#the next movement is STILL in rotation

[cinamun]

I saw AND cared 😭

[crest-of-gautier]

got the badges for gone fission evp 400 + evp 600 yesterday! .52 gal, l-3 nozzlenose, dread wringer, and squiffer make for quite the synergistic team!

my peak was EVP 810 (appx 300-310% HL). my high score of 151 eggs was obtained somewhere in evp 300...? i'm pretty satisfied with how it went, even if i didn't get HLM or 9s.

some thoughts/reflections on good freelancing teams/traits to develop when trying to rank up in evp under the cut:

i think grinding this rotation was pretty fun- all of the weapons have excellent mobility and i think they cover for each other really well! the l-3 was not my favorite weapon going into it but i think i really enjoyed the accuracy and mobility of it, so it's a bit more favorable for me now :)

i ended up reaching a skill wall in EVP 760-780 where i could not get past wave 2 or 3 (usually for quota related reasons, the quota is BRUTAL! we'd miss it by like 4-5 ish... ofc this partially relates to how well bosses are handled).

the grind for evp was a mix of freelance and grouping up (freelance for 230 -> 440s, grouping up for 440 - 750~, and then testing myself in freelance for that last bit).

i enjoyed the bits of freelance i did, and from my playtime i think these were some of the key traits/practices that indicate "good salmon run skills" to me:

players that know their weapons role(s) and target the appropriate salmonid (but also being willing to break that when priority targets haven't been taken care of)

knowing when a teammate needs help (with a boss or being revived) or when the teammate has a situation under control (e.g. someone's already on the fishstick, you can do something else)

proactive use of specials when problem targets appear, preferably with no overlap (e.g. tri-strike and inkjet activated on the same flyfishes is not the best)

using specials like booyah bomb, triple splashdown, and reefslider to clear basket area in the last 30 seconds to help eggs get in (especially important past evp 600)

teams that paint the walls first thing (especially whoever had the dread wringer). all interior walls for fission can be painted within the first 10 seconds imo

forwarding eggs closer to the basket after splatting static bosses (throwing one egg, and then swimming up with one)

players with good judgment; knowing when to lure (mostly for initial boss spawns), and knowing when to leave the big shot cannon

being able to figure out which directions snatchers come from and what eggs they can help you collect

i think these practices all stem from having good awareness and being able to collect information about the shift. it helps with making snappy quick-fire decisions, and it just gets more important the higher up in EVP you go. camera positioning/control is essential for this (you can't figure out where bosses/teammates are if your back is turned to them).

for me, every 7-10 seconds, i like to rotate my camera around to the opposite side of where i'm currently looking to make sure there isn't any bosses i'm missing. i'm hardly in one place longer than 5-10 seconds and i try to always be on the move. the spawn direction where salmonids come from are always changing, so it's essential to rotate around the map proactively rather than reactively. i think this also helps a lot with shotcalling in groups too (since you can be someone else's pair of eyes).

other than boss spawns/teammate locations (for revives), i think it's also important to notice when certain bosses haven't been taken care of for prolonged periods of time too, so that a special can be popped. to me it's usually a sign that someone whose ill equipped to deal with that boss has been forced to deal with them because the people with the "right" weapon are focused on something else... (no fault to them, of course, everyone has different priorities and you can't always communicate clearly in freelance)

in situations where squiffers were chased by a pack of scrappers, perhaps a booyah bomb or splashdown can be popped to help if you don't have the time to stun and splat them manually. maybe the fish sticks were left unattended by the shooters, so a triple inkstrike or a crab/inkjet shot can help clear them out.

awareness also extends to meeting quota, which imo involves paying attention to the timer + where eggs are located. i find that it's nice to check in with the timer/quota at 50s and 30s respectively so that you can start forwarding eggs closer to basket. and when everyone's going crazy about quota not being met i try to make sure i'm not overstepping anyone else's egg pile so that no one goes "wait no thats the egg that i wanted to pick up fuck i have to go back and get a different one."

i think this is why sometimes playing in groups is easier. if you have more sets of eyes that you can communicate with, it alleviates the need to have awareness of "everything" (provided that you can comms effectively). someone can be attuned to different things (e.g. my friend always tells us where snatchers come from and if they're good, i'm personally attuned to where people need to be revived, etc.). you also know what specials you have access to, unlike in freelance where you're not sure what others have until they use them.

the other part of completing shifts successfully (to me) is being mechanically sound with your movement, mostly in regards to how you use the terrain (walls) to get around the map and escape situations. the more you play a map the more you'll figure out how you can move around on it.

some examples, using the location callouts from salmonrun.ink: there were a few times i'd go on the harbor but i could escape any salmonids in the bridge area by climbing the walls there and squidrolling out as needed. sometimes on high tide i would swim from the perch to the left plat.

sub-strafing is also good to know too, especially when you want to rapidly collect the basket eggs at the end. i still need to integrate it into other parts of my gameplay, but it's helpful!

uh. this was way longer than intended because i have WAY too many thoughts about salmon run. TL;DR: The key to succeeding your shifts is having good awareness which comes from good information collecting practices, and having the mechanical skill to act on that awareness without hesitation.

there's definitely a lot that goes on in sensory overload the game™, so it will take time to build these muscles and reaction times. i think while at every rank of salmon run you may face a wall of "i'm overwhelmed by the bosses," the exact fix needed to get past it usually varies, so it's important to figure out what information you were missing or what actions you could've taken (more efficient movement or special usage, usually).

or if you're struggling with quota, try to practice forwarding eggs or take a look where snatchers come from (even if people splat them, it's still a good practice 2 develop for later evp. source: i don't fucking do it and it's biting me in the ass)

and most importantly, recognize when you're in the midst of a loss streak/skill wall, so that you can take a break and focus on other things that energize you! even if there's a certain goal you want to meet, grinding for higher levels of EVP and getting better at the game can be a very exhausting process. you can always come back to the grind later, whether if it's after a 30 minute break, or just a different rotation!

[kisakis-boyfriend]

might i request reader fucking boothill after they take off his arms and legs? he's got mechanical limbs, so it won't really hurt and they can be put back on again, but like. the brainrot. he'd look so cute fr fr ♦️

Author's Note: You must also be a mind reader, because I have been plagued with all sorts of scenarios like this. Either with a robot/android character having their innards played with, or robot/android reader. — All of that to say; I went with a mechanic reader doing some maintenance on Boothill, and things get a lil spicy 👀 (ended up making the reader a bit southern too??)

Pairings: Boothill x male reader

Warnings: Male mechanic!reader, dom/top!reader, sub/bottom!Boothill, robo sex, robo genital functions, Boothill's goofy swearing, fingering, grinding, mild objectification

“What seems to be the problem?” You ask. The man on the other side of the desk rolls his shoulder back a few times, complaining of some joint issues.

“Alrighty, follow me. I'll take a look at'cha”

The cowboy follows you into an examination room. Various posters are taped to the walls — cheesy motivational posters and diagrams of machinery, mostly. He comments on them, saying that he appreciates a place like this, as opposed to the squeaky clean shops he'd been referred to previously. You chuckle and thank him for the compliment.

Some tools are pulled out and placed on a workbench next to the table. As you're prepping things, you tell your customer to remove any articles of clothing and have a seat on the table.

“Well shoot, at least take me to dinner first, darlin'!” He teases, smirking at you when you slowly turn your head around and playfully squint your eyes at his remark. Still, he does as he's told, and removes his cropped top, pants, hat. Literally everything is off, and he takes his seat, waiting patiently for you to begin.

“Lift this arm for me. Ok good. Now the other one.” You instruct him through a simple visual check. All four of his limbs seem to stutter through their movements, acting worse when he tries to rotate his legs.

“Ok... Um, I think this'll be an easy fix, but uh...”

“But what?”

“I... am going to need to detach all of your limbs to fix you–”

—

While your customer was clearly not used to a procedure like this one, he did a wonderful job of following your instructions so as not to damage anything while you're removing his appendages. All four of them detach smoothly, and you set them aside on a spare table until you'll need them again. With the heavy lifting out of the way, you're ready to go in for the delicate work of recalibrating his connecting joints.

“You know, you're probably one of my best customers.” you say as your fingers tug on one of the small wires buried deep within his hip socket, “Most people aren't too keen on doing it all at once. And even when it's two at a time, they squirm and babble anxiously.”

Boothill inhales sharply as the sensation of your hands literally inside of him stirs something within his belly. His lower lip is scored with the marks from his sharp teeth.

You tighten a few of the mechanisms in there, and he prays that you keep your eyes on your work, otherwise you'd see how stupid he must look as his eyelids droop and his mouth opens in a silent moan. It's taking all of his willpower to hold those sounds in.

“Geez, this one is crazy loose… do you uh, have regular maintenance done? Because you really sh-”

As you grip another wire and pull it, a compartment on Boothill's crotch suddenly opens up, revealing a fleshy, dripping hole.

If the cowboy still had legs at the moment, he'd be trying to close them and hide his arousal from you. Already, his breathing has become ragged and heavy, on the verge of making other, lewder sounds…

“Ah! O-oh I am so sorry–”

“Naw, s'okay…” Boothill slurs before the beginning of a moan, futilely attempting to hold composure that is clearly long gone by this point. He can't really buck his hips, but you can tell that that's what he's trying to do. You take the hint, and curiously move between his legs- or, what would be the area between his legs, anyway. He gives you permission immediately, almost begging to have this spot touched.

It's… strangely soft… humanlike in both appearance and touch. It's unclear whether this is human flesh or synthetic, but realistic flesh. Whatever it is, it has nerve endings of some variety, because Boothill whimpers as you prod around the edges of the opening. More liquid oozes out as you toy with him, gasping ooh's and aah's with a curious grin on your face. It's so much that you need to grab a couple towels and place them under his hips so it doesn't drip everywhere or seep into his open sockets. Seriously, it's like a waterfall after a couple minutes…

“You're sure this is ok? I'd hate to make you uncomfortable…”

The hole between his hips pulsates, opening up just slightly, as if it's inviting you inside.

“Darlin', please– you already had yer fingers inside of me today, just… put 'em back in.” The cowboy whines. And if a customer needs a little extra service, who are you to ignore them? Especially one as gorgeous as Boothill.

A rush of the sticky liquid comes pouring out when you push two fingers inside of his pretty hole.

“Fuck, not that I get around much, but I've never seen someone get so damn wet just from my fingers before. Is it always like this?”

A quiet 'mm-mm' is his response. His head flies to either side as your fingers sink in up to the knuckle, effortlessly, thanks to his built-in lube. His hair is hanging off the other end of the table, swooshing around every time Boothill flings his head around. It's so pretty, you really wish it was between your fingers right now…

For now, your focus comes back to the multitude of wet noises coming from Boothill's hole. The towels under him have long since soaked up everything spilling from his entrance.

“M-more… gimme more–!!” he moans, squeezing his eyes shut.

Removing your fingers, his hole squirts out a bit of liquid, and he resembles a sad puppy until he notices you removing your clothes. When your hard-on is more visible, Boothill drools at the sight.

You free your cock and give it a few pumps, licking your lips as your eyes flick between the cowboy's fleshy entrance and his sweaty face. He returns your gaze with his own obvious lust, lolling his tongue out once you touch him again.

It's incredibly soft and wet on your dick. You rub your length against the opening a few times, grinding against him and imagining how it will feel once you're inside–

“Shi- fuck! Mm that's tight, cowboy. Holy shit.” You exclaim, almost going cross-eyed from pleasure as his hole squeezes you so good. It doesn't take long for you to grab his hips and thrust like your life depends on it.

“Goddamn, yer like some hi-tech fleshlight! Oh yeah, take that dick! Take it, slut.” Mechanical wheezing is the only sound coming from Boothill now, unable to speak as you pound his hole mercilessly. In a moment of animalistic lust, you crawl up on the table and fuck him like a sex doll, curling over his body with your own and pistoning your hips, drilling into his gushing entrance as he squirts heavily.

You groan right into his ear, “M'gonna cum in you now- is that ok?” Boothill rapidly shakes his head, shivering at the way your breath hits his earlobe. Within seconds you're fucking your seed further into his squishy hole, ramming in so deep you make the cowboy's eyes roll completely back, and he exhales a shaky “Fork yeah~”. It's hard not to chuckle at the ridiculousness of what he said, but coming down from your high takes most of your energy — including the energy to realize that this man did just say "fork yeah" when you came inside of him……

His hole is still greedily sucking your juices in, and you can already feel yourself humping the glorified fleshlight that is your customer. Needless to say, this repair will take longer than you planned…

[alastorss]

Could you maybe write something with Alastor and reader,

and reader gets hurt in the extermination and he cares for her? And maybe like she takes a nap on his lap and he just sorta falls asleep right next to her?

a/n: hello!! i sort of got carried away with this one and made it more sappy than i originally intended, but i hope you still like it! for context: the reader stepped into battle when alastor was hurt by adam and this is the aftermath :) hurt/comfort and fluff!

