#to both make sure she doesn’t get hurt and doesn’t get kissed by a creep

[galpalkirk]

ranma is so determined that akane will not be hurt in any way that he would keep her from getting a paper cut if he could

[classyrbf]

YOU'RE PREGNANT! — JJK MEN

SYNOPSIS...how the jjk men(toji, gojo, geto, nanami, choso) act when you’re 9 months pregnant and ready to pop

INFO...jjk men x fem!reader, fluff, comfort, reader is pregnant (obvi), mention of mood swings, cravings, emotional reader, jjk men being great dads

OTHER...likes and reblogs are appreciated

TOJI

toji has already dealt with this kind of thing before when it came to megumi, but it’s been so long that he’s almost forgotten what it was like. You’re waddling around the house, a stank look on your face as you stare at him. “Yes?” He questions, eyebrows raised. “I want food,” you simply answer. “Okay, what do you want?” He asks. And when you tell him you’re not sure, he lets out a long sigh because he knows this is gonna end in you getting emotional. You’ll complain your back hurts, your feet hurt, and then you’ll end up cursing him out for putting a baby in you. So all he does is walks over to you, and hugs you because he’d rather do that than get into a stupid argument about food. “Toji!” You cry into his arms. “I’m just so hungry and I don’t know what to eat!” You sniffle. To help with your problem, he starts listing off every fast food restaurant and food he could think of in hopes you’d find one appealing enough. “Chinese food?” He shrugs. You gasp with excitement. “Ugh, yes! Me and the baby could go for some orange chicken!” You smile. Toji just chuckles, “making the call right now, sweetheart.” He watches as you waddle over to the couch, smiling like a kid in a candy store.

GOJO

ever since he found out you were pregnant, he was at the stores buying whatever supplies he saw, doesn’t matter if you needed it or not. And till this day, when you’re about a few weeks from popping, he’s still buying the baby things. “What do you think of this, eh?” He smirks, holding up a onesie that says “my dad is the best”. “You’re gonna spoil her rotten, is what I think,” you groan as you reach into the bag to see what else he bought for your daughter. “More toys?” You hold up a fake set of plastic keys. Gojo snatched them from you. “I’ll have you know that she will be learning life skills at a very young age, thank you very much,” he scoffed. All you did was laugh, shaking your head at him in disbelief. Your daughter’s room was filled to the brim with clothes, toys, blankets, you were starting to wonder if you had any more room. “I can already tell she’s going to be a daddy’s girl,” you said with a sigh, rubbing your belly. “Yes she is,” Gojo leaned in towards your very plump belly, “isn’t that right?” He placed a kiss on your stomach.

NANAMI

nanami is the type that doesn’t let you do a damn thing by yourself. You’re reach for something to high on the shelf, he’s sprinting towards you, ready to be at your service. “Be careful,” he says, rubbing your back. “Kento, I got it,” you chuckle. His eyes are always on you, watching your every move. Especially when you’re in public, he hates when people get too close to you. He knows others don’t watch their surroundings and could easily bump into you. “Ken!” You shout from the bedroom. “Yes?” He peeks his head around the corner. “Can you help me get my shoes on, I can’t even reach,” you pout. Within seconds he’s on his knees, slipping on your sandals, and tying them around your ankle. He will even go as far as to paint your toes if you forgot because he knows how much you hate not having them done. Like I said, he won’t let you do a thing by yourself. “Thank you, Ken,” you kiss his lips.

GETO

geto literally pampers you. I’m not saying he acts like nanami, but I’m saying that he makes your pregnancy as comfortable as possible. “Sugu, baby, can you rub my feet? They’re swollen.” You frown. “Of course.” He grabs the lotion and casually massages your feet while you’re both watching a movie, and literally over the course of your pregnancy he’s become the best masseuse ever. He’ll also randomly creep up behind you and wrap his arms around your waist before lifting your belly, feeling the weight off of your back. “Feel better, mama?” He kisses your cheek. “So much better.” You nod, closing your eyes as you embrace the moment. You’ve even found it hard to shower while being pregnant and geto takes it upon himself to help you, albeit jumping in the shower with you or sitting on the edge of the tub while you’re in the bath. “Is the water too hot?” He rubs the soapy water over your shoulders. “It’s perfect.”

