

Double penetration with Alfie and your husband Tommy - Possessive & rough

Bubbly - Thomas Shelby X Reader

Super smart reader, struggles of being very pretty and anxiety, Falling for your boss. Fluff, & mild smut

Fix It - Thomas Shelby x Reader

Sex, fighting, depression, drinking, drug use, unhealthy weight loss, Esme & Polly to the rescue, Tommy fixes it. Hurt/comfort, Fix it fic,

Arranged Marriage - Thomas Shelby x Reader

Sex, loss of virginity, slow burn, falling in love, fluff and smut

Wedding Night - Thomas Shelby X Reader

 Sex, loss of virginity, fluff, cuteness, rough sex, the reader gets a little bruised but she’s happy about it

Tiny Dancer- Thomas Shelby x Reader

Sex, hurt comfort, falling in love, Shelby family drama, happy ending, hurt comfortt

Jealous Wife - Thomas Shelby X Reader

Tommy's young wife gets jealous of all the attention he gets. Rough emotional sex

Dom Assasin Reader X Thomas Shelby

A violent and sexy tale of revenge...

Mustache - Michael Gray X Reader

reader has a gun, negotiation that ends in sex, woman on top, taking what she wants, no thoughts of consequences, happy cheeky ending.

Never Safe For Work - Thomas Shelby X Reader -- Pt2

A reader with a high sex drive, and the things Tommy does to keep up - with Gifs

High Sex Drive - Arthur Shelby X Reader

Arthur Shelby trying to keep up with his wife - With Gifs

Enemies Make the Best Lovers - Thomas Shelby x Reader

Reader and Thomas are well-known rivals when a business trip from hell forces them to work together they must overcome their rocky past

Tangerine

Stop the World

After years of working against each other out in the field. This time you decide its best to team up - the aftermath leaves you weak in the knees

Tangerine Dream

Blue light room smut - you meet a man at the club and decide to go upstairs.

Baby Girl

Tangerine and the Reader get caught in a sticky situation and he finally understands the effect he has on her - Heavy Dom / Sub

Sherlock Holmes

Irene - Sherlock X Reader

The Reader is not impressed with Sherlock's long-time friend. SMUT

[holy-puckslibrary]

— 𝐯𝐚𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐞𝐬.

pairing(s) — dilf!ERIK JOHNSON x ex-nanny!wife!reader (established); REESE JOHNSON (oc) x ex-nanny!stepmom!reader (platonic / familial)

wc — 4.7k synopsis — family weekend forces reese’s worlds to collide. results are… mixed note — i just really love reese. that's it :) and how dilfy does mr johnson look in that gif good lord

the nanny (series masterlist) | main masterlist

content warnings under the cut.

cw — age gap relationship (erik and the reader, established), vulgar college boys with no respect, busy-bodies who cannot mind their own beeswax, possessive!erik, pregnant!reader (not discussed in detail), sweet bby reese in peril :(

REESE JOHNSON has a problem.

It’s the sort of anxiety-trodden predicament that could’ve been soothed into nothingness had he spoken up sooner. He didn’t because he couldn’t. That was part of the problem. 

And now it’s too late—for solutions or comfort.

The teen, now a second-semester freshman at the University of Denver, had long since adjusted to the heightened scrutiny of his family in the early days of your relationship with his father. Everyone online had to throw in their two cents on the “illicit affair.” Even people who didn’t give a shit about hockey (evidenced by their inability to name a single team) felt they had a right to weasel their way in. While irritating and uncomfortable, the harsh reads didn’t bother him for too long because Reese knew the truth.

He also knew how unnecessarily ruthless people could be when they had a screen to hide behind. The son of a prominent figure in professional sports, Reese knew people stared at him through a very particular lens. It veered toward a rosy sheen every so often, but mostly it was smudged glass. Like a fish tank whose walls were muddy with the greasy impressions spectators left behind. Strangers offering commentary on his father’s life, and by extension his too, was part of the gig.

Frankly, the aftermath wasn’t much different than before. Only the subject matter changed. If it wasn’t thinly veiled insults about Erik’s waning career or his prior inability to keep a girlfriend, it was overly critical evaluations of Reese’s prowess or lack thereof and, unsurprisingly, comparisons between father and son. Without fail, the verbiage and tone implied competition, hinting that their healthy bond was only a bit of showmanship to hide the rocky resentment beneath.

This weekend is different. Sure, his teammates and friends had already gotten ample face-time with both of his parents, as well as his kid sister, but never all at once. Though they all did their best to coordinate, busy schedules rendered a revolving cheering section for Reese Johnson. 

This weekend—family weekend—will change that. By some stroke of luck (or a cruel twist of fate, the jury's still out on that one), everyone would be here… together. And that’s not to say he isn’t grateful for their effort or that he isn’t excited because he is. Reese is thrilled to share this new slice of life with his loved ones. It’s just that…

Reese knows how it looks when they venture out into the world.

Not that his dad is exactly old or even old-looking. In the same way you aren’t questionably young. Still, the age difference is noticeable. Before you were more than a nanny to the Johnsons (if you were ever just a nanny to begin with), it was easier for on-lookers to assess the dynamic, and still, albeit seldomly, they would drum up gossip. Things got remarkably more awkward, though, after his father finally plucked up the courage to propose, and increased tenfold once Erik had a gold band to match. It was as if the wedding ushered in the open season on Johnsons.

More times than he cared to count, Reese found himself cupping Josie’s ears to keep his little sister from hearing jeering crowds calling their dad an old pervert and you a shameless gold-digger. No one’s had to explain what a “sugar daddy” is (or why it's the first thing that auto-populates when you plug ‘Erik Johnson’ into Google), but the burden would’ve fallen on Reese if he hadn’t left her in the car while he ran in to grab a takeout order last summer.

But Erik’s eldest isn’t just worried about his family existing outside the warmth and safety of their insulated bubble. His sleepless nights are filled with fear. Fear of the pain and sadness he’ll undoubtedly feel about it all now that he sees you less as his friend and more as a maternal figure.