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

Alastor has been eerily quiet since returning to the newly-rebuilt hotel, sutures and bandages in hand.

All his belongings, including his beloved cane, have been cast aside in lieu of medical supplies to be split between you. One measly box worth of gauze and sanitizing wipes. Definitely nothing to gawk at, but good enough.

He's stripped his shirt without any exchange of words. You know his silent request, too prideful to ask for your help verbally but desperation clear in his expression.

"Is this the only spot?" You ask, slowly stringing a suture through his skin. He hisses in pain—his only response. The demon doesn't even gratify you with his eyes anymore, opting to stare off into space as if his mind has taken a vacation elsewhere.

You frown but continue delicately stitching him, piecing him together until he's whole again. His back hits the dresser as he leans on it, body instinctively trying to crawl away from the stinging of the needle. Finally, you knot the end of the sutures and sigh in relief, reaching over to get something to clean the area.

"I'm glad this whole fiasco is over," you comment softly, knowing it won't make him look at you. "With their leader gone, maybe the angels will finally—"

"You disobeyed me," he suddenly snaps. "Why?"

You pause in your movements, blinking up at Alastor while he glowers at you. His eyes narrow into slits, half out of anger and half in a grimace.

"You were cornered. I couldn't just sit by and—"

"I told you to stay out of it," he interrupts again, slapping away your hand. You gasp, alcohol wipe hitting the floor beside you. Defiantly, you challenge him with a glare of your own.

"I'm trying to help, asshole!"

"I know, I know!" He explodes, obviously frustrated. "And look where it got you!"

He pinches your chin to tilt your head up toward him, rotating your face around so he can observe your wounds. A cut lip, a bruising eye—horrible reminders that sinners could be hurt. And you were no more of a sinner than he, much less an Overlord who knew the shape of a soul.

"You risked your life by intervening! What if you had been struck down, you fool?"

Alastor's voice is all panic and no composure, missing any semblance of that accent which is so beloved to him. You know he's telling you exactly what he feels, true emotions unburdened by the character he built for himself in the afterlife.

"So be it! It's no less a fate than what would have happened to you!" You emphasize by jabbing your finger just above his wounded abdomen, careful not to agitate his fresh stitches.

Wincing, he goes silent. It's unnerving how quiet it is again. You've gotten so used to the ambient buzz of his static, but with it missing, you can feel the hairs on the back of your neck pricking up in unease.

He still hasn't released your face, clawed fingers pinching your chin and holding you in place. It isn't until he feels the wetness of your tears pooling at the pads of his fingers that he recoils in surprise.

Sighing, he twists over to open new packs of wipes. You stay still while he carefully cleans your face, ignoring your little whelps of pain the best he can.

Once the blood is gone, he pauses. Then, his fingers gingerly wipe under your eyes, swiping away the globs of tears spilling down your cheeks.

You are pitiful right now, he thinks. Though he probably looks no better.

"I'm sorry," you hiccup. "I don't mean to make you worry."

His expression softens, though his viscous smile remains. You can see it in his eyes—something genuine buried beneath his act.

"I don't want you to die," you admit quietly.

"I wouldn't dream of it, my dear."

You laugh dryly, wiping up your tears on your own with your bloodied sleeves.

"But you almost did. What would I do without you?"

The question is rhetorical, but something vile still swirls violently in your stomach at the idea. As if knowing what's going through your mind, he grabs you by the cheeks and forces you to meet his stare again.

"Not another word out of you," he demands.

His gaze flicks to the bruising under your eye, flesh already discoloured and swelling. "Got a remedy?" You grumble.

Alastor shakes his head but leans in anyway, pressing a chaste kiss just below the swelling. His lips linger on your skin for a moment before he pulls away, amused by your stunned expression.

He invades your space again, this time kissing the crown of your head. Speaking into your hair, he whispers, "I will be more careful. I promise."

"And I'll think before charging into battle after you," you chuckle softly, overwhelmed by his warmth.

Slowly, he tugs you along and sits you on the sofa. He brushes the hair from your eye and takes the opportunity to look at it under better lighting. Just like that, he vanishes, melting into the shadows. When he reappears in front of you, he has cold packs. In a place so warm, they are of little use. But they are better than nothing, he supposes.

Groaning in pain, he seats himself beside you and allows you to slot under his arm. Two demons seeking comfort and companionship curled up together—any other Overlord would laugh.

But Alastor knows what it means to be loved, to have someone who would stand in front of a lethal blow for him, to be stitched back together by your hands.

In the safety of each others' presence, you both fall asleep with the faint hum of static filling the air.

~

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[izvmimi]

A typical Thursday night has you and Izuku both home early and on this night in particular, you find yourself straddling him in bed, his body prone and back exposed to you so you can knead his shoulder and back muscles in a makeshift massage.

You let gentle pulses of electricity smooth and relax each muscle, carefully tracing along each roughened and scarred patch of skin for new scars, and gently rotate his joints. You’re not as good as the physical therapist who works at your new hospital, but you’re good enough, and as you feel your husband’s body ease up whatever has him tense, you feel a satisfaction deep in your chest. Slowing down your movements, you let your body lay against him, chest to back.

“Do you feel better?” you ask.

His face is still muffled into the pillow as he murmurs “yes.” You wonder if he’s started to fall asleep, but he reaches his arms overhead and backwards to reach for your head, then patting it gently once he’s found it. You laugh at the way he fumbles to look for it at first and roll off his body so that you’re next to him, and he turns onto his side, pulling you in closer, while beaming.

“Not to say that that new healer isn’t great, but it just doesn’t feel the same when it’s not you.”

You pout a little.

“Oh, what’s she doing wrong?” you ask, quick to offer constructive feedback. He frowns for a second, wondering if he misspoke, then instead presses a kiss to your forehead.

“I don’t think it’s anything wrong per se, it’s just-” he trails off for a moment then pauses, thinking about the best way to phrase the next sentence, then continues - “she’s not you.”

He tries to keep his voice light and not demanding to make sure that you don’t feel any guilt, but it’s hard not to. The few months where you worked in the same agency as Izuku must have made him so happy, and you easily recall the practical smile on his face when you arrived as part of the salvage and resuscitation crew or whenever he walked into the infirmary and you were free. 

But the truth of the matter is that hero work wasn’t your calling in that manner and would never be, and he understands that. You've just started at your new place a few months ago, and the adjustment is hard, but you've seemed overall happy even if you're no longer together as often.

He must sense the twinge of discomfort because he cups your face, kissing you first on the lips before pulling back and giving you a reassuring nod.

“I know it’s an unfair standard to meet though,” he says. “How can anyone compare to my perfect wife?”

The way he lays it on thick makes you chuckle.

“I need you to adjust your standards a bit, you’re just far too used to me.”

He makes a show of rolling his eyes, but wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you so that you’re on top of him. 

“I think you should allow me to praise you,” he says.

“Not to someone else’s detriment,” you protest, pressing your chin to his chest as you look at him. 

He frowns. “I didn’t say ‘the healer at my job sucks’, all I said is it doesn’t feel the same. Maybe, just maybe, I just like the extra love I feel when you touch me.”

You grin, now filled with mischief. “Well, maybe I could offer her some pointers in that respect too...”

His nose crinkles. “Stop that right now.” He holds you tighter, and you let your legs kick as he rocks the both of you back and forth playfully.

“Regardless, you always have me to come back to and I’ll always be willing to kiss your booboo so don’t be too sad,” you add.

He laughs, petting your head. “I’m just being a baby, aren’t I?”

“A little, but you’re my baby,” you remind him, as you cuddle, but you make note of the additional indirect message that he always loves and misses you too.

[slushycoookie]

Kinktober Day 20 ~ Cockwarming

Miguel O'Hara x Fem! Reader

Summary: Miguel just can't stop being a workaholic, so you find a solution.

A/N: Hope everyone is doing okay! Enjoy!

Prev *✧･ﾟ: Next Kinktober '24 Masterlist

Your bedroom ceiling was more entertaining than what was going on in your bed.

About three times, you glanced over at Miguel doing his work at home, four screens circled around him. He promised you he had to do one more thing before going to bed. That one more thing led to two more, then three, and now it's been hours.

This was the time of night when you snuggled up with your husband to watch horror movies, which led to more unsavory actions. But no, Miguel decided to maintain his leader persona in the bedroom.

You tried to distract him by leaning over and kissing his neck. Miguel tilted his head to give you more access before straightening up.

“Amor, not now…”

“You've been saying that every hour.” You caressed his chest, moving down to circle his abs. Miguel’s breath hitched, still working on his screens. “Can't the reports wait until tomorrow?”

Before you gave him a chance to answer, you straddled him, in front of his screens.

“No, they can't wait until tomorrow, I have a deadline.”

“That’s not what your friend says…”

You rotated your hips against his hard cock. Miguel bit his lip, hands now on your sides. His face filled with turmoil, wanting you to keep going and take him away from the hell of his responsibilities. Instead, he dropped his arms to his sides.

“That’s just chemistry. My wife is naturally beautiful and-”

“Yeah, yeah.” You reach down to pull off your shorts and panties in one go. Miguel quickly darted down to the space between your legs before looking away. “Can I keep you company while you finish?”

Miguel raised an eyebrow, “I thought you already were.”

“I have a different idea.”

You pull out the bottle of lube and gather a decent amount in your palm. Your husband makes no moves to stop you when you pull down his pj pants to spring his cock free. A low grunt escaped while you lather up his length. Without any assistance, you sink yourself down, humming at the wonderful stretch to your walls.

“This…was your idea?”

“Mmhm,” You stable yourself on his shoulders, “you got a problem?”

“No…As long as you behave.”

Miguel shifted before going back to his work, while your pussy fits around him. You did try to behave. For five minutes. Your husband’s gorgeous with his thick neck and broad shoulders, paired with a salty musk that can equate to a man. You slowly trailed your hands up from his chest and around his neck. You try not to smirk when his muscles tensed up.

But he doesn't say anything, his arms still moving around.

You test more of the waters by scratching along his neck. Your fingernails scraping along the nape and up to his curls. Miguel’s eyes fluttered momentarily before standing ground.

“What did I say?”

“I'm behaving!” You raise your arms when he scowled at you. You knew he wasn't mad, but he can easily pull you off of his cock if he wanted to.

So you sit there, shifting a little to get comfortable. Your shifting causes his tip to hit a good spot in your walls. It makes you jolt in a good way, your back arching. Miguel’s chest rumbled. His hand now on your lower back.

“Nena-”

“That was an accident.”

His hand doesn't leave your back, but he still tried to go back to his work. You watch his eyes glaze over the screen, movements slower than before. Your hips raise up before sinking back down. Miguel choked out a groan, pressing your body against his. You do it again, his cock nudging all of the right spots of your slick cunt.

“Shock…”

Miguel’s head rested against the headboard, screens not being used as he was watching you now. You dragging your hips up slowly. Fucking yourself with his thick, veiny cock.

“You still wanna do some work?” He doesn’t answer, eyes honed on his shaft disappearing inside you. “Miguel?”

The answer to that was him grabbing your hips. All of the screens went away when he took over, thrusting up into you.

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[xoluvx]

#1 “this billie”

smut

This Billie loves to talk you through it. She savors the small moments and victories. She puts you first, always. Doesn't matter where you are. Oh, she just finished recording live versions of her new album’s songs? Yeah, doesn't matter she'll say goodbye to everyone, take your hand, walk you straight to that car and get you home.

"I need you, Billie." You whimper clinging to her arm in the back seat of the car.

"Yeah, baby girl?" She'll ask with that sexy ass voice. It's low and lustful. Her hand rests on your thigh inching up your warm skin, dancing along the hem of your skirt.

She'll do anything to keep her girl happy. She loves knowing she's the only one who can do the job for you. She accepts it happily and takes it very seriously.

When you finally get home, your hand is securely in hers as she leads you to the room. You sit on the bed, back straight waiting for her next move. She stands between your legs, holding your chin as she places the most delicate kiss on your lips. You extend your neck to reach her, hands resting on her arms as she cups your face still kissing you tenderly.