CHOSO

I’m sorry but choso is clueless. Not in a bad way, but in like a panicky way. You’re an emotional wreck through your pregnancy, moods swings like crazy. “Can you just get out please?!” You’re annoyed with him, bothered about the littlest thing ever and then in the next two minutes you’re walking out the room just crying and apologizing to him, kissing his cheek. He has no idea what the hell is going on, and you’d think he’d learn after nine months, but no. All he can is just sit there and comfort you. “It’s fine,” he assures. He gets your favorite food that you’ve been craving for the past two weeks, eating it non stop and then within a split second you’re gagging, pushing the food away. “Oh my gosh, Choso! Please throw it away, it tastes so bad.” You gag again. “But…I…you were just eating this yesterday…?” He’s says, confused before throwing the bowl of food in the garbage. Quite literally doesn’t understand anything, just confused to all hell, but he’s trying his best.

[moonstruckme]

Hey I don’t know if you’re taking requests but if not just ignore this :) but if so could you write a poly!emt marauders fic where readers sick or something’s wrong but she doesn’t tell them or anyone until she gets semi seriously hurt

FYI your fics are literally my favorites they are so good I’ve been binging all your marauders fics <33

Thank you gorgeous!

cw: fainting, nausea, mention of skipping a meal

(also note: I used celsius because they’re british, but for my american homies 39.5 is just over 103 degrees fahrenheit)

emt!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.5k words

Your day has been hazy. You knew you were off before you even left the house, the lazy sluggishness of sleep not wearing off the way it normally does, but you couldn’t afford to pay it any mind. Your work had gotten done slower than usual, frustrating for all the effort you put into it. The thought of lunch made your stomach churn, so you had mint tea during your break instead. The joints in your fingers ached from typing. Even now, sitting on the barstool at your kitchen counter while you try and finish up an assignment that really should have been done hours ago, your back seems stiffer than usual. Your bones hurt. 

“That’s far too much onion,” Sirius comments from the stool beside you, leaning across the counter to scrutinize James and Remus’ work in the kitchen. 

Remus pauses in dumping a cutting board full of chopped onion into the pan on the stove. You see him look at James in your periphery, and even without paying proper attention you know something passes between them. James takes the cutting board from Remus, scraping the remainder of the onion in with a knife. 

“Overruled,” he decrees. 

Sirius scoffs, leaning back and crossing his arms. “Have fun kissing me tonight.” 

“I’d think if we’re all eating it, we’ll be on fairly equal footing in that regard,” Remus points out. 

“Yes, equally foul-smelling. So romantic.” 

“Angel,” James says as he starts slicing up bell peppers, “do you plan on working on that all night?” 

“Almost done,” you murmur, trying to ignore how nauseous the smell of all the food makes you. You squint into the brightness of your laptop, typing as quick as you can think. Which is to say, not impressively fast. 

It’s your boyfriends’ day off, and they’ve decided to celebrate the rare occurrence of none of them being scheduled to work by going to the cinema. James and Remus are making dinner first, but the film’s in just under two hours. You know you’re sacrificing some time with them now, but it’s only so you can enjoy the main event later. Plus, if you stop working, you’re not sure you’ll be able to pick up the momentum to start again. You have a creeping sense that at the first opportunity for rest, you’ll lie down and never get up. 

James says something encouraging, and then the conversation goes on without you. You lock into your laptop screen, fingers pressing down upon the keyboard like an extension of your brain, and gradually the sensation of being outside of yourself, your body moving on autopilot while your mind simply fuzzes over, envelops you. Slowly, the world just…slips. 