Reese’s always been protective; it's led to many a fight with his own father and, sometimes, his own sister. He’s the first to rush to your aid and the strongest force in your defense. The habit, however,  strengthened when his perspective shifted as swiftly as flipping a switch. 

Suddenly, you weren’t just his dad’s girlfriend or the person who made him pancakes in the morning. Or the savior who dropped off his English paper because he was in such a hurry he left it on the printer. You were a confidant, someone he called for when he was in a bad spot or when he wanted to see the latest mind-numbingly bad action flick. When he asked his date to prom, it was you he wanted help from. When Reese was sick, your home remedies worked better than anything store-bought or concocted by his dad. When practice ran over, he could count on you to wait up with his dinner hot and ready, the rest of the house already fast asleep. 

For the first time since he could remember, the Dad-shaped gap wasn’t devastating. It hurt like a bitch, but it was bearable because he had another adult—another parent—he could rely on. In every sense of the word, you were his mom.

And no one wants to hear disgusting lies about their mom.

However, Reese hasn’t called you that yet. At least, not to your face. In passing to his childhood friends or when referring to you with Josie, sure, and once or twice over the phone with Erik, but when he calls for you, he uses your first name like he's still your “nanny-kid.” But it's not for a lack of trying. It’s just that every time he thinks he’s worked up the nerve, the three letters catch in his throat like molasses, and he doesn’t know how to make it stop. 

Moments like those are the rare few he wishes he were Josie instead of himself. His jovial spitfire of a sister never missed a chance. During her lunch block with classmates, on the phone with their extended family, to strangers at Avs games, or on the sidewalk, the moniker slipped off Josie Johnson’s tongue like water down a slide. Their dad liked to poke fun, warning her to be careful so as not to wear it out from overuse.

Maybe it was the sister snuggled in your stomach that tightened his throat. The baby that could and would call you “Mom” with little effort beyond mastering the string of sound. The baby that would grow up not knowing you as anything besides her mother. It was a shade of ownership Reese felt hesitant to touch. No matter how desperately he yearned to.

The closest he’s come is penning in the title beneath your name on the lanyard that’ll hang from your neck for upcoming festivities. It was a small gesture. Still, it felt like too much and not enough all at once.

Reese is caught between wanting to honor the bond and all you’ve done with the accurate label and the fear of explicitly acknowledging it stirs in his chest. At least in this limbo of sorts, as cumbersome as it's become, Reese can have what he’s always wanted and keep you in his life without risking capsizing the boat with an awkward declaration. It’s an uneasy compromise, but it's the devil he knows. At least he knows what and when to feed it.

Reese hates that he’s letting his worries dictate his life. It's just… hard. No one tells kids how to navigate gaining a new parent or any of the baggage that unique situation carries. No one tells kids how to trust the position’s new occupant not to follow in their predecessor’s footsteps. In his heart, Reese knows you won’t run. But knowing that doesn’t shut down the nagging voice in the back of his mind. The one that drones on like a broken record, telling him that the burden of the word, knotted with his expectations, will be his family’s unraveling.

He couldn’t do that to Josie. To his dad. Or to you and the little sister you’re carrying. 

So, he’ll stomach it. For how long, Reese isn’t sure. But, for now, he’ll stand on the outskirts of the minefield, bidding time.

"Johnson! Your whole family's coming, right?" Kody, a junior defenseman from Fort Collins, yanks Reese from his downward spiral.

The last place he wants to be right now is out in the world. The last thing he needs is to cannonball himself back into the fishbowl. Even if the phantom audience never spoke to him, sometimes their heavy attention pushing into his back was enough to send Reese reeling.

But he made a promise to make more of an effort. To be more social, to have more fun—to take life a little less seriously. 

In his mind, if he was at school to learn and play hockey, there was little room to wiggle. Sure, Reese has had his fair share of adolescent recklessness and could lean toward boyish immaturity at times, but at his core, he was a rule-follower. A responsibility fiend with a penchant for playing the white knight. A stickler for structure. When given the choice between a teenage dream and a full-grown reality, the freshman chose the latter nine times out of ten. 

Reese Johnson’s moral compass weighs down his back pocket; he feels most at peace when things fit neatly into their proper boxes. Good and bad, black and white. One or the other, never both.

Stress and anxiety exacerbate his mental rigidity. And he’s been so fucking far from zen lately.

Reese would’ve broken the stupid promise if it’d been made to anyone besides you. So, when a few of the upperclassmen on the team appeared at his dorm with an invitation to get pizza, he begrudgingly accepted.

It isn’t so bad. Far from awful this far. Definitely not the worst way to spend an evening. His teammates were alright enough guys, and their girlfriends weren’t as callous as he’d expected. Reese just found it hard to connect with them, a situation that couldn’t be more different than his previous team experience. 

With his childhood friends, it all clicked. Fell into place without much real effort from any of them. There was an awkward period, but it ended within the first month and, honestly, had more to do with prepubescent cringe than anything.

An entire semester came and went, and Reese still felt like an outsider. When he looked out onto the ice, he saw a sea of strangers. They had different interests, different priorities. Inside jokes he wasn’t in on. Ones he wasn’t sure he wanted to be in on. Even their sense of decorum was foreign. He was well-acquainted with profanity and vulgar jibes, but Reese’s neck still occasionally heats at their… colorful chirps.

But maybe this will be a good step, Reese thinks to himself as he clears the nerves from his throat, making room for an answer to Kody’s question.

“Uh, yeah. My parents and my little sister,” he nods. The blip of quiet that follows coaxes out further details. “They’re going to skip the mixer-campout thing tomorrow night because of the baby, but they’ll be at the student fair and our scrimmage the next day.”

It feels odd to talk about his family. The words, somehow both intensely personal and casual at the same time, taste funny on his tongue. Reese’s stomach clenches, suddenly too aware that he’s never really had to do this before, the small talk. Back home, everyone knows everyone. There’s little to talk about by way of mundane facts because there’s no need; it would be incredibly redundant. His friends from home wouldn’t think to ask if his family was coming, nor would they nudge him to share their schedule. They’d just know.