"What do you want, princess?" she asks against your lips and you squirm at the nickname.

"You. I want you," you plead tightening your grip around her arms. Billie pushes you down gently on the bed hiking your skirt. She peppers kisses up your thigh until your underwear is exposed and she nods approvingly at the pair.

She hooks her fingers around the waistband pulling them down your legs before slipping them into the pocket of her blazer. She bits her lip watching your legs spread for her.

"Lay on the pillows," she instructs calmly and you move your body to the middle of the bed, draping your head over the pillows as she sits next to you. Her finger runs between your folds and you're already blinded by pleasure. She only has to rotate her fingers a few times before you're a whimpering mess.

“I-“ you moan tossing your head further onto the pillows, muscles contracting.

“Use your words, baby,” she coos touching your forehead with her free hand before bringing it down to caress your cheek. “You can do it,” she encourages holding your chin. Her lips part anticipating the sound of your jagged voice.

“I want to cum,” you whimper opening your eyes catching her gaze. She feels your swollen bud under her fingertip as she moves painstakingly slow. She’s wise with her movements like she's cracking a bomb, but really she's only bringing you closer to exploding.

“What else do you want?” She asks sucking on her bottom lip, eyes waiting for your response. She looks so good in that stupid blazer she hasn’t taken off and those glasses like she’s studying your body and learning all the places that make you tick except she already knows and that’s why she’s depriving you. Knowing she’s giving you exactly what you want. What her princess yearns.

“Fingers,” you croak fisting the sheets.

“Yeah, I have fingers and what do you want with them?” She asks innocently running her finger down your pussy letting the tip dip into your hole before running back up to your clit. She holds back a smile when you wince pushing back the strand of hair that falls on her face. God, she looks so sexy and it drives you mad.

"I want your fingers-" you inhale intoxicated by the simplest of touches. "-in my pussy," you exhale.

“That wasn't so hard was it?" she replies cockily slipping two fingers into your needy pussy. She loves the way you toss your head back biting your lip. She lifts your shirt pulling down your bra haphazardly breaking your breasts free from their restraints.

She pinches your nipple and your chest rises off the bed, fingers thrusting into your cunt.

"How does that feel?" she asks. The glasses that rest on her nose are slowly slipping and she's watching you over the frames. When you don't respond, she pinches your nipple again and you moan.

"Good. That feels-" your voice breaks. "-good."

She smiles approvingly as the pace of her fingers increase and she slips another finger in and now she’s three fingers deep, thumb rubbing your clit.

“Oh my god,” you hum in delight and close your eyes sliding your hands under the pillows holding onto them for support. As she finger fucks you, knuckles deep in your pussy.

“You’re taking it so well,” her voice is soft but sultry.

“Mmhm,” you nod looking down at her. Your brows are furrowed, your lips are parted, your toes as curling and your thighs are closing around her arm.

“No,” Billie murmurs firmly and holds your thigh to stop you. “You can take it,” she encouraged coming down to kiss your thigh. Her lips are so soft almost ghostlike on your burning skin. They seer into your thigh as you squirm in her grip.

“Please,” you gasp for air and press your eyes shut. You bite your bottom lip.

“Please what?” She asks as if she doesn’t feel your walls clenching around her fingers threatening to collapse any second.

“Please, please-“ you’re out of air, but your chest feels full. Each time you curl your toes, you get closer and closer to the edge. You want to jump.

“Please what?” She asks again through gritted teeth and sped up fingers. But she’s gently touching your thigh.

“Please, may I cum?” You ask. Your lids flutter open and you’re met with her powerfully sweet gaze and toothy grin.

“Of course, angel.” Her voice is laced with sugar. She hears you gasp contently.

Your body shakes, your walls throb against her fingers, you’re whimpering uncontrollably. Your muscles are contracting.

“Yeah, that’s it baby. Let it out,” she purrs moving her fingers slowly. She’s near your face now. Strands of hair fall from behind her ears and near your face. She kisses your forehead as she talks you down. Then your cheek. Then your lips are touching yours so purely. No rush.

“You did so well,” she mutters against your lips and you smile feeling pride in yourself.

“Thank you,” you swallow still blissed out from your orgasm. She pulls her fingers out slowly and you wince.

“Anything for my princess,” she smiles before licking her fingers as you watch.

masterlist

[holmsister]

Kabru is sat next to this hot blonde in the blunt rotation at some party and they keep talking about random shit but they ARE hot and kabru is too polite to stop them so he's sort of listening with one ear and then like

L: AND THE ALPHA THING COMES FROM A POORLY-CONDUCTED STUDY ON WOLVES FROM SEVERAL PACKS FORCED TOGETHER IN CAPTIVITY AND-

K: *suddenly waking up from a mild slumber* oh its like the Zimbardo prison experiment.

L: the. What.

K: *talking at the speed of light out of fear Laios will stop him* in the seventies this psychologist called Zimbardo at the University of Harvard wanted to see how violence worked in humans so he enlisted students for a big behavioural study and divided them in two group - prisoners and prison guards - and gave the "guards" leeway in how they chose to enforce their authority on the "prisoners" which led to such a level of escalating abuse the experiment had to be stopped long before the agreed date and for decades this has been cited as PROOF humans will inherently take advantage of situations to abuse others but the experiments was demonstrably built extremely badly from conception and most serious researches dismiss it now but it STILL gets quoted all the time as proof humans are inherently evil and shit. Sorry.

L: ...why are you apologising.

K: I went on a weird rant on you.

L: that wasn't weird! That was super interesting actually. I didn't realise experiments on this sort were conducted on humans.

K: well. They usually aren't nowadays for a variety of- are you sure you want me to keep talking? You were talking about wolves.

L: oh but I actually want to hear so we can compare!

K: ...isnt it weird that I know so much about this sort of thing?

L: not at all!

K: *really hot for this stranger all of a sudden* uh. Ah. So. The behaviourist movement-

[lcriedlastnight]

Y/n is feeling sick and Oscar is worried so they go to the doctor and find out that y/n is pregnant

thanks for your request babes!

tw: fem!reader, pregnancy (yes that is it's own warning), sick and being sick, swears maybe, lmk if you want me to add anything else.

w/c: 1.6k

you were sick constantly, whether it be a headache, or stomachache, feeling like you just had a general cold or literally vomiting it felt like you were feeling one of them all of the time, in a cruel rotation.

the only times you were actually sick and not just feeling nauseous was when you had drank a little too much (and were maybe on the verge of alcohol poisoning) or if your period cramps were so bad, it made you sick.

you were surmising that it was the latter as you sat on the cold flooring of the bathroom. one hand was clutching the toilet seat and the other was holding your hair back to prevent it from hanging in your face. you had never really been sick before your period had actually started before but you had felt a mild discomfort in your abdomen and had chalked it up to that, even though the pain was nothing like what you usually experienced during that time of the month.

being sick in the hotel bathroom as oscar slept in the next room, resting for the race later on in the day was not how you had planned on spending the morning but it seemed like that was what was going to happen. you were not alone for long though as the australian padded through once his body registered the warmth missing from the bed. he calls your name and you try to reply but you feel surge of sickness wash through you as you hunch over the seat. the bathroom door is closed but oscar knows that if he asks if he can come inside, you would just tell him no. he comes in anyways.

you hear a consoling hum as you retch again, oscar's hand replacing the one holding your hair back, his spare hand coming to rub big, comforting circles on your back, encouraging you to bring it all up.

you whimper through your spells of sickness as you finally feel the urge to be sick ebb away. you rest your weak body against oscar's as his hand continues its soft movements. oscar's mouth presses many light kisses into your hair as he lets you rest on the floor to recover.

"y'alright, love?" oscar asks after a few beats of still silence. he feels a nod against his chest.

"think it's just my time of the month coming." you inform him. you feel oscar's hum of disagreement before you hear it. it confuses you.

"you're not due your period for another week and a bit yet, honey." oscar tells you. you feel too sick to even acknowledge that he knows your cycle off by heart. this would be something you would review when you felt a little better.

"must've come earlier. 've got the cramps and the sickness, just waiting for the blood. you know what it's like anyways, it only really lasts a day then i'm alright again." you mumble as you pick yourself up and grab your toothbrush, desperate to get the vomit taste out of your mouth. oscar stands behind you, supporting you the entire time. he nods at your words and does not tell you that he thinks it is a little weird that you were getting your usual period symptoms but not the actual period. he just prays you are better once you have had a nap. you both head back to the bed and oscar pulls you to his own body so tightly you would think you had a habit of running off and leaving him in the middle of the night.

it turns out that you are not better once you guys wake back up and you do not even feel well enough to make it to the paddock to watch your boyfriend race. although oscar has his reservations about you leaving you alone in the hotel room when you were not feeling the best, there was not much he could really do. it was not like he could just take the day off to nurse you back to health with his comforting and warm touch. you watch the race from the hotel room, cheering him on and home when he gets p4, narrowly missing out on a podium.

"you'll get them next time." is your first words to him when he returns to the hotel room, later on that afternoon. oscar just grunts and questions you about your wellbeing. after you tell him you do not feel any better and that you maybe even feel a little more sick than what you did this morning, he knows this is nothing to do with your monthly cycle. he is not exactly sure what it could be but he knows he has to get you to a doctor as soon as you were both back home.

the flight home was probably one of the worst travelling experiences you have ever had in your entire life. oscar held your hand the whole way home but it did nothing to ease the cramps in your stomach and the sicky feeling resting in your throat. as soon as the plane was touching your home soil and oscar had internet again he booked an emergency appoinement at the doctors for you, not wanting you to have to go a second longer without relief than what you need to.

oscar just takes you both straight to the doctor's office, bags full of your clothes from the weekend flung in the backseat and boot of the car as he parks up in the car park opposite the office. with the way oscar was acting and treating you, some would think you were on deaths door.

oscar urges you to sit as he explains your problems to the receptionist. after a few moments the boy joins you, leg jumping in nerves.

"'y'seem more nervous than me, osc. i'll be fine." you tell him, hand coming to stop his restless leg. oscar smiles at you, kind but his eyes are full of nerves.

"i know. just want you better now instead of later, honey." oscar's hand coming to rest atop yours.

it is not too log after that the doctor comes out and asks you to follow her into the own office at the end of a very long and very white corridor.

the doctor tells you both to make yourself comfortable in the seats in front of you as oscar immediately jumps into rhyming off all of your symptoms and what you had both thought it was previously.

"so you had thought it was just period pains but your period hasn't come yet?" she checks, earning a nod from you and oscar in unison. she frowns in thought before her next words come and take you and oscar, both by surprise.

"and have you taken a pregnancy test?" she asks. you look at her shocked at the words, never even taking the premise of being pregnant into consideration. now that she had mentioned it all these symptoms did all point towards being pregnant. oscar turns his head to face you, hand still gripping yours from when he had helped you along the corridor but now his hold felt like it was ten times tighter.

you clear your throat before you reply, "uh, no i didn't even think about that being a possibility." you tell her honestly. she grins back and walks over to a drawer attached to some cabinet neat the door. she pulls out a more medical looking pregnancy test.

"it's alright, this happens more often than you would think. why don't you go and pee on this and we can tell you for sure if it is that or if we should start looking into something else entirely." the doctor hands you the test and leads you into a toilet just across the hallway. oscar waits nervously in the office with the doctor.

you return a few minutes later, hands shaking as you hand the test to the doctor. you sit back down on the chair as your hand slinks towards oscar's again, longing to feel that familiar touch, sending waves of solace through your nervous body.

the words echo around your brain as the doctor confirms that you are in fact pregnant. it feels like every single emotions runs through you at the news and you really do not know what to think right now. you think you hear the doctor say that she would give you both a minute and then the close of the door, meaning you and oscar were alone. you try and blink yourself back down to earth.

"i'm pregnant." you say, still not believing it. oscar has tears in his eyes as he nods and brings you into a crushing hug, before he loosens it, not wanting to crush his baby even though you were no where near close to showing yet.

"aren't we too young, oscar? are you sure you want this with me?" you worry, hands wringing at the back of his neck.

"i've never doubted that you were the person that i wanted to do this with. it might be a little earlier than i planned but i swear this is all i've ever wanted since i asked you out." oscar admits with a heavy voice and teary eyes. you canot even help but grin at his words.

you were still petrified but at least you had oscar in this and you knew he was here every single step of the way. there was no one else better to do any of this with than him, that you were one hundred percent sure of.