An odd sound leaves Sirius as he lunges for you, like an alarm that went off without him telling it to. He catches you but not quite, one hand wrapping around your arm and the other fisting in the material of your shirt, stopping you from tipping over only temporarily. James runs from behind the counter to help. Accompanied by a steady stream of curses from both of his boyfriends, he eases you out of your stool and onto the floor. You’re already coming to. 

“Is she okay?” Remus asks from the kitchen, and Sirius hears the sound of the stove flicking off. 

“She’s hot,” James says, one hand cushioning your head from the floor while the other feels about your face and neck. 

The quip comes to Sirius naturally—as usual—but he’s in no mood to deliver it. Though he trusts James’ assessment, he touches the backs of his fingers to your forehead anyway, hissing at the heat that meets them. It’s a wonder he didn’t feel it emanating from you in the barstool next to him. 

“Angel,” James’ voice is a coo, gentleness coming naturally to him whereas Sirius’ panic feels hot and dangerous beneath his skin, “do you feel alright?” 

You hum, though it sounds more like a grunt. “Mhm.” 

Sirius almost laughs. “Come on,” he says, “be straight with us.” He works two fingers into your wrist to get your pulse, rubbing his free hand up your arm cajolingly. “You did just pass out, so we know you’re not fine.” 

Remus sets a hand on Sirius’ back as he lowers himself to the ground by your legs. A support for them both. 

“I…” You blink for a couple of seconds, and they wait, knowing you’re probably still out of it. “I guess I feel a little sick.” 

James cracks a smile, though it’s tinged with worry. “A little?” he asks, smoothing down the baby hairs at your temple. “You’ve got a horrid fever.” 

You sigh. “I figured.” 

“You figured?” Sirius is aghast. He suddenly has a very clear picture of how your day has gone, and it unnerves him. “How long have you been feeling like this?” 

You look wary, and Remus’ hand runs the length of Sirius’ back quickly as he stands. “Alright, let’s move you somewhere more comfortable, yeah dovey?” 

You relax a bit at the affection in his tone, and Sirius feels bad about ever making you miss it. This is something he’s never been able to quell about himself. His love almost always manifests roughly. For the most part, you all know how to interpret it, but when you’re vulnerable like this and he can feel you feeling the gnashing teeth of his worry, Sirius wishes he were gentler. 

James won’t let you walk yourself the short distance to the couch, lifting you in a bridal carry and setting you down with such carefulness it makes Sirius’ chest ache. Remus goes to get the thermometer. Sirius steals the spot beside your head selfishly. Thankfully, there’s no lingering timidity in your gaze as he combs his fingers through your hair, pushing it away from your ear and trailing his touch down your neck. 

“You’ve been feeling unwell for a while,” he says, softer this time, “haven’t you.” 

You look more guilty than anything, eyes going big and doe-like. “Yeah.”

“Why didn’t you say?” James asks, lifting your legs so he can scooch underneath. He rubs the skin above your knees fondly, a small furrow between his brows. 

“I just,” you sigh as though disappointed, “wasn’t ready.” 

“Wasn’t ready for what?” 

“To be sick.” 

The scratchy, delightful sound of Remus’ laugh comes into the room with him. “Well that’s silly,” he says, reaching over Sirius to settle the thermometer in your ear. “It doesn’t seem to be waiting on you, does it?” 

“Guess not,” you mutter. Sirius strokes your jaw with his thumb. 

When the thermometer goes off, both he and James lean in to see, but Remus forsakes them, bringing it up near his face where he can read it. He hums. 

“What is it?” James asks. 

“Thirty nine point five.” 

They all frown. Sirius touches your forehead again, just to be sure. Unfortunately, it seems accurate. 

“What are your symptoms, sweetheart?” Remus asks you, settling on the floor beside Sirius with his knees bent in front of him. “Does anything hurt?” 

“I feel sick—like nauseous, and sort of achey.” A little notch appears between your brows, and Sirius has the impression that you’re finally letting yourself acknowledge your own misery. His gut twists with sympathy. “My stomach is starting to hurt, but I’m not sure if that’s just because I skipped lunch.” 

