#this just immediately made me thought of them

[foldingfittedsheets]

When I worked at Red Robin a lot of my job was balloons. Thats right, it wasn’t all fursuits and scaring each other. I also learned the valuable life skill of how to fill up a balloon with helium. There’s an art. A technique.

If I was the opening host I had to fill a bunch of balloons for the ravenous masses of children. These were released to float in the little arcade that had a lip on the ceiling to keep them contained.

If I was a closing shift I had to dispose of all the unenjoyed balloons left over. All day long I’d hand balloons to sticky little hands. I listened to the constant screeching that heralded a lost balloon.

Then one day, I learned a secret. A hidden bit of magic that I could immediately tell was going to change the game for balloons forever. I learned how to tie a slip knot.

Suddenly when children asked for a balloon I could tie it to their wrist while their parents applauded my foresight. The wailing of watching a balloon streak away through the sky ceased on my watch.

I was drunk on this new power.

One morning I was opening. I was filling balloons and I thought- I could save even more time if I just premade the knots! I gathered up my balloon babies and unto each one I bestowed a little slipknot that could secure right onto a wrist.

When I was done I looked across my handiwork, the balloons strewn across the arcade ceiling and my fever of madness broke. Suddenly I felt vaguely uneasy about what I’d done. Instead of little strings hanging at a child’s head height it looked more like… nooses. Each balloon looked like a cartoon gallows, ready to slip around a child’s neck and carry them away into the sky.

My manager came up to join me. We both regarded the field of hanging balloons. He cleared his throat and said, “Maybe we won’t pre-tie the knots anymore.”

I mumbled embarrassed agreement and never again made a gallows field of party favors. I did however use my balloon making skills later in life for nefarious schemes.

[wandering-pirate]

Mouthwashing Characters Headcanon

How the Crew Takes Care of You on Your Period

Captain Curly

Knows your cycle so well that he starts prepping his monthly Captain Curly Period Kit a week before it starts

The kit includes all hygiene products that you need including painkillers, five of your favorite chocolate bars and the best part: candid photos he had secretly taken of you, each with a note underneath

The notes ranged from awful period puns to sweet compliments. This man knows how to keep you happy, physically and emotionally

Whispers comforting words as you sob over a character’s death during movie night

Though once, it was about a cockroach getting pancaked on screen

"Babe, that roach? It’s in a better place now—cockroach heaven. Endless trash buffets, living its best afterlife”

Spoiler: it worked

Checks in on you throughout the day, either with a sweet “How’s my baby feeling?” text or by dropping into the room for a quick chat, always making sure you feel loved and cared for

He understands how hormones can mess up with your mood and always reassures you that he isn't going anywhere

Co-pilot Jimmy

The man has somehow mastered the art of finding all the right spots to massage when you're doubled over with cramps or just feeling downright miserable

What you don’t know is that he once secretly googled “how to massage girlfriend in pain” (in incognito mode cause his ego won't just let him ask outright)

Big mistake. Huge. He was immediately bombarded with nsfw content, all roleplay, mostly rough

Let’s just say it took half a day, several deep breaths, and a burning face before he stumbled onto an actual helpful website

Ever since then, he’s been sneaking off to “practice.” But it got a little weird one day

Every time you passed by, he’d be glued to his phone, staring at it with this weirdly intense look, and his free hand squeezing the air at different angles

“Uh… babe? Are you… hallucinating? Maybe some floating breast action?”

“Huh? Wha—no! Unless you’re jealous of the air now, darling. Should I be worried?”

It all paid off when you let out those godly noises he loved, his hands were massaging with just the right pressure and on the right places

To top it off, he even got an essential oil in your favorite scent

Not without drama, though—apparently, walking into Bath & Body Works fully hooded and masked with shades doesn't scream 'thoughtful boyfriend'. It screams robber

Mechanic Swansea

The man and his craftsman hands will do anything to make you comfortable

Need a hot compress? Heats up grains, puts it in a sackcloth bag and places it in your lower belly

On days when you feel ugly looking in the mirror? Secretly blurs them slightly with shampoo or soap

Cold hands? Wraps yours in his larger ones

The kids being too loud while you're in a damp mood? He'd play tea parties with them (he was crowned the princess of all dragons)

Before sleeping, he always lay the towel down at your side of the bed whenever you're at the bathroom

Even built you a custom wooden cabinet that dispenses pads and tampons efficiently. Always stocked because he secretly checks it regularly

You have to force him to sit or lay down with you when he would be silently stressing out on what more to do

"Swansea, love, you're all I need right now, just stay here with me"

Nurse Anya

The nurse uses her medical and psychological expertise like a pro, making your period feel a lot less miserable

Meds are always your bestfriend whenever your killer cramps hit and she made sure to always carry all kinds of painkillers and have every dosage for each pain scale you're in

Wincing and doubling down? she's quick to ask

"Scale of 1 to 10?"

Even when she’s busy, she finds little ways to remind you you’re not alone like leaving sticky notes with doodles of you or your favorite characters in places where you’ll find them

After noticing how you loved wrapping your feet in blankets, she got you matching fuzzy socks that you now have to wear whenever she’s around (because she’s wearing hers too)

Lovingly strokes your back and hair while you scream at reality show contestants for choosing the dumbest of choices

Very much amused and nods along every time you asked her if you're both witnessing the same stupidity

Intern Daisuke

The boy is sometimes dense but when it comes to you, he sure isn't incompetent

One day, when the bed was way too soft to escape from, you did the only logical thing: text him

"Hey Dai, can you buy me some tampons? forgot to buy some yesterday"

"Be there in 5 babe! (⁠づ⁠￣⁠ ⁠³⁠￣⁠)⁠づ"

And he meant it

He gave the pharmacist a heart attack by storming in and loudly asking for a box of tampons

Proceeded to grill them on what brands were most likely to leak so he'd avoid them (no shame whatsoever)

Never arrived empty-handed. Along with the tampons, he’ll pick up a plushie, a cute keychain, a little hair accessory or literally anything he knows that will let him see your pretty smile

He’ll wrap you both up in comforters, flashdrive loaded with all your comfort movies, from romcoms to horror

The mission? Movie marathon until you're both knocked out

Despite shrieking at every jumpscare, he still kisses your forehead between scenes, like you’re the one who needs reassurance (Spoiler: he needed those forehead kisses more)

a/n: thanks so much for reading! headcanon requests are very much appreciated ʕ•⁠ᴥ⁠•⁠ʔ

[kittykat-suki]

Clingy 𓇢𓆸

Pairing: Jeongin x Reader Warnings: angst with comfort

Jeongin’s passion, his dedication to his fans, the way he pushed himself to perfect every move, every note and every performance captivated you.

So, when you were made aware that he had been overworking himself, you naturally decided to show up at practice to treat him and the other members to your well known sweet treats- y/n’s chocolate chip cookies and blueberry muffins. You hoped that this would provide all of them with a bit of energy to endure the long hours of rehearsals.

Smiling to yourself, you were excited to see the way Jeongin’s eyes would light up when he sees you. However, as you entered the studio, a unfamiliar atmosphere hung in the air. The usual bickering and laughter were absent. Instead, the tension was thick, almost suffocating.

The room was solely filled with the sound of exhausted footsteps and heavy breathing as the members rehearsed for their upcoming performance.

Jeongin stood at the center, his posture stiff as he wiped the sweat off his forehead, looking worn-out, as though his energy had been drained from every corner of his body. He hadn’t noticed you come in yet, but you figured it would only be a moment before his face broke into the warm smile you knew so well.

As the practise came to an end, you stepped forward, holding out the tub of treats. "Hey, Jeongin," you said softly, your voice warm but cautious, sensing the underlying tension. "I brought you all some snacks. I thought you might be hungry."

The other members turned toward you with friendly smiles, immediately taking the treats from you and offering their thanks. But Jeongin didn’t look up. He continued adjusting his shoes, his body tense as if the weight of the world rested on his shoulders. You tried again, more gently this time.

"Jeongin… you’ve been working so hard. Maybe you should take a break," you said, placing a hand on his shoulder.

Finally, he looked at you, but not in the way you had hoped. His eyes were tired, bloodshot from lack of sleep, but what caught you off guard was the hostility in his eyes, which was supported by the sharp edge in his voice. "I don’t need a break, Y/N."

You stepped back, a little surprised by the distaste in his tone. "I just thought you might need some support—".

He cut you off with a scoff. "Support?" His voice grew louder now, filled with irritation. "I don’t need you hovering around me all the time, y/n. You’re being the opposite of supportive right now. It’s like you don’t get it."

The words stung horribly, but you tried to ignore it, hoping this wasn’t really happening. Maybe he was just tired. "I didn’t mean to annoy you… I just wanted to help. I made these for you guys, it’s your favourites."

"I don’t need your help," he snapped, the words hitting you harder than you expected. "You’re always so clingy, always trying to be there when I’m just trying to focus. It’s exhausting being with you."

The room fell silent. You felt your stomach drop as his words echoed not only around the room, but in your mind and all the way to your heart.

Clingy. Such a simple word, but it cut deeper than anything else he could have said. You had always been insecure of this, and now your caring boyfriend had just unknowingly confirmed your deepest fears.

"You’re right. I’m…sorry," you whispered, keeping your eyes down and onto the now bitter treats in order to stop the tears form rushing out. Your hands clenched around the tub, trying to keep your composure, but it was all unraveling inside you.

Before you could say anything else, you shoved the tub into Jeongin’s hands and turned away quickly, your heart pounding in your chest. You didn’t even look back to see if he was watching you. With a slam, the door shut behind you, and you walked down the hallway, feeling the weight of his anger pressing down on you.

The cold air hit you as you reached the exit. You hadn’t expected your surprise to end this way, and now you felt more alone than ever. The streets added to your discomfort, seemingly more emptier than usual, with the night sky above you dark and unforgiving.

You wanted to just go home and drown in your own sorrows, preferably with a tub of ice cream, but your phone and keys. You hadn’t even realized you’d left them in the practice room.

You knew you couldn’t go back, so you wandered aimlessly, knowing you had nowhere to go, nowhere to escape. It felt like the weight of his rejection was following you, echoing in your ears.

And then, as if the world had conspired against you, the rain began to pour. First, it was a few droplets, but soon it turned into a downpour, soaking you through. But you barely noticed, your mind too clouded with the sting of Jeongin’s words to focus on anything else.

You wished you hadn’t come. Wished you hadn’t tried to help him, to support him. Maybe you had overstepped. Maybe you were too much. Maybe, just like Jeongin had confirmed, you were clingy and just a burden.

Tears mixed with the rain as you stumbled down the deserted streets. You didn't even care that you were soaked to the bone. You didn’t care about anything anymore, the words of the person you most trusted hurt more than anything.

It wasn’t until you heard hurried footsteps behind you that you even registered someone was approaching. You turned, startled, only to see Jeongin, breathless and soaked, running toward you.

"Y/N!" he called, his voice filled with panic. "Y/N, wait!".

You turned back and kept walking, anger and hurt still looking in your mind. However, he caught up to you, blacking your path.

Jeongin stood there in the pouring rain, his soaked hair plastered to his forehead, the dark strands clinging to his face like the weight of his regret. His drenched jacket stuck to his body, outlining his frame, and he looked smaller than usual, like he was struggling with the enormity of what had just happened.

His eyes were wide and filled with panic as he searched your face as if he were trying to find a way to undo the damage, to take back the words that had slipped from his mouth. His lips parted slightly, as if he was trying to speak, but no words came out. The tension in his posture was so palpable, it was as if the weight of the world was on his shoulders, each raindrop a reminder of his mistake.

And yet, there was something more in his eyes than just worry. Something deeper.

Guilt.

It was written across his face in every line and every flicker of uncertainty that crossed his features. You had seen him worried before, but never like this. Never with that quiet, broken look, as though he was carrying the burden of something he couldn’t undo.

He stepped forward, his soaked shoes making soft squelching sounds against the wet pavement, but you took a step back, not wanting to get too close, not yet.

"Y/N…" His voice cracked slightly, sounding hoarse and unsure, swallowed by the sound of the rain that fell in torrents around you both. His hand reached out, but it hung in the air, trembling as if he wasn’t sure whether he had the right to touch you, whether you would let him.

You felt a shiver run down your spine, but your heart felt heavy, the anger and hurt still so fresh. "You don’t need to worry about me, Jeongin," you said softly, pulling away, "I’m fine."

"Stop," he said, his voice trembling. "I care about you. I... I didn’t mean to say those things to you earlier." His voice cracked, and for a moment, you saw how broken he looked. "I was just so tired, and I… I took it all out on you."

You shook your head, still not meeting his gaze. "It’s fine. I understand."

"No," he said urgently, his hands reaching for you, cupping your face gently to make you look at him. "No, it’s not fine. It’s not fine at all. I was stupid, Y/N. You’ve always been there for me, supporting me, and I pushed you away. I hurt you… and I never meant to."

His hands were warm against your cold cheeks, his touch almost like a lifeline. "I was just so tired. So overworked. I didn’t know what to say, and the worst thing is that none of I what I said was true. I… I’m so sorry."

The sincerity in his voice made your chest tighten, and for the first time since you had left, you allowed yourself to cry. The tears flowed freely, mixing with the rain that poured down, but this time, you didn’t feel as alone.

Jeongin gently wiped the tears from your face with his thumb, his own eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I never should’ve said that to you. You mean so much to me. I’m so sorry for everything."

You took a deep breath, letting his words wash over you, and nodded slowly. "I know you didn’t mean it. I just… I just want you to know you don’t have to push me away. I care about you, Jeongin. I want to help you."

He pulled you into a tight hug, his arms wrapping around you as if he were trying to hold onto you, as if he were afraid you’d slip away. "I won’t push you away again. I promise. I’m so sorry."

You let yourself sink into him, the warmth of his embrace pushing away the cold of the rain. You could feel the weight lifting off your chest, the hurt slowly fading, replaced by the quiet reassurance that everything would be okay.

"I’ll always be here," you whispered, and for the first time that night, Jeongin smiled softly against your hair.

[arixella]

You get hurt and don't tell them pt.3 ' ft. shanks, kid, killer

wc: 355 requested 😋 luffy, zoro, sanji law, ace, sabo

Shanks

-Shanks notices something’s off almost immediately—he’s surprisingly sharp when it comes to you.

“Oi, what’s this? You’re hurt?” His tone is lighthearted, but there’s genuine concern in his eyes as he inspects you.

-He chuckles and ruffles your hair. “You thought you could hide this from me? Come on, don’t you trust me?”

-Shanks takes a laid-back approach, gently tending to your injury while cracking jokes to keep you smiling. “You know, you’re lucky I’ve got steady hands for this. Imagine if I was drinking.” (He definitely was drinking.)

-Afterward, he pulls you into a warm hug, wrapping you in his coat as if to shield you from the world. “Next time, just tell me, alright? I can’t have you getting hurt on my watch.”

-If the injury was caused by someone else, Shanks’ smile turns razor-sharp, and you know he’ll be having a “talk” with them.

-Later, he keeps you close, pouring you a drink (or some tea if you’re not feeling up to it) and teasing you to lighten the mood.

“You’ve got to look after yourself better. Who else is going to keep me entertained, huh?” His words are playful, but the way he lingers by your side shows how much he genuinely cares.

-You might catch him glancing at you more often than usual, as if making sure you’re really okay. But, in true Shanks fashion, he plays it cool—effortlessly balancing concern with his carefree charm.

Eustass Kid

-Kid finds out you’re hurt, and let’s just say he’s not happy about it. “The hell? Why didn’t you say anything?!”

-He’s rough around the edges, so his frustration comes out in angry words, but it’s clear he’s worried.

-He’s surprisingly gentle when he checks your injury, muttering things like, “Idiot… You could’ve made it worse.”

-If someone else caused your injury, Kid is ready to hunt them down immediately—he doesn’t let anyone mess with what’s his.

-After cooling off, he sits beside you with a gruff, “Don’t hide stuff like this again. I mean it.” His tone softens just enough to show he cares.

Killer

-Killer is the silent but observant type, so he notices your injury even if you try to hide it.

“You’re hurt,” he states plainly, no room for argument. He’s calm but firm as he insists on treating you.

-His movements are careful and precise, and though he doesn’t say much, his actions speak volumes about how much he cares.

-Killer’s worry is subtle, but you can hear it in his voice when he says, “You need to be more careful.”

-Later, he sits with you in comfortable silence, keeping you close and making sure you know he’s there if you need him.

♡♡♡

[snuggerudism]

GINGERBREAD COMPETITION | LUKE HUGHES

event masterlist

warnings: one fem term used for reader

It starts when a gingerbread house kit catches your eye in a bakery while Christmas shopping in Hoboken.

The idea of you and Luke decorating them pops into your head, and next thing you know you’re grabbing two. You were both extremely competitive people, and seeing who could make the better gingerbread house was perfect for spending time together.

“Oh Lukey,” You call out in a singsong voice, arms full of bags. “A little help here.” You’re holding the door open with your leg. He’s quick to remove some bags from your arms, placing them on your dining room table.

“We’re gonna make gingerbread houses.” You raise your eyebrows, smirking.

“Sounds fun.” He leans down to kiss you, hands moving down to your waist.

“Thought we could see who decorates theirs better.” There's a gleam in your eye, your competitive nature coming through.

“Oh, you’re so on babe.” He laughs.

You immediately get to work, as does Luke. The houses were pre built, so all that had to be done was the decorations.

Letting your creative nature take over, you divided the frosting up in three separate bowls and grabbed some food coloring from your pantry.

You made red, green, and light pink, placing them into piping bags and cutting off the tips. Peeking at Luke, you see his tongue is half stuck out in concentration.

“No looking. Don’t want you getting ideas and cheating off mine.”

“Very funny.”

“Eyes on your own gingerbread house.”

You place the gumdrops on the roof as the finishing touches, just as Luke finishes.

“Perfect.” You take your phone out, snapping a picture of your finished work.

“How are we gonna decide whose house is better?”

“Haven’t thought of that, Lukey. Good question.”

“We can have Jack decide. I’ll text him pictures and won’t tell him which is which.”

“Fine with me.”

You wait for Jack to respond, making out to pass the time. There’s a ding, and Luke is picking up his phone. His face falls, and you smirk.

“Bow down to the Gingerbread house queen Lukey.”

[mononijikayu]

blue — fushiguro megumi.