[pricegouge]

the welly boot incident, a silly little meet cute inspired entirely by this post here cause i'm an absolute slut for the swamp thing look.

pricegaz x fem!reader one shot. A little bit of subspace as a treat but nothing explicit. Still mdni please

"Brassard, what the hell am I looking at?"

It's been a shit job from the start. Bad contractor, bad intel, bad campaign all around. John supposes he can only be happy that for once in his life, the quality of intel seems to be off in the 'right' direction - which is to say he'd rather be posted up in a field for hours with too much manpower than not enough. He's got Gaz on his right, deadly still and silent despite being hours past projected time of contact with no sign of the target. Price is spotting, growing more irritable by the minute. There's supposed to be a watch up on the south ridge to announce any incoming traffic - op related or otherwise - but the sudden arrival of one garishly dressed civilian meandering through the meadow toting a Hubble sized macro lens seems to suggest that while eight hours of fruitless vigilance may not test the most seasoned of soldiers, it is enough to beat the handlers hired to assist them. 

The silence on the comms grows long enough to get even Gaz squirming, a subtle rotation of his boot the first move he's made in hours. In his ghillie, the movement is swallowed by the shifting of grass in the wind.

"Brassard?" Price growls, inspecting this newcomer through his scope for potential threats. She certainly looks unassuming enough, as he's never known any faction of armed services to issue woven fuschia caps, long purple cardigans, or yellow welly boots. Still, confirmation on anything useful like 'where the fuck she came from,' 'was she driving a civilian car?', or 'should we take the fucking shot?' would be ideal.

"Cap?" Garrick's voice is low, smothered, cheek sealed against his rifle even after all these hours. Still lethal and ready to trust his captain's call.

John waits another beat, hoping for some forthcoming intel. Doesn't get any. "No."

"She's gonna blow our spot."

'Against who?' John wants to ask, but the question of where their overwatch disappeared to is a toss up, and while every hard-won instinct in his body tells him this whole mission is a bust and the man likely fell asleep, the paranoid option must always outweigh the most likely if one wants to see the next sunrise, and it's entirely possible the man was eliminated. 

"Well, shooting her won't make her any less hi-vis," Price sighs. Abandoning his lens, John raises his head enough to take in the whole scope of the meadow. They're posted on a small hill, sights trained down into the shallow basin where a derelict road ambles parallel a small brook, currently overflowing with springtime runoff. It's beautiful, really, dotted here and there with early blooms which nod in the gentle breeze. With the low ridge to the south simultaneously blocking most of the sun's glare and offering a great position for extra coverage, the area had presented itself first and foremost to him as a sniper's delight; but faced now with an artsy-type civilian wandering around and looking for all intents and purposes to be in her natural element, he supposes his assessment probably laid outside the norm.

"We could use her like dazzle camo," Gaz suggests instead and John's mustache twitches with a suppressed snort. It's almost tempting, except if the target does ever drive through, John doesn't trust him to simply be confused and gape at the spectacle uselessly.

John drums his fingers off the dirt irritably, returns to his scope to see if he can pick out where their backup is situated. "Shit," he hisses, taking in Brassard's limp form up on the ridge.

"Dead?" Gaz asks, voice returning to the low hum that tells Price he's slipping back into professionalism.

"Looks like," John confirms, disassembling his tripod. 

"We retreating?"

"'Course not. We're containing the civilian." Beginning to crawl forward, John spots Gaz break his scope seal for the first time since establishing it out of the corner of his eye. 

"How?"

"Physically."

***

You never even see them coming. One minute you're humming to yourself as you stage a close up of a bee and the next you're squawking and thrashing while being pulled to the ground by your ankle. Before you can even make sense of what's happened, a man settles his considerable weight onto you and clamps a hand over your mouth. "Easy," he murmurs into your ear as a mass of twigs and grease paint pulls up next to him. "Not gonna hurt ya, darlin'."

You only realize how hard you're shaking when the man next to you starts setting up a tripod and the kind of gun you've only ever seen in movies and your teeth rattle behind the calloused grip that covers them.

There's a hand on your head, palm flat and heavy as it pulls your hat off. The weight above you shifts, hips digging briefly into your ass as he moves to pocket your cap. It's slow, movements steady and calculated as the voice that continues in your ear. "I'm Captain John Price. This is my sergeant, Kyle Garrick, and unfortunately you've found yourself in a bit of a pickle."

Next to you, the man with the gun - Kyle - spares a small, commiserating smile. It does not calm you.

"If I take my hand off your mouth, you gonna stay quiet?"

You're nodding before you can even think it through, surprising yourself when your new found freedom only draws rapid pants from you instead of screams for help. 

"There's a good girl," John rumbles, lips still pressed close to your ear. His voice is low like oncoming thunder, and despite yourself, the next shudder that racks your body isn't entirely fear based. He's got a mustache of some sort, bristles soft where they press against the shell of your ear. You were set up for failure, really.

"Can you get off me?" You mean it to sound pricklier, blame it on all the hyperventilating when your voice comes out breathy.

John huffs, breath warm as it fans down your neck. He's wearing some sort of armored vest from the feel of it, but you can still feel the abs of his lower belly jump with his laughter. "What's your name, darlin'?" You don't answer him at first, still weighing whether or not you believe him. "How 'bout 'flower', hm? Look like one out here in all these colors."

"A buttercup, in those wellies," Kyle agrees and you side eye him, for the first time noticing how upsettingly handsome he is under all that grease paint. Full, pretty lips and the kind of big soft cow eyes that always turn you to putty. If you find out the man on top of you is also handsome, you're toast.

"Right, those bloody boots." John's weight shifts off you a bit and you try to scramble forward. You make it maybe an inch before he plants a wide palm on your back and pushes you back to the ground. "Hold still, flower," he rumbles and you're helpless but to comply as he kicks at your boots with his own. You ask why he's stripping you but he ignores the question, reaching back to snatch up your discarded shoes instead. "Clear?" he asks, and Kyle takes a minute to swing his scope around.

"Far as I can tell."

And then John tosses your boots into the nearby brook with an unceremonious plop.

"Hey!" you gripe, only to be silenced by John's hand clamped over your mouth again. 

His voice is sterner now when he speaks, the low murmuring from before replaced with a harsh grumble. "Hush now petal, we have to be quiet. Look at me, yeah?"

You regret it the second you do. Like Kyle, John's covered in leaves and debris and greasepaint. His eyes glint menacingly from the depths of the shadow cast by his low brim, his chops a thatch of hair only distinguishable from the mass of brush that covers him by the fact it's too well-kept. He looks like a swamp thing. He looks like the earth itself come to swallow you whole.

"I'm gonna take my hand away now, but you're going to be a good little flower and stay quiet, yeah?" You nod. His grip is so strong on your jaw that you drag his hand along with you. When he calls you a good girl this time, you can't help but melt into the grass beneath you. John seems to take your laxness for acceptance of your situation and he squeezes the nape of your neck when he pulls his hand away to set about erecting some sort of tiny telescope. He murmurs to you as he works, voice gone back to the quiet, calming rumble from before. 

"I can't get off you because you're not wearing appropriately camouflaged clothes. Even if I were to strip you of this fucking cardi, you'd still stand out like a sore thumb. That's why the wellies had to go in the stream. No good place to hide 'em." You frown back toward the brook, watch as one of your shoes goes bobbing along out of sight. The other probably sank already.

"My car's too far away to walk barefoot."

"I'll carry you," John suggests casually. He's got his little scope established now and when he lowers his eye to it, his cheek sits flush against yours. "This position is shite," he grumbles.

Kyle hums in agreement. When he speaks, his voice is teasing. "We could carry petal here back up on the hill."

"Watch it," John warns. Kyle doesn't so much as smirk. Their talk turns mostly technical after that, muttering about degrees and cardinal directions, calculating inclines. You let it wash over you in favor of contemplating your predicament. 

You trust they're military, at least. Kinda hard to fake the funk to this extent. That fact doesn't necessarily soothe you, but knowing this about them is at least better than knowing nothing about them. You suppose it doesn't matter either way though, as there's not a whole lot you can do to get yourself out of here if the way John bears down on you every time you try to wriggle out is any indication. Sometimes he breathes soothing words against your cheek. Most times, he just ignores you.

They slip into silence eventually, which makes the long, boring minutes drag even worse. You know enough to figure this is a sniper mission which means it's possible you'll be here a while, but that doesn't make you physically prepared for it. You check the positioning of the sun from time to time, but frown when you find it unchanged. You tell yourself it's only because you don't actually know how to gauge time like this.

You crack after what feels like an hour but is probably only fifteen minutes. "What are you guys supposed to be doing here, anyway?"

"Classified." John's eye is still glued to his scope, barely giving you the time of day. 

Should've figured. "Aren't I going to see it unfold anyway?"

"Might not." You're not quite sure what that means, but something about the tone makes you nervous.

"Are we gonna be here all day?"

"Hot date?" Kyle's also still glued to his scope, but something about his tone is less dismissive so you latch on.

"Yes, actually."

Finally, a break from contact as John pulls away from his scope to look at you. There's a spot of paint missing just above the trim line of his beard and your stomach flips in guilty excitement when you realize it might have transferred to your skin. Of course he ruins it, "In a fuschia cap?"

"I'll have you know I made that cap," you squawk and John only needs to twitch his mustache at you to get you to shut up. He may also raise a brow. Hard to tell under the low angle of his brim.

It's Kyle who apologizes. "It's a lovely hat, flower."

John grumbles while you thank his friend, returns to his scope as he mutters about it still not being good date attire.

"I was going to change first." You're not sure why you care what either of them think of your date outfit, but you do what the record to show you're capable of dressing sexy when needed.

"What you're wearing now looks nice." Kyle's cadence is complementary, but it's the same tone he had used to pick on John earlier so you know he's referring to the absence of one cap and a pair of silly wellies.

Well, you can be quippy, too. "Think I'm currently wearing your boss."

Both men laugh. Kyle takes his eye off the scope to take in the spectacle on his left for the first time since setting up. "Like I said, looks good on you," he winks.

"Eyes on the prize, Gaz."

"Were, sir." Kyle - Gaz?- cackles when you have at him, but ducks back to his scope and you huff, already bored again.

John notes your frustration and decides to make it worse. "Might not make your date, flower. At this rate we'll be here all night."

"'Course," you mutter, tucking a bit of bramble more thoroughly into the netting that adorns the sleeve in front of you. "First date I land in months, and then comes you lot."

"Sure he'll understand." John sounds distracted. When you glance at him, he's staring down at the way you're weaving into his equipment.

"He'll understand I got pinned under an army sniper?"

"Could tell him you got laid up with -."

"Shouldn't you be keeping quiet, sergeant?"

"Sorry, sir."

You glance between the two of them, but they're both resolute in their professional silence now. You sigh again, folding your arms under yourself to rest your head on. 

A moment passes. Another.

"Got a fox in my shot."

"Two o'clock?"

"There 'bouts, yeah."

"Saw 'im poking 'round a moment ago."

You nearly knock John's chin with how quickly you raise your head. "I wanna see."

"Hush," John instructs dismissively. 

You huff, and then remember you don't need him anyway. Wriggling your hips what little you can, you feel the hard cylinder of your lens press against your right thigh and you squirm around until you can feel it under your fingers.

"What're you doin?" John's lifted slightly off you, but you think it's a move probably rooted more in curiosity than an actual desire to make your task easier. Still, you'll take it.

Grinning triumphantly, you pull your camera up until it rests next to John's tripod and then frown, dejected, when you spot the snap halfway up the barrel. "Must've fell on it," you pout.

John is unsympathetic. His hand is big enough to encase the whole unit when he grabs it, flinging camera and all into the stream with another disheartening splash. 

Your cry dies in your throat this time, the fight gone out of you. When you slump back onto your arms dejectedly, John pats your elbow. "Material could've caught the light, flower. Had to be done."

You pout anyway. "Bloody expensive."

"I'll buy you a new one."

"You will, cap? Or will the service?"

"You will, if you don't shut up." 

"Wouldn't mind. Get 'er a real nice one. Anything you've had your sights on recently, buttercup?" 

"Don't have my sights on anything, currently," you snark and you can practically feel John roll his eyes. 

"Christ, here." He fiddles with the device a bit, then leans back enough he can guide your face up to the viewfinder. You keep a squeal of delight bottled in your throat when John's hand lingers over your jaw, reminding you how you need to keep quiet.

You watch the fox happily for a moment, content to let the boy's low conversation wash over you as you let this new amusement pass the time. Except then the fox wanders out of frame and when you move the scope in order to follow, you only seem to muck it up more. 