None of your boyfriends even have to say anything. You look abashed enough by their expressions. 

“I wasn’t feeling well,” you say in a small voice. 

James breaks easily, taking your hand and bringing it to his mouth for a firm kiss. “Can’t believe you went all day feeling this poorly and didn’t say anything,” he chides lovingly. “What did you think was going to happen, hm?” 

“I know, I’m sorry.” Your gaze flitters about the room, landing on Sirius’ eyes for a fraction of a second before it’s dropping shyly to the couch cushion. “It was dumb.” 

“So long as you know,” Remus agrees with a brief eye-roll. “It sounds like the stomach flu, so at least it should be better in a couple of days, but there’s not much to do other than rest.” 

Your face pinches unhappily. “I’m sorry for messing up your big night too,” you say, and you look like you’d curl up in misery if James weren’t currently using your legs as a blanket. Sirius’ heart gives a little throb. 

“Don’t be,” James says. “We’re still with you, aren’t we? And if we get sick, too, that’s just more days off!”

It’s clearly a joke, but you look extra guilty anyways. Your features tighten in a slight wince. Sirius works a hand between your face and the couch cushion, leaning forward to kiss the space between your brows. 

“Don’t worry about it, darling,” he says. “Better when we can be with you than when we’re busy helping some other poor sap, yeah?”

[thelostmagicians]

Love Comes In Threes | Steve Harrington

Summary: Steve Harrington loves you, he just can't say it. [2k]

Fluff, comfort, slight angst, emotionally/verbally constipated Steve

♡

The last time Steve Harrington said I love you to someone she ripped out his heart and left with the boy she told him not to worry about. 

He doesn’t remember the last time he said it to his parents, only that he stopped trying after he kept getting the dial tone in response to his feelings. 

So you weren’t exactly surprised or upset when he kissed you instead of saying it back 6 months into your relationship. 

_

The first time you said I love you to Steve it was a stormy evening. The both of you agreed to take things slow, wounds from the past still open and healing. But he just looked so handsome that night with his hair tousled in a perfect mess, red creeping on his cheeks from the cold air as the both of you raced towards his car trying to protect yourselves from the rain. He turned the heat on as he took your hands in his in an effort to warm you up. You tried to hold it in, you swear you did, but the love you had for him weighed down on you like an anchor and you thought if you didn’t tell him that second you were going to drown in your own feelings. 

“I love you,” you had whispered as he continued rubbing his fingers over yours. He paused his actions, shyly looking up. The red on his cheeks could no longer be blamed on the cold because now he was feeling as the sun was glowing warm in his heart. 

“You sure?” he asked you. Instead of answering you kissed him, hoping your lips would act as a spout and pour how you felt directly into him.   

You knew that like you, Steve had been hurt in the past so when he pulled you in for another kiss instead of saying it back you never questioned him. 

_

But that was a year ago. 

Almost two years into the relationship and Steve still hasn’t said I love you back. Every time he hears it fall from your lips, he’ll just give your hand a squeeze and carry on. You want to think it isn’t a big deal. You try to convince yourself that the L word isn’t necessary in your relationship, not when you share a home, a bed, secrets, and, hopefully, a family in the future. But no matter how hard you try to ignore your feelings it still leaves you disappointed when you see couples everywhere throw the three words around like they’re playing catch. It’s an endless cycle of disappointment for not hearing it, guilt for questioning the love Steve has for you, and frustration for why it mattered so much.

“As someone who Steve previously loved, do you think he actually loves me or is he just… settling?”

Your question makes Nancy freeze, the book she was previously trying to shove back in the shelf falls with a loud thud. She throws an apologetic smile at the librarian who shakes her head in disapproval. 

“What are you even talking about?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t know why I brought it up. But I was just thinking, Steve loved you Nance. He told you he loved you. It’s been years and people still remember how broken he was after you left. Like if I left would he be just as sad or would he be okay.”

“Are you planning on leaving Steve?” Nancy stutters out.