Reese is aware that this is a silly thing to get worked up over, or even care about at all. He knows it’s part of the process. Part of making new friends is letting them know you. Telling them about yourself and your life, and all the people in your life. Especially the ones you love. Offering up bits of yourself in exchange for bits of them. Still, it's unsettling. Like he’s inviting a group of strangers to pass judgment on his unconventional family. 

No one’s said anything, but Reese already feels defensive. 

And rightly so, he’d soon find.

"That was quick."

Lane, a senior forward from some beach town in California, draws first blood. The quip seems innocuous, but the shit-eating grin undermines any plausible deniability. Even without his smug expression, they probably would’ve understood the implication lurking below the surface anyway. 

It isn’t the isolated comment that burns the tips of Reese’s ears. It’s the fact that he’s never spoken about the circumstances or the timeline of your relationship with his father. Reese hasn’t tried to hide anything, but he certainly hasn’t been forthcoming either. For all they knew, you could’ve been Josie’s biological mother. A long shot, but feasible enough if you didn't know any better. 

But somehow, this kid from out of state knew. Knew that, by “traditional” standards, it was a little soon for his parents to be welcoming a new life.

"Can you blame him? Hot young thing at your beck and call?” Kent, a sophomore from outside of Toronto, cuts in before Reese can. 

The lecherous glint in the winger’s tone makes his skin crawl. He doesn’t need to look up from his half-eaten slice of Hawaiian to know his mouth matches Lane’s.

“Fuck, dude. I would've knocked her up before she dragged me down the aisle. But, I've heard Viagra massacres your swimmers, so maybe that wasn’t in the cards for Ol’ Johnson.”

The group, crowded around a hodgepodge of tables, descends into a fit of snickers and profanity.

Reese contemplates leaving until a manicured hand gently squeezes his arm. Callahan Graham blinks up at him, a sweet smile tight on her rosy mouth. Callahan “Callie” Graham, Lane’s on-again-off-again girlfriend of three years. They’re “off” right now, if he’s remembering correctly. Not that it matters. She doesn’t say anything, but she doesn’t need to. Reese’s chin dips in gratitude.

From across the table, Callie’s roommate, Greer, pipes up over the commotion. “I hope I'm as cute as she is when I'm pregnant."

"Me too," Bree, one of the other girlfriends, sighs dreamily into her Diet Coke. "I couldn't believe how pretty she looked the last time she brought Josie to watch you play, Reese. If I was pregnant and holding down a two-kid fort by all by myself for most of the year, I know I'd look it. But I guess that’s just another perk of true love, isn’t it? Beauty in spite of it all.”

Kent snorts. “True love…right.”

Reese’s molars pinch together. Beneath the table, he picks at his nails. It hurts, but it's the distraction he needs right now.

"It's not like being a trophy wife is a real job anyway, so I'm sure that helps. Just lie back and spread those pretty—"

Reese’s fist finishes Lane’s sentence. As badly as he wants to put it through the douchebag’s face, he (thankfully) had the foresight to direct his anger downward. It was the succinct thwack! of his hand against the table that cut the lewd thought off prematurely. 

Reese is a striking juxtaposition; hardened jaw, sharp eyes, pinched mouth—silent. Only his chest moves. Shallowly, the accent on the exhalations.

For a moment, everything is still. It’s nice. While it lasts.

Kody is the one to crack the ill-fated stalemate. Trepidation peeking through the tiny cracks in his smooth confidence, he approaches like a hunter would an agitated deer, “Loosen up, Reese. We're just having fun. And, if anything, it's a compliment."

Reese openly glares, unconvinced.

Kody persists, deadset on being the one to subdue the beast. “Come on, even you have to admit your dad's locked down a fuckin’ tenner. A real win for Team Geriatric, I’d say. You should be proud of him, kid.”

This isn’t the first time someone’s prodded Reese about your physical appearance. He wasn’t blind. He knew you were attractive, but you’d never entered that part of his brain before. Ever. It's as if his subconscious preemptively locked you away in the same box as his dad and kid sister, or any other family member. But they weren’t asking if he thought you were pretty, not really.

The omnipresent “They” wanted to know if he thought you were attractive the way he thought Pedro Pascal or Olivia Rodrigo was attractive. They wanted to know if he felt the way his dad felt about you. They’re probing for a twisted scandal, a sick taboo love triangle. As if they weren’t already gorging themselves on the age difference or the boss/employee origin story. 

They wanted more. They always wanted more. They wanted to take one of the best parts about Reese’s life and fuck it up.

His teammates are proving themselves no different than the losers populating Twitter.

“She ever read to you a story before bed?” Lane again.

Then Kent, in quick succession. “Tuck you in nice and tight, and come running when you had a nightmare?”

There’s barely enough time between the two to squeeze in a meager answer. Though Reese surmises that’s by design. 

Innuendos are funnier when they have a single target in the audience to fly over. At least, to people with cheap senses of humor. Easy laughs are no accomplishment when they weaponize the feelings of an innocent bystander. Even in his anger, Reese wouldn’t have humored them with a doe-eyed reply of feigned ignorance. It wasn't earned. 

“If I got to spend all of high school being coddled by a rocket, I'd still be milking that shit. Maybe if you had, she would've fucked you instead of your dad."

Reese’s brow shrinks to a contemptuous pinch. It wouldn’t take much for him to be reacquainted with his dinner; it’s already halfway there. 

As he looks over at Kody, he loses what little hope he had that he’d find a place in this friend group. He hasn’t found his people yet, on the team or in general, but Reese is certain they’re not sitting around him tonight.

"How far along's your mom?" Callie seizes the conversation knowingly.

Briefly, her pale eyes slice pointedly in the direction of her… whatever Lane is to her, and then back to Reese, warmth restored.

"Uh, almost seven months? But Josie and I were both late, so Dad thinks we'll have to wait until the end of summer until she's here. Maybe they’ll share a birthday.”