"Give me that," John grumbles, not unkindly. You slump back down anyway, like a child.

"Forearms, cap," Gaz drawls and you see John peel away from his scope long enough to look down at you. He grunts in acknowledgement, fiddles with his tripod, and then lowers himself even further onto you, wrapping one scraggy arm around your own to block you in completely.

It's so much worse. John runs hot, apparently, and without the breeze on your face at least, you're sweaty within minutes; or maybe hours, hard to tell. 

You've nothing better to do so you try synching your breathing with John's, thinking maybe that's the secret to his seemingly infinite patience. It's hard work, though, his breaths somehow both shallow and slow, and you wind up counting them instead to pass the time. 

Eight sets of one hundred later, Gaz breaks the silence with a low murmur which may as well be an explosion with how much it startles you out of your reverie. 

"Gotta piss." 

Your voice is floaty when you complain, head wobbling up to eye him. "Ew." 

John's stern chastising Kyle, calm when he brushes his lips against your ear. "Quiet, sergeant. Go back under, petal." You hum in agreement, duck into his arm, count his breaths again.

You lose track after another five hundred, content yourself to feel the warmth of him contrast with the cool damp of the soil underneath you. You remember the sight he makes above you, a rolling crest of greenery pulling you under. You blame your sleepy state when you begin to fantasize about it like some old myth; Hades collecting his dues. When he does speak again it's low enough you're not sure it actually comes from above you, half convinced you're hearing the movement of tectonic plates deep below instead. He sounds pissy though, despite his low, soothing tone, and you try to blink yourself into wakefulness, peering around to find Kyle unloading his gun with distractingly deft fingers.

"What's wrong?" You ask, dumbly, and John drops his hand from his radio back to your shoulder, rubbing at you with a heavy, steady hand. 

"Nothing, flower." To Gaz he adds, "Liked him better when he was dead,"

Gaz side eyes him, begins to load his gun back up. "Say the word, cap." His voice is so serious you only figure he's joking when John puffs a laugh across your cheek. 

You watch as John disassembles his own equipment, the weight of him almost fully pressing down on you now that both his arms are raised and busy. It's strange but you're almost sad it's over; it had been oddly relaxing, tucked away underneath him.

"You awake yet?"

"Wasn't asleep." He keeps pulling away from you, but the ground is cold so you get your hands underneath yourself and push up, following.

"Right. You ready to get up, then?"

John's movements are still slow and heavy. When you nod, he levers himself up to a kneeling position, wraps his hands around your tummy to bring you up as well. He sits there a minute while tucking various tools and things into his pockets and placing your cap back on your head. It takes you a moment to realize the way he's seated has him straddling your calves. He doesn't seem to mind how you lean back into his chest. 

"What time is it?" 

"Still hoping to make your date?" Gaz teases. He gets his equipment settled and holds out a hand to you to help you stand. When your feet catch on John's big boots, the captain steadies you with a hand on your back.

You'd nearly forgotten about the mousey little man who would likely be left waiting for you downtown. He doesn't hold much appeal anymore but you lie anyway and tell Gaz yes.

"More bad luck there, petal," John commiserates. His voice should be further away now that he's not laying on you, surely? When you turn you find him standing far too close, somehow seeming even larger now despite no longer crushing you into the ground. Gaz is tall too, you note, and between the two of them in their ghillies, you imagine you look like some illustration from a fairytale book: the barefoot maid and her two elements, maybe. It's silly, distracting, which is why you've already forgotten what he's talking about when John continues, "'fraid you still got debrief to sit through." 

"Huh?" You ask stupidly, and then yip when John throws you over his shoulder.

"Debrief. Could take all night," Gaz winks. "Looks like you're ours for the evening, flower."

"Oh. Well, you do still owe me a camera."

Gaz laughs, neat white teeth splitting his face in a handsome smile. "That's right, and cap here owes you some boots."

"Any color you want, flower," John agrees.

next>>

[sweetsweetjellybean]

A quiet evening in, having drinks with your boyfriend and his roommate leads to a tempting proposal.

Part 1 of 2? WC: 1367 TW: kissing, voyeurism, alcohol

Sugar and smoke cling to your tongue as a frozen fire burns in the back of your throat. Warmth spreads inside you, sending a shiver to your skin. Lip gloss coats the rim of the tall shot glass when you place it on the scarred coffee table next to the bell-shaped bottle. Your tongue collects the remnants from your lips as you lean back, melting into the lean chest of your boyfriend behind you.

“I don’t know how you two drink that stuff,” Steve grimaces, rotating the crystal tumbler full of whiskey in his hand. His other arm is wrapped around your waist, his big hand splayed high on your thigh, toying with the edge of your skirt where you sit with one leg tucked beneath the other.

The dim light from the lamp casts a golden hue through the living room, accentuating the haze of the evening. Eddie, sprawled out on your other side, smirks as he watches you. His dark eyes glint with amusement and something else—something that has your stomach clenching.

“‘Cuz it tastes like candy,” you explain, leaning forward to run your thumb over the plump bottom lip of the chocolate-eyed boy, brushing off a gold flake only to have the wet tip of his tongue peek out and chase your finger.

Steve’s skeptical snort vibrates against your back.

“It’s not so bad,” Eddie murmurs, voice low and steady, as his unwavering gaze holds yours. Your inhale is sharper than usual, and his eyes flicker away, dropping to the floor before searching the room.

"Don't listen to him." Steve's lips are warm on your ear. "He never drank that shit before I started bringing you home." He places a kiss on your temple before trailing his lips lower, tilting your head to find the spot that has your toes curling into the carpet.

A moan so soft it’s barely above a whisper finds its way past your lips. Eddie's gaze snaps back to you. His eyes flare as he smooths his palm down his jean-covered thigh.

Heat rises from your neck to your cheeks, not entirely due to Steve or the liquor. You clear your throat with a shallow breath. “Well, I like having someone to take shots with me.” Leaning forward, you reach for the bottle, dislodging Steve’s lips as you fill the two glasses to the brim.

You nudge the other glass toward Eddie, looking up at him from under your lashes. The way his stare follows your movements has a shy smile tugging at your lips.

A huff comes from behind you. “Not that we mind you third-wheeling it, Munson, but it might be nice if you had a date every once in a while,” Steve says, downing the rest of his glass.

When you first met the roommates at a bar on campus, it was Eddie who was the shameless flirt. But after a few weeks, it hadn't amounted to anything. So when Steve asked you out, it was an easy yes. A few months later, and Eddie still hasn't brought anyone home. Steve has mentioned a time or two that he still isn't over the last girl who broke his heart.

Eddie scoffs, rolling his eyes as he reaches for the glass. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll work on that,” he mutters, his fingers brushing yours briefly as he takes the shot.

“I’m serious man…”

A sour taste fills your mouth and you down your shot hoping the cinnamon will overpower its bitterness. 

“We were just talking about it the other day. It would be nice to see you with someone new. Instead of sitting around here shooting brooding looks at the plant.” Steve gestures at the potted fern you brought over a few weeks ago. 

“I don’t brood.” Eddie places his glass back on the table with a little more force than necessary. 

“Dude, you're like the poster child for 80’s rock ballads. Look, we just want to see you happy. Isn’t that right, angel?”

“Yeah,” you breathe, meeting his gaze, “I want you to be happy, Eddie.”

The look he gives you in return is heavier than you can hold. Your eyes lower to your hands twisting in your lap. “Isn’t there anyone you like?”

The air is trapped in your lungs while you wait for him to answer.

“No.” His reply is quiet but firm, making you swallow hard.

“Well, maybe it’s time to–” Steve makes a clicking sound with his tongue, “–Get back on the horse. Stop waiting on Miss Right and find Miss Right Now.”

“Yeah.” Eddie’s shoulders slump as his gaze drifts, “Maybe you’re right.”

“I know I am. We’ve all been there before. All you need is a little confidence boost,” Steve’s hand squeezes your thigh, “Maybe you can help him out, angel?”

Eddie’s mouth drops open as he sucks in a breath. Your head whips around, eyes impossibly wide as you stare at Steve.

“What?” Steve asks his face the picture of innocence. “Oh,” he says after a moment, the light in his eyes turning on. “I meant maybe you could introduce him to one of your friends.”

Your shoulders relax, but tension still simmers in your stomach. Eddie clears his head with a shake, a quiet chuckle escaping his throat as he reaches for the bottle.

“I mean unless you two were up for it,” Steve throws out, leaning closer.

Eddie freezes his knuckles turning white as he grips the bottle. 

“Steve!!” You react the way a nice girl should but shock doesn't explain the heat pooling low in your belly or the dampness in your underwear. 

“You told me you think he's‐” 

You muffle Steve's next words by slapping your hand over his mouth, but he pries your fingers off and turns to Eddie, “She thinks you're hot.”

“I said cute,” you correct, but the clarification doesn’t stop Eddie’s lashes from lowering bashfully or the rose blooming on his cheeks.

“Same thing,” Steve grips your chin, turning your face towards him. “And anyone with eyes can see how beautiful you are. I’ll never forget how damn lucky I am to have you.”

His mouth is an irreverent caress of lips and tongue that has your heart swelling. Your thumb traces the twin freckles on his cheek, his hazel eyes lit up with warmth for you that he's never attempted to hide.

“So let me get this straight,” Eddie's gravelly voice cuts through the moment. “You, Steve Harrington, are offering for me to make out with your girlfriend?”

“You're my best friend, dude. I trust you. Besides,” His index and middle finger run along the bare skin of your arm, raising goosebumps in their wake. “I've always liked to watch.”

“You've never told me that,” you can't hide the surprise in your voice.

“You never asked,” he replies with a wink. He searches your face as his fingers continue their journey, lightly tracing your collarbone, down the swell of your breast, and over the hard outline of your nipple. “There are so many things I want to do with you. We haven't even scratched the surface.”

In the span of a breath, you’re clutching at the front of his shirt, your lips crashing together in a way that’s only happened behind closed doors. One hand tangles in your hair, heavy breaths and the wet sounds of your mouths fill your ears. His other hand seems to be everywhere, leaving little fires under your skin.

Eyelids heavy, you follow his hands as he turns your jaw toward Eddie. “Look at him, angel. He wants you. Don’t you, Eddie?”

Eddie’s dark eyes are almost black, his pupils blown wide, a flush heating his skin. “Yes,” he admits, loosening his grip on the couch to run a hand through his hair. “Fuck.” He looks away, then his gaze locks with yours. “I do. I want you.”

The flames in you rise, chasing the butterflies into taking flight. Your breath catches, lips parting.

“It’s your decision,” Steve’s lips are at your ear. “You say no and it all stops. It’s over. Forgotten. Just say the word and we’ll give you anything you want.”

Eddie sits with tension pulling his shoulders tight, the muscles in his neck cording. His lip is caught between his teeth, his expression unguarded, eyes a silent plea, hoping not to regret his confession.

The solitary word crystallizes on your tongue, the sweetness of your drink turning it sticky, making it impossible to pass your lips.

The static charge freezes the air. Steve's fingers tease under the edge of your shirt, drawing circles on your hip. His question is soft but insistent. “So, angel, what’s it going to be?”

Thanks for reading! Let me know if you want a second part. Torn's chapters are just so big, I wanted a break with something short and sweet.

[libbyfandom]

Mizu's Little Shadow

You finish sewing the tear in your daughter's small kimono, tugging the end into a knot and snipping off the excess. You hold up the piece of clothing to your eye level and shake it out. "Little moon, come here," you call for her as you inspect it. It looks well, but you want her to try it on to see if your stitch will hold up to her energetic movements.

When you don't hear the patter of you six year old's little feet you call her again. No answer. Standing up from the chair, you stretch your back with a soft grimace as you walk to the bedroom where she last was. You do not find her.

You search the small house before quickly turning to set the kimono down and head outside to look for her. Maybe Mizu had spotted her running around while she's training.

As soon as you slide open the back door your hear your daughter's voice. She's making little grunts and huffs like she's straining herself, and you worry she's trying to climb the tree next to the house again. Bunching the bottom of your kimono in hand, you follow her voice and hurry from the south end of the house back around to the front.

But when you round the corner of the house, you're surprised to find she's not failing to scramble up the base of the trunk. She's several meters past it, stumbling around and kicking out as her eyes follow Mizu a way's away from the house near the tree line.