“Well no…definitely no. It just makes me wonder if people can see that Steve loves me or if they think of me as the passerby keeping him from you while you were the one that got away. Whenever I tell someone I’m dating Steve all I ever hear is good on him for moving on, poor thing was a wreck after Nancy Wheeler left.”

Nancy picks up her stack of books as she leads you to the front desk, “Look what Steve and I had was over before we both even realized it was over. He loves you, I think… I think he loves you more than he could’ve ever loved me. And why do you even care what people think? These are the same people who think Robin is a sinner and that my parents are happily married.”

You roll your eyes in affection as you help her with her books. “I guess you’re right…” you trail off as your eye catches a magazine. In big bold letters you read 100 Different Signs Your Man Loves You.

“Oh please you can’t be serious.”

You give her a sheepish smile as you check out your rental and head back home. 

_ 

The magazine was utter trash. It had nothing, but surface value declarations that did nothing to soothe your worries. You stopped reading after sign 8 when it said Ladies if your man compliments your cooking, then it means he’s thinking about locking it down! Because remember a way to a man’s heart is through his stomach!

Your Steve wasn’t like this. Your Steve was the kind of guy who knew you were having a bad day before you even had the chance to tell him. Your Steve was the kind of guy who would willingly wake up early and go out into snow just to heat up your car so you won’t have to drive in the cold. 

You sigh as you toss the magazine in the back of the car making a mental note to drop it off at the library on your way to pick up Robin for your girls day.

You honk twice in front of Vickie’s house before Robin comes bolting down the driveway, shoes in hand and trying to wrestle her jacket on. She gives you a wave before climbing in and greeting you with a tight hug. 

“I see your sleepover went well,” you tease. 

Before she can tease back Vickie knocks on the window prompting Robin to roll it down. 

“Hi, Vickie” you smirk up at her, eyes darting to the purple bruise under her ear that she poorly tried to conceal with makeup. 

She waves shyly, “Robin… I forgot to say,” she looks at you nervously, “Nevermind, just I’ll see you tomorrow.” She quickly kisses Robin’s cheek and scurries back inside. 

“So… what was that whole thing with Vickie about?” you try to ease in. 

Robin bumps her head on the window when you pull into a parking spot, “Oh Vickie? She’s still nervous about saying the L word publicly so that’s what she was doing.”

“At least she’s saying it privately,” you huff under your breath. 

“What was that?”

“Oh, nothing, I was just asking how she says it in public if she isn’t comfortable?”

“You know the cheek kisses she gave, that was it.”

You quickly put the shirt you’re holding back on the rack before looking at Robin confused. “What do you mean, is that your guys’ secret language?”

Robin laughs, pulling up a skirt to herself. “No silly, haven’t you ever heard the saying love comes in threes. When you touch someone three consecutive times it’s the equivalent of I. Love. You. Hence three cheek kisses equal an I love you.”

“That’s so cute,” you squeal, squeezing her arm and testing it out for yourself. 

She squeezes back instantly, “I’m surprised you haven’t heard of it, considering Steve’s the one that introduced me to it.”

Your steps falter behind her. “Hang on, Steve? My Steve, told you that?”

“Yeah, he said his Nana used to do it when they were kids or something like that. Told me before I told Vickie I loved her. Do you think this skirt is cute or should I save my money for a Madonna tape?”

Robin keeps rambling as you stay in place, your thoughts spiraling. Her confession makes you think about every single time Steve’s ever touched you. Every morning before you part ways how he pecks your lips once, twice, and a little longer the third time. How he squeezes your waist three times when he walks past you to get his favorite mug. How he reaches for your thigh, hand, anything he can get ahold of just to get three squeezes in. How he taps your arm in his sleep, again always in threes. You would stay up trying to figure out what song his taps represent before eventually drifting off yourself.   

This whole time you were waiting for Steve to verbally express his love when he was doing it quietly in his own way, more often than you ever did. 

You don’t even realize you’re crying until you feel a tear slowly drip down your neck. 