"She?" one of the freshman girls squeals, clutching her companion’s forearm in excitement.

"Yeah," Reese says bashfully, head dipping to conceal the grin tugging the corners of his mouth. The meat of his cheeks ache with joy. “Two sisters."

"I give Johnson Sr. six months before he puts the moves on Nanny 2.0,” Lane’s whisper pierces the lukewarm calm that settled the table at his… Callie’s hand. 

She kicks his shin. Hard.

"You really think the old timer's game is that reliable?" Kent picks up the slack between open-mouth chews.

And Kody is not far behind, “He's decently famous and moderately rich. That was enough the first time, so why wouldn't it work for the second? Or, Junior, maybe this next one can be yours—if you pull your head out of your ass in time, that is."

Reese is done. Has met—no, exceeded his limit. He doesn’t have to sit here and take this. Yeah, it would be better for the locker-room culture if he stuck around, but a boost in morale wasn’t worth the decimation of his pride.

His goodbye is simple but effective. The deafening screeeeech! of his chair sliding back on the linoleum.

The sidewalk is blurry beneath his feet as he trudges back to safety. Whether it's the tears’ fault or how quickly he’s running, Reese can’t be sure. All he knows is that he needs to be as far away from them as possible.

He needs… he needs…

Reese’s fingers tremble defiantly while he fishes for his phone. He continues to fight with them, shoving his key into the door and pushing it open with the other as he scrolls through the call log. He slams the world out and hits the green icon.

“Reese? Are you okay?” your groggy, but no less sweet voice flits through his phone. 

Only two rings. 

Reese’s shoulders melt, comforted by the familiar warmth of what home sounds like. But his mouth remains frozen, stuck. 

You allow a few beats of silence to lapse, giving him ample space to answer if he is able and wants to before speaking again. “Do we need to come up tonight?”

He blinks, attempting to wash away the salty film over his eyes to read the clock above his desk. 1:37 AM, the angry red letters read. 

Guilt seeps into the mix of nasty emotions monopolizing his body. The acidic cocktail begins its ascent of his tender throat.

You shouldn’t be up right now. Not this late, not when his sister’s made you an insomniac for so much of your pregnancy. Not because someone was mean to him.

Reese feels like an asshole. An inconsiderate asshole bothering you with his problems in the middle of the night, knowing you’re already sacrificing your weekend for him.

“Fuck, I’m sorry for waking you and the baby, and probably Dad, too. I—It's nothing, really. It can wait. We can talk about it when it's not, y’know, the middle of the night.”

“Reese, no one sets off the alarm on my Bullshit Radar faster than you do. You wouldn’t have called if it wasn’t urgent. Talk to me, Reeses Pieces. You know I won’t be able to go back to sleep knowing you’re not alright.”

Reeses Pieces. The nickname, said with such casual affection, is like a magic wand.

“Uh— I-I, um… I had a, um, a r-really bad night… and I— and I just really needed to hear y-your voice, Mom.”

It slips out. Slips free. It just… slips into the mix with all the other words like it belongs there, too. And it does. It feels right. Reese feels a twinge of satisfaction. Regardless of the circumstances (and the night he’s had), it happened.

It finally happened.

The floor crumbles a little and gentle flames lick at Reese’s cheeks. His phone feels as though it's floating up and away from his clammy palm. He’s telling his fingers to tighten their grip, to hold on. They hesitate, and when they finally decide to obey, it only makes matters worse. He fumbles, nearly dropping his phone to the floor. The elephant easing down onto his chest is making it hard to focus, to think, to listen. 

“Reese? Did I lose you, bub?”

He blinks himself out of the daze. “Hmm? No, I—I, sorry. I’m here.”

“Oh, Reesey. I was just saying I was glad you called then. I mean, I always love it when you call. Even when it’s to tell me you sent your Airpods through the washing machine. Again.”

Reese barks out a phlegmy laugh.

Note to self: the rice hack only works the first time you let your electronics go for a swim.

Second note to self: this reaction—this non-reaction is better than any teary blubbering or callous rejection. Normalcy doesn’t require a reaction.

“You can always, always call me. Especially when you’re having a rough time. Even when it's the middle of the night. My main priority in life is making sure you’re safe and happy, you and JoJo. And the peanut sitting on my bladder. And the 6’4 blanket-hog snoring like a hacksaw beside me.”

“Maybe we should get Dad a sleep study coupon for his birthday,” Reese teases.

He feels better now. You, and finally being courageous enough to be vulnerable, was the medicine. Reese feels lighter than he has since you dropped him off in September.

You snort. “I’ll gladly pay to see your dad covered in wires. But, as much as I love laughing at his expense when he’s none-the-wiser, that's not why you called. Spill it.”

He does. The spiel tumbles out like an overdue avalanche, and Reese hardly realizes how quickly he’d been talking until he finishes with burning lungs. You listened patiently, letting him get it all out without interruption. You were good about that, knowing when someone needed room to rant more than they needed interjections with guidance or commentary. Reese usually fell in the first category, tonight being no exception.

“…I just don’t get why they found it so funny. Or why they even thought to say it in the first place. It's so...gross.”

He listens to you sigh and knows you’re doing it through your teeth. You’re probably massaging the waves of frustration between your eyebrows, nose scrunched. Josie calls it your ‘Dragon Face’ because of the way frustration contorts your features, but Reese adopted the term into his own lexicon because it almost always appeared when someone threatened the safety of your family. Like him, you’re generous with your protection. Fierce without delay. 

“Because you aren’t them, Reese. You’ve always had a strong sense of right and wrong, respectful and not. And you’re rarely swept up by group-think, if ever. Those things may feel like a curse right now, but I promise they’ll be superpowers one day.”

“I wish I could fast-forward to that day. This sucks,” he groans, tossing himself backward onto his twin bed.

“It does suck. Majorly. Still, even if you had time travel in your vast arsenal of powers, I’d tell you to stay put, Reese. Part of college is learning how to deal with immature people, building up a tolerance for their bullshit as you grow stronger and more confident in yourself.”