As you walked hand in hand through the snow, Fushiguro Megumi felt like your warmth and his blended together, refusing to part as you made your way away from the shrine. The thought of that made him feel like the winter was nothing, the biting chill rendered powerless against the steady heat of your presence. It was the kind of moment that made the world feel smaller and quieter. It was as if the universe had decided to go on a pause just for the two of you. It was as if these two hands were meant to fit because destiny said so.

GENRE: Alternate Universe - Canon Convergence;

WARNING/s: AFAB! Reader, Safe For Work (SFW), Long Distance Romance (LDR), Aged Up Characters (Megumi and Reader are 18!), Young Love, Innocent Romance, Established Relationship, Middle School Classmates to Lovers, Teasing, Teenagers, Feelings, Fluff, First Love, Hurt/Comfort, Falling In Love, Flirting, Humor, Domesticity, Slice of Life, Light-Hearted, Confessions, Pining, Holding Hands;

WORD COUNT: 5.3k words.

NOTE: im a bit late, i'm sorry!!! i had a whole list of chores i helped my family with and i met up with some people yesterday, since i might not see them for christmas due to schedules. but i'm here. i always imagined megumi to be the sort of person who loves so wholeheartedly and so innocently. i wanted to capture that for his birthday. happy birthday, megumi!!! you will always be so loved by me <33333 i love you all too!!! thank you for reading!!! see you for yuuji's own fic on 24th <3 (asia time)

addendum: i just want you to know that the exact number of the words are 5302. chinese/cantonese numerology expresses that 53 means my life, 0 means good and 2 means joy and sometimes double joy. it reads as 'my life is good joy' and i think between them reader and megumi, that's genuinely true <333

masterlist

if you want to, tip! <3

THE DARK BLUE SWIRLED AROUND THE SKY TENDERLY TONIGHT. Had there been more time, he would have enjoyed it more. But he knew there wasn’t. He had to get to you, immediately. He bit his lip softly against the cold winter wind.

Fushiguro Megumi tugged the bright tender scarf tighter around his neck as the frigid wind bit at his cheeks. He caught a faint whiff of the fabric, and something about the scent felt... off.

It’s a good scent, don’t get him wrong. But it wasn’t the familiar one he was used to. Had he bought a new perfume and just forgotten about it? 

He sighed to himself. He was too busy lately, going off on missions. And now a lot of his life had become footnotes, even if he didn’t want them to be. Megumi knew he had to do better.

He had to do whatever he could to make a better pace for himself. Still, thinking about that right now is impossible. He had to brush the thought aside. There were more pressing things to focus on—like how late he was. Again. 

Megumi could only hope that you weren’t waiting too long or that you had arrived late. But now he can’t help but think if you wore that thick Arc'teryx coat he’d gotten you. Or if you wore mittens or had enough hot packs on your body at this moment. Guilt started to echo into his head as easily as it was breathing. But he can’t help but feel that.

He took a moment to breathe, his breath visible in the cold air. He hated being late about absolutely anything. He likes punctuality, after all. But he especially likes it when it comes to you.

Because that meant he’d have more time with you. And more time with you means that he’d have you with him enough to sweep the thought of missing you for a little while. 

But being a sorcerer, the job description didn’t care about holidays or plans. Or even the personal, the thoughts and moments that made one happy. It just never stops. Not even when he was supposed to take you out on a date on New Year’s Eve. Megumi absolutely reviled it. If he saw a curse, he had to deal with it, no matter the time. 

And somehow, some sort of way, still, he knew you understood. You always did. You always reassured him of that no matter what. No matter how many times his responsibilities pulled him away from you, even just for five minutes.

You never stopped smiling when he finally showed up. You don’t stop having the warmest red on your cheeks when you see him. Your eyes always shone brighter than Sirius when you both stand beside one another.

Even though you weren’t a sorcerer yourself, you tried to understand his world, even the parts that didn’t make sense to you at all. It wasn’t fair to you, and he knew it. Yet, no matter how hard things got, you never gave up on him. You just didn’t want to, even when he had tried to keep you at bay. 

That was one of the things he appreciated most about you. Megumi had never had quite a lot of joy in his life, but he was to be honest, you were one of them. You always will be. And even now, you stand by him, even if it’s hard.

You didn’t care for the hard stuff, you always said it was part of it. Because what mattered to you, was having him in your life. And he was certain he felt the same way about you.

Well, it’s obvious.

Why else would he start running in this cold winter weather?

If it’s you, the person he loved most, then he’ll find a way?

After all, he wanted to be with you for as long as possible.

He paused for a moment, staring at the message. The small emoji made something in his chest tighten, as much as it made his body feel the warmest it had ever been. Despite everything, you still cared enough to wait for him, to worry about him. A small, rare smile tugged at his lips.

The faint vibration of his phone snapped him out of his thoughts. He fished it out of his pocket, his cold fingers fumbling slightly as he unlocked it. A text from you lit up his screen:

“Megu, baby, where are you? 🥺”

Megumi stared at his phone after hitting send, watching the little delivered mark appear. Megumi has thought about how many times he’d sent similar texts, always apologizing to you, for more often than he hoped, about being late.

He typed back quickly, his fingers stiff from the cold.

"On my way, babe. Sorry for being late."

Yet, you never seemed to hold it against him. He wished you had. Most romantic partners would be so fed up with such a position. 

Hell, most of them would have already left their partners. But not you. You never had thought of it, not even during middle school, when Gojo started to take him on his missions to observe. You were steadfast, because you saw his efforts. You saw how much he loved you. 

And that was enough. He never had to doubt that you loved him. And perhaps, that’s why he kept running. He wanted to get to you, as soon as possible. He wanted to see you. He wanted to hold you in his arms. He wanted to love you.

As he slipped his phone back into his pocket, Fushiguro Megumi picked up his pace. He had to. He had to arrive as soon as possible. For once, he hoped the world could hold its chaos at bay. Just for tonight. He owed you that much. He owed you all of the world. And he had to make it possible, even if just for a little while.

His phone buzzed again almost immediately.

“Okay, but you better hurry, baby! It’s cold! Also… why does your scarf smell like my perfume? 🤔”

Megumi stopped in his tracks, his brain processing your words at a glacial pace. Your perfume? His hand instinctively went to the scarf wrapped snugly around his neck. That was the weird smell he’d noticed earlier—the soft, floral notes he’d never associated with his usual scarf. His mind raced. If this was your perfume, then this wasn’t his scarf.

It’s your scarf. The realization hit him like a curse to the chest. Now, his heart was thumping hard on his chest. You must’ve grabbed his scarf  by mistake in a rush the last time you visited him and you forgot about it.

And now that left him with your scarf. And he hadn’t noticed at all. His face heated to warm scarlet instantly, the cold air doing nothing to cool it. Ah, this is…..

His grip on the phone tightened as he read your words. Cute. It was hard enough to deal with how much warmth you give him with your scarf, but the thought of you being so tender with him, loving to the point that he can’t take it.

Before he could come up with a reply, another message came through:

“Wait, Megu!… Are you wearing my scarf? 🥺 That’s so cute! Wah!”

He doesn’t know what to do. Everything about his love for you just grows deeper and he can’t help it. His face burned hotter, and he was suddenly hyper-aware of the soft fabric around his neck.

He hesitated, fingers hovering over the keyboard, before typing back:

"I didn’t realize until now. I must’ve grabbed it by accident. Sorry."

Fushiguro Megumi felt like the temperature had risen ten degrees despite the snow swirling around him. He tried to clear his throat, trying to wick away the scarlet blush spreading across his cheeks. But it was no use. He was never going to win against you. Never. 

Your reply came almost instantly, as though you’d been waiting for it.

“Don’t apologize! I think it’s adorable. It’s like you’re carrying a little piece of me with you 🥰.”

"It’s not a big deal." he typed, trying to sound indifferent, but his fingers betrayed him as he hesitated before adding: "It does smell nice, though."

His phone buzzed almost immediately. “You’re so sweet, Megu! You better hurry so I can see you all bundled up in my scarf. I want to take a picture and enjoy the cuteness of my baby!🫶 ”

Fushiguro Megumi let out a soft groan, burying his face in the scarf—your scarf. He takes in the soft smell of your scent, while feeling your words take over him. He could feel the heat radiating from his face as he resumed walking, this time a bit faster. 

He can’t run in this case, not when he’s overwhelmed by this, by you. You’ve ruined him for any other romance. This was it for him. You were it for him. And yet still, he couldn’t believe he was blushing over a scarf. Over you.

But that’s how it is. It didn’t need explanation, it didn’t need logic. That’s how it is to love you. And he wouldn’t have it any other way. Not ever. But still, as much as possible, he still wanted to play it cool.

There was a wonderfully warm feeling in his chest that he couldn’t ignore, not when it’s caused by you. Even if it was accidental, wearing your scarf made him feel closer to you, like he was carrying a part of you with him.

"I’ll be there soon, babe." he texted back simply, though his heart was racing as he hit send.

“I look forward to it! 🫶”

“I'll see you soon.”

“Love you, Megu~”

".....love you too."

══════════════════

IT WASN’T THAT LONG NOW WHEN HE MADE THE SHARP TURN TO AND ARRIVED. The faint glow of the shrine came into view, and quite expectedly, Fushiguro Megumi’s pace quickened even more now despite the biting cold.

His own breath puffed in little warm clouds as he rounded the last corner, and there you were, just like always, waiting for him by the warm illumination of the bright red shrine gates.

You seemed to be humming to yourself as you waited for him, all  bundled up in the white winter coat he gave you and those bright purple gloves trimmed with faux fur you so dearly loved. You hadn’t noticed him yet when he stopped.

But when you did, your eyes widened almost so excitedly. There was a slightly excited bounce in your step as you waved at him enthusiastically, your beautiful face lighting up like the warm spring flowers blossoming when you started to register his presence. Megumi could feel his chest tightened at the sight. 

The stress of trying to get here on time, the hardship of not meeting, the times he missed you — every bit of that started to fade away into nothing. He was here with you. You were here. And nothing can take that away from him, from the two of you. Because he knew it too well. He was home. 

“Megu!” you called out, your tender voice cutting through the quiet winter air.

He slowed as he approached, his usual calm demeanor taking over, but the pink sunrise on his cheeks hadn’t faded. Megumi tried to casually stuff his rather cold hands into his coat’s pockets, pretending the cold was the only reason his face felt warm.

“You’re late, Megu!” you teased, though your tone was playful, and that familiar smile spread across your face.

“Sorry.” he said quietly, stopping just a few feet away. “There was a—”

“A curse?” you finished for him, watching him blink. You grinned. “I figured. You always come anyway.”

He nodded, his gaze flickering to the shrine gates. “I told you to wait here for a reason. It’s safer.”

“I know, I know.” you said, rolling your eyes with a laugh. “I always know that I’m always safe, thanks to you. But I’m also freezing, so I hope you don’t plan to keep me standing here much longer! Let’s eat dinner!”

Your grin widened as your bright doe eyes flicked to the scarf around his neck. “Especially since it looks like you’re nice and warm in my scarf.”

Megumi’s hand immediately went to the fabric, his ears turning red. “I told you, it was an accident.” he muttered, avoiding your gaze.

“And I told you, it’s cute.” you said, stepping closer. 

“You’re wearing my scarf too.” He mutters under the cold winter air. 

You looked down slightly, your cheeks flushing red as you smiled. “Hm! And I love it! It suits me, having a part of you with me always when I’m cold, don’t you think?”

Megumi was taken aback by what you said for a moment. His cheeks turned even redder, even though he wasn’t sure how it was possible. He hums softly, lowering his gaze shyly. “.....It does.”

The soft crunch of snow under your boots was the only sound as you closed the distance between you. You smiled at him as you stopped in front of him. You reached up, on tip toes and gently adjusted your scarf around his neck, your fingers brushing against his skin for just a moment. 

“It suits you, don’t you think?” Your soft voice blossomed against the wind. Your gaze met his, as he raised his face. “Being so loved by me in winter cold too.”

He froze, his heart skipping a beat at the gesture. “You’re—you really are…..” he mumbled, though his voice was quieter, almost fond. “How can you say that so easily?”

“And you’re blushing, lover boy!” you teased, stepping back with a playful laugh. “You also said something like that too!”

“Am not.” he replied quickly, though the redness in his cheeks betrayed him.

“Whatever you say, my precious Megu~” 

You reached out and took his hand, your gloved fingers curling around his as you tugged him toward the shrine gates. You wanted to keep his hand warm from the cold too. He forgot his gloves, after all. And he knew that, his gaze turning to your tender touch on his, even though the leather.

“Come on, let’s get going before we both turn into icicles.”

For a moment, Fushiguro Megumi hesitated, looking down at your hand wrapped tightly on his own. Years together still hasn’t stopped him from being so awestruck by your touch on his.

To hold someone’s hand, it made him feel like he understood what love was like. Ever since that day he met you. You made him understand, with just a touch of your hand. And still, he continues to learn love, because of you. 

Megumi shook his head then he let out a soft sigh, his lips curving into the faintest hint of a smile as he followed you.Even if he’d never admit it aloud, your warmth, your wonder, your very existence, it made him whole.

And if this was a dream, he wishes he never wakes up. Because nothing of him would exist without you. He refuses to do so.

“Hm, let’s go.”

As you walked hand in hand through the snow, Fushiguro Megumi felt like your warmth and his blended together, refusing to part as you made your way away from the shrine. The thought of that made him feel like the winter was nothing, the biting chill rendered powerless against the steady heat of your presence.

It was the kind of moment that made the world feel smaller and quieter.

It was as if the universe had decided to go on a pause just for the two of you.

It was as if these two hands were meant to fit because destiny said so.

This, he thought, was more than enough to ground you both in the stillness of the winter night. The two of you ceased to talk for a while, your breaths forming soft clouds in the frosty air.

Neither of you felt the need to fill the silence. The quiet companionship you shared was enough, an unspoken understanding that words could never quite capture.

It was always like this with you. There was a gentle kind of closeness that didn’t demand anything more than your presence. It wasn’t loud or extravagant, but it was steady.

That was more than enough for him, to keep him grounded in a way nothing else could. Megumi didn’t have to explain himself, didn’t have to rush to fill the gaps, because you already understood. It was just like that between the two of you.

He glanced at you from the corner of his eye, noting the way the soft glow of the blue moonlight reflected off your hair and the peaceful expression on your face. A rare warmth bloomed in his chest, spreading slowly but surely, chasing away whatever lingering shadows had tried to follow him here.

Megumi’s grip on your hand tightened ever so slightly, his way of acknowledging what he couldn’t yet say aloud. This, he thought, was the kind of peace he didn’t know he needed. And for tonight, that was more than enough.

When you both arrived at the train station, the warmth of the moment lingered despite the cold metal benches and the faint whistle of the wind echoing through the platform. The faint hum of distant activity surrounded you, but it all felt muted, like the world had softened its edges just for the two of you.

You both sat down to wait for the train, your hands finally parting as you settled beside each other. Fushiguro Megumi shifted slightly, resting his elbows on his knees and looking out at the empty tracks.

The silence between you was comfortable, but you broke it, your voice cutting through the cold like the first hint of sunlight after a long night.

You looked up at him with a soft smile. “Happy birthday, Megu.”

He froze for a moment, blinking as if he hadn’t quite heard you. Slowly, he turned his head to meet your gaze, his brows furrowing slightly. “What?”

You giggled, the sound warm and light as you looked at his astonished face. “Happy birthday, I said.” you repeated, your smile widening.

His expression softened as realization washed over him. He let out a small, almost imperceptible sigh, his shoulders relaxing just a fraction. He shook his head, as you looked at his most adorable expressions, reserved only for you.

“I forgot, babe.” he admitted quietly, glancing away.

“I know, baby.” you said, your tone teasing but gentle. “You always forget. That’s why I’m here to remind you.”

He didn’t respond right away, his eyes fixed on the tracks ahead. But the faintest hint of a smile tugged at his lips, barely there but unmistakable. He turns his blue–green eyes to you, as though you were the most wondrous thing he’d ever set his blue–green eyes on.

 “Thanks, babe.” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

You reached into your pocket, pulling out a small, neatly wrapped package. You always were better at wrapping presents. You had the best hands in the world, warmest to touch and the most delicate with care. And perhaps that is what made him freeze for a moment. 

“And because I know you’d never ask for anything, I got you this.”

He looked at the gift, his eyes widening slightly. “You didn’t have to—”

“But I wanted to, baby.” you interrupted, holding it out to him. “It’s your birthday, Megu. You deserve to feel special, even if it’s just a little.”

He hesitated before taking the gift from your hands, his fingers brushing against yours for a brief moment. He stared at it for a few seconds, his expression unreadable, before carefully peeling back the wrapping paper.

Inside was a small, leather keychain engraved with his initials on it. Attached to it was a simple charm shaped like a wolf, a perfect reflection of his shikigami. Megumi stared at it for a moment, his fingers brushing over the smooth leather and the delicate charm. It was clear you’d put thought into this, making sure every detail would suit him.

Everything about it was just to his liking. You always knew it better than him sometimes too. Its design is sleek and understated, free from unnecessary embellishments, yet carrying so much meaning.

It was practical, simple, and deeply personal, just like him. And yet, the simplicity is what made it even more special, just like he knew he was to you.

“You… put a lot of thought into this, babe.” he said softly, his voice tinged with something unspoken, something he wasn’t entirely sure how to express.

You smiled, a faint flush rising to your cheeks. “Of course I did. I wanted it to be something you’d actually use. And… well…. I thought the wolf was a nice touch.”

“It is.” he murmured, his eyes lingering on the charm. 

His shikigami were a part of him, a symbol of his strength and the weight he carried in his cursed technique. But they were something he loved too. Especially his wolves. And now, here it was, captured in this small but significant token by you. Now it meant even more. Because you gave it to him. Now, it was something he could keep with him no matter where he went.

“Do you like it?” you asked, almost shyly.

Megumi looked up at you, and though his expression remained its usual calm, there was a softness in his gaze that made your heart flutter. “I do, babe.” he said simply, but the quiet sincerity in your boyfriend’s voice spoke volumes. “Thank you.”

“I thought it could keep you company, when you’re away.” you said softly, watching him closely. “You’re always busy helping people and running around. You keep doing so much for everyone else. I wanted to give you something you could keep with you, something to remind you…”

He glanced up at you, his blue–green eyes meeting yours. “Remind me of what?”

“That you’re never really alone.” you said simply, your voice filled with quiet sincerity. “That I’m always there for you, Megu.”