“Hey what’s wrong are you okay?” Robin asks frantically. She drops her bags, hands squeezing your arms and eyes darting around for any signs of danger. 

You nod through your tears, “I’m okay, can we just go. I have to get home, I know it’s crazy but…”

Robin nods, grabbing your arm and leading you to the exit. 

_ 

The car ride back home is quiet, Robin didn’t even whisper a goodbye when she left simply settling with a quick peck to your forehead and soft smile. 

Your thoughts feel overwhelming like everything is going a mile a minute when you think about Steve. You think about your first date, your second, and your third and so on. How Steve ended every night with three of something. 

Your body is on autopilot as you make your way through the front door. Keys tossed in the bowl, coat hung up, and shoes thrown off. 

“Hey baby, you alright? Robin called asking if you were okay.” A concerned Steve comes into your vision, he quickly wipes his hands on the kitchen towel before flinging it over his shoulder and kissing you. Once, twice, and thrice.

Your hard stare makes him nervous, he’s never seen you like this before. “Honey,” he whispers out.

You take a deep breath in, “You never said I love you to me, not after I said it first, not even when you asked me to move in.” You pause trying to compose yourself while Steve avoids your gaze. “This whole time I thought you didn’t love me like you should, that you loved me, but you weren’t in love with me.”

Steve lifts his head up, baffled, he goes to argue until you lift your hand up signaling him to wait. 

“Robin told me something about how love comes in threes, today. How three taps, or any kind of touch in rapid succession three times is the equivalent of an I love you,” he finally meets your gaze as you slowly walk over to him, tugging on his waist to hold him as close as possible. “You told me you loved me on our first date, you told me the night we had our first kiss, you told me on our anniversary. And you tell me everyday. I don’t think there’s an hour that goes by without you telling me.”

Steve pulls you into his chest before gently lifting your head and kissing you three times. You giggle at the not-so-secret-anymore gesture. “I’m trying. I really am trying hard to say it, but I do. I really do. I want you to know how important you are, but I’m also scared. So I guess this was my way of saying it, reminding myself that when I do eventually say the words… you won’t leave.” 

“I’m sorry…I’m so sorry for not seeing your love. For not understanding that even though you love me quietly you love me the most. Your love is in the tiny but grand gestures that I take for granted, but would miss deeply if I didn’t have it. I don’t need the words anymore Steve, I just need you because you love me more than I ever thought was possible and that’s enough. You’re enough.”

He squeezes your shoulder three times before whispering the words you’ve always wanted to hear from him. 

They say love comes in threes and your love with Steve may be quiet, but it’s everywhere. 

[miaoua3]

My Morning, Noon And Evening

Pairing: hoshi x gn! reader

Genre: fluff, domestic, romantic, not so quiet mornings with him

Description: your mornings with hoshi are always so peaceful. well, your type of peaceful

Note: THIS IS FOR MY POOKIE YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE ENJOY ILY

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

on rare days like this, where your boyfriend doesn’t have any schedule, and you want nothing more than to spend the whole morning in the bed together, just cuddling and kissing, you of course wake up at the crack of the morning.

it’s not even 7am, but you are wide awake. and you can’t seem to fall back asleep. and you curse yourself and whatever deity made you wake up so early.

it is only after a few second that you notice the hot breath on the back of your neck, the heavy arm wrapped tightly around your waist and light snoring hitting your ears.

ever so slowly, you turn your head back to your boyfriend.

and the sight in front of you leaves you breathless.

soonyoung, sleeping soundly beside you, looking so soft and peaceful, the light and warm morning sun creating a halo around his head, the lips slightly pouty and opened.

not only is this sight beautiful, it is also very rare for you. usually, your boyfriend is out of the house before the sun has the chance to even rise. so for you to be able to see him like this-it’s certainly not an every day sight for you, unfortunately.

so, you just stare at him. just for a minute. to make sure you can remember this in difficult moments that you know will come to haunt you.