“But I’m not strong. I ran away crying like a little baby,” Reese croaks into his pillow. A warm saltiness tickles his eyelashes.

“You removed yourself from a bad situation, and you let yourself feel your feelings in the present tense. Those are both huge wins in my book,” you counter.

Your voice is louder now, stronger. Like coaxing Reese—coaxing your son out of a pit of self-pity breathed all the energy you lacked for the better part of a year back into you. The subtle shift whittles away some of his earlier guilt.

“It takes guts to do that, Reese. Most people spend years trying to learn what you did instinctively. Some people never learn to do it at all. And don’t tell anyone, but I’d put money on Kody, Lane, and Kent being some people.”

Reese snorts. “I know you’re right, but I think what’s actually bugging me is that you guys’ll be subjected to that shit this weekend. It’s one thing for them to say it to me, but it’s another to say it to you or in front of JoJo. I hate that people care so much about us and our business that they can’t keep their mouths shut. If you don’t feel comfortable coming now, I would totally understand. Fuck, if I were you, I’d never visit again. Maybe I could come home this weekend instead?”

“Reese, as sweet as that is, the only thing that’ll stop me from coming this weekend is early labor, not chauvinist pigs.”

“You shouldn’t even have to hear it, though. And besides, won’t smiting college kids stress the baby out?” Reese asks, worry tearing through his voice despite the lighter tone.

“Do you honestly think your dad will let them get more than a couple words out?” you ask through an airy chuckle.

For the second time tonight, someone else speaks before Reese can.

Erik’s voice is muffled and gravelly, but the protective bite—the very same one that took hold of Reese at dinner and you just moments ago—is loud, “They’ll keep their mouths shut if they want to keep whatever teeth they have left.”

💌 if you liked it, pls lmk! 💌

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[somelegobird]

EVIL ARC

What every Ninjago Character has said they love(d) HATED

Exactly the same as my love list, same rules, same premise (except that it's about hating now). However it has its own doc so as to not clog the other doc. It's only checked up to the same point as the last doc, but it seems like the transcripts are slowly getting updated PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PL

Anywa

Arin

Rapton

Cole

Dragons (used to)

Snakes (three times | | | )

To hurt Rocky’s feelings

Telling Master Wu that if they don't get out before Pythor unleashes the Great Devourer, he thinks this will be the end of all their destinies.

Working as a bank security guard

Being a kid

To leave a mark on their past selves

Admitting Kai is onto something

Bringing up the fact that parachutes would’ve come in handy

Heights

Dareth

Admitting that Harumi was right

Garmadon

The First Spinjitzu Master

The ninja

Magic

Iron Baron

Manure

Jay

Samurai (four times | | | | )

Telling Nya that objects in the mirror are closer than they appear

Sunrise exercise

Saying that Cole deserved a little to get hit by Garmadon

Being leader

Losing

Unbeatable creatures

Breaking up the reunion between the replacement ninja

Doing laundry

Rates

Kai

Feeling helpless

Technology

Having to check Skylor’s back for a tattoo

To let anyone down (literally (this was part of a witty quip))

Water

The Sword of Sanctuary

Telling Morro in Lloyd’s body to watch out for the cliff edge

Ninja

Iron Baron

The new Ninja

Saying that he doesn’t feel anything after attempting dragon form

Fireproof monsters

Kapau

Admitting that maybe Chen losing his army wasn’t a bad thing

Krux

Electronic devices

When Acronix makes up sayings

Lloyd

Vegetables

Not having a full team

To sleep

Lou

Kai’s hair

Miss Demeanor

The country(side)

Morro

Waiting

Nya

Getting called “cute”

Feeling left out

Breaking it to Wu that sometimes elemental powers can skip a generation

Dresses 

Not having tunes on the ride

Harumi

Ice

The Never-Realm

Pythor

Being small

Rapton

All of the Ninja

Vania

Spiders, especially huge slobbering ones with fangs

Wu

Thinking about what would happen if Morro got the Realm Crystal

Wyldfyre

Missing jokes

And same as last time, the things ordered by season and copied directly are below

Rise of the Serpentine

(Rise of the Snakes) Lloyd: I hate vegetables! (Starts grunting and falls down.)

(Rise of the Snakes) Cole: If there was anything I hated more than dragons, it was snakes.

(Snakebit) Cole: I hate to hurt Rocky's feelings, but I think he's just been replaced.

(Can of Worms) Cole: That's it. I used to hate Dragons, but now I officially hate snakes.

(Can of Worms) Cole: Ugh, I hate snakes.

(The Snake King) Jay: I'm gonna say it: I hate Samurai.

(The Snake King) Jay: ARGH!! I HATE THAT SAMURAI!!!!

(Tick Tock) Young Garmadon: I hate you.

(Once Bitten, Twice Shy) Jay: Heh. So that Samurai. Oh, man. I hate him, don't you?

(Once Bitten, Twice Shy) Jay: Though I hate the Samurai, where is he when you actually need him?

(The Royal Blacksmiths) Lou: Kai, love the energy, hate the hair.

(All of Nothing) Cole: I hate to break it to you, Sensei, but if we don't get out of here before Pythor unleashes the Great Devourer, I think this will be the end of all our destinies.

(Day of the Great Devourer) Jay: Uh, hate to tell you this, but objects in the mirror are closer than they appear.

Legacy of the Green Ninja

(Darkness Shall Rise) Cole: Eh, that's okay. I hated that job anyway.

(Ninjaball Run) Garmadon: No! I hate those ninja!

(Child’s Play) Cole: I hated being a kid!

(Wrong Place, Wrong Time) Cole: I'd hate to leave a mark.

(The Stone Army) Jay: I hate sunrise exercise.

(The Last Voyage) Kai: Ugh, I hate feeling helpless.

Rebooted

(The Surge) Cole: Guys, hate to admit it, but maybe Kai is onto something.

(Blackout) Jay: I hate to say it, but you deserved that a little.