For a moment, he didn’t say anything, his fingers tightening slightly around the keychain. Then, almost imperceptibly, he nodded. And for a moment, those rare smiles, the smiles he could only show you. You, his most precious person. That smile had trailed on his lips for a moment.

“Thank you, babe.” he said, his voice steady but laced with something deeper—gratitude, maybe, or something even more profound that he didn’t quite know how to put into words. “I’ll treasure this well, I promise.”

You smiled, leaning back against the bench as the distant sound of the approaching train reached your ears. “Happy birthday, Megu.” you said again, your tone warm and light, your words laced with genuine affection. And then, as naturally as breathing, you added, “I love you.”

The words were simple but carried a weight that made Fushiguro Megumi’s heart stutter. He froze for a moment, wide-eyed, his usual composure shattered like glass under the heat of your confession. He’d always heard you say it over and over again. And yet…..it always made him feel like he was going to drown in your wonders.

He couldn’t help but feel himself combust with your words, the warmth spreading from his chest to his ears, and then outward until he was sure he’d melt into this cold blue winter night. Before he could even begin to stammer out a response, you squeezed his hand, your smile never fading. 

“Our train’s here! We gotta go!”

Your voice snapped him out of his thoughts, and he blinked, glancing at the train now pulling into the station. You tugged him forward, your fingers laced with his, as if the moment hadn’t just turned his world upside down.

Megumi let out a soft sigh, a mix of exasperation and fondness, as he let you guide him toward the train. His blue–green eyes drifted to the keychain in his hand, its wolf charm catching the dim station light, and then to the scarf around his neck. 

The warmth of your scarf, still carrying your faint, comforting scent. For someone who often felt like the weight of the world rested squarely on his shoulders, tonight felt light. For tonight, everything just felt like a gift. The greatest gift in the world.

The train doors slid open with a gentle hiss, and you both stepped inside, settling into a pair of seats by the window. As the train began to move, Megumi finally found the courage to speak, his voice quieter than usual.

“You’re ridiculous, you know?” he muttered, though there was no bite in his tone.

You tilted your head, looking at him curiously. “What do you mean?”

His cheeks flushed again, and he turned his gaze to the window, watching the snow-covered scenery blur past. “You can’t just… say things like that so casually and just….watch me combust.”

“Oh, you mean when I said I love you?” you replied with a grin, clearly enjoying his reaction.

Megumi groaned, pressing a hand to his temple. “Yes. That.”

You laughed softly, leaning your head on his shoulder. “But it’s true, Megu!” you said, your voice softer now. “I do love you, truly! And I don’t see why I shouldn’t tell you over and over again.”

He was silent for a moment, his heart pounding in his chest as your words settled over him like the softest blanket. Finally, he glanced down at you, his blue–green gaze steady despite the pink still dusting his cheeks.

“…I know.” he said quietly, his voice barely audible. 

And though he didn’t say it back to you, overwhelmed by the wonders of those words on his soul, you knew that look in his eyes. That look of love, that wonder in the blue–green that said those words without leaving his lips.

It was all in his eyes that said everything you needed to hear. He struggles. But he hopes one day, he could say it to you without the struggle. 

You smiled to yourself, your gloves gone. You let your warm fingers still intertwine with his as the train rocked gently beneath you. He squeezed it even more and that had made you smile even more as you looked at him.

You hummed and leaned your head against his shoulder. His breath hitches before a moment later, his head resting on your own. You giggled at that. 

Tonight was perfect, you thought. Just the two of you, wrapped in warmth, as the world outside continued its quiet, snowy journey. And all you could see was the tenderness of all those shades of blue. That’s what it felt like when you were with him.

Everything was worth it. The cold was worth it. And so was the parting and the waiting. As long as you get to be with him and have this feeling of blue. As long as you could see those blues in his eyes.

Everything was worth it. Everything was worth experiencing. And you knew from the depths of his heart that he felt the same way too. Blue was the wonder of being with you. And he loves it too. 

══════════════════

epilogue

Later that night when you reached your house, the warmth of the entryway light spilling into the snowy night, you turned to Megumi with a thoughtful smile. He noticed the way your bright eyes sparkled.

It was a sign you were about to say something that might throw him off. He was familiar with that look since you were in middle school. But every time, he finds himself learning the depths of that mischief in your eyes. 

“So…” you began, glancing up at him with a hint of mischief. “Do you want to stay over tonight?”

Fushiguro Megumi nearly tripped over his own feet. His handsome face turned a shade of red that rivaled the setting sun, and he froze in place, his free hand holding your bag for you. You can see easily that he was clutching it nervously.

“W-What?” he stammered, his voice cracking slightly. “Why—what—why would you even—?”

You couldn’t help but giggle, watching him flounder. “It’s late, Megu!” you said, your tone as calm and reasonable as ever. “The buses aren’t running anymore, and so are the trains, you know! I’d feel bad making you walk all the way back to the dorms in this cold.”

He opened his mouth to argue, but you held up a hand, cutting him off before he could get a word in. You already knew that you had a card up your sleeve. You grinned at him and giggled, taking out your phone from your coat pocket and showing it to him.

“And before you say anything about it being improper or whatever.” you added with a knowing grin, “I already asked Gojo–san if it was okay.”

Megumi’s face somehow turned even redder, and his hand shot to his temple like he was trying to ward off a headache. He looked at your phone for a moment.“You asked Gojo?”

You nodded, looking far too pleased with yourself. “Yup! He said, and I quote, ‘As long as you don’t let Megumi brood in a corner all night, I’m fine with it! Take care of my precious son, daughter in law!’”

Fushiguro Megumi groaned, running a hand down his face. What did Gojo mean precious son? And what did Gojo mean about daughter in law? That was just….

Megumi didn’t know what to do anymore. He can’t even believe Gojo gave his number to you. He couldn’t help but feel his face echo a look of a son embarrassed by his overbearing father. 

“Why would you even tell him that? Now he’s never going to let me live this down.”

You laughed, tugging gently on his hand to lead him inside. “Oh, come on. He didn’t care at all. Besides I had to, he’s your guardian! He said he’d rather you stayed somewhere warm and safe than out in the cold. Besides, it’s not like we haven’t hung out late before. We’d have sleep overs before too.”

“That’s different.” he muttered, still flustered as you closed the door behind him.

“How is it different?” you teased, tilting your head at him.

He hesitated, glancing at you and then away, his ears burning. “It just… is. I just…..”

You rolled your bright doe eyes playfully and reached up to unwrap your scarf—now his own scarf—from around his neck. “Relax, Megu. It’s not a big deal. You can have the couch if it makes you feel better. Or the guest room. I don’t think my mom will mind when she comes back! She loves you too!”

He sighed, letting you take the scarf off but avoiding your gaze. “Fine, fine.” he muttered, his voice barely audible. “I’ll….I’ll sleep here tonight.”

You grinned, your victory clear. “Come on, I think I still have some of your old clothes I took from you. I’m sure they still fit you.”

“You never returned that hoodie I used to like.”

You raised a teasing brow at him. “Do you want it back?”

“No.” He says back to you, and looks at his own scarf on your neck too. “You can keep the scarf too.”

“Good. Now come on, I’ll make some hot chocolate. Consider it a bonus birthday gift.”

As you walked toward the kitchen, Fushiguro Megumi stood there for a moment as he watched you start humming, looking for the cocoa. He let out a quiet sigh, the corner of his mouth twitching upward despite himself. 

He was definitely going to hear about this from Gojo Satoru later, but for now, he couldn’t bring himself to care. He was with you. And that was more than enough for him to not care about the world outside. 

[miss-oranje-disco-dancer]

chance of showers

pairing: leon x reader

cws: piss, p in v, pee in v, ddlg

a/n: yeah, it was bound to happen, wasn't it? the double sin of ddlg and piss

wc: 1.5k

These days, Leon bids you adieu in the threshold between your typical affection and your faux-innocence facade that comes with a side of fuck-me eyes. That’s when Daddy takes over. 

When he comes home from work, he can sense the desperation threatening to boil over into teary-eyed, delirious begging so he gives you an offer you can’t refuse: he’ll be your chauffeur to the not-quite-luxurious sex-filled sanctuary of your shared bedroom. That is to say, he’ll carry you across the hall where he can fuck you stupid without all the back pain that a couch rendezvous would give him.

You greet him with a hug and a heart-eyed grin, immediately discarding all previous activities for his attention. You’ve been gorilla-glue stuck to the TV all day due to the once a week chance to watch all the High School Musical movies on cable — which Leon still pays for — one after the other. He can tell by your antsy legs, shifting from one foot to the other. It’s not nerves– daddy makes you relaxed. No, it’s a cute little pee-pee dance.

“Do you need to do something before we go have some fun together?”

“Uh-uh. I wanna have special time with daddy now.”

“Are you sure? If you need to go pee, daddy can wait for you.”

“I don’t need to go.”

Leon doesn’t need a polygraph test to know that’s a fucking lie. 

But, you’re a big girl, or, at least, you’ve insisted that you are whenever Leon challenges that silly little ‘fact’ you’ve tried to manifest into reality. 

The reality is: you need daddy’s help, particularly when you’re in this state. 

Leon should take you by the hand and lead you to the bathroom, he should tell, not ask. But, it’s like letting your toddler touch the hot stove just once – they’ll learn their lesson and they’ll never do it again. 

You’re an adult who has the reasoning skills to know that you should pee. Plus, it’s not like pissing yourself is anything more than an embarrassing moment and a bitch to clean up. 

So, Leon doesn’t press the issue. Instead, he has you how he wants you. All fucked-out, your pussy stuffed so full you can see his dick in your abdomen and your brain completely empty of all thoughts (and your bladder so full he could make you burst if he pressed on your stomach with enough force). 

As he often does, Leon makes you ride him because he thinks it’s cute to watch you struggle, and he inevitably takes over the job of gripping your hips and pulling them back down to meet his. Over and over again until you think you’re going to pass out. 

Your eyes are screwed shut and your mouth is occupied with your constant moaning – until you have an ‘uh-oh’ moment. Leon can see it flash across your face. 

“Daddy,” you manage through a shaky voice. “No more, no more.”

The thing is: No more isn’t your safe word. No more is usually what you say when everything feels so intense that you’re overwhelmed and need Leon’s reassurance. He rubs your back and showers you in praise while he continues to fuck you as the unwritten protocol says he should. 

“It’s okay, baby,” he says. “You’re doing so good for me.”

“No, no,” you protest, shaking your head vehemently. “Have to go pee, daddy.”

“Baby, we’ve been through this before, remember? The first time you squirted, you thought you were gonna pee, but you didn’t. You liked that feeling, right?”

It’s true. You were absolutely convinced you’d pee yourself the first time Leon made you squirt, but you both suspect this time is different. 

“No, I’m really gonna pee this time.”

You’re clenching around him, he can feel it. Maybe you are going to squirt, he thinks. 

Piss is hardly the worst thing Leon’s been covered in – he’s 40 years old, old enough to give up on giving a fuck about this kind of thing. And, God, he’ll take any chance to tease you. 

“Didn’t Daddy ask you if you needed to go pee earlier?”

“Yeah.”

“And what did you say?”

“No.”

“Was that a lie? Did you lie to Daddy?”

“Maybe.”

“Well, since you made your choice by yourself and didn’t want daddy’s help, you’re not gonna get it. You can hold it until I’m done with you.”

“No, I can’t.”

“You can.”

“I can’t.”

“Then, I guess you’ll just have to let it out.”

“No, no, no, no, no. I don’t want to. I wanna hold it.”

Go right ahead, he thinks, as he continues to fuck you, completely disregarding your desperation. He wants to see you break and at this point, you’re doing anything to hold back, on the verge of tears. 

“Daddy, I’m sorry,” you start to cry as warm liquid trickles out of you, coating his cock little by little as pee continues to flow from you. You only leak a little in the grand scheme of things, but you’re humiliated, full-on crying to the point where it’s worrisome.

Finally, he slows his thrusts. 

“Hey,” he rubs your back soothingly. “It’s okay. You’re not in trouble. I told you you could do it. I’m not mad at you.”

“It’s so embarrassing.”

“There’s no reason to be embarrassed. I bet it felt good to let go. Didn’t it?”

“A little bit… but I still have to go more.”

“Then, go, baby. Let it out.”

Because, one, it doesn’t matter at this point – he’ll have to change the sheets anyway. And, two, he finds the whole ordeal a bit more arousing than he suspected he would. 

When you dare to make eye-contact, you’ve got doubt written all over you, like you think this is some sort of trap or a sacrifice of his comfort for yours. 

“Go ahead. It’s gonna feel good.”

Nervous, but desperate, you have to let go. 

Leon praises you as you finally allow yourself some relief, releasing short bursts and then a steady stream. 

“You’re doing so well for me, baby. Let it all out.”

When the torrential downpour slows to a leaky faucet, his thumb finds its way to your clit and he resumes his thrusts, gaining momentum steadily. 

Your next revelation is not an ‘uh-oh’, just an ‘oh’ in a series of incoherent moans. 

“Daddy, daddy, I’m gonna-”

“I know you are.”

Neither of you can be sure if your next release is pee or squirt but what matters is that you came, squeezing Leon’s cock so perfectly that he’s barely hanging on by the time you’re coming down from your  high. 

Usually, he asks you where you want it, makes you beg for it inside, and he finally gives it to you, but now, his face is already buried in the crook of your shoulder as he’s given into the pleasure. 

He fills you to the brim, ruins the bed a little more for the sake of a heavenly orgasm. It’s totally fucking worth it every time. 

After a moment of silence, he pats you on the butt and says, “hop up, baby”.

“No,” you protest, wrapping your arms around him. 

“Baby, I’ll come right back, but I gotta pee.”

He laughs a little at the irony. It feels cruel in a way to make you piss yourself while he gets a more dignified experience. 

You’re ready to even out the score, quick to turn the tables. 

“No,” you insist. “You can either hold it or wait until I’m done with you.”

Leon should’ve anticipated your smartass move. 

“You really want me to piss inside you? ‘Cause that’s what’s gonna happen if you don’t let me get up.”

It’s a threat, it’s a promise, it’s a plea for you to let him go. 

“It’s only fair,” you say. 

“Fine,” he concedes, repositioning you so that you’re on your back. Yeah, he could get up, he could win now that he’s on top, but maybe there’s a part of him that wants to do this. To make you regret your attitude when you find out what it feels like for Leon to piss inside you, to prove something to you, to punish you – there are so many excuses, but the truth is: the idea excites him. 

“You ready?” he asks – though the question is more directed at himself as stage fright begins to creep up inside him. 

“You can do it, daddy,” you say, voice full of genuine encouragement rather than your previous taunting tone. 

So, he does. The release is double the relief with your warmth surrounding him as he lets go. You look awfully curious, almost in awe of the fact that it’s happening, especially since you can’t exactly see it – at least, not yet. But Leon’s feeling the type of relaxation that less obstinate people get from meditation. 

“All done,” he says, knowing that’s a fucking lie, but pulling out anyway, letting the last droplets hit you on the stomach.

“Daddy!” you say, amusement barely hidden behind your mild vexation. 

“Sorry,” he says with a shrug and a smirk that says he’s anything but. 

“I think it’s time for a trip to the bathroom. We really need to shower,” you say. 

“Hey, I just gave you a little bit of a shower, baby. If you wanted more, you could’ve asked.”

But that kind of shower will have to wait until next time. 

[cece693]

PART 2 TO THE STU AND BILLY FIC PLSSS 🙏🏻🙏🏻

Looks Can be Deceiving Pt. 2 (Stu and Billy x M! Reader)

So I totally didn't put much effort into the first part, but I appreciate all the love it has gotten :) The original request had the male reader being nice, however, I want him to also be kinda of a bimbo so apologies in advance if he doesn't feel like the same character.

Summary: Billy and Stu were fighting over you, it takes time (more than you would like to admit), but you catch on and make them play nice :)

tags: soft/bottom reader, you make Billy and Stu get along, kisses, suggestive language, Billy and Stu are a mess, cursing

link to part one

(not my fanart, just couldn't find a good gif to go alongside this :) Credit to the creator)

It took you way too long to notice the competition brewing between Billy and Stu—embarrassingly long. You weren’t dumb, not exactly, but you tended to…miss things. Like the way Billy would glower whenever Stu made you laugh a little too hard, or how Stu practically shoved himself between you and Billy whenever you were all on the couch. You thought they were just being, well, Billy and Stu. A little intense, a little weird, but harmless.

It wasn’t until you walked into the kitchen one morning and found Stu dramatically arguing with Billy over who got to “sit next to you at breakfast” that it finally clicked.

“Oh my gosh,” you said, smacking your forehead. “You guys are, like, totally fighting over me, aren’t you?”

Billy and Stu froze mid-argument, their heads snapping toward you.

“What? No,” Billy said immediately, his voice sharp and defensive.

“Yup,” Stu said at the same time, grinning like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

You tilted your head, frowning as you processed their reactions. “You are! Oh my god, that’s so cute!”

Billy groaned, dragging a hand down his face. Stu, on the other hand, lit up like a Christmas tree. “You think we’re cute?” he asked, sidling up to you with a grin.

“Yeah,” you said, giving him a sunny smile. “Like, two puppies fighting over a squeaky toy. It’s adorable!”

Billy’s jaw clenched, his dark eyes narrowing. “We’re not puppies,” he muttered.

“Of course not,” you said, patting his arm like you were trying to console him. “You’re more like, I dunno, angry alley cats or something.”

Stu burst out laughing, slapping you on the back. “Alley cats! Dude, you kill me.”

Billy didn’t laugh, but his lips twitched slightly, betraying a flicker of amusement.

From that day on, you couldn’t help but lean into it.

You weren’t exactly a mastermind, but you knew how to get a reaction—and boy, did they give you plenty to work with. It started small. Wearing slightly tighter shirts around the apartment. Stretching a little too dramatically during your workouts in the living room. Flopping onto the couch between them and resting your head on one of their shoulders, just to see who would get jealous first.

And when you realized just how much they worshipped your chest? Oh, that opened a whole new world of possibilities.

One particularly hot day, you decided shirts were overrated. You lounged around the apartment in nothing but a pair of gym shorts, your big tits on full display as you sprawled out on the couch. You pretended not to notice the way Billy’s eyes kept darting toward you or the way Stu’s grin stretched just a little too wide.

At one point, Stu plopped down beside you, his arm slinging across the back of the couch. “Damn, Big Guy,” he said, his tone teasing but low. “You trying to kill us or something?”