after a few minutes of dwelling and deciding that you might as well do something productive now that you’re awake, you slowly get out of soonyoungs arms and up to make you some breakfast.

as the coffee is being prepared, breakfast cooked, kimchi taken out for your boyfriend to devour, the sun sneaks in through the gaps in the curtains, making your heart feel at peace, for some reason. probably because it’s a sign that spring is slowly creeping up on you.

after finishing up around the kitchen, you walk back to your room to find your boyfriend hugging latte tightly to his chest, though it doesn’t seem to bother her as she, too, is sleeping soundly.

smiling gently while taking out your phone to snap a quick picture of this absolutely too adorable sight, you slowly approach your bed.

“baby, wake up, i made breakfast for us”, you tell while watching the two. latte, immediately opens her eyes and looks up at you, her little tail wagging like crazy. somehow managing to escape her owner’s arms, she gets up and walks up to you, expectantly looking at you for cuddles.

and who are you to say no to such a cutie. carefully you pick her up, giving her sweet head some scratches while she’s happily licking away at your face.

after a few moments, you carefully put her down in order to wake her dad up.

“soonyoungie, wake up honey, the breakfast will get cold”.

ever so slowly, his eyes open, eventually falling onto your figure.

and then he smiles.

smiling back you say “good morning sleepy head”.

your boyfriend doesn’t answer, but instead puts out his hand in your direction.

thinking that he wants you to pull him up, you put your hand on his without even thinking twice about it.

grave mistake.

because your boyfriend didn’t want you to pull him up.

he wanted to pull you down onto him.

squealing as you’re falling down, you brace yourself for the impact. luckily, your boyfriend seems to make a great matt to ease up your fall.

smiling, he tells you “good morning, the sexiest person to ever exist”, before he starts attacking you with tons of tiny kisses all over your face, making you squeal even more, as well as laugh hysterically.

all of this seems to get latte’s attention, making her jump onto the bed and squeeze in between you both, tail wagging so much it hurts when it hits your arm.

some people would say that this is all too much to experience in the morning, that it’s too loud.

but as both hoshi and you are giving latte tons of kisses, the only thing that you’re able to think about is

“i could never give up this for anything else.

it may not be the quietest morning, but it’s the most peaceful to me.”

luckily, the rest of the day is as chaotic and filled with as many laughs as the morning was.

because life filled with soonyoung is a life filled with laughter and happiness, not just your mornings.

[miniwheat77]

Red. (König.)

!CW! NSFW, smut, fluff, König being protective, blood, poorly translated German, (sorry if I missed any.)

Red is the color you’ve learned to associate with König. Not for any particular reason, but you’ve seen the massive man covered head to toe in blood, and the scariest part about it? It was never ever his own. You met him before he became a Colonel, and when he did become one, you were amongst the first few soldiers he wanted around him. He saw potential in you. He liked having you around. Not for any particular reason, or so he thought.

Red is the color of your panties when König passes by your bedroom when your door is cracked open. You hadn’t realized it was open, forgetting all about it. He watched for far too long, the way you drew them down your legs, discarding them into your hamper and sliding another pair onto your legs. His eyes are dark as he watches you. He has to force himself away from you, he couldn’t do this to himself, he had too much to lose than to pursue something like a relationship.

Red is the color that seeps into his teeth when he bites too hard on his lip. Seeing you pass by, imagining what you look like with only panties on. He can only imagine what you’ll look like with them off too. He moves his hand up his hood, wiping the blood away from his lip, tasting the familiar metallic taste on his tongue, oh how he wanted it to be yours instead. He was obsessed.

Red is the color of the one single rose he’d found on a mission with just the two of you. He passed it to you, smiling even though he knew you couldn’t see it. Your cheeks blushed crimson, and he felt his heart thumping deep in his chest. “Thank you Colonel.” You giggle. Hearing him laugh. “Hübsche Blume für ein hübsches Mädchen.” He mumbles, seeing the way your smile starts to falter. You nibble at your lip nervously. He takes