Her tiny green haori is dirtied, dirt clumped in patches at her shoulder and sides where she's fallen on the ground several times already. Before you can call out to her, she trips and falls into the dirty hands first. With the childish grunt of irritation and determination, she pushes herself back up. She sets her eyes on Mizu again, settling her feet in the same way your lover has hers and mirrors the rhythm of her steps. She holds her tiny hand out like she's grasping at a heavy sword.

She's copying Mizu's training movements.

A soft laugh of surprise quietly slips from under your breath as your eyes warm from this new discovery. You lean against the tree trunk and tilt your head at her to soak in this new development of your child.

Your little girl's mirroring of Mizu's slow, methodical twists and parries with her sword are adorably wobbly. Compared to Mizu's balanced, fluid motions that showcase her mastery of each movement, your little moon's dance is closer to flailing. Your hand covers your repressed giggle as your eyes brighten at her stumbling feet.

Your fingertips gently rest against your lips as your eyes follow the line from her to Mizu. The way she's moving taps at your mind, causing a soft furrow between your eyebrows. Isn't that her warm up exercises?

Mizu's never done those this late into the afternoon. She would be focused on slicing through trees during this time on any other day. And you know how long she's been out. She can't possibly still be focused on her balance and fine-tuning the flow of movement. So why...?

On the next turn, from farther away, Mizu rotates on her heel and ends up facing you as she mimics a block. Her blue eyes catch yours, and she quirks her eyebrows up at you with a knowing smile.

When your daughter's foot slides a little on the dirt, and she hops on one foot to get back into position, that's when Mizu just so happens to pause her movements. Her slowed motions only resume when your daughter finds her footing again.

Oh...

Your heart sings, unable to help the pure expression of love and adoration for the both of them from flowing from your face.

Later in the night, after you both put your little moon to bed, you press yourself up tight against Mizu in the candlelight, sealing your lips to hers as you cup her face.

"I really did give birth to your clone."

Mizu chuckles quietly, pressing her lips back into yours. "She really thought I couldn't spot her in the middle of a clearing."

She brushes her lips along your cheekbone. "I can train her, if you wish."

You chuckle. "Maybe further down the line. If she's anything like you, she wants to think she's being sneaky and doing something she shouldn't be." You push her away playfully, before you're snatched around the waist. The room tilts as you're pinned down to the bed with a squeal by a beautiful swordsman grinning devilishly.

[shockmastervoidstate]

The pre-void state vs the real void state — differences, how to enter the real void state and my experience yesterday

Hey, void explorers, there are a couple of things I want to talk about regarding the void state.

Pre-void state vs the real void state — key differences

When you attempt to achieve the void state or shift realities, you might experience typical symptoms which could be confused with the void state.

These include: feelings of rotating, floating, flying or falling through empty space, often while seeing stars and galaxies or other lights and often while hearing buzzing sounds, wind noises, voices, music or other sounds.

Shifters and void explorers used to falsely believe that this is the void state, but it's not. If you experience the symptoms above, you are close and "get a taste" of the void, but you aren't there yet.

There is no failure and no randomness in the void state. If you shift from the void, you are guaranteed to end up exactly in the reality you want to be in.

In the void, there is also no movement and nothing to hear or see — unless you intend(ed) to manifest these things in the void.

It's also impossible to shift back to the CR involuntarily, because when you are in the void, you achieved a complete detachment and separation from your CR and your CR body.

The same cannot be said about the pre-void state. In this state, you haven't fully detached/separated from your CR yet.

You can manifest and shift from the pre-void state, but success isn't guaranteed.

In fact, when I shift from the pre-void state, I usually end up in random realities and can only stay there for a couple of minutes to a couple of hours.

How to enter the real void state from the pre-void state

Use any of the community's methods or your own method to shift or enter the void state.

If you end up in the pre-void state, here's how to enter the real void state. This information is from successful shifters on amino, reddit and Tumblr.

When you are in the pre-void state, keep doing your method and ignore the symptoms. (If your method is no longer relevant, repeat affirmations like "I am in the void state" or or simply "I am")

Ignore the floating, the sounds, the sights, the sensations. Don't react to anything.

Instead, keep going until you are in the real void. Try not to get excited. This will be easy once you've experienced the pre-void many times.

You can try to shift to your DR from the pre-void state, but as I explained, success from shifting from the pre-void isn't guaranteed.

My experience yesterday

Enough of the lecturing, it's story time. I practiced what I preached yesterday.

Yesterday evening, before going to bed, I relaxed and repeated affirmations like "I can enter the void state", "entering the void state is easy" etc.

Did this for one and a half hour and got rewarded for my efforts the following day.

When I went to sleep, I just repeated the affirmation "I am" over and over again until I fell asleep.

I had a random dream and at a random point, I fell through the floor, became conscious of myself and experienced the pre-void state.

Had all the symptoms I talked about. I felt like flying through a black space and saw a white galaxy like the Milky Way ahead.

Kept repeating "I am".

...

Despite my best efforts, I woke up in the CR.

It was still a nice experience. I feel refreshed, because even the pre-void state is therapeutic thanks to the freedom and limitlessness it allows you to experience for a very brief moment.

I'm taking a break today and will attempt to achieve the void state tomorrow. I did a good job of ignoring very invasive distractions I encountered in the pre-void, including voices. Next time, I will do even better.

-shockmaster

[seriouslysnape]

Morning Shift

Dad! Severus Snape x Mom! Fem! Reader x Baby Tags: Fluff. Sev being a good dad. Reader getting rest she deserves <3. Baby being a cutie. Word Count: 2.0k "I didn't mean to oversleep."

☾☾☾☾

☾☾☾☾

It was quite rare for you to have the chance to sleep in.

Even before the baby was born, you were pretty much up and going by dawn every day. It made you feel more productive to get up early and get the day started before the sun even had the chance to fully rise.

An occasional Saturday or Sunday would roll around where neither you nor Severus were in any rush to get up and moving. Those were during the slower weeks of the year, usually during the summer when Severus wasn't teaching and your work wasn't as demanding.

But after the baby was born, those occasional lazy weekend days had become pretty much obsolete. The mornings and nights had become less hectic as your newborn transitioned into an infant, and she was on somewhat of a sleeping schedule. However, when the baby was up, so were you.

Severus gave his fair share of helping out with the baby at all times of the day, but typically, Severus tended to her the most in the evenings. Severus usually fed her dinner, bathed her, and prepared her for her early bedtime.

It wasn't intentional really, but the two of you fell into a routine where you handled the mornings, the two of you rotated off during the day, and Severus handled the evenings/nights. Severus would help anytime when needed, but for the most part, that was the best arrangement.

On one particular weekend morning, however, the routine was different.

Severus awoke to a quiet house. There wasn't the sound of his wife stirring in the kitchen, preparing breakfast for him and the baby who would no doubt be babbling for her breakfast.

He felt a presence in the bed next to him, a gentle warmth coming from it as well. He was surprised to see you were still asleep, bundled up in the covers as comfortable as could be.

The warm glow of the newly risen sun beamed through the windows of the bedroom, spilling over your back that was facing the glass. He watched you only for a moment, pushing some stray hairs from your eyes and pulling the covers higher on you to keep you toasty.

It made his heart swell to see you getting some extra rest on your day off, and he made it his mission to let you sleep as long as possible. He was more than happy to be on baby duty that morning and a change of routine was a bit exciting.

The clock on his bedside table read 7:12 a.m. which did alarm him briefly. It was twelve minutes past the baby's usual wake up time, which meant either she was getting some extra sleep as well, or she was storming mad that no one had come to pick her up to begin her day.

Severus was quiet as he crept out of bed, his footfalls quiet as he exited your bedroom to enter the baby's room just next door. Severus always left the baby's nursery door slightly cracked in the event the baby needed something during the night or woke up earlier than usual.

He pushed the door open gently, a burst of sunlight painting the hallway. The room was perfectly warm for a January morning, a vast difference from the bitter cold on the outside.

He glanced at the crib, seeing some movement in the crib. She was squirming excitedly, happy that someone was finally coming to get her up for the day.

She was awake, but not agitated in the slightest that no one had come to get her yet. She was content to lie in her crib for a little while, the charmed mobile above her crib keeping her entertained. She couldn't have been awake for very long, considering it was only a few minutes after her usual wake up time.

Severus approached her crib with a gentleness that few knew he possessed. His dark eyes, so often narrowed with sternness, softened when they gazed upon his child.

"Good morning, darling." He smiled, reaching down to pick up the cooing baby.

His daughter smiled back at him with a sleepy grin and sluggish eyes, but held an expression of confusion as to why her mother wasn't there to wake her like usual.

"Not expecting me this morning, hm?" He asked, which only returned a yawn from his daughter. "We'll let Mum sleep in this morning. She deserves it."

The eight-month-old only babbled in response, mouthing at Severus' shoulder through his T-shirt. You and Severus were pretty sure she had some teeth coming in based on the fact that she wanted to chew on everything.

Usually you dressed the baby as the first step of her morning routine, but it was the weekend so she would more than likely be home for the majority of the day. Severus opted to leave her in her pajamas for now, which she had no protests with.

She was rather clingy today, her tiny hands grabbing for him to pick her up again once she was dressed. She knew that if anyone in the world would pick her up whenever she wished, I was Severus.

Severus struggled with leaving her when she wanted to be picked up. You had been telling Severus for the last month or so that it is indeed okay to let her sit on her own as long as she's being supervised. She was beginning to work towards crawling, and you knew the only way she was ever going to learn to crawl was if she had the chance to be on the ground.

But Severus couldn't resist his daughter's grabby hands and beaming eyes. He spoiled the little girl, and he just couldn't tell her no.

He whisked her down the stairs, smiling at her giggles when he pressed a kiss to her temple.

Severus knew it was time for breakfast, and he knew that she was going to get fussy if he didn't get her fed soon. He slipped her into her highchair, her legs wiggling as she squirmed with anticipation.

"What would you like for breakfast, princess?" He asked, only receiving an interested stare in response. "I know you like eggs...and I think Mum picked up some fruit yesterday."

Severus turned and surveyed the inside of the fridge, studying its contents to make a decision. She was getting impatient, whining and babbling for Severus to hurry up. She was on a specific schedule, and her late wake up time had her about fifteen minutes behind.

Severus went with his suggestion on the premise that eggs and fruit were a safe option. She wasn't terribly picky, but since this wasn't her usual routine, he figured giving her something that he knew she liked was best.

Severus selected a few eggs from the fridge, deciding to cook them all and divide the portion appropriately between himself, you, and the baby. He knew it wouldn't be long before you were up, so he got started on getting a pot of coffee brewed as well.

With a wave of his wand, the stove ignited and began cooking the eggs in a pan while he worked on getting some fruit mashed up for her.

"Strawberries or a banana?" He asked her, who was more interested in dancing in her chair than picking which fruit she wanted.

Severus was certain that she hadn't eaten strawberries before. He took a chance and went with the strawberries, retrieving a few and getting them smushed enough to be suitable for baby consumption. He plated the eggs once they were cooked,

He pulled up a chair to her highchair, holding the tiny baby spoon and bowl in his hand to begin feeding her baby spoonfuls of her breakfast.

She made a noise of approval with the strawberries, barely even swallowing before motioning for more. For an eight-month-old, she was a fantastic eater and would try nearly anything.

Your daughter giggled, her eyes sparkling with the sight of her dad in front of her. Severus couldn't help but feel a tug at his heartstrings. This was a side of him that no one else got to see, a side reserved only for his precious little one.

He felt so incredibly lucky to have a child. He felt even more blessed to raise her and love her in the ways he never was. He wasn't a perfect father by any means, but he made it his personal mission to never give her a reason to think of him as a bad father.

When her noises slowed and she hesitated to take any more bites of food, Severus stopped feeding her and began cleaning up. Slowly but surely, she was fed to satisfaction -- and Severus managed to fill himself up by getting bites in between feeding her.

Her face and shirt was painted with stains of sticky red from the strawberries, but she was happy as a clam and not at all concerned about the fact that she would most certainly need a bath.

Severus stood at the sink, letting her entertain herself while he arranged the dishes to be washed. When she gave a particularly joyous squeal, he knew that she had spotted something that she liked.

You were up now, standing in the doorway of the kitchen just freshly awake.

"Good morning, you two." You spoke gently, still clad in your sleepwear from the night before.

Severus turned, grinning at you with a small pink tint in his cheeks.

"Good morning, darling. We've just had breakfast." He smiled at you, his wife who he adored so dearly.

"I see that. You should've woke me up," You said. "I didn't mean to oversleep."