(Enter the Digiverse) Kai: Aah! I HATE TECHNOLOGY!

(The Titanium Ninja) Cole: I hate to bring this up now, but parachutes would've come in handy.

Tournament of Elements

(Spy for a Spy) Kai: Uh, I hate to do this, but it's your turn. Can I see your back, please?

(The Day of the Dragon) Kapau: I hate to admit it, but maybe Chen losing his army wasn't such a bad thing.

(The Day of the Dragon) Garmadon: I always hated Magic.

(The Greatest Fear of All) Pythor: I really hate being small! 

(The Greatest Fear of All) Kai: I'd hate to let anyone down, but...Fire!

(The Corridor of Elders) Nya: The new girl hates feeling left out.

Possession

(Stiix & Stones) Kai: I'm fine with heights. It's water I hate.

(Stiix & Stones) Nya: I hate to break it to you, but sometimes Elemental Powers can skip a generation.

(Stiix & Stones) Jay: I hate being leader, but I hate losing even more.

(Peak-a-Boo) Cole: I hate heights.

(Kingdom Come) Morro: But I hate waiting!

(Kingdom Come) Kai: I hate that sword.

(Kingdom Come) Kai: Hate to spoil this next, but just 'cause you're in my friend's body, watch out!

(The Crooked Path) Wu: If Morro finds it first and takes the Realm Crystal, I'd hate to think what would happen next.

(Curseworld, Part II) Jay: Oh, I hate unbeatable creatures.

Skybound

(Infamous) Kai: Yeah. You're right. Ninja, ugh, hate 'em.

(Operation Land Ho!) Nya: Ugh! I hate dresses.

(The Way Back) Jay: Ugh, I hate to break up the reunion, but may I remind you we have a wedding to stop?

Hands of Time

(The Hatching) Krux: I hate those infernal devices most of all!

(Scavengers) Nya: I hate not having tunes on the ride, but the USB port is the only way to power you back up.

(Scavengers) Lloyd: I hate not having a full team.

(Lost in Time) Krux: I hate when you make up sayings!

Sons of Garmadon

(The Oni and the Dragon) Jay: Aw, I always hated doing laundry.

(Game of Masks) Nya:Well now I hate her!

Hunted

(Iron & Stone) Kai: His throne. I already hate him.

(How to Build a Dragon) Iron Baron: Manure! I hate manure!

(The Weakest Link) Dareth: I hate to admit it, but she's right.

Secrets of the Forbidden Spinjitzu

(And Unlikely Ally) Nya: That's it! I hate ice! And I hate this... this place! And I hate...!

Master of the Mountain

(The Skull Sorcerer) Vania: I hate spiders, especially huge slobbering ones with fangs!

Seabound

(A Big Splash) Miss Demeanor: Ah, I hate the country.

Crystalized

(The Shape of Nya) Kai: I'm starting to hate them.

(Darkness Within) Jay: I hate rats!

(An Issue of Trust) Kai: I hate to say it, but ... I don't feel anything.

Dragons Rising s1

(Writers of Destiny) Kai: I hate fireproof monsters!

(We Are All Dragons) Arin: I hate Rapton too, but let's at least hear him out.

(We Are All Dragons) Rapton: I hate you all too, like, so much. 

Dragons Rising s2

(The Blood Moon) Lloyd: Okay, look... I've been having dreams that are so vivid, so frightening, I hate to sleep.

(Force from the East) Wyldfyre: What's so funny? Was there a joke? Oh, I hate missing jokes!

[in1-nutshell]

May I request a buddy who is similar to deadpool in regards to his personality and his powers along with interaction with the young justice team or Justice League unlimited.

Did this one on Young Justice.

Hope you enjoy!

Mutant Buddy who's like Deadpool joins Young Justice

SFW, Platonic, Slight Familial, Mutant reader

YOUNG JUSTICE

The newest member of the Young Justice went by DCpool.

He does not elaborate anymore on the name.

He was put on the team by Batman himself.

The new member was… unique.

Someone the team was not prepared for, not even Robin had any clue what they were all in for.

He had a… colorful background, and by colorful background he filled several different forms in crayon and none of his stories were the same.

DCpool’s entrance was also one to remember.

The Young Justice were waiting for Batman to arrive with the newest recruit. M’gann: “What do you think he’ll be like?” Artemis: “Who knows. He could be alien for all we know.” Robin: “Must be someone big if Batman himself got him and hasn’t even told me about anything.” The Zeta tubes open. Batman walks out. A flash of red and black flips over him, does a couple more flips before sticking the landing. The recruit is quick on his feet, fist pumping the air. DCpool: “Finally! I stuck the superhero landing on the first try! I’d like to see DP do that.” Batman: “Team, this is DCpool. You’re newest member.” Kaldur steps forward and takes out his hand to shake. Kaldur: “It is a pleasure to meet you DCpool. I am the team leader Kaldur’hm, but you may call me Kaldur.” DCpool looks at his hand. DCpool: “No, no Nemo we are not shaking hands… I’mma hug ya!” Kaldur gets surprised by the sudden hug he is pulled into. DCpool lets him go. He looks behind him. DCpool: “Like the Big Bats said, I’m DCpool, but you can call me DC. Soon to be known as the Merc with a Mouth, best hero to stick the landing and aforementioned 4th wall breaker. Sorry reader’s but the most cussing your gonna hear is going to get cut off mid-way or usage of different words. Author’s orders not mine.” Robin whispering to Kid Flash: “What is he talking about?” Kid Flash: “More like who’s he talking to?” DC winks over at M’gann. DC: “Cutie over there can call me whatever she likes.” Connor is fuming in the background as Artemis pulls M’gann back.

It was certainly a rocky start with DC joining the group.

He was a force of chaotic nature that they were not ready for.

DC loved teasing, making comments and messing with his team.

He even managed to catch Robin off guard with his own laughter.

But despite all of this, the team does notice some small things about DC.

For one, he now lives in the Mountain.

Never mentions about any personal life, friends or family.