You blinked at him, all wide-eyed innocence. “Huh? What do you mean?”

Stu snorted, his hand twitching like he wanted to touch you but thought better of it. “I mean, walking around like that. It’s distracting, dude.”

Billy, who had been leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, scoffed. “He knows exactly what he’s doing.”

“Do not!” you protested, pouting a little. “I’m just comfortable! You guys are the ones making it weird.”

Billy’s eyes darkened, his voice dropping to a low, almost dangerous tone. “Weird, huh? Keep pushing, and you’ll find out just how ‘weird’ we can get.”

You stared at him for a moment, your pout deepening. “That sounded kinda threatening, but also kinda hot? Like, what are you gonna do? Wrestle me or something?”

Stu burst out laughing again, practically falling off the couch. “Oh, man, you’re gonna get yourself in trouble, Big Guy.”

And you should've heed his warning, easing on your teasing, but it was fun. That was until they fought back. You’d been wandering around the apartment in one of your usual lazy outfits—just a pair of boxers and a loose tank top that did absolutely nothing to hide your chest—when you felt the atmosphere shift.

It started with Stu, as always, bounding up to you with that mischievous grin of his. “Hey, Big Guy,” he said, stepping into your personal space. “You been working out more? ‘Cause those things,” he gestured at your chest, “look like they could take me out in one punch.”

You laughed, swatting at him playfully. “Oh, stop. You’re so silly.”

Before you could escape to your room, though, Billy appeared, blocking your path. His expression was unreadable, but there was something in his eyes—something dark and intense—that made your heart skip a beat.

“Seriously,” Billy said, his voice low and rough. “Enough’s enough.”

You blinked, glancing between them in confusion. “Enough of what?”

Stu leaned in, his grin turning wicked. “The teasing, Big Guy. You’ve been driving us insane, and we’ve had enough.”

Before you could respond, Stu’s hands were on your shoulders, pulling you down into a messy, hungry kiss. His lips moved against yours with wild abandon, his fingers gripping you like he was afraid you might slip away. When he finally pulled back, you were breathless, your mind spinning. “Whoa,” you muttered, blinking at him.

And (to make things better), Billy stepped in, his hand gripping the back of your neck as he kissed you with a slow, deliberate intensity that left you dizzy. His lips were firm, his movements calculated, like he wanted to savor every second of this moment. The heat from him was palpable, his grip possessive but not forceful—just enough to keep you still as he took what he wanted. When he finally pulled away, his dark eyes locked onto yours, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“You like teasing, huh?” he murmured, his voice low and dripping with restrained heat. “Well, now it’s our turn.”

Stu, never one to be outdone, slung an arm around your shoulders, his grin as wide and wild as ever. He looked at you like a predator who’d just caught the juiciest prey. “Cancel any plans you might have, big guy,” he said with a laugh. “’Cause you’re gonna be real busy for a while.”

You blinked, still reeling, your cheeks flushed and your heart pounding so hard you swore they could hear it. “Wait…does this mean I have two boyfriends now?” you asked, your voice coming out breathless and faintly incredulous.

Stu laughed loudly, pulling you closer until your sides were pressed together. “Yes, and I hope you realize that means you’re ours. Only ours.”

Billy’s smirk softened into something more dangerous as he moved behind you, his arms wrapping around your chest from behind. His hands settled on your pecs, his fingers teasingly circling the broad muscle as he rested his chin on your shoulder. “That’s right,” he murmured, his voice a low purr. “You’re not going anywhere. And anyone who tries to take you from us?” His smirk returned, darker this time. “They’ll regret it.”

Stu nodded eagerly, his fingers brushing against the other side of your chest like they were testing the limits of your patience—or maybe just reveling in how easily they’d gotten you to blush. “Yeah, big guy. You’re stuck with us now. Two-for-one deal of the century.”

You groaned, dropping your head back against Billy’s shoulder with an exasperated laugh. “You two are insane. Both of you.”

Billy chuckled softly, his fingers tightening just enough to make your breath hitch. “Maybe. But you like us that way, don’t you?”

Stu grinned, leaning in so close his nose brushed against your cheek. “Admit it, big guy. You wouldn’t have it any other way.”

And, damn it, they weren’t wrong.

[dsybouquet]

cant stop thinking about art atelier owner! ellie who recently moved the atelier to a bigger and prettier place.

the former flower shop has stood empty for years since the old lady running it has turned too old. when ellie bought the place from her, she saw the sadness behind the woman’s eyes who spent decades of her life in the building and now had to leave it behind. therefore ellie made the promise to keep the place im a good shape.

that being said, ellie stood by her word. couple of months have passed and the atelier is almost finished. she was missing some things here and there, but the time will bring them in - or rather, her local delivery girl will.

it was a cold november day and you regretted showing up at work. since christmas was approaching, the amount of packages was nearly unbearable. you stopped the mail-vehicle and put your head on the steering wheel. “think about the money, ______.”, you reminded yourself before grabbing the letters from the box next to you.

“williams?”, you whispered to yourself, clearly remembering that the shop belonged to a elderly woman named sophie thomson.

looking at your handscanner, you saw that you also had three packages to deliver at the adress.

thinking nothing of it, you got out of the vehicle. the cold air was immediately piercing your fingers and you wrapped your scarf closer around your neck. the side door slid open and you took the four packages all adress to ‘ellie williams - williams’ atelier’

odd, you thought, but you scanned them in and made your way inside. it was completely renovated. the walls, that used to have a flowery wallpaper, are now painted in a dark green tone, that made the atmosphere super mysterious. brown armchairs and a retro looking glass table, that was littered with art magazines, stood next to the entrance. it felt like a lobby.

“hello? im here to deliver a package.”, you called out, placing the packages on the nearby counter.

“coming!”, you heard a woman reply.

rushing from the backdoor was a woman, approximately around the age of 25. her hair was half up in a messy bun, possibly to keep it out of her face. she wore a beat down overall that was covered in paint stains.

“sorry, didn’t hear ya coming in.”, she then said, looking at you with her piercing eyes. for a second you were just staring at her tattoos, her face and her eyes.

“y-yeah don’t worry! i just need a signature for one of these.”, you fumbled on the handscanner. “can i ask your name, so i can type it in?”

“ellie williams.”, she responded, leaning against the counter, eyeing you.

“alright, miss williams, i need you to sign right on the display and then we’re done.”, you smiled, holding the scanner out to her.

she signed with a smile on her face, and placed the packages on the backdoor.

“hey! i have a few more orders coming in in the next weeks. also some furniture. if anything is too heavy just come in and yell. i will make sure to help you.”, she said, walking back to you.

this wasn’t the last time you had to go to the atelier. actually, mrs. williams was ordering a lot. you always wanted to roll your eyes when you’re collages commented how many packages the adress had, but you couldn’t.

after some time passed, she would eventually start to offer you a cup of coffee or some sweets. eventually you would drop calling her mrs. williams and call her ellie or els.

“what are your opening hours between christmas and new year?”, you asked as you placed her packages on the counter and clicked the ‘recipient’ button to confirm the package delivery.

“we’re closed, but just ring the door bell as i will be here sometimes. maybe you can catch me.”, she smiled and grabbed your to go coffee cup to refill it for you - something that she started to do last week.

“______, wait here for a second.”, she then said, turning her back to you and jogging towards the backdoor. “i got you a little something.”

she handed you a dark green, christmas themed giftbag filled with some chocolate and a little canvas. “thank you for your hard work and for carrying my heavy furniture in here”

“thank you, els.”, you smiled.

back in your car, you looked at the little envelope in the bag. there was a card inside, littered with christmas wishes and..

ellies number at the bottom of it. ‘text me if you see this xx’

[on-a-lucky-tide]

Your ask made me remember the request I was going to send it to you but forgot

hard to pick one to ask out of my drafts (very tempted to ask a PriceGhost omegaverse thought) BUT I decided to go with this cliché ask:

During a mission it snowed in, trapping Price and Nikolai in the safehouse, maybe one of them is experiencing hypothermia and needed to be warm up...in one way or another ( ͡º ꒳ ͡º) you can decide if they go 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂 or not!! I'll eat up anything you write either way

love yo stuff, stay hydrated! also manifesting max grains and zero pain for ya gym days 💪

Nik has to save Price from hypothermia, but with their bodies pressed so close, they can't resist each other.

cw: omegaverse, alpha Nik, omega Price, dubious consent in the sense Price is embarrassed by his body's reaction, clearly has some trauma, and it's kinda a stressful situation, and Nik gentles him? But they're into each other. Uncertain/open ending as Price clearly has a lot to work through. Sorry, Gomz, this got a whole 7k away from me...

The snow had come in so quickly. That was the problem with operating this far north; the weather was unpredictable, and when it turned it took no prisoners. Nik had managed to get them to an old house he knew about just on the outskirts of a small town. One of many old estates once owned by a soviet officer, its wine cellar, opulent decorations, and sprawling grounds all that remained of the bloated symbol of hypocrisy. It had long since been abandoned by the locals; too much trouble to repair, and everything of immediate value had been gutted.

While Nik had tried to get one of the old radios they found to work, John had been shovelling snow around the generators in an effort to get close enough to crank them up, but the storm had eventually defeated him and driven him back inside. Not even the legendary Bravo Six could overcome nature when she dug her heels in. 

Nik wasn't immediately worried when John stepped into the study where they'd set up a temporary camp, shaking the snow from his carrier vest and coat like a dog clearing its fur. He was walking normally, placing his rifle down against the wall as he shut out the howling wind. Nik had loaded a fire in the hearth and found a heap of animal furs and blankets in one of the bedrooms upstairs to supplement their sleeping bags, so the room was warm enough to shed their coats and hang them to dry. He sat hunched over the desk by the window, one side of the headset pressed to his ear as he adjusted the antennae. 

The radio whirred and buzzed, but there was too much interference from the storm and all he could coax out of it was white noise and whining. "There is only static," Nik said. "It is working, but we will only get a communication through when the snow eases. For now, we must wait."

"Thas'good," John said, and then proceeded to knock into a dusty coffee table, his boots clumping heavily as he tried to steady himself.

Nik paused, his hand stilling on the dials. "Captain?" He looked over his shoulder, picking John's shape out in the gloom as his eyes adjusted to the dim light created by the fire. A sharp contrast to the almost radioactive yellow of the dials. He could see John slouched over by the door, his hand against the wall.

"Nik, I fink... Fink 'm..." 

Nik abandoned the radio in the next breath and was there to catch John when he staggered, his body falling heavily into Nik's arms. There was no mistaking the signs of hypothermia; John looked confused, his eyes dilated, and when Nik yanked his glove off with his teeth and shoved his hand just on the inside of John's collar where he should be warm and dry, his skin was cold and clammy.

"Nik, 'm... S'somethin'..." 

Nik dragged John towards the fire, his boots scuffing on the old wood panel floor as he struggled to find his footing. John's clothes were wet, inside and out; a combination of relentless snow melting through and the sweat from exertion meant that much of his gear's insulation had been rendered useless. Exposed for too long in adverse conditions, even the most expensive military kit couldn't keep up. 

Nik peeled John out of them, tearing off velcro and unclipping buckles, swift and efficient. His palms passed over pale skin spotted with freckles, blue in some places where it should be flushed and pink. Despite its pallor, John's body was truly beautiful; strong and athletic, with its defined musculature dusted by downy body hair. If the situation wasn't so desperate, Nik might have lingered to admire every new inch he revealed. He had fantasised about it long enough in private moments, his eyes closed and his hand inside his underwear.

John tried to help. Even dazed and shivering, he knew what was wrong. Knew what the process was. But his clumsy hands only slowed Nik down, numb fingers unable to grip or feel their way over the fastenings. "Let me. I have you," Nik said gently, pushing John's hands away from his belt. He was naked for barely a handful of seconds before Nik was wrapping him in a sleeping bag, laying him down on top of the pile of furs before the fire. 

There were warm packs in their Bergens and Nik cracked a few of these as he kicked off his own clothes. Sleeping bags needed actual body heat to work well, and that was something John was lacking; on their own, the heat packs wouldn't work quickly enough. This wasn't how Nik had wanted to hold John for the first time, not what he had dreamed about in those quiet hours before dawn, his hand clutched around his knot, but he didn't have time to lament fate.

Nik shivered as he grabbed the last of the blankets, a little musty, but a maid had clearly laundered them before storing them away for the final time. He draped them over in layers before sliding into the sleeping bag at John's back, large arms encircling his quivering chest and drawing him close, John's freezing body fully ensconced in life-saving warmth.

Only in the stillness that followed did Nik realise his own heart was hammering in his chest, his ears muffled by the pulse of his blood as he allowed himself the momentary grace to feel fear. What if John had stayed out only five minutes longer and collapsed in the snow? What if Nik had searched for him, his body already covered over, and hadn't found him until the morning? Frozen solid, his beautiful eyes empty of life. It could have happened. Fate had been close to stealing John away. Too close. 

John's laboured panting evened out and Nik felt his body go slack as he slipped in and out of unconsciousness. It was fine, as long as he was warming, breathing, his body relaxing out of its tense alarm, then Nik could stop his useless panicking.

 Nik swallowed, tilting his nose down into John's hair to inhale a lungful of him, seeking comfort from the soft scent of a mature, fertile omega; a guilty pleasure, but one he allowed himself to calm his fear. 

He had never been this close to John. Brief embraces, shoulder to shoulder in the back of a Hercules, sharing a drink and whispering conspiratorially in a bar, passing a cigar back and forth in the back of Nik's Black Hawk. So many intimate moments where Nik had fallen slowly, irrevocably in love with this fierce, bad-tempered, feral man with scruffy facial hair and cunningly intelligent blue eyes. But none like this. None where he could taste John's musky, soft smell in the back of his throat, feel the pulse of his heart as if it were beating under his own skin.

Nik knew he was torturing himself. John’s scent curled through him like rich cigar smoke in an expensive bar, winding down his spine until it coiled in his belly and stoked at his instincts.  Nik was so very aware of the firm line of John's body in his arms; the plush curves of his full arse, the strong muscles of his thighs and the quiet strength boasted by his broad shoulders. How soft and inviting his body hair was, how kissable the freckles, scars and moles across his skin, like constellations mapping a lifetime over John's body. The thought of spreading John's legs, sinking into his tight heat and making that gravelly voice break with pleasure was driving him insane.

"Blyat..." Nik muttered, the heat coiling in his hips, his cock twitching. Nik flattened his palm against John's chest and felt the strong, valiant thrum of his heart, defiant in the face of the cold. He used it to ground himself. He had to stay calm. For John's sake. While Nik could forgive his body its natural urges around such a handsome omega, he could not forgive any loss of control because of them.

Nik stayed vigilant as the minutes ticked into hours. He tried to remember his training about the different levels of hypothermia and their recovery times, but all his damn mind could latch onto was the scent and feel of the omega in his arms. Nik ached in a way he never had before; a deep, humming discontent at his very core. It was a combination of desire and terror; the cold had nearly snatched John away, and now here he was, so close, so vulnerable, and yet he had never been so off limits. Nik burned with need and it mocked him.

Nik held John a little tighter and closed his eyes. As long as he could feel the slow rise and fall of John's chest, feel the flutter of his breath over his bicep, he knew John was still… here. Alive, and safe. If Nik stayed still, taking each minute as it came, he would not slip. Not allow himself to indulge in his weakness.

Nik must have dozed off to the lullaby of John's heartbeat, his face tucked into his hair, because seemingly in the next moment John was writhing in his arms, his arse bumping back against the hard length of Nik's cock, which had only stiffened further as Nik had grounded himself in the strength of John's body. A poor method of quietening his libido, as it turned out, with John's scent now fogging every breath, melting into his hot skin like settling snow.

Nik loosened his embrace a little and John rolled over, the cold tip of his nose pressing between the mounds of Nik's tits. Nik felt the bristles of John's beard and then the soft vibration of a contented hum, followed by the softest roll of a pleased purr; the noise of a receptive omega looking to mate. It gripped in Nik’s chest like a closing fist and he drew in a stuttering breath. Nik stroked a palm down the curve of John's spine to settle at the small of his back, and John's hips pushed forward, teasing himself against the thick bulge in Nik's boxers. Nik did nothing to stop him, paralysed by the noise he never thought he'd hear John make.

One of those strong legs lifted to drape over Nik's hip, drawing him closer until Nik could feel John's wet slit dampening the cotton over his cock. John  was reacting favourably to his scent, judging him worthy as he flexed against his strength, instinctually reaching for him. Nik's entire body ached with desire and sordid lust, his teeth on edge, as the man he yearned for offered himself up in a poisoned chalice. To take advantage now would be beyond redemption.

 "John?" Nik croaked. 

John's lashes fluttered against Nik's skin and he pulled back a little, a stitch between his brows. "Nik, I..."

"How do you feel?" Nik bit out, intimately aware that he could feel the throbbing heat between John's legs pressed against the length of his cock.

John's cheeks reddened and Nik felt his weathered hands press to his chest. "Fine... Good, I... Sorry, 'm... I didn' mean..." 

"Is ok," Nik said softly. "It is warm. Your body is reacting naturally." 

John swallowed and Nik felt a deep breath shudder the length of his back. Noticeably, John didn't draw his hips away; he tensed and then relaxed, like he was fighting an internal battle, his body warming further in Nik's arms as his hips squirmed, rubbing the swollen bud of his cock against Nik's with a soft gasp of surprised pleasure. His skin was warm, flushed, the first beads of sweat gathering across his shoulder blades, slick between their bellies and chests. The miasma of pheromones and arousal made Nik dizzy, and beneath it he could smell the telltale sweetness of heat. 

John wasn't due, he knew that much. The captain organised his heats fastidiously. His body had been thrown off kilter by the cold, perhaps, or even the proximity and availability of someone his subconscious deemed a worthy mate to protect it while vulnerable; a virile, strong alpha.  The thought that John's primal self would offer him for mating, assured that Nik would be strong enough to protect him while he recovered, and the resulting pups from their union, stirred something feral and possessive in Nik's gut. He pushed it down, shoulders bunching.

John growled low in his throat, flashing his sharp canines, his fists bunching against Nik's chest, perhaps sensing the shift in Nik body. "Don't know wos fuckin' wrong with me," he snarled, and Nik felt the graze of those teeth against his clavicle. 