"Nonsense, darling. You needed the rest, and I am perfectly capable of taking on breakfast," He said. "I...assumed eggs and fruit were a safe choice."

"Oh, yeah. That's perfect," You approached the highchair, using your fingers to swipe some of her bed head hair to the side. "Looks like the strawberries were a hit." You laughed, noting the stains of red on her pink pajama shirt.

"Yes...sorry about that, my love." He blushed.

"I needed to do laundry today anyways," You smiled, not irritated in the slightest. "She'll be grown out of it soon."

A slight pang in Severus' chest made him go quiet for a moment. She was growing so fast that he couldn't even believe it. In four short months, she was going to be a year old. To think that it had been almost a year since she was born completely blew his mind. Next thing he knew, she would be starting her first day at Hogwarts and getting sorted into her House.

For now, he was enjoying her infant stage of life. Just as he had cherished the newborn phase, and how he would the toddler stage and beyond.

"I say it's time for a bath." You lifted her from her highchair, laughing again at how sticky she was.

"I can handle it," Severus said, turning the sink faucet off. "Might as well finish her morning routine."

"Are you sure?" You asked, feeling a bit guilty that he was taking on your usual morning duties.

"Absolutely," He grinned, taking her from you and turning his attention to her. "Mum will read you your bedtime story and put you to bed tonight. Does that work?"

She only hummed, clearly content with the arrangement they had going on today.

"Thank you, Sev." You said, thanking him for being so attentive and letting you sleep in for a bit.

"Oh, darling, it was nothing," He pressed a kiss to your forehead. "Why don't you have breakfast and coffee while I get her ready for the day?"

Sure enough, Severus had a plate and a cup of coffee ready to go for you, a charm casted to keep the coffee hot and the food warm.

"The day where we have nothing planned?" You grinned, and Severus chuckled.

"Exactly."

And to Severus, a Saturday with nothing to do was perfect. In a lot of ways, nothing was everything when you and the baby were around.

His family (albeit small) was everything he ever needed.

[jolalibrary]

Just read your Soft!Frankie. How do you think Joel would be? I love your work. Thanks.

omg anon, okay, so I did quickly converse with my pal, @swiftispunk to clarify my thoughts. but here goes (hope this is okay)—for this you’re ill/have a cold.

soft!joel miller x reader (pre-outbreak)

the house is quiet. the sound of the pipes coming to life groaning in the walls is the first thing which stirs you.

your head is still full, heavy, as your eyes flutter open. then, you’re aware of how your throat still burns, worse than yesterday. more or less like you’d swallowed glass.

the rest follows suit, the sniff returning, the ache in your cheeks. the cold not improving but rather worsening overnight. it proves your point when you move, dizziness adding itself to your list of ailments—blurring your vision, making you even more thankful for declining the overtime, happy to be home and not behind a desk.

you reach out, greeted by cool sheets as the fan on the dresser groans as it performs another rotation.

and you don’t want to rise, but you also do. you want to see him, curl into him. but, you take your time in rising, all slow in your movements, using the bathroom and dressing in nothing but him when you’re done. you hope he won’t mind, maybe even like it as you pull on some of his sweats, grabbing a pair of his work-boot socks before heading downstairs.

he only murmurs your name softly at the sight of you—likely spotting your glassy eyes, and puffy cheeks from the cold making a home in you. you look at him, watching his lips tug up into one cheek when he spots the clothing, brows furrowing before they flatten, and you step closer, palm flat to his cheek as you wipe the crumbs.

and it’s soft, tender. him kissing your wrist before he mumbles about making you a drink. something warm. even adding honey—sarah’s orders before tommy took her to soccer practice. and you smile, hovering, shifting from side to side before he motions for you to get comfy under a blanket, keep warm, grunting: y’shouldn’t even be up.

your feet shuffle into the next room, seating yourself in your usual spot, tugging the blanket up and over—glancing at the coffee table, the magazine you’d grabbed Sarah and the array of coins from Joel emptying his pocket last night, all upon letters and papers—a mess, but a welcomed one. it’s home, a place you’d trade everything to be in.

when he joins you he’s clutching a mug, steam swirling up from it as he briefly places it down, a thud in the quiet before he settles down next to you. you watch as he wipes his hand on his jeans, before he places the back of his hand to your forehead. eyes narrowed, knitted in concern—

“still burnin’ up.”

you know. the sweat peppering your spine tells you as much, but you just lean into him. resting your head, finding no protest, only him moving to get more comfortable as he picks up and rests the mug on his knee—occasionally handing it to you, telling you to take a sip f’me.

and you do.

because it’s simple, easy. both the act and this thing with him. a thing he wasn’t sure he could give you if you remember correctly, yet he does it without trying.

“don’t fall asleep on me.”

he says it, even knowing you will. your head nodding, a sniff punctuating it, and the deep sigh you hear echo through him tells you he knows you’re minutes from doing so—and you’re sure he doesn’t care. most likely even likes it.

your eyes growing heavy, the television sounds slowly lowering in volume as your illness tries to beckon you to sleep. your legs come up, curling more so into him and the couch. feeling his arm move, just ever so slightly come around you, the mug going, finding a home on the table.

it’s only in the place between sleep and awake do you feel it, the slight touch of his fingers on yours. brushing over the tips, calloused palm flattening over your fingertips, trying to remove the chill from them.

and you smile, ever so slightly—and then you sniff before you briefly catch the scent of him. the last thing you needed to be lulled back to sleep.

[azrielandhisshadows]

winter's kiss (5)

pairing: azriel x reader

word count: 3.9k

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4

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“Your wound has healed very well. How have you been doing with your exercises?” Madja asked as she removed the dressings from your shoulder. You rotated your shoulder, wincing slightly from the soreness at the movement.

“The mother hen over there has kept me accountable and made sure I’ve been doing them,” you laughed, shooting a wink at Azriel, who was lounging across the room. He sauntered over with a playful smirk, pressing a feather-light kiss to your forehead.

“I can’t just sit back and let my mate recover alone,” he replied, his voice low and teasing. “You’ve got to feel your absolute best to enjoy everything Velaris has to offer—especially when I’m taking you out.”

A sly smile graced your lips as you raised an eyebrow. “Oh? You’ve been planning on taking me out, have you? What’s on the agenda – a romantic dinner by the river or a moonlight stroll?”

“You’ll have to wait and see,” Azriel said, leaning in, his eyes alight with mischief. “I just needed to be sure you’re strong enough to keep up with me.”

You smirked up at Azriel, placing a quick kiss on his lips. Madja cleared her throat, disrupting the flirtatious air. 

“Well lucky for you, lovebirds, I believe Y/N is ready to start exploring our beautiful city,” She teased, packing her bags with a knowing smile. “Just don’t do anything too crazy, Shadowsinger.”

“Azriel and crazy? Those are two words I never thought I’d hear in the same sentence,” Cassian laughed as he and Rhysand entered the room.

“You’re right, Cas. Madja always has to say that to you when you’re injured,” Rhysand said, elbowing Cassian in the side with a grin

“Hey! That’s not true… it’s not always.” Cassian protested, pouting dramatically as he plopped down next to your bed. “I only get into ‘crazy’ situations when I’m with you two.”

Azriel crossed his arms, a mock-serious expression on his face. “So it’s our fault, then? Good to know.”

“Exactly! You both get me into trouble,” Cassian shot back, a grin breaking through his faux indignation.

Madja finished packing her bags, a satisfied smile on her face. “I don’t believe that for a second, Cassian. Regardless, take it easy, Y/N. Velaris isn’t going anywhere,” she said, giving you a warm look before heading for the door. 

Rhysand nodded to Madja as she left your room, before sitting beside Azriel on your bed. “Y/N, how are you, truly,” he asked, concern etched in his features as Cassian leaned in closer, both of them awaiting your response.

Azriel gently squeezed your thigh, an unspoken reminder of the difficult days that had followed your arrival. You looked into Rhysand’s violet eyes, feeling the weight of their attention and care.

“I’m… okay,” you said slowly, gauging their reactions. “It’s been a lot to process, but everyone has been so supportive and helpful through this adjustment.”

Cassian nodded, his expression softening. “We may have only known you for several days, but you’re important to Azriel… you’re important to all of us. You’re a part of our family now, Y/N.” Azriel and Rhysand both nodded in agreement and tears lined your eyes at the shared sentiment.

“Thank you. It truly means everything to me, especially when the only family I’ve known has been Kallias and Viviane…” Your eyes drifted to your entwined hands, fidgeting your thumbs. “How are they?”

Rhysand exchanged a glance with his brothers. “Mor has been in contact with Viviane since we left. Kallias is not doing well… Viviane says he has resigned to their room and has not been seen in any meetings since their return. He regrets what he’s done very deeply.” 

A knot formed in your stomach at the news. “I miss them,” you murmured, the guilt pressing down on you. “I know I should still be furious with Kallias for what he did, but he’s my brother… I can’t stay mad at him.” 

Cassian leaned closer, his voice steady and reassuring. “It’s okay to feel that way, Y/N. Family is complicated. You can be hurt and still love him. It doesn’t make your feelings any less valid.”

Azriel’s thumb brushed against your thigh, grounding you. “You have every right to feel conflicted. Kallias has been someone you’ve trusted for your entire life, but he betrayed that and you got hurt in the process. As furious as I still am at him for hurting you, if you wish to reach out to him, I will support you.”

You took a deep breath, processing their words. “I think I will. This is the longest I’ve gone without speaking to him since he returned from Under the Mountain. I need to hear what he has to say, but I need to defend myself – and our relationship. I need him to know that I’m not going to ignore what Azriel and I have.”

Rhysand, who had been quietly observing, leaned forward with a thoughtful expression. “If it helps, I can reach out to Kallias and Viviane for you. That way, you won’t have to carry that burden right now, and you and Azriel can enjoy your day without distractions.”

“That sounds like a great idea,” Azriel said, relief evident in his voice.

You smiled, feeling grateful for the support. “Thank you, Rhysand. That would mean a lot to me.”

“Of course,” he replied, his tone warm. “Now, Cassian and I will leave you alone so you two can get your date started.”

Azriel led you over to the balcony attached from your room, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Ready to see Velaris from the sky?”

You hesitated, a knot of nervousness tightening in your stomach. “Um, flying? I’ve never—”

He sensed your hesitation immediately, his expression softening. “Hey, it’s okay. I’ll be right there with you. Just focus on me, alright?”

Taking a deep breath, you nodded, allowing him to wrap an arm around your waist. His warmth was comforting, but the idea of soaring through the air still made your heart race. With a gentle push, he lifted you off the ground, and you felt the world drop away as you rose into the air.

The initial rush of wind against your face sent a jolt of adrenaline through you, and your grip tightened around his waist. Below, Velaris unfolded in a stunning panorama, the twinkling lights reflecting on the river like scattered jewels. But your heart raced not just from the view—it was the height that made you uneasy.

“You’re doing great,” Azriel said, his voice steady. “Just look at me.”

You focused on him, his dark eyes reassuring and filled with warmth. With each beat of your heart, the city below transformed into a breathtaking sight of colors and lights, and you found peace in the beauty surrounding you.

As he glided through the air, you felt the tension in your body start to ease. You began to appreciate the freedom of flying, the rush of the wind mingling with exhilaration. “This is… amazing!” you finally admitted, a smile breaking through your nervousness.

He grinned back at you, clearly pleased. “See? Just let yourself enjoy it.”

With one last swoop, he descended gracefully, landing beside the river that ran through Velaris. The sapphire water sparkled, reflecting the brilliant colors of the city.

“Welcome to the heart of Velaris,” Azriel said, releasing your hand to gesture broadly at the view before you. The river wound its way through rolling hills, flanked by elegant buildings crafted from white marble and warm sandstone.

“It’s breathtaking,” you breathed, taking it all in. The lively atmosphere was infectious, with laughter and music drifting through the air.

“Let me show you the Rainbow,” he suggested, his eyes twinkling with enthusiasm.

Together, you strolled along the riverbank, the sound of water lapping against the shore providing a soothing backdrop. As you approached the artists’ quarter, the streets burst into a riot of color. Buildings were painted in vibrant hues, and murals adorned the walls, each more captivating than the last.

“This place feels alive,” you said, marveling at the creativity surrounding you. Musicians played lively tunes, their melodies intertwining with the laughter of children nearby.

“So, Az… what surprises do you have planned for me?” 

Azriel’s brows shot up in surprise, his eyes widening slightly. “Az?”