And their mask was off limits.

He was worse than Robin and his mask.

At least he wore sunglasses with his civilian outfit.

DC practically lived in his suit.

He always waited for everyone to finish eating before taking food into his room and eating there.

The recruit always moved pass the subjects if they were brought up.

The Team tried to get M’gann to look through his mind.

It happened once.

A scream echoed through the mountain. Robin, Kid Flash, Connor, Kaldur, and Artemis ran to the sound. M’gann was on the floor, in tears, in DC’s arms. Even with the mask, DC looked concern and angry. Connor was about to tear DC’s arms off M’gann. Connor: “What did you do to her?!” DC: “Who told her it was okay to look into my head?” There were enough flashes written on their faces to give him the answer. DC: “I TOLD you all that mind reading and me never go together! Now look!” Connor makes a move to grab M’gann, but DC stands up faster, carrying the crying Martian in his arms. DC: “Try me baby Supes. And I swear I will shove a fistful of Kryptonite up your… forget it. Wally, get the weighted blanket on my bed, it yellow can’t miss it. Kaldur, get some ice from the fridge, we need lots of it. Artemis get M’gann’s movie stash, I know you know where it is. Robin, have Martian Manhunter on speed dial, we want to be ready if things get bad. And Connor, be the good little boyfriend and hold her when its time, not now, not in 5 minutes, but when she says its okay. Ready? Break!”

That had been the first time DC had used all their names than nicknames.

Turns out DC’s head was, in M’gann’s words ‘Very, loud, confusing, and draining.

Thankfully M’gann’s little trip in his head wasn’t that bad to call in the League and all the things the team brought helped the Martian recover much faster.

DC was doting over her the entire time while giving the team a bit of the cold shoulder until she got better.

It takes a while for DC to be on good terms with everyone, but when it happens, they are back to their chaotic self.

The first time the team witnessed his regenerative powers was… eventful.

During a mission… DC over the com lines: “Hey… I need a little help here. My arms bending in ways it shouldn’t and I think my legs getting eaten.” Kid Flash and Robin are in front of them in a couple of seconds. DC’s arm was broken in several places and their left leg was cut off and currently being mauled by a pair of hungry hyenas. Both boys looked sick. They both are by DC’s side trying to stop the bleeding and seeing what they can do about the arm. DC: “Umm, what are you doing?” Robin: “I know you’re in shock and all but how are you not a little freaking out?! KF back me up!” Kid Flash: “I’m just… how did you break your arm like that!?” The rest of the team shows up. They look horrified at their teammate’s injuries. DC: “if someone can hand my sword—” Artemis how have you not passed out yet?!” DC: “I’m not bleeding anymore.” The team notices that he was correct. DC: “Regenerative powers come in handy when your battling assassins and you slip on a banana peel on a rooftop. I think that’s the better question. So many trashcan and some person leaves the greasy peel out for someone to slip on.” Robin: “Since when did you have regenerative powers?!” DC shrugs. Artemis: “Don’t shrug! Since when?!” DC: “I’ll tell you when I find out when Bruce dates Diana or Selina.”

It got worse when the team witnessed DC growing his leg back and casually stretching his broken arm back into place and healed as if nothing happened.

The team doesn’t notice it, but DC starts trusting them more and more.

Even started seeing them as his family.

Now was the final test.

The one most people ran from.

His face.

DC is sitting on the couch with the rest of the team around him. DC: “Listen, if this mug freak, ya out, feel free to run to the hills, or space, or Atlantis, or maybe Marvel if you run fast enough.” Kaldur: “You’re stalling.” DC: “…yeah…” M’gann: “Do not worry, you’re amongst friends DC. If you could stand my true form, then I can stand yours.” DC: “… All right… here we go.” DC takes his shaky hands, gulps, then rips the mask off his face and shuts his eyes. He is ready to hear the screams or yelling. There are small gasps, then silence. He slowly opens his eyes but looks down. DC: “I know, it looks like the offspring of two old avocados and the topography of Utah and sandpaper.” He is surprised when a pair of arms goes around him. M’gann was hugging him tightly. Robin made his way over. Robin: “What happened?” DC: “…Long story short, evil company took advantage of a kid with cancer. The cancer did… this to all over the kid’s body. But at least he got superpowers and is helping others, right?” DC was not prepared for the sudden affection that came after that. Connor pats his head: “Welcome to the team DC.” DC looks like he is going to start bawling in any second. DC: “Thanks Supes—I mean Connor.”

After that night DC had sworn an oath to protect his new family.

To stick by their sides through thick and thin.

If they needed his help from across the world, he was going to hop on the next cargo ship or zeta tube to get to them.

If they needed more back up, DC knew a couple of friends that would gladly lend a hand.

No one was going to hurt his family, not while he was still alive.

[helloitstsyu]

i got you | Tom Cruise

My masterlist

Fluff, kind of an angst too, i guess. Requested by @grantaires-waistcoat I'm so sorry this takes so long. Hope you like it🤍

Tom Cruise x young!costar!reader

Summary : Set to film a stunt, you had a panic attack, and Tom helps you to get through it.

Warning : this might be triggering for some, so beware. panic!attack, swear words.

BUM. BUM. BUM.

"Y/N?... Y/N!" Stella keeps banging the door.

The banging is on the door yet you feel it thumping on your heart. You feel your breath is short and heavy. Your head spinning, sweats dripping on your temples as your chest heaves. Cold water running on your terribly shaking hand, trying to calm yourself, you keep repeating to your reflection on the small mirror.

"It's nothing. You can do this. You've prepared. You can do this."

You look at yourself in the mirror. Your face is pale. You're completely terrified. You're about to hang yourself off a cliff. Yes, you've rehearse a lot. But this is no Rockreaction in Los Angeles. There's no mattress at the bottom. There's no safety net going to catch you if you fall. This is rocky mountainside in Utah. The only thing that'll determine your life and death is the harness that'll be attached on you. One snap of the line, you're gone.