Nik knew John fought his biology. He chafed at it, saw it as a failing. Nik could only imagine what had been done to him in the past to make him feel that way. Like any omega, John was more than capable of tearing him to pieces if he felt threatened, but there was something so rawly vulnerable about John now as he clenched and growled, fighting something that he should view as a nuisance more than a crippling inadequacy. 

"Nothing," Nik said. "There is nothing wrong with you. You are... velikolepnyy." 

"Fuck, Nik..." John's fingers splayed over his chest again, the cool tip of his nose warming in the hollow of Nik's throat. "Haa, hnn, I think.. ahh, I think ‘m..."

"Da, I can... smell it in your sweat."

"Fuck, fuck..." John snarled, letting out another soft gasp as his body cramped for the first time.

"It is ok. You are safe. We can manage it until help arrives."

John shoved his face into Nik's chest and groaned, pained. “Yer so fuckin’ hard, Nik.”

Nik swallowed. That didn't sound like anger or disgust. But desperation and desire. “Da, you… smell very good,” Nik said, somewhat lamely. “It is ok. I can… I am in control.”

“Oh, fu–” John tensed in Nik’s arms, and Nik heard his jaw creak as he clenched his teeth through another spasm of discomfort. “Need t’ get out of here or I won't be… ha-ah.” 

“Nyet, you… John, you must stay in the warm.’

“All the bloody blankets smell of you. S’only gonna… get worse. Fuck, why fuckin’... now?”

Nik swallowed and slid a hand from John's back to his hip. “A panic response. You were in danger–this is not your fault.”

John said nothing. He faded into silence, his body wound tight in Nik’s arms. His previously calm, deep breaths that had inhaled lungfuls of Nik’s scent, soothing his heat into a deeper lull, now hitched in short, sharp pants, trying to avoid the lure of comfort and surrender. Nik wished they were home, in John's bed, or even the snug bunk he used in his office when he couldn't be bothered to drive back to his flat. At least there, surrounded by familiarity, John might have felt safe enough to tentatively explore the desire sinking its hooks in.

But then, Nik thought with only a hint of bitterness, it was the sheer desperation of the environment around them that had panicked his body enough to shake up the clock. Without it, John would have always remained in absolute control of himself to the point of guarded repression. He would have never fallen into Nik's embrace.

“God, fuck,” John growled, his body rigid, like if he moved even an inch he might lose some invisible battle. Ground lost to an encroaching enemy. Nik wished he could roll him into his back and scent him until he relaxed. Every instinct sparking in his brain roared with distress at the discomfort of the omega in his arms, demanding he do something, anything. He laid there uselessly, as frozen as the fish in the ponds outside, caught in the storm of competing needs; to satiate John, and to respect him. It hurt that the two things were in opposition when they should be one and the same.

John shifted, his broad shoulders rolling a little, his head tilting back. Nik could practically hear the cogs whirring in John's mind. When he finally lifted his chin far enough for their eyes to meet, John's were red and watery from stress, pupils dilated. Nik could see a deep sadness, a kind of resignation; bright blue dampened to a faded grey. “I, uh… would ya help me, Nik?”

Nik’s mouth opened and closed, each breath drawing more of John’s deep, saccharine scent to the back of his tongue. His body was tense in Nik’s arms still, occasionally shuddering as another muscle spasm worked its way through his core, a grunt snorting through his nose as he swallowed down his groan of pain. Nik couldn't find his words. “I…”

“C’mon, know you want it, can feel ya between my legs,” John said, huffing softly with amusement, face crinkling in a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. “Would jus’ be, mm… quick, y’know? So they don't find me in a state. I'd make it up t’ ya, on my word.”

“You would offer me something I have wanted for years as if it is a burden,” Nik said, trying to keep the edge of sadness from his voice but failing rather miserably. “This is not how I… hoped it to be.”

John swallowed, his eyes dropped, expression hazy. It wasn't how Nik had hoped his confession would be either. He had pictured an expensive dinner, perhaps a trip to Duxford so he could look at the planes and John could look at the tanks, and then Nik would have told him as they strolled through the countryside towards a pint, wrapped in scarves and heavy coats. Warm, safe. Comfortable in each other’s presence as they had always been. Like this, John would feel under duress, vulnerable and like he needed to be on the defence.

Another shudder, another pant of breath, the soft gasp not quite bitten back in time. “Please, Nik… can’t let them see me like this, I… I'll be good.. ahh, for ya. No funny business.”

“Funny business?”

“Yeah, not gonna bite, or… mm, won't… won't fight ya.”

“John…” Nik said, his chest pulling tight; his teeth ached at the back of his mouth and a miserable knot formed in his throat. “I am not a rapist.”

“I know, I know… Nik, 'm… ahh, ‘m not thinkin’, didn't mean it like that, I…” John's face dropped to Nik's chest for a moment as he gathered himself. “Jus’... Don't bite me, don't mark me, no’... no’ ready. I… no’ like this.”

“I promise I won't,” Nik said. It hurt that John couldn't meet his eyes. Someone had hurt him badly in the past. Nik had always assumed as such, but that was all the confirmation he needed. The harm was so deep, still raw, that John couldn't even trust a man that had served him loyally for so many years.

Nik lifted the hand from John's hip and cupped the side of his face, thumb brushing over his cheek. Those blue eyes flickered and John tilted into his palm, the softest purr breaking through the tightness of his jaw, so low, like a glass marble rolling across an old oak table. Nik couldn't be sure John wasn't forcing it for his benefit, but it had the desired effect either way; the alpha part of his biology ruffled happily, and he responded with a soft chuff, pressing his lips to John's forehead. "Ya tebya obozhayu."

Nik couldn't resist any longer. If he was gentle, if he took his time, then that apprehension he could see in John's eyes, the tense fear rigid down his back, would melt away. John was watching him, sad blue eyes glistening, part in shame, part in barely disguised fear, and Nik wanted to hold him until all he felt was comfort and pleasure. 

Their first kiss was tentative, as tender as Nik could be as his hands shook. John's mouth yielded to his tongue, soft, chapped lips parting with a low moan as John's body arched against his once again. Nik slid his palm beneath John’s thigh to lift it further over his hip, grinding his hard cock against the wet heat between his legs, slow and leisurely. Even the soft material of his boxers would begin to feel coarse against John's heat sensitive skin, so they needed to go.

When Nik pulled away, he sucked gently on John's lower lip, before pressing another kiss to his forehead creased with tense lines. He wriggled away enough to shove his boxers off his hips and down his thighs until they passed his knees. When John pressed back against him, soft skin of his inner thigh sliding over the outside of Nik's, Nik's cock head slid through his wet folds, bumping up against the swell of his cock. 

“Oh fuck, Nik… yer so fuckin’ thick…” John bit out, grinding himself against the underside of Nik's cock, slick and precum making filthy, wet noises as John groaned into Nik's chest, hands clutching at the meat of Nik's body as he took his pleasure. Nik let him, mouth hanging open, the soft, wet slit of John’s cunt hot and perfect around the underside of his shaft. 

He cupped John's arse with one hand, spreading it open a little so his fingers could dip towards the fluttering muscles of John's holes. The softest brush of his fingertips appeared to be enough because John’s moans hit a peak after only two passes, his body seizing, pushing hard against Nik's cock. “Oh, fuck, Nik, Nik… ha-ah.”

John tucked his face away as if ashamed at his eagerness, pressing his nose into the centre of Nik's chest as his orgasm rattled through him. He was on a hair trigger, sensitivity heightened, receptive to a potential mate’s touch. The thought made something warm and heavy curl in Nik’s belly, and he allowed himself a fleeting moment of excitement. Nik nuzzled a kiss in his hair and chuffed softly, stroking his hands up and down John's back before lifting John higher against him, his cock flicking free of the press of John's body. 

It was awkward like this, wrapped tightly in the blankets with John half draped over him, and Nik didn't want to risk rolling on top of John and panicking him. There was a risk instinct would overcome reason in the haze of heat and John's fear, and those sharp teeth would rip through his jugular in seconds. Perhaps later, when he had realised Nik wasn't about to hurt him, Nik would drape over his back and appease the deep need in his gut to blanket his omega as they mated, to fully encompass his powerful body as it presented and guard it with his own. Instead, Nik reached beneath John's thigh, hitching it a little higher, to steady his cock just long enough to sink the head inside.

John gasped, his back arching, his walls still tingling from his orgasm bore down, spasming in renewed pleasure as Nik slowly thrust inside. He couldn't quite get fully seated, not at this angle, but it was enough. His eyes flickered shut at the sweet, soft heat sucking around his shaft as he drew back, thrusting back in with a slow roll of the hips, feeling John press against him with a strangled grunt of shock.

“John…” Nik kept hold of John’s thigh but the other hand slid up his back into his hair, urging his face away from where it had buried against his chest. His eyes were red-rimmed, dull, and there was a crease of concentration doen his face. Nik's heart ached. “I am sorry… you are… tight.”

“S’ok,” John croaked. “Don' be, s’fine, feels good… please, move… ‘m–haa.”

Nik kissed him gently on the lips, no more than a brief brush, before rolling to ease him on top. As John slid down Nik's full length, his knees splaying over the blankets, he choked out a soft gasp. “Nik, fuck, so much… haa, mmm, n-no, give me a moment, need a moment…” 

John was so tight, bearing down on the thick girth pressing him open, resisting, anxious. Nik had a slight height advantage, and he used it to press gentle kisses to John's face; over his brow, against a flushed cheek and the creases at the corners of his eyes. He chuffed, stroking warm palms up and down John's broad back as it flexed and quivered.

With each caress, John relaxed, sinking down against the plush warmth of Nik's body; the give of his belly, the cushion of his chest, the downy black hair of his torso that trapped the scent of his sweat and pheromones, rubbing both into John's skin. 

John tucked his nose beneath Nik's chin and purred, rough and craggy, like someone had rubbed sandpaper down his throat. Not the silky trill of a young omega, but the worn, tired purr of a mature one that has torn his way through life with his bare hands, snarling and growling, so used to roaring with fury that gentler noises were unwieldy. And yet, it was the most beautiful sound Nik had ever heard.

Nik responded with soft huffs and murmurs of his own, hands sliding down to John's thighs as he slowly rocked his hips up, dragging his thick cock out until only his crown stayed notched inside, the slick dripping down his shaft, soaking his balls, further assurance that John was finding pleasure in their mating. When John tilted his head and started to lick at Nik’s chin and neck, his tongue rasping over Nik’s stubble in long, indulgent laps, Nik tilted his back to submit himself to his omega’s affectionate grooming. I trust you, please trust me.

His. His omega. John was his. Handsome, fierce, strong. Every inch of him wrapped in corded muscle, with a soft layer over his belly and tits, his slim waist and the dip of his back perfectly shaped for Nik’s hands, the firm curves of his arse and thighs, built for explosive strength, agility, for riding an alpha’s cock and taking their pleasure. If only someone had nurtured John's confidence rather than destroy it. 

Nik pushed his heels and upper back into the floor, and bounced John’s hips against his, fucking him down onto his cock with increasing pace.

“Oh, Nik, Nik… mmm, yeah, tha’--ah, ah, fuck,” John panted, breath hot against the wetness he had left on the underside of Nik's chin.

“You are perfect, John. Tell me, tell me what… mm, tell me what you want…”

“Ahh, ahh, I nee’, ah, Nik, yeah…”

“That's it, solnyshko, take what you… ahh, take what you need. I am yours.”

 Nik could feel John taking agency, tentatively, his hips moving without guidance. He slid his hands down the back of John's thighs and held him behind the knees, giving him something to brace against as he began to grind and roll with increasing urgency, chasing the pleasure coiling in his hips, tensing in his thighs and his lower back.

“Ahh, yer… ahh, yer gettin’ harder… feel, ahh, feel bigger, mm… ahh, yer knot, fuck!”

Nik's knot was beginning to swell, popping in and out of John's hole, gaping him wide with each pass. His back arched, hips thrusting up to meet John, a firm platform for him to slam himself down and grind against. Under the cover of the blanket, the sweat eased the glide of their bodies together, intensifying the scent of heat and arousal in Nik's nostrils. His balls pulled tight as John's desperate noises, broken and gravelly, hit a new, urgent note, and his knot swelled, grinding into John's hole until it locked them together. 

Nik released John's shaking legs as his body responded with a deep, overwhelming orgasm that milked Nik’s knot, and Nik grabbed John's face, arching him back to lick the sweat up the curve of his throat. So close to his scent glands, it was saturated in heat pheromones and Nik sucked desperately at the soft, vulnerable skin just above the hollow of his throat as his prick filled John with his seed.

 Those strong thighs clamped around his hips, shuddering and weak from exertion, and Nik whispered gentle praise until John went limp against him, melting into the cradle of Nik's body and relaxing around the bulge of his knot. 

Nik had never felt satisfaction like it. A soft, comfortable calm settled deep in his bones. His omega smelled satiated, content, the heave of his shoulders calming as his heart settled into an even rhythm. Neither of them spoke. Nik thought perhaps they were both listening to each other's bodies. Nik could feel John's heartbeat; against his chest, wrapped around his cock. Defiant, strong. And Nik wondered whether John could feel his, beating deep inside him, whether it made him feel content, whether the intimacy made him feel as content as it did Nik. Nik kissed John's neck and received a soft rumble in response.

They dozed. Nik's knot went down and he eased John into the softness of the blankets, kissing his chest, his throat, his mouth. Desperate to taste him, to please and comfort him. He was sucking a pebbled nipple when John tugged at him again, gladly spreading his legs for Nik to climb between them. Nik gathered John's hands and pressed them above his head, their fingers wound together, and watched his eyes, kissed his lips, made love to him as gently as he could.

 Muscular thighs spread wide as Nik ground deep inside John's eager cunt, alternating between agile rolls and circles of his hips and deeper thrusts that let John feel the heavy balls ready to breed him. The second knot was as intense as the first, and Nik fucked his spend deep into John's body, his tongue in his mouth, their lips locked together. John pushed himself up into it, legs wide in wanton and beautiful submission. 

The ebb and flow of John's heat stretched through the night, the storm howling relentlessly outside. They slept between bouts of sex, with John curled into the safety of Nik's arms. After his first turn on top, he was too weak to take the lead again; drained by his brush with the cold, exhausted by the anxiety of an unplanned heat, he relaxed into Nik's care because he had little choice. Nik cradled him, kept them wrapped in the blankets, now rich with the miasma of their mating, their bodies slick and pliant. Every time John demanded, Nik provided. 

When he left the impromptu nest - for that is what it had become, soaked in the scent of their mating - it was only to check the radio, feed the fire and arrange John's clothes before it to dry. Each time he returned, John curled back into his embrace with a contented purr, drawing Nik back between his legs.

As dawn creeped closer, John's scent changed, so full of Nik now that he was ready to be claimed. John rolled onto his front, too exhausted to fight his natural desires, and tilted his hips up. Nik writhed between the blankets to taste between his legs, warm tongue lapping slowly over John's puffy, sore cunt, so sensitive and wet, giving into his own instincts to taste the fertility and readiness of his omega. 

It was dizzying, intoxicating; Nik pressed his tongue inside and felt John squeeze around him, heard him sigh softly in pleasure, and ground his hard cock against the furs in excitement. He had done this. He had satisfied this strong, indomitable omega to the point he would relax, present, accept a deep and thorough breeding. Nik had been deemed worthy once again.

Nik licked John until his jaw ached, his face soaked in slick, reaching to play with John's engorged cock, squeezing and rubbing until John’s hips were rocking, his moans low and filthy. Eventually, John squirmed, a softer orgasm making his walls flutter in search of a knot as his fingers snagged in the furs. His heat would break in the next few hours; this was their final coupling. 

Nik draped over his back, up on his hands and toes with John's hips tilted up. John swallowed him so easily, snug heat sucking Nik’s cock down until Nik’s heavy balls were flush to his body. Nik groaned, the silky soft wetness somehow more divine than it had been the first time, and John echoed him, pressing back, demanding his alpha.

“Nik…”

It was the first word John had said in hours. He had been mostly moans, gasps and growls, completely delirious. That was it, wasn't it? The tension, the resistance, it had melted away, John wanted him, wanted to feel his knot, to take his seed. 

“Da, solnyshko. I am here…”

John twisted, arching back, and they kissed, John licking into Nik's mouth. No hiding his face, no delirious submission, but seeking affection as Nik slowly rocked into him. Nik's chest ached in a different way; relief, love, a deep need to protect, to serve his omega's every whim. The soft noises John made through their kiss as Nik dragged every inch of his prick in and out of his body made Nik want to stay there forever, trapped in this moment of bliss. So in tune with John, their heartbeats in tandem, bodies joined as one. 

When John broke the kiss, he turned to press his chest into the furs and lift into Nik's thrusts. “Breed me proper, Nik… fuck, I need it… need yer knot, mmm, please, please… harder, wanna feel ya in my damn womb.”

Nik's nostrils flared, his lips rolling back to show his teeth. He dropped to his elbows and tucked his arms beneath John's chest, pressing his own into the sweaty plain of John's back, and began to rut into him harder, faster. The blankets fell away with the pace of Nik's movements, but the fire was stacked high, the room warm enough that it didn't matter. John moaned and gasped, slick hole bearing down on the relentless pump of Nik’s prick into it, hands kneading at the furs.

 It was instinctual to lean down and mouth the gland at John's neck, rolling it between his teeth, the sweet taste of unmated omega soaking his tongue. John moaned, more slick dripping down his thighs, his mind unthinking in a soft haze of instinct and heat. He didn't resist, didn't fight. 

It would be so easy to claim him at that moment. They would be bonded for life. This beautiful omega would be Nik's and Nik’s alone. Every heat, his body would call for Nik, and Nik’s rut would answer. The intensity of their mating would leave them both sated, and Nik would have a lifetime to show John how much he deserved to be loved. Perhaps even a pup or two, with John's beautiful blue eyes and round cheeks and lopsided smile–

Nik moaned, teeth tightening, as his hips pistoned harder, cock throbbing, so close to release. John's body was so open, so wet, the noises filling the room alongside their moans completely obscene. The filthy pleasure of it roiled in Nik's gut, the thought of pumping another load deep inside his omega, of it quickening as his teeth rended through freckled skin to claim what was already his by fucking birth right, and John had said no, but what if–

He growled low in his chest and forced his jaw apart, pressing his open mouth to John's shoulder, as his knot popped and his balls emptied in powerful pulses. 

He didn't bite down. 

Wouldn't. 

Couldn't. 