You chuckled, a teasing glint in your eye. “What? Is it too familiar? I figured we were past the formalities.”

He shook his head, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “No, it’s just—you’ve never called me Az. It’s… nice.”

You smiled at his response, feeling a warmth spread through you. “Well, I like to think we’ve gotten closer over the past several days. Plus, I don’t think I could call my mate by his full name for the rest of our lives."

Azriel’s expression softened as he leaned a little closer. “I like hearing you talk about our forever…”

You leaned up and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Well, we can talk about it more once you take me to our first stop.”

His laughter rang out, bright and genuine. “Fair enough. Let’s get moving, then.”

With that, he took your hand, intertwining your fingers as you strolled down the vibrant streets of Velaris. The lively atmosphere enveloped you—musicians playing upbeat tunes, the scent of pastries wafting through the air, and colorful murals brightening every corner.

“So, what’s the first stop?” you asked, glancing up at him with curiosity.

“I think you’ll love it. We’re going to a bakery that has the best pastries in all of Velaris.”

“Now you’re speaking my language!” you replied, your excitement bubbling over.

As you approached the bakery, the warm light spilling from the windows and the charming exterior made it feel inviting. Azriel opened the door for you, and you stepped inside, immediately enveloped by the comforting smell of fresh bread and pastries.

“Welcome to my favorite spot,” he said, gesturing around. The bakery was cozy, filled with displays of mouthwatering treats that seemed to glow under the soft lights.

You walked over to the counter, eyes wide with delight. After ordering a selection of pastries, you found a small table by the window, sunlight streaming in and casting a warm glow around you. As you sat across from Azriel, he placed the beautifully decorated plate of pastries in front of you.

“Here you go,” he said, a proud smile on his face. “Dig in!”

You took a bite of the cinnamon roll, and your eyes widened in pure bliss. “This is fantastic!” you exclaimed, savoring the rich flavor.

Azriel’s expression twisted with laughter, “I’m glad you like it.”

He reaches across the table and laces his fingers with yours. “I’ve really enjoyed the time we’ve spent together, Y/N. Selfishly, I don’t want this time to end.”

You looked down at your joined hands, the warmth of his touch sending a delightful shiver up your spine. The intimacy of the moment made your heart flutter. “What if it didn’t have to?”

Confusion graced Azriel’s features, his gaze prompting you to continue.

“I know it may sound rushed, but I’ve really enjoyed our time together too and I can’t imagine leaving you now. Would it be crazy if I said I wanted to stay?”

Azriel’s brows furrowed slightly, and he studied you intently, as if weighing your words. “Stay?” he echoed, a hint of hope brightening his eyes. “You mean… stay in Velaris?”

You nodded, feeling a mix of excitement and vulnerability. “I know it’s sudden, but I feel a connection with you that I can’t ignore. I don’t want to go back to a life without you in it.”

Azriel leaned closer, his grip on your fingers tightening as he searched your eyes for sincerity. “You don’t know how much that means to me, Y/N. I’ve been waiting for my mate for so long, and the thought of you choosing to stay here—it’s everything I’ve dreamed of.”

Your heart swelled at his admission, the weight of his words settling in. “So, you really want me to stay? Here in Velaris, with you?”

“More than anything,” he said, his voice steady and filled with conviction. “This city, it’s beautiful, but it’s even more so with you in it.” 

Your cheeks flushed at his compliment and your mind raced with the possibilities of your future. 

~

As the sun began to set over the Sidra, the lively noises of the Rainbow grew, creating the perfect background for the rest of your conversations. The laughter of the children combined with the vibrant music from the street musicians and the symphony of noises calmed you – it made you feel at home. 

Azriel led you through the busy streets back to the riverfront where you had begun your day. The chill from the river was offset by the warmth of his embrace, a comforting presence that made you feel safe and cherished.

Arriving at the riverbank, you paused to take in the view—the water shimmering under the fading light, the city glowing with warmth and life. “It’s even more beautiful at night,” you murmured, captivated.

Azriel smiled, his eyes reflecting the soft luminescence of the moon. “It truly is. This is one of my favorite places.”

You felt Azriel’s gaze run down your body as you stood admiring the sights of Velaris. He wrapped his arms around your waist and placed a gentle kiss on the crown of your head. “You are so beautiful, Y/N.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, warmth spreading through you as you leaned back into his embrace. The world around you felt like a dream, the sounds of laughter and music blending seamlessly with the soft lapping of the river against the shore.

“As much as I don’t want this night to end, it is getting late. We should head back,” Azriel said, his head dropping  to the crook of your neck and shoulder, leaving a kiss.

You shivered slightly at the sensation, a mix of warmth and lingering magic enveloping you. “Do we have to?” you asked, feigning a pout as you looked up at him.

He chuckled softly, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “I’d keep you here forever if I could, but we wouldn’t want to alarm the others.”

You smiled, knowing he was right. You turned around and wrapped your arms around his shoulders. “Okay, I’m ready.” 

Azriel held onto your hips tightly before flying you to the House of Wind.

~

The two of you landed at the House of Wind and took the last moment of your first date. You exhaled softly, not wanting this moment to end. Azriel brought a hand to your cheek, tucking your wind-blown hair behind your ears. 

You leaned into his touch, feeling the warmth of his hand against your skin. “This has been incredible,” you murmured, looking up into his eyes, which sparkled like the stars above.

“It’s only the beginning,” he replied, his voice low and full of promise. Azriel’s hand reached for yours and he led you inside. As you both entered the dining room, the mood instantly shifted from the joy you and Azriel both felt to a suffocating tension. You looked around the table and saw Rhysand, Cassian, Feyre, Mor, and Amren. A breath caught in your throat as you saw two others that you didn’t expect to see so soon – Kallias and Viviane. At first glance, you hardly recognized your brother. The dark bags underneath his piercing blue eyes made him look like a ghost, his normally vibrant skin pale and drawn. His expression was a mix of weariness and worry, as if he hadn’t slept in days.

Azriel’s hand tightened around your own as he saw your brother sitting across the room. You felt the weight of Kallias’s exhaustion tugging at your heart, the joy of your evening slipping away like sand through your fingers. 

Viviane pulled Kallias from his seat and dragged him over to you, her arms enveloping you in a tight hug that felt both comforting and urgent. “Y/N, I’m so glad you’re okay,” she exclaimed, her voice a mix of relief and concern.

You returned her embrace, feeling the warmth of it and the weight of her concern. As you stepped back, you caught a glance at your brother’s expression – worry and guilt. Kallias fell into your arms, almost knocking you over from his tall stature. You stumbled back, regaining your balance and wrapping your arms around him. 

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. I was so worried about you,” he murmured into your shoulder, his voice muffled but filled with sincerity. Warm tears landed on your exposed shoulder as Kallias whispered his apologies relentlessly. You tightened your grip around him, feeling the weight of his worry wash over you. 

“Kallias, I’m safe,” you whispered, trying to soothe him as he buried his face deeper into your shoulder. “We do need to talk though.”

His body shook slightly as he took a deep breath and stepped back enough to meet your gaze. His once bright blue eyes, now dull, met your own. You motioned toward the balcony, feeling the need for privacy as the weight of the moment settled around you. Kallias nodded, and you led him and Viviane outside, where the cool evening air brushed against your skin.

The view of Velaris stretched out before you, but the beauty of the city felt distant compared to the urgency of the conversation at hand. Silence lingered between the three of you as you gathered your thoughts, the tension palpable.

“Kallias,” you began, turning to face your brother. “I’ve missed you… so much,” you sighed, looking between your brother and your best friend. “But, I’ve also been so angry at you for what you did.”

Kallias’s expression shifted, a mix of surprise and guilt washing over his face. “I know,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t mean for things to get so out of hand. I was just trying to protect you.”

You took a deep breath, forcing yourself to hold his gaze. “I understand that. You’ve always protected me, but you were so overcome with your distrust of Azriel and the Night Court that I ended up getting hurt.” You stepped away from Kallias and Viviane, turning to reveal the back of your dress. They let out a collective gasp at the scar on your shoulder—a stark reminder of the shard of Kallias’s ice that had pierced there days earlier. Despite your quick healing and Madja’s best efforts, the damage was deep enough to leave an enduring mark, a painful memory that couldn’t be fully erased.

“Thankfully, the Night Court has some of the best healers in Prythian. Madja did what she could, but she was more focused on my recovery and being able to still use my shoulder than the aesthetics.”

Kallias’s expression twisted with guilt as he took a step closer. “I’m so sorry. I never wanted this to happen, Y/N. I only wanted to protect you. All I’ve ever wanted to do was protect you.”

You turned back around to face them, frustration lining your features. “I know that, Kallias! You were so wrapped up in protecting me that you tried keeping me from my mate – the one that the Mother hand-picked for me. You didn’t give me the chance to make my own decision about him… you only tried to make me distrust him. You didn’t trust me or my judgment and that’s what hurts the most.”

Before Kallias could respond, Azriel burst onto the balcony, having heard the raised voices. He moved to your side, placing his arm around your waist. His comforting touch calmed you, grounding you in the moment.

“Y/N, it’s not about you. I do trust you, I swear on the Cauldron. It’s just,” he trailed off. Viviane grasped his hand, giving him a gentle squeeze. “It’s just that I promised our mother to always take care of you, no matter what.”

Surprise hit you as you quickly inhaled at Kallias’s statement – a wave of sadness coming over you. Azriel held you tighter, sensing the shift in your mood.

“I know you never got to meet her, but our mother was a wonderful female. She knew she wasn’t going to survive your birth shortly after she delivered you, but she wasn’t scared. She laid in her birthing bed, holding you in one arm and me in the other. With her few remaining moments, she asked me to always look after you. She knew how cruel our father could be and she didn’t want to leave you without a protector. 

A lump formed in your throat, and you felt tears prick at the corners of your eyes. “I wish I could have known her,” you whispered, the longing in your heart becoming palpable. Kallias stepped closer, his eyes clouded by tears. “That’s why I’ve been so protective. I didn’t want to disappoint her. But I see now that I’ve let my fears cloud my judgment.”

His admission hung in the air, heavy yet freeing. You stepped forward and embraced your brother tightly. “I hope you can forgive me, Y/N,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

You nodded silently against his chest, feeling the weight of everything that had been unsaid lift. Viviane joined in the hug, wrapping her arms around both of you. The three of you stood there, enveloped in a cocoon of warmth and support, the bonds of family intertwining like the roots of a strong tree.

“I forgive you, Kallias,” you said softly, pulling back slightly to look into his eyes. “I hope you’re willing to support Azriel and I.” You stepped away from your brother and reached for your mate’s hand, feeling his adoration beside you. 

Kallias looked from you to Azriel, his expression shifting from guilt to one of calm. “It may take some time,” Kallias replied, his voice steadier. “But I want to get to know him and trust him like you do.” Kallias reached back for Viviane, contentment etched into his features.

“I promise that I will do everything to keep Y/N safe. You both have my word,” Azriel replied, his gaze moving between Kallias and Viviane. “I will do everything I can to gain your trust and prove I’m worthy of Y/N’s love.” 

Kallias studied Azriel for a moment, then nodded slowly. “That’s all I ask.”

Taking a deep breath, you felt the moment was right to share your decision. “There’s something else I need to tell you both,” you said, glancing between them. “I’m staying in Velaris. For good.”

Before Kallias could respond, a faint giggle echoed from behind the door leading back into the dining room. You turned to see Rhysand, Feyre, Cassian, Mor, and Amren peeking out, their faces lighting up with excitement.

“Did we just hear that you’re staying?” Mor exclaimed, stepping forward with a wide grin. “That’s fantastic!”

“Absolutely brilliant!” Cassian added, clapping his hands together. “We’ll throw you the best welcome party Velaris has ever seen!”

Rhysand leaned against the doorframe, a knowing smile on his face. “We were just discussing how much we’d love to have you here permanently. You fit right in with our little family.”

Kallias looked taken aback, but a smile crept onto his face as he watched the enthusiasm of the Inner Circle. “I… didn’t expect this reaction,” he admitted, glancing at you.

You laughed, feeling warmth spread through you at the sight of your friends. “I didn’t either, but it means the world to me. I want to begin my life with Azriel.”

As the joy radiated around you, you felt a sense of belonging that you had longed for. Together, with your family and newfound friends, you could build a future filled with love and laughter in the heart of the Night Court.

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a/n: this is most likely the last part of winter's kiss, but I may write an epilogue. If you want an epilogue, let me know! Also, my requests are open if you have any ideas you'd like me to write!

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