"Arrghh!" You grunt all frustratingly to yourself. "The fuck is wrong with you. Why do i even agreed to this!"

You're a newcomer. You've only done a couple of family drama for some TV station and a thriller movie for a streaming site. There's a couple of stunt for the thriller, but no stunt like Mission Impossible. This is a damn blockbuster, well produced franchise. And the fact that you're here locking yourself inside of a bathroom, being a chicken, while everyone else is ready to shoot the scene is just enhancing your stress for the moment.

"Y/N! What the hell are you doing in there?! Come on, we don't get all day!" Stella, the assistant director keeps banging on your door.

"Coming!" You shout.

Wiping your sweaty forehead, you hope the cold water could cover the spook on your face.

Coming out of the bathroom, you're surprised to find your leading man and boss is on the front of the door. Tom looks at you deeply, reading your face.

"You okay, kid?" Tom asks.

You nod, hiding your nerve all that you can. Going outside of the trailer. Stella brought you to the edge of the cliff, where's the stunt team will prepare you with the safety harness and all. Looking all around you the crew is all busy and occupied with their own stuff. Everyone seems to move so fast but yet also somehow so slow.

Tom comes to you, with a wide grin on his face, "Ready to be a spiderman, kid?" He asks with both of his hands on his hips.

You barely hear what he said, high-pitched sound is ringing in your ear covering what he has to say. Despite the breezy wind blowing around, you feel like you couldn't get an air to your lungs. Eyeing the edge of the cliff, the ground below is not even to your eye reach. You can feel your heartbeating right to your head.

"Kid... you're here?... you okay?" Tom starts to notice you're not doing alright.

Slowly, your eyes are back to Tom's. He worries. "Y/N?" He steps closer to you. And there you finally breaks, in a beat, your legs falls limp as if they didn't work. You fall but Tom's quick to catch you before the impact. You're panting hard, your chest burns. Tears blocking your eyesight. High-pitched sound ringing loudly in your ear, completely blocking everything else. All you see is so bright. The sun behind Tom's face is so bright like it pierces your eyes.

"Y/N... Y/N... look at me, look at me." Tom holds you close.

"I'm right here. It's okay, it's going to be okay.. I'm right here." You hold onto his hand, grasping them in between your two much smaller palm.

"Breathe, come on, breathe with me, kid." Tom calmly tells you, like he knows exactly what to do to help you. He takes your hand and put it to your chest. The other one he brings to his chest. "Breathe.. come on, slowly..."

You can feel your heart pounding in your hand. Yours beat like a marching band while his is set in a calm pace, like a rhythm. You follow his instructions, taking a deep breath slowly, one at a time. Tom nods. "There you go, that's my girl. Come on, one more time," he encourages.

And so you do as he tells, following his lead, you take a deep inhale and slowly exhaling. Once he manage to get you calmer, he takes you back inside the trailer.

Setting you to sit on the couch, he kneels in front of you.

When the panic attack is gone, now you feel the burning tears making its way to flood out. One look of those soft emerald eyes and you can't bear the guilt to get the best of you.

"I--- " you struggle to say it out loud. I'm sorry, is what you want to say. But without you have to say it, Tom knows. Tom understands. More than anyone else, he understands.

"It's okay.." Tom holds your hand.

Though the watergate has opened. Tom quickly wipes your tears away. "It's okay, you don't have to do it. It's alright."

What he said only makes it worse. You're sobbing right in front of the man, tears running like a waterfall. "I'm sorry.. i can't– i can't do it.." you cry. "I don't know what's wrong with me,"

"Oh, sweetheart," Tom sits next to you and pulls you to his chest. He wraps his hand protectively around you. "Nothing is wrong with you. You don't have to be sorry. It's okay, you don't have to do it."

Tom strokes your hair. Caressing you ever so gently, comforting you in the best way possible.

"It's okay... you'll be okay... I got you, babygirl," he whispers.

[tealmaskmybeloved]

Toxic Consequences AU: Kieran's Team

After Kieran accepted Dokutaro's help, his Pokémon transformed as a result of the Toxic Chain. They each get a significant power boost, and look different than normal, but I'm sure that's fine!

Information and additional images under the cut!

Houndoom (Poison/Dark)

Ability: Unnerve (NO PECHA BERRIES FOR YOU)

Moves:

- Sucker Punch

- Dark Pulse

- Will-O-Wisp

- Sludge Bomb

"The Toxic Chain around its neck gives Houndoom the power of its Mega Evolution. It seems focused only on battling."

Annihilape (Poison/Fighting)

Ability: Defiant

Moves:

- Rage Fist

- Stomping Tantrum

- Close Combat

- Final Gambit

"The Toxic Chain increased its power and rage. Once it gets into a frenzy, it will not ever calm down."

Bombirdier (Poison/Flying)

Ability: Rocky Payload

Moves:

- Rock Slide

- Acrobatics

- Tailwind

- Roost

"This Pokémon's mischievous has increased, and is now capable of dropping more boulders from above- all thanks to its Toxic Chain."

Grimmsnarl (Poison/Fairy)

Ability: Prankster

Moves:

- Spirit Break

- Reflect

- False Surrender

- Torment

"A young boy's resentment and hatred for an ogre caused the Toxic Chain to alter Grimmsnarl into looking what the trainer used to idolize. It attacks with the extensive vines on its body."

Slowking (Poison/Psychic)

Ability: Curious Medicine

Moves:

- Toxic

- Eerie Spell

- Venoshock

- Flamethrower

"The Toxic Chain this Slowking has on its body increased the deadly toxins in its shell, causing more unpredictable and dangerous spells."

Hydrapple (Poison/Dragon)

Ability: Poisonous Syrup (Lowers evasiveness whenever it poisons an opponent)

Moves:

- Earth Power

- Fickle Beam

- Toxic

- Nasty Plot

"Determined to help its trainer succeed, this Hydrapple's powers were stimulated by the Toxic Chain on its tail. Instead of the other heads listening to the lead one, all 7 heads seem to take orders from a higher being."