John had said no and Nik's love for the man was greater than his desire for the omega, even in the heat of the moment. A well of self disgust formed in Nik's chest as he pressed his face to John's back, the fevered, possessive internal rant fading into an echo in the back of his mind.

John moaned and flopped into the furs, his hips shifting only with the occasional stutter of Nik's as he ground his spend as deep as he could. Nik relaxed some of his weight onto John's back and felt him vibrate with the depth of his contentment; a low, croaky purr, only stoked a little louder when Nik lapped at the sweat on his neck, his biceps, and nuzzled into his hair and beard. “Am I too heavy?” he asked, his voice soft beneath the crackle and pop of the fire.

“Naw, feels like yer crushin’ my soul back into my body,” John murmured, his muscles squeezing a little around the swell of Nik's knot. “Feels… good.”

Safe, Nik thought. 

The way John was relaxing into the furs, his scent sweet and doughy, blue eyes drooping closed. Nik continued to groom him while they were knotted, licking at the rough at the edge of his grey-speckled beard, nipping his ears and kissing the slopes of his shoulders. 

When Nik’s knot faded, he sat back on his heels and watched his cock pull free of John's body with a filthy little slurp. He pressed his thumbs into John's thighs to spread them, admiring the glisten of slick and cum dripping out of John's used hole. Something primal wanted to push it all back in, to make sure not a single drop was wasted. With John so relaxed, Nik gave in to the desire. When Nik slid two fingers in slowly, watching John's soft cunt swallow them so easily, he groaned. It was enough to make his cock twitch with interest again, despite the ache in his lower back and thighs.

“Nik…” John whispered, his hips lifting. “‘m knackered, c’mon… oh, fuck.”

“You are just so perfect… krasivyy. I want to make you feel good. Just once more.” Nik slid his other hand beneath John's body, two fingers rubbing back and forth over the lovely swell of his eager cock, matching the pace of the two thrusting into his cunt.

“Oh, ah, Nik… it's… too much, ‘m too… ah.”

Nik curled his fingers, finding the sweet spot that made John's back arch, and it was so breathtaking the way his muscles bunched, rolling beneath sweat slick-skin, following each pulse of pleasure as it passed up his spine. John's knees spread out, agile hips grinding his cock against the rough pads of Nik's fingers. Even exhausted, wrung out, John’s body sang like a finely tuned instrument under Nik's touch. Like they were meant to be, even without the chemical bond of a mating mark.

John came with a broken moan, his thighs shaking as his cunt clenched around Nik's fingers, slick and cum soaking Nik's palms. The alpha in Nik rumbled with pride and he pulled his hands away to watch John flop, powerful body twitching in the aftershocks. 

Nik drew the blankets over their backs and bedded down at John's side, pressing his lips to the back of John's shoulder. In the soft afterglow of their mating, Nik made the silent promise to wait as long as it took for John to be ready. Even if their bonding was his final act as he drew his last breath.

Nik woke some hours later to a crackling voice through the radio. This is Bravo 7. Come in, Yankee 7. He dragged himself out from beneath the blankets and stumbled over to the headset. “This is Yankee 7. It is… good to hear your voice, Lieutenant.”

Copy. And yours. Sitrep?

“We are secure. The captain requires… medical assistance, but it is non-urgent. Hypothermic but stabilised.”

Roger. Location? Over.

“Figures,” Nik yanked his notepad towards him and read out the coordinates.

Rog. Hostiles? Over.

“Just the storm.”

ETA two hours. Sit tight. Out.

Pulling John from the nest felt cruel. Omegas needed time to recover from a heat, and prepare for the next stage. A stage that John would not get to experience, Nik realised, with no small pang of disappointment. They had little time to talk, focusing on packing up camp and covering evidence of their presence.

John's clothes were rough where they had dried before the fire, and Nik held him as he climbed awkwardly back into them. By the time they were making their way towards the drumming blades of a helicopter, Nik's arms around John's back to help him across the uneven ground, they smelled more of woodsmoke and musty damp than sex. 

Ghost’s eyes lingered on John when he snapped at the attempt to help him into the Heli. A recently mated omega was aggressive to any alpha that wasn't theirs, and the lieutenant knew something existed between his captain and the pilot that arrived to snatch him from frying pans and fires across the world. Nik dipped his chin once when Ghost glanced at him, and that was enough for the lieutenant.

They gave John his space on the flight home, listening to him growl over the Comms, updating Laswell and Mac on the relative success of the mission. They had secured the intel they needed, even if the storm had nearly scuppered them. 

Rog. Ye broken?

“Naw, caught a cold, nuffin’ a rest won't fix.”

Copy. See ye when ye land. Oout. 

Nik watched John chuck the radio down and drop his face into his hands, and had to grip his own knees hard to stop from moving over to comfort him. All he felt for the entire journey was a burning desire to blanket and scent the love of his life until he could sleep peacefully. John dozed fitfully the rest of the way, startling awake where he felt unsafe, unguarded. 

The base nurses kept him in for a night for monitoring after Nik had accurately relayed John's symptoms, omitting the heat when John had cast him a stern look. So it wasn't until the next day that Nik had a chance to speak to him without prying eyes and ears encroaching on their privacy. Nik caught him just as he was heading into his office.

“John.” Nik felt a stab of pain as John’s shoulders lifted with tension. He couldn't help but reach for him, fingertips stroking the inside of his elbow. 

“You olrigh’, Nik?”

“Da,” Nik said, his hand dropping away under John's scrutiny. “Did… did they clear you?”

“Yeah, they said… uh, ya saved my life. Again. Quick thinkin'.”

Nik swallowed, his palm pressing to the door by John's head, desperate to touch him. “And yet, you cannot look at me.”

John’s breath hitched. “I, uh… what you saw… I had no right t’ demand that of ya, Nik. I was arrogant t' think I didn't need spare suppressants for a quick jaunt. Fuckin' irresponsible. Won't 'appen again.”

“You demanded nothing I was not willing to give.”

Somehow, that was the wrong thing to say. John drew in a stuttering breath and tilted his head away, like Nik's scent, even dull beneath shower gel and cologne, was too much. “Yeah, I… thanks fer no’ bitin’ me. I woulda let ya… at the end.”

Nik felt a prickling at the backs of his eyes, a tight knot in his throat. “I do not wish to be thanked for common decency.”

John huffed. It was a sad, resigned noise from deep inside his chest. “Not as common as ya think, mate. Listen, I need time t’ process… come back tomorra?”

“John, I…”

“I need bloody space, Nik,” John snapped, and Nik heard an edge in his voice usually reserved for people stupid enough to try clawing their way under John's skin. “Tomorra, olrigh’?”

Nik blinked quickly, drawing back and inhaling a deep breath. It only served to carry the scent of distressed omega to the back of his tongue, and he wanted nothing more than to curl around John until he smelled just as content as he had in their makeshift nest. “Da. Tomorrow then.”

John pushed down the handle beneath his hand and disappeared inside his office, leaving Nik in the corridor to stare forlornly at the door. 

He would wait, he reminded himself. Wait for John to be ready. Even if it took ‘til his dying breath. Nik placed his palm gently on the door before he departed, heading for the familiar comfort of his Black Hawk and her myriad of mechanical issues to occupy his mind.

If Nik had pushed the boundary, he would have found John Price, Captain, peerless leader of the 141, the indomitable Bravo Six, curled up on the floor on the other side of the door, his face buried in his knees as the tears fell and his shoulders shook. He had said he needed space to process, but the truth was, he had no idea where to even start.

[burrowdarling]

Home With You

Summary: You and Joe head back to your hometown to spend the holiday with your parents.

Pairings: boyfriend!Joe Burrow x girlfriend!reader

Warnings: None, just some holiday fluff :)

Note: Hi all! This was requested by some anons and @beautifultragedyexpert so I combined them into this one fic. Some fluffy holiday Joe on game dey!

Word Count: 2k

Check out my Masterlist here!

Taglist: @burrowbarbie @definitelynotdomanique @one-sweet-gubler @plushkhiii @enchantedinfinity @iosivb9 Feel free to comment or message me if you'd like to be added to the list!

There was something so nostalgic about Christmas in your hometown. The Main Street is fully decorated in lights, bows on the lamp posts, the town tree illuminated with lights of all colors in the middle of the park. It was only around 6pm, but the streets were already beginning to disperse from all of the early travelers. The soft flurry of snow was a nice touch to your reminiscing, adding to the scene in front of you. 

You hadn’t been here for the holidays in quite a bit, having mainly spent them with Joe and his family in Ohio. Your parents would come out to visit, but it felt like this was the right year to be home. In the fast-paced hustle of the season, it was nice to slow down and breathe surrounded by something familiar.

Joe had never been to your hometown, leaving him to chuckle at how you were excitedly pointing things out from the passenger seat. Your small town felt like a stark contrast to the city Joe had grown up in. There was so much you were dying to show him about where you grew up, reveling in the moment by pointing out your favorite shops or restaurants as you drove past with a promise to explain more later. There was a feeling of your childhood laid out around you as Joe drove the same streets you once used to, unsure of where you would end up when you got older. It was healing to be able to tell your younger self that you were happy with the one you loved, coming home felt like a reunion with the little you. 

“What are you thinking about over there, babe?” Joe asked, reaching a hand out to strike your thigh before giving it a light squeeze. The gesture offering you a feeling of comfort as you pulled yourself out of your thoughts for a brief moment.

“Just how content I am with the life we have together. If you had told me years ago that I’d one day be driving back here with the love of my life to spend the holidays together, I would’ve asked if you were dreaming” you said with a light laugh. 

“I love you so much sweetheart, I wouldn’t want to do this life with anyone else but you” Joe said looking over to you with a look that showed that he meant every word he said. You felt your cheeks heat, having a hard time fully taking in his words. Joe could be extremely heartfelt, but It wasn’t always easy for you to process the full gravity of them.

You gave him a small smile as you turned towards the window, watching the world go by. The quiet streets you once found to be boring, offering you a feeling of solace from the busy life you’ve come to know. You could feel happy tears begin to well in your eyes, truly feeling at peace with coming home.You were sure it was going to be a special trip home. 

You had finally made it to your parents house, pulling up the driveway like you used to and everything still as you left it. You both hopped out of the car, Joe making quick work to unload your bags while you went up to the door, giving a brief knock before entering. Your mom was in the kitchen finishing up dinner while you dad was setting the table.

You and Joe greeted them both with hugs and smiles, Joe immediately being swept into football talk with your dad. You shook your head, throwing a knowing look at your mom who’s face mirrored your own. You made your way to the kitchen to help her finish up any loose ends. You helped her get everything set at the table, ready to dive into a good home cooked meal.

“I was thinking we could decorate the tree after dinner, we wanted to wait for you like old times” you mom said as she scooped some food onto her plate. A wide grin broke out over your face, looking over to your mom.

“Yeah we’d love to, that sounds great” you said, looking over to Joe whose eyes were already on you. His look was full of love, resting a hand on your thigh giving you three squeezes as a way to say ‘I love you’. You all engaged in conversation for the remainder of dinner, catching up on each other's lives and what has changed here since you were last home.

You all cleaned up after dinner and made your way to the living room where the fire was going and the tree was lit, waiting to be decorated. Your mom started to open all of the different boxes of ornaments, Joe getting a kick out of the ones you made as a kid. 

“You were quite the artist in your childhood, huh” Joe chuckled as he found a particularly ‘crafty’ ornament, having drawn your family as a bunch of stick figures next to a ‘Picasso level’ christmas tree. You took it from him to inspect your work, holding it out to admire it like an art critic. Your parents laughed at your actions, getting a kick out of the scene unfolding in front of them between you two.

“Hey, I tried my best, okay? At least you can tell what it is” you said as Joe took the ornament from you and placed it front and center on the tree. “Gotta display the art properly since it’s so museum worthy” Joe laughed as he spoke. Your parents watched the two of you, giving you loving looks at your dynamic.

You all continued to decorate, Joe lifting you up onto his shoulders to palace the star on top of the tree. You stood back to admire your work, Joe slinging his arm over your shoulders and leaving down to place a kiss on top of your head. 

After decorating the tree and some small talk in front of the fire, you and Joe had retired up to bed, saying your goodnights to your parents. In mentioning everything being the same, your room was no different. It was as if time stopped in here, your parents leaving everything as you had it. 

Your walls were still adorned with band posters, though there were far less than there used to be. You would’ve deemed yourself to be quite the fangirl back in the day, never being one for sports until you met Joe. You preferred to stay in listening to music, drawing, or diving into your books. Your bookcase was still full of everything you used to read, instantly bringing you back to the countless late nights you would stay up late finishing a good read. You had a small desk covered in your old artwork you used to work on, all of your different mediums sorted along the edge. Your queen bed was pushed into the corner of the room full of pillows and blankets, giving a cozy vibe to it. You still had your lights up around the edge of your ceiling, plugging them in to see if they still worked and they had. Being in here took you back to being in your safe place, having taken years to get everything how you wanted it. 

Joe took in his surroundings, being able to get a glimpse into the younger you and put a image to how you described yourself when you first started dating. He walked to your bookcase, poking at your different books and knick knacks that you had littered throughout it.

“So, what do you think? Kinda wild that they kept everything the same huh?” you asked, watching Joe take in your room.

“Your room is adorable, we’ll have to get a poster of me to add to your shrine of celebrities on your wall” Joe joked, gesturing to your countless posters of different bands or artists. “Seems like you had a type though, weird that you went for the football player.”

“Hey, you know I had no idea you played when I first met you. You act as if i was always going to football games every weekend” you said, feigning fake offense at his words.

“I know, baby. You were my little bookworm in college, I always knew I could come home to you and your nose would be buried in a book. I did appreciate when you’d come to my games though, just like I do now.”

“I’m gonna be so honest and say that I think you’re the first boy I’ve brought in here” you said, feeling Joe come up behind you as his arms wrapped around your waist. The admission felt right to tell him, even if it would only feed his ego more.

“Somehow that makes this even more special that I get to be the first and last” Joe said, spinning you around and pulling you tighter into the hug. “What do you say we do a little christening then, hmm?”

You pulled back a bit giving him a light slap to his chest, “Joseph Lee, my parents are under the same roof” finding it hard to fight off a smile. He grinned back at you, bringing his hands up to your jaw to pull you back into his body, resting your foreheads against one another.

“We don’t have to go that far, but I do know that I want those lips on mine. We can be very teenager about it with a classic makeout” Joe said as he captured your lips in a slow kiss. You could feel things begin to heat up a little as he walked you backwards towards your bed. 

You crawled backwards toward the headboard, Joe following you as you settled back into each other. It had been awhile since you guys had been able to really take things this slow and just enjoy exploring one another. With the busy season, it was nice to be with one another with no pressure for anything more. A smile crossed your lips at the thought, feeling Joe smile back into the kiss before locking your lips together again.

After quite the makeout session, you found yourselves tucked under the covers with your head resting on Joe’s chest. You felt yourself beginning to drift off until Joe spoke up.

“Do you ever think about what things would be like if we were just a normal couple?” he asked, the dark room giving him a sense of confidence to speak the words he;s been thinking about all night.

“Define normal because I feel like normal is pretty subjective” you laughed lightly, propping yourself up to get a better look at him.

“You know, the typical dates, sunday mornings, and holidays with family - everything that comes with a normal relationship. I know it can be hard to be with me, feeling like everything you do is scrutinized under a microscope and no air to breathe sometimes” Joe’s honesty gave you a pang of hurt in your chest at how he feels.

“Joey just because your job is abnormal doesn’t mean our relationship is. I love everything about you and that we get to still do things like this together. I wouldn’t trade what we have for the world, I would choose you in this life and every other” you spoke as you stroked his jaw softly, feeling him lean into your touch.

“You always know the right thing to say, thank you for being my person and choosing me everyday” he spoke as he gave you a quick kiss.

“Loving you is the easiest thing I do,” you said as you snuggled in closer to him. You were always home when Joe was around, being with your parents made the holidays that much more special.

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Insecure Delusions

Pairing: Ettore (High Life) x f!reader Warnings: Physical injury, smut. Word count: ~1.5k

Summary: Desensitised to almost everything, Ettore goes to extremes just to feel something. Part of the Hand That Feeds universe, but can be read as a standalone.

Author's note: Day eight of Smuffmas - holly and hair pulling. No tag list. Follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications.

Boredom is a burden that weighs heavily upon Ettore’s shoulders as he moves slowly through the ship. He feels numb to the constant stimulus that he’s surrounded by; the gentle hum of the engines, the glare of the lights, the chatter of his fellow prisoners, yet his mind will not quiet and allow him to relax. Usually he throws himself into his work duties, focusing on the monotony of scrubbing floors, the way the bleach tingles against his knuckles and leaves his skin raw, but he has been given a day off today; a privilege granted to those who have donated a specimen, and Ettore had done just that this morning.

Even the momentary relief that came with climaxing into a little plastic cup hadn’t been enough to stop the racing of his thoughts. Usually, only she could do that. Sinking inside of her welcoming heat, all thoughts would leave his mind as everything became centred around the way her wetness yielded and squeezed around him. However, lately even that wasn’t enough, nothing seemed to satisfy. He needed more, the trouble was he didn’t know what more was.

Unable to occupy himself with anything else, he sought her out. He didn’t want to, he needed to, she was a compulsion that he had zero control over. He walked towards the garden, having spied Tchemy, who was the usual occupant of the ship’s only green space, in his bunk as he passed through the corridors; he knew he’d find her there, she liked the quiet.

As he stepped into the lush, green surroundings, his nose wrinkled in disgust. The rich, earthy scent of the soil was repulsive to him, almost alien in its aroma. Ettore was used to the brutalism of plain white walls and concrete, he had never spent much time outside in nature. The care that people took to tend so lovingly to plants and flowers, keeping them alive, demanding they be treated with respect, while not extending the same courtesy to other people was bewildering to him. It made him angry, so he avoided it.

It was unavoidable when he wanted to see her though, so he endured it, his hands clenched into fists as he stepped slowly between the meticulously plotted out foliage, his eyes scanning the space for her. For a moment he assumed she wasn’t there, when he couldn’t immediately see her, and was ready to turn and leave, but a quiet rustling in the far corner caught his attention, and when he craned his neck he could see that she was crouched down in front of a bush.

He approached her silently, but she could tell he was there, even before he was upon her – she had grown used to the quiet way in which he stalked, was so attuned to his presence and mannerisms that she could always sense him if he was close, without even needing to see him. There was both a sense of comfort and unease for Ettore in having this sort of bond with someone – it meant she no longer feared him, but at what cost would that eventually be to her?

“I never realised there was a holly bush here before,” she said thoughtfully, by way of greeting, though she didn’t turn to look at him. “Reminds me of Christmas.”

“Never celebrated it,” he replied with a derisive sniff, as his gaze travelled over the sharp looking green leaves and red berries of the bush she was crouched in front of.

She turned to him, looking up at him, and seemed as if she wanted to say something as her lips parted, but she closed her mouth and turned her attention back to the holly. “I don’t suppose any of us do anymore,” she finally whispered.

He watched as she reached out a hand, stroking it almost reverently over the holly leaves. Suddenly, she hissed and snatched it back with an “ow, fuck!” before sucking on her finger. Ettore crouched beside her, gripping her wrist and coaxing her hand away from her mouth.

“Bastard thing pricked me, I’d forgotten how sharp they are– oh…”

Her voice trailed off as he wrapped his lips around that same finger, his tongue running over the pad, an attempt to arouse her as much as it was to soothe her pain. He released her digit with a wet pop, letting her hand drop back to her side, as he observed her silently; the subtle dilation of her pupils, the slight parting of her lips, a wordless plea for him to turn a quiet moment into pleasure. Ettore was all too eager to oblige.

Moving from his crouched position, onto the steadier surface of his knees, he reached out, wrapping the hair at the back of her head around his fist and pushed her forward, towards him. Still squatting, the movement knocked her off balance and she wobbled, hands flying out to steady herself. Her fingers found their way into his hair, tugging harshly as her body collided with his.

Ettore hissed, a blend and balance of pain and comfort stirring within him that stirred his already half hard cock to full arousal. His own grip on her hair tightened reflexively. 

Her eyes widened the moment she realised what she had done, and she let go immediately, settling into a kneeling position as his hands moved to her waist to steady her.“Fuck, that was an accident, I know you don’t like me to touch you, I–”

It was true. In however many months it had been since they started sleeping together, he had never once allowed her to touch him, always insisting she kept her hands behind her back or above her head whenever they fucked. The idea of tender caresses and being held made Ettore’s stomach turn, he wasn’t ready for that. But this had felt different, the pain he’d experienced as she’d tugged harshly at his roots had awakened something in him. For the first time in a long time he felt alive.

“I liked it,” he interrupted her.

“You liked me touching you?” she whispered, her eyebrows raising in surprise, as a soft smile spread across her face. Slowly, tentatively, she placed her fingers upon his jawline, tracing it gently.

Bile rose in Ettore’s throat, and he gripped her forearm hard enough to make her yelp as he wrenched her hand away from his face. “Not like that,” he muttered darkly, eyes drifting to the angry red marks his fingertips had left upon her flesh.

“That hurt,” she seethed, fury in her eyes as she glared at him.

“Hurt me back then,” he challenged, staring back defiantly.

She surged forward with a snarl, her hands sinking into the shortness of his dirty blonde hair and pulling hard, making him grunt. She seized the opportunity, her mouth pressing against his before she sank her teeth into his bottom lip, hard enough to draw blood.

Ettore’s pulse thrummed with excitement, as he tore at her red scrubs, ridding her of her bottoms as he manhandled her onto her back. This was the most he had felt in years, his heart thudded so loudly within his chest, he was certain it meant to break free of his ribs. There was a certain sadness to the fact that the trajectory of his life had led him to the point where he needed to experience physical pain in order to enjoy himself, but there was no room for subtlety when she tugged off his shirt, leaving him bare chested as he pushed down the waistband of his trousers, and notched the swollen head of his cock against her slick entrance.

“Fuck,” he gritted out, pressing forward, met with the tight resistance of her inner walls, paired with the agonising sting of her fingernails raking down his torso, leaving crimson scratches in their wake.

Previously, none of this had meant anything at all to him, it couldn’t, not when he was unable to feel anything. But now, as his hips snapped against hers, his cockhead bullying relentlessly inside of her, it was as if all of his nerve endings had awoken from slumber as the sensation of being buried deep inside of her mingled with the dull throbbing of his scalp and the soreness of his lip and chest.

His hands grabbed her hips with enough pressure to bruise as he continued to rut into her with brute force. She panted with exertion, her eyes bright with arousal and something that bordered upon sinister intent. Ettore’s eyes almost rolled back in ecstasy as she gripped his throat, squeezing tightly, and his balls drew taut against his body, signalling he was close as a white, hot ache began to lick at his lower spine.

His thrust forward as hard as he could, one final time, then stilled as he pulsated deep inside of her, groaning as he pumped her full of his release. She let go of his throat, her arms dropping limply back to her sides. As his mind swam back into focus, he could see that the blood from the mess she had made of his lip had dripped onto her top. He pulled back, gaze drifting to dark marks already beginning to form upon her hips.

“You okay?” she whispered breathlessly, pulling him from his thoughts.

He wasn’t sure how to answer her question. They had unearthed something within him that had lain dormant until now, and now he had been given a glimpse of it, he was eager to keep digging until he felt something. She had touched him today, amd even though it was just to hurt him, he knew he wouldn’t want it any other way.

Part three || Series masterlist

[antianakin]

I mean. I don't think there IS a "Watsonian" reason that works. I just don't. If I did, this wouldn't bother me as much as it does. If there was one that I thought actually worked, the writing would probably have simply been better. Sometimes, a Watsonian explanation simply DOESN'T WORK and you just need to settle for the explanation that the writers probably entirely forgot about how important it is that the chip DOES NOT CARE about the technicality of a former Jedi because Palpatine wants them all dead without exceptions, especially within that first night. The ones who end up getting captured later to become Inquisitors should theoretically be spared specifically because they AREN'T captured by clones or something (maybe it's stormtroopers, or the Grand Inquisitor himself, who initially brings them in).

This is also just such a small line in the episode that I doubt anybody really thought about it as much as I did. It's a throwaway line, more intended to foreshadow that she's going to be a Jedi again by the next episode than anything else. If they'd just left the line out and we never saw a clone speak to her at all, that would've been one thing, we could've just all come up with our random headcanons as to why Barriss was spared. But they GAVE us a reason and the reason is exceptionally stupid and contradicts information we've been given previously. So now there's no way to headcanon around it, you cannot make a Watsonian explanation that works because it just... doesn't. It doesn't work.

But sure. Let's look at this new headcanon and talk about why it doesn't work, either. Obviously if you like it enough to keep it and it's important to you to have it because you loved TOTE and what it did with Barriss, more power to you, but I hope you don't mind that I'm going to analyze it and break down why it doesn't work on this post about why this line is exceptionally stupid anyway.

Ahsoka ISN'T actually made a general, she's officially a civilian consultant during the Mandalore mission. The only reason she's able to act like a general/commander is because Rex and the 332nd know her and choose to give her that kind of authority over them, but technically, REX is in charge and Ahsoka's only real contribution is that she understands more about the mission at hand. The clones really aren't all that confused about what Ahsoka's actual status is here, they know she's not officially a Jedi, and their loyalty to her presumably does not come from whether she's a Jedi or not.

It also just doesn't work for me that the chip allows for the clones to MAKE their own exceptions like that. If it gives that much leeway, this could be a massive problem for Palpatine. Like if the clones COULD just logic their way out of killing one of them somehow, it opens the door for some of them to survive and escape. And also, the whole point of the TCW scene is to show us that the chip CAN'T be worked around through logic. It should not allow for the clones to be able to even CONSIDER what Barriss did or didn't do and whether this does or does not make her a Jedi anymore. TBB chooses to give the clones a little bit more ability to consider their actions later on, once the chip has begun to wear off more, but in the immediate moment of Order 66 and probably the first few days or weeks afterward, the clones should have next to no autonomy over the choice of whether to kill someone that the chip/Order considers a Jedi or not.

It also seems like that would be a really complicated bit of code to try to make it so that the clones only kill people who a) are officially part of the Jedi Order and b) aren't part of the Jedi Order but ARE Force sensitive and act like Jedi sometimes, but NOT c) aren't part of the Jedi Order and ARE Force sensitive but don't always act like Jedi anymore. It's a lot simpler to just say "all Jedi, past and present."

Personally, I feel like the chip should OVERRIDE whatever the clones would've felt about the Jedi in question, not be BASED on what the clones felt about the Jedi in question. That just leaves way too much to chance and I don't see Palpatine being willing to allow that.

So, you know, have your Watsonian explanation if you want it. I'll just still be over here in my corner talking about why TOTE is badly written and makes no sense. I'm not LOOKING for a good explanation, it's not like I WANT to like this show and it's just this one weird line keeping me from enjoying it (honestly if I liked the rest of it and this was the one line I thought was bad, I'd just ignore it or find it amusing probably). I think the show is bad overall and in general anyway, this just happens to be one moment that I thought was particularly stupid. So even if you DID manage to come up with a good enough headcanon to explain it on a Watsonian level, the rest of the show would still be frustrating and upsetting and bad. The stupidity of the line is just an example of the stupidity of the rest of the writing in the show, it's an example of the greater issue with the writing on the show which is that nobody on the writing staff of this show gave a flying shit about writing something that made any sense or was good and meaningful, to the point that they couldn't even do enough homework to know that this kind of exception for Barriss SHOULD NOT HAVE WORKED.

There was an entire major plot element in the Order 66 arc of TCW season 7 about how the chip didn't care that Ahsoka wasn't technically a Jedi anymore and was forcing the clones to want to kill her anyway.

Like.

It's a pretty important part of that whole story that Ahsoka not being in the Jedi Order anymore DOESN'T exempt her from Order 66. It would've been a pretty boring story if that technicality had WORKED.

But somehow the clones guarding Barriss at the prison are totally fine applying that technicality to her.

I guess they just like her better than Rex and the 332nd liked Ahsoka in the end or something. Ironic.

[puttersmile]

I had a weird dream and crack ship was born

Frowny: Oh…yeah she seems. Nice. Dogday? Where are you going?

Dogday offscreen running away as fast as he can.

I don't even remember the dream but I remember the ship.

I need possible ship name. Ideas? Right now I'm thinking Chocolate Rain lol.

Gametoons is so bad. But I somehow someway had a liking for Frowny Fox (and maybe some of the other forgotten critters)

I also wasn't satisfied by how i drew Maggie in my last comic. That's what I get for trying to draw her from memory and not just...looking up a picture. So I tried again. I like this design a lot more.

A short oneshot fic under the cut. At the last minute I changed it to be Christmas themed which is why the picture isn't Christmas themed.

The Day Frowny Realized Maggie Wasn't Just Scary

The outdoor mall was chaos. With the holidays right around the corner, critters flooded the square, scrambling for last-minute gifts and bargains. Stalls were crammed with shiny trinkets, festive treats, and decorations that probably cost twice as much as they should. Frowny hated this. Crowds made his fur itch, and the pressure of picking the perfect gift didn’t help.

He was here for a Secret Santa gift exchange, and the name he’d drawn—an acquaintance who loved puzzles and had a mild obsession with coffee—had him stumped. He hovered by a table of mugs, frowning at one shaped like a sleeping squirrel. It was cute, but not too cute, right? He didn’t want to send the wrong message.

Just as he reached for it, something slammed into his side, sending him stumbling into the stall. A sharp hiss of pain escaped Frowny as he caught himself on the edge of the table.

“MOVE IT, BUDDY!”

Frowny turned, his tail bristling, to see a yellow gecko in ugly brown pants rushing through the crowd, shoving critters out of his way like a hurricane. Before Frowny could even get a word out, the gecko shoved another critter. This time, the wrong one.

Maggie Mako.

Oh no.

Maggie didn’t budge. Didn’t even sway. She turned her head slowly, towering over the gecko like a tidal wave about to break. Her grin was wide and full of teeth. “You wanna try that again, pal?”

The gecko froze, his cocky energy deflating immediately. “Uh… my bad,” he stammered, his eyes darting for an exit.

“You shoved someone else, then bump into me? Oh, you’ve got guts. Let’s see if you like keeping them inside.”

The gecko's yellow scales turned white. “S-s-sorry ma'am! D-didn't mean to—uh—yeah, I’ll just—”

“Scram,” Maggie growled, crossing her arms. That was all it took. The gecko bolted, nearly tripping over his own tail as he disappeared into the crowd.

Maggie rolled her shoulders and went back to considering some very ornate holiday cookies, looking more annoyed than anything. “Some critters. That's what I thought.” she muttered, dusting her hands off.

Frowny, who had been standing frozen with one paw still clutching the squirrel mug, finally remembered how to breathe. He adjusted his scarf and was about to slink away unnoticed when Maggie turned, catching him mid-stare.

Her grin softened with recognition. Less teeth, more playful.

“You okay, Foxy boy?”

It took a second for Frowny’s brain to catch up. Maggie had just defended him. Maggie, the big, scary shark woman who could probably bench press two wagons full of pumpkins, had stepped in for him. And now she was looking at him, smiling, as if she hadn’t just terrified someone out of their scales.

“I, uh…” His left ear flicked nervously. “I’m fine.”

“You sure?” Maggie stepped closer, her shadow falling over him like a blanket. “You look a little pale. Well, paler than usual.” She smirked, her tone teasing but not unkind.

Frowny wanted to say something clever, but his brain had short-circuited. Instead, he noticed something odd: Maggie didn’t seem scary in that moment. She seemed… safe. Yes. safe, strong and confident, but not in a way that made him want to hide. In fact, it was kind of… nice?

And then it hit him. It wasn’t just nice. It was attractive. Hot even? Did his brain really just go there.

Oh no.

Maggie arched a brow, waiting for a response. When none came, she leaned down, eyes twinkling. “What’s the matter, Foxy? Catnap got your tongue?”

Frowny’s ears burned. He yanked his scarf higher over his face. “No. I’m fine. Thanks. Bye.” The words came out in a rushed jumble as he turned and awkwardly strutted away, his tail puffed up like a bottle brush.

Maggie blinked after him, then laughed. “You’re welcome!” she called, shaking her head. “Weird little guy.”

Meanwhile, Frowny ducked behind a corner, clutching his chest like his heart was about to escape. What was that? What was that?! He’d spent weeks avoiding Maggie because she was terrifying, and now, after one incident, he was—no. No, no,no. This wasn’t happening! He did not have a thing for Maggie Mako.

…But her smile had been kind of nice. And her strength had been… really nice. Pretty smile, very white cheerful teeth that didn't frighten him like they'd used to.

“Oh no,” he muttered to himself, ears flat. “This is bad.”

It was the beginning of the end. Or maybe the start of something good? No of course not! Or maybe it could be? Frowny wasn’t sure yet. He just knew he was doomed.

[kirain]

Just a little Emmrich fic based on @timethehobo's beautiful art here. Had me feeling angsty. 😅

Vae pushed open the heavy oak door to Emmrich's study, the hinges creaking slightly in protest. The room was as she expected: cluttered yet strangely orderly, filled with the faint scent of parchment and pipe smoke. Shelves packed with ancient tomes, scrolls, and artifacts lined the walls, and to the right of it all stood his desk, a chaotic mosaic of notes, quills, and half-finished experiments.

"Emmrich?" She glanced around but found no sign of him. "He must have stepped out."

The old book in her hands felt heavy as she crossed the room and carefully placed it on the desk, smoothing her fingers over its cracked leather binding. It had caught her eye in Dock Town, and she immediately remembered Emmrich's passing mention of wanting to read it.

Satisfied, she turned to leave, but a sudden, eerie green light flared behind her.

"Well, well," a snide, feminine voice drawled, its tone dripping with venom. "If it isn't Volkarin's little paramour."

Vae froze, a feeling of nausea churning in her gut. Slowly, she turned back to face Johanna's skull. The cursed object sat atop its ornate pedestal, its hollow eye sockets somehow teeming with malice.

"Hezenkoss," Vae said flatly, unwilling to give her any more attention than necessary.

"How cold," The skull cackled, the sound sharp and grating. "I was just starting to enjoy the quiet, then in comes the professor's pet. What did you bring him, hmm? Chocolates? Cheese? Some other fatuous notion of romance?"

Ignoring her jab, Vae headed for the door. "Just a book he wanted. Goodbye, Hezenkoss."

"How amusing. I can assure you, he's already read it," she scoffed. "That absentminded fool could never keep track of what he's consumed. He'd open a book, read the first page, then suddenly realise he'd read it years ago."

Vae paused, her hand lingering over the door knob. Against her better judgement, she sighed and walked to the desk, leaning against it and facing the skull.

"What was he like when he was younger?" she asked.

There was a brief silence, as if Hezenkoss hadn't expected the question. Then, her voice took on a grudging edge. "An idealist. A bleeding heart. A coward."

Vae frowned. "You were friends for years. You must have admired something about him."

"His intelligence," the half-lich admitted, begrudgingly. "And his magical prowess, but that's all. Both became the reason I despise him—he never utilized either one, wasting his potential. We could have ruled Nevarra, brought every neighbouring kingdom to their knees, but he preferred to play nanny to wayward spirits and shortsighted students. Pah!"

Vae's eyes narrowed. "I don't believe you. You don't stay friends with someone for decades without seeing something worthwhile in them."

"As I just said. He was a useful duck to bounce ideas off of, but he never did appreciate my vision."

"Your vision?" Vae crossed her arms, her brow furrowing. "Your vision killed innocent people. Turned spirits into abominations."

"Sacrifices are necessary to achieve greatness," she spat. "I'm no hypocrite. As you can see, I made the ultimate sacrifice. Volkarin will do the same, should he pursue lichdom."

"It's different if it's yourself," Vae argued. "But not when you force it on others. That's not a 'sacrifice', it's just murder."

"No difference, same outcome."

Vae flinched, disgust welling in her eyes. "I can't imagine Emmrich ever being friends with someone like you," she said, her tone ruthless. "Which means, at some point, you must've changed. I just can't help but wonder if it was before you became a lich or after."

"Lichdom doesn't change anyone's personality, morals, or thoughts. I'm the same person I always was," she asserted. "If you want the truth, the old man's too trusting. Too softhearted. He wants to befriend everyone, even if it means adjusting his own interests to suit their needs. I'm sure you've seen it."

Vae swallowed, thinking back to all the times Emmrich went out of his way to ensure his colleagues' comfort at the cost of his own. Hiding his skulls, refraining from discussing necromancy in front of Taash, choking down one of Harding's ham sandwiches, afraid he'd insult her if he didn't try it—and then all the times he fussed over Vae herself.

"He's kind," she countered, though she knew it was sometimes to a fault. "He said you were, too. Once."

"Pah! You mistake kindness for naivety. I was young, with no concept of reality." She groaned, as if cursing her former self. "I grew out of that. Volkarin didn't. Beneath his grey hair and wrinkled skin, he's still a child at heart, always seeing individuals over the collective."

Vae shook her head. "Do you feel any guilt at all for what you've done to him?"

The skull chuckled, a bitter, humourless sound. "Guilt? For what? He impeded my plans. I did nothing to him."

"You had him on a hit list."

"Yes, because I knew that bleeding heart would never stand for my glorious uprising. Better to crush him, and that ridiculous pile of bones he drags around, than risk his interference. It wasn't personal, you see? Just collateral."

Vae's jaw clenched, her hands balling into fists. "You have no idea how lucky you are to have that 'bleeding heart' in your life. The rest of the Mourn Watch wanted to seal your skull in a tomb, alone, for eternity. But he fought to become your caretaker, because he couldn't stand the thought of you rotting in solitude. Even after everything, he pitied you."

Silence fell over the study, save for the faint crackle of energy within the skull. Hezenkoss said nothing, but her glow dimmed slightly.

Vae huffed and rose to her feet. "He's taking your betrayal harder than he lets on. You should be grateful for his kindness."

The half-lich grumbled, a note of frustration in her voice. "I was never loyal to him. There was no betrayal.”

"Yes, there was," Vae's temper flared. "You could always go to him, always talk to him. You were friends. He cherished that, cherished you, but you threw it all away—and for what? A broken existence? Eternal imprisonment? Loss of all feeling? You'll never be able to walk again, smell again, enjoy someone's touch on your skin. You had it all, but now it's gone. Was it worth it?"

For a long while, Hezenkoss said nothing, Vae's eyes boring into her sockets. Then, with a soft, almost incredulous hiss, she said, "I will escape."

"Maybe," Vae nodded. "But if you do, know this: I will never let you hurt him again."

Hezenkoss' laughter rang out as Vae moved towards the door. "You won't have to worry about that, darling. The decrepit old fool probably only has a few years left anyway!"

Vae tensed but didn't look back. Gritting her teeth, she wrenched the door open—and froze. Emmrich stood in the hallway, his expression a mixture of shock and pain, the weight of the overheard conversation hanging heavy in the air.

"Emmrich," Vae whispered, stepping into the hall and closing the door behind her. "How long have you been—?"

"We were friends once," he whimpered, his eyes drifting to the floor, "...weren't we?"

Vae reached out, her fingers brushing against his cheek. He was so hurt, and it killed her to see. Without another word, she pulled him into a hug, her arms wrapping tightly around him. Almost immediately he melted in her embrace, burying his face in her shoulder, his hands trembling.

"I'm sorry," she murmured.

He didn't respond, but the way he clung to her spoke volumes.

[hazymoonlinh]

Lost n Found

Lighter x reader

Part2

This is fking long

(Inspiration went crazy lmao)

The first thing you felt when you drifted back to consciousness was pain—sharp and relentless, like fire licking through every nerve in your body. It weighed you down, made your limbs feel like lead, and each shallow breath brought another wave of agony. For a moment, you wondered if this was hell, and if so, it was far more mundane than you imagined.

You cracked your eyes open, vision blurring, and darted them around the room. A hospital. The faint beeping of machines echoed softly, the sterile scent of antiseptic stinging your nose. You shifted slightly, only to regret it immediately when pain jolted through you.

I’m still alive.

A bitter thought, but you barely had the strength to hold onto it before something else caught your attention—someone else.

Slumped beside your bed, head resting heavily on his crossed arms, was Lighter Lorenz. The sight startled you—messy dark green hair falling carelessly over his face, his red scarf crumpled on the floor as if he’d thrown it off without care. He was completely still, his breathing deep but strained, like he hadn’t been fully at peace even in his sleep.

The faintest of groans slipped from your throat as you tried to move again, and that was all it took.

“—Hey.”

The chair scraped loudly as Lighter jolted upright, his eyes wide, raw with disbelief as he stared at you. For a moment, he froze, like he thought you were a figment of his imagination. Then his breath hitched, and you swore you saw his whole body sag in relief.

“You’re—” He choked on his words, a shaky, disbelieving laugh escaping him. “You’re awake.”

You barely managed a sound, a quiet hum that could’ve been confirmation or just pain. Even that effort had you wincing, but it didn’t matter. Lighter had already pushed himself closer, nearly trembling as he looked at you like he couldn’t believe you were real.

“You—” His voice cracked, and he swallowed hard, his hands hovering near yours as if he didn’t know whether he could touch you. “You scared the hell out of me, you know that?”

You blinked slowly, your gaze drifting toward him, and with what little strength you had, you moved your hand—barely lifting it from the bed—just enough to brush weakly against his. A feeble attempt, but you could feel his hand instantly catch yours, holding it carefully like it might shatter.

His grip trembled.

“Hey, don’t…” he whispered, his voice rough, pleading. “Don’t do that—don’t move, don’t—” His words cut off as if his throat closed around them.

You felt his hands shift, hesitating for only a second before he brought your limp fingers up, gently pressing them to his face. His skin was warm, rough with faint stubble, but you felt how his breath hitched against your palm, like the reality of your touch had broken something in him.

“You’re here,” he whispered, more to himself than you, eyes squeezing shut.

You stared weakly at him, trying to focus on his expression through the haze of exhaustion. His brows were furrowed, his mouth pulled into a tremble of a smile that couldn’t quite form, and his hands still shook as he held yours against his face. You couldn’t remember ever seeing him so undone.

His voice cracked again as he breathed out, “I thought I lost you. I thought I lost you.”

With what little strength you had, you shifted your fingers against his cheek, the movement so faint it was barely more than a twitch, but it was enough. Lighter stilled. His eyes fluttered open, and the look he gave you—relief and anguish and something deeply tender—almost made your chest ache more than the wounds.

“Don’t look so miserable,” you croaked weakly, the faintest ghost of a smile tugging at your lips. “It’s not a good look.”

Lighter let out a broken laugh, half-choked, as he shook his head and pressed your hand a little closer to his face, like he couldn’t bear to let go. “You’re….unbelievable, you know that?”

Your eyelids felt heavy again, the exhaustion pulling you back under, but before you drifted off, you gathered just enough strength to move your fingers—barely brushing against his hair. It wasn’t much, but you could feel him freeze for just a second before his head dipped, leaning into your touch like it was the only thing keeping him steady.

“…Don’t cry, Lighter,” you murmured faintly, your voice almost lost to the sound of the machines.

He said nothing, but his hand tightened around yours just slightly, steady and reassuring as your vision dimmed again. The last thing you felt before sleep claimed you was the warmth of him, anchoring you there, refusing to let you slip away again.

____

The days that followed were a blur of discomfort, frustration, and exhaustion. Recovery wasn’t the smooth, quiet process you imagined—every moment was heavy with dull aches and sharp stabs of pain that seemed determined to remind you of the fragile state you were in. The smallest movements felt monumental. Sitting up? Agony. Walking? A torment. And the worst part? You had to do it.

Lighter made sure of that.

“I’m not moving,” you grumbled, staring at the ceiling with all the stubbornness of someone who’d resigned themselves to becoming one with the hospital bed.

“You are.” Lighter’s voice was steady—calm, but firm. He stood by the side of the bed, arms crossed, his red pupils narrowing ever so slightly behind his sunglasses. “I’ve seen statues with more energy than you.”

You shot him a glare, one that would’ve been far more effective if you weren’t half-buried under blankets like a miserable, oversized cocoon. “I can’t feel my everything. Walking isn’t happening today.”

He huffed, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he shook his head. “Come on now, don’t be impossible.”

“And you’re annoying.”

“Good,” he shot back without missing a beat. ��At least you’re talking. It’s an improvement over yesterday.”

He was right, and that only made you grumble more.

Before you could retreat further into your blanket fortress, you felt Lighter’s warm hand on your shoulder—gentle, but unyielding. When you looked up, his expression had softened, those green eyes of his visible over the rim of his sunglasses, their red pupils burning with something that looked far too much like care.

“Come on,” he said quietly. “One step. That’s all I’m asking for today.”

You sighed deeply, the ache in your body somehow amplifying your exhaustion. “Why do you care so much?”

The words slipped out before you could stop them, and for a moment, Lighter didn’t respond. He just looked at you—really looked at you—and there was no smirk, no teasing edge to his voice when he finally spoke.

“Because I’m not giving up on you,” he said softly, like it was the simplest thing in the world.

The weight of his words hit you harder than you wanted to admit, and it was enough to shut you up—at least for the moment. You seem to have zero resistance when it’s coming to him, and you’re not so happy about it.

With great reluctance, you let him ease the blankets off of you, though you shot him the occasional withering look as he gently slipped an arm under your back to help you sit upright.

“Careful—”

“I know,” you snapped, hating how pathetic your voice sounded. The motion sent fresh ripples of pain through you, and your face scrunched instinctively as you bit back a groan.

Lighter didn’t flinch. He didn’t complain. He just stayed beside you, his hold steady and careful. “Deep breaths. You’ve got this.”

You exhaled shakily, squeezing your eyes shut. “I hate this.”

“Good. Hate’s motivating,” he replied smoothly, earning a scowl from you.

Slowly, he shifted his grip, easing your legs over the edge of the bed. You grimaced at the movement, feeling every ounce of weight in your body as if you’d suddenly been dropped into it for the first time.

“I’m dying,” you muttered dramatically.

“You’re not dying.”

“I might as well be.”

“You’re not. I promise.” Lighter’s voice was firm, but his touch remained impossibly gentle as he helped you to your feet. The moment your weight shifted, your knees wobbled dangerously, and you swore you would’ve crumpled straight to the floor if not for the steady hands gripping your waist.

“I’ve got you,” he said softly, close enough that you could feel the warmth of him, the steadiness of his presence holding you upright when you couldn’t.

You frowned at the floor, breathing through the dull ache spreading through your limbs. “For god’s sake. I’m a disaster.”

“You’re alive,” he corrected gently. “Which means you’ve already won the hardest fight.”

You wanted to snap back, to say something sharp and sarcastic, but the words lodged in your throat as you looked up at him. He was staring at you with that same, infuriating patience—the kind that made you feel seen, whether you wanted to be or not.

“Stop looking at me like that,” you mumbled.

“Like what?”

“Like I’m someone worth saving.”

Lighter’s grip on you didn’t waver. “That’s because you are.”

You looked away, cheeks warming faintly, too tired to argue anymore. Instead, you focused on taking a single, shaky step forward, feeling like a newborn deer. It was slow and awful, and you hissed through your teeth at the pain—but you did it.

“There you go,” Lighter murmured, his voice softer now, like he was proud of you without needing to say it outright.

“Ugh, you’re annoying,” you grumbled again, your hands weakly gripping his arms for balance.

“And you’re stubborn,” he shot back easily. “But I can work with that.”

You let out a heavy sigh, too worn out to keep up the banter, but when you risked a glance at him, you saw something rare—Lighter’s smile. Not his usual teasing grin or smirk, but something softer, more genuine. It almost made the pain worth it.

Almost.

“Fine,” you muttered. “One step. But don’t expect me to run a marathon anytime soon.”

Lighter chuckled, his hands still steady on you as he helped you back to the bed. “One step at a time, sweetheart. That’s all I need from you.”

_____

“Don’t you have mission to do? The red scarf of the Sons of Calydon, abandoning his work and his boss didn’t say a thing?”

You tries to push him away with the lamest thing you could think of.

Lighter let out a quiet, amused huff at your attempt, though there was no humor in his eyes. He leaned against the edge of the bed, arms crossed, the signature red scarf draped over the chair like a constant reminder of the duty outside. But now, it can wait.

“You really think Big Daddy wouldn’t know exactly where I am?” he replied, voice low and steady, as if he were humoring you. “The old man sent me himself.”

Your frown deepened as you looked away, frustration simmering beneath the surface. “Still… you have better things to do than babysit someone who can barely walk.”

“Wrong,” he said softly, cutting through your defenses. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

You shot him a glare, but it wasn’t sharp enough to cut. It lacked the fire you’d once had. “Stop that. Stop acting like you’re—”

“Like I care?” Lighter finished for you, his red pupils flickering in the low light as he studied you. He tilted his head slightly, almost as though challenging you to fight him on it. “I thought we were done pretending.”

The words hit harder than you wanted them to. You stared down at your bandaged hands, hands that still felt too weak to do anything, and tried to swallow the lump rising in your throat.

“It’s stupid,” you muttered, quieter now. “Staying here. Taking care of me. I don’t have anything to repay you. ”

Lighter shifted, pushing himself off the edge of the bed. He crouched down beside you, close enough that you couldn’t avoid looking at him. When he spoke, his voice was softer, gentler, but the weight of it was impossible to ignore.

“Stop saying that.”

You blinked at him, surprised by the seriousness in his tone. He wasn’t teasing you now, or brushing you off like he sometimes did to lighten the mood. His gaze held yours, steady and unwavering.

“If you’re pitying me, just say-”

“You think I’m here because I feel sorry for you?” Lighter shook his head slightly, a faint, almost bitter smile tugging at his lips. “I’m here because I want to be. I’m here because you matter. Whether you like it or not.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but the words wouldn’t come. The sincerity in his voice left you speechless, pinned under the weight of his gaze.

After a moment, Lighter exhaled softly and sat back down in the chair beside you, resting his arms on his knees. “You can push me away all you want,” he said finally, his voice quieter now, “but I’m not leaving. So go ahead, throw the worst you’ve got at me. You won’t shake me off that easily.”

You watched him for a long moment, trying to find cracks in his resolve—something to prove he was just saying what you wanted to hear. But there was nothing. Only patience. Only Lighter, sitting there like he’d already decided he was staying, no matter how hard you tried to shove him out.

“That stubbornness of yours is going to get you into trouble,” you murmured finally, trying to sound annoyed, though it came out weaker than you wanted.

Lighter smirked faintly, leaning back in the chair with a casual shrug. “I’ve been through worse.”

You let out a slow breath, your body too tired to keep fighting him off—at least for now. As much as you hated to admit it, his presence was steady, grounding. Something about having him there—unshakable and stubborn as ever—made the exhaustion in your chest feel just a little lighter.

“Fine,” you muttered, shifting deeper into the blankets. “Stay. But don’t expect me to be nice about it.”

Lighter’s grin softened into something warmer, quieter, as he settled into his seat again. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

_____

“Eat,” Lighter said, sliding the bowl of soup onto the small tray table in front of you. His tone was firm, but the way he angled the spoon toward your hand betrayed his gentler intentions.

You scowled, glaring at the soup as though it had personally wronged you. “I’m not hungry.”

“You haven’t eaten anything all day,” he shot back, nudging the tray closer. “I don’t care if you’re hungry. Your body needs it, and you’re not skipping this.”

You crossed your arms, slumping further into the hospital bed. “I’ll eat later.”

“You said that three meals ago.” Lighter leaned against the chair beside you, his green-black hair falling across his face, though the sharpness of his red pupils still burned through. “At this rate, you’re going to waste away before I can even teach you how to walk again.”

You rolled your eyes, the ache in your body making you even more irritable than usual. “I don’t need a lecture, Lighter.”

“And I don’t need to babysit a grown adult,” he countered, though his smirk didn’t quite hide the worry etched into his features. He straightened, his red scarf shifting as he crossed his arms. “But here we are. So, what’s it going to take? You want me to spoon-feed you?”

“Try it, and I’ll throw it at you,” you snapped, shooting him a withering glare.

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. “There’s the fire. Glad to know you’re not entirely gone.”

The back-and-forth continued for what felt like hours—over food, over water, over walking down the hallway. He tried everything to cajole, tease, or outright push you into doing the smallest things to take care of yourself. But you resisted at every turn, too worn out to summon the strength or will to comply.

Eventually, Lighter sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he stood from the chair beside you. “Fine. Be stubborn. But I’m not giving up, so don’t think you’ve won.”

He turned his back to you, walking over to the small couch in the corner of the room and collapsing onto it with a groan. He pulled his scarf loose, tossing it onto the armrest before leaning back and resting his head against the cushion.

For the first time, you noticed how tired he looked—how the shadows under his eyes seemed deeper, the usual energy in his movements subdued. You frowned, guilt prickling at the edges of your stubbornness.

The minutes passed in silence, the faint rhythm of his breathing filling the room as he seemed to drift off. Your chest tightened as you watched him, his face soft and unguarded in the dim light.

Slowly, carefully, you swung your legs over the edge of the bed. Every movement felt like an uphill battle, but you bit back the groan of pain as you made your way toward him. You stopped just shy of the couch, your hands clutching the edge for balance as you gazed down at him.

“Idiot,” you muttered softly, though your tone lacked any real bite. “You’re working harder than I am. What are you trying to prove?”

He didn’t stir, his chest rising and falling steadily. For a moment, you hesitated, unsure if you should even be doing this. But the guilt wouldn’t let you leave it alone.

With a shaking hand, you reached out, your fingers brushing lightly against his forehead. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “For being so difficult. For… for making you worry so much.”

Your hand lingered for a moment before you leaned down, pressing a soft, hesitant kiss to his forehead. The warmth of his skin against your lips made your chest ache in a way you couldn’t quite explain.

You straightened, gripping the couch again as you prepared to shuffle back to bed. But the sound of his voice stopped you in your tracks.

“Didn’t know you had it in you,” Lighter murmured, his tone teasing despite the hoarseness of his voice.

Your eyes widened as you turned back to him, catching the faint smirk tugging at his lips. His eyes were half-open now, those green eyes glinting faintly in the low light.

“Y-You were awake?” you hissed, heat flooding your cheeks.

“Barely,” he admitted, his smirk softening into something quieter as he sat up slowly. “But I’m glad I didn’t miss that.”

You glared at him, though the embarrassment in your expression dulled its edge. “Tch. Don’t get used to it.”

“Oh, I won’t,” he said, his voice laced with warmth as he leaned back against the couch. “But it’s nice to know you care, sweetheart.”

You rolled your eyes, already shuffling back toward the bed. “You’re insufferable.”

“And you’re stubborn,” he shot back, his smirk growing. “Guess that makes us even.”

As much as you hated to admit it, there was something comforting about the teasing lilt in his voice—something steady, unshakable. And despite the exhaustion weighing on you, you felt the faintest spark of warmth in your chest as you settled back into bed, his words still lingering in the quiet of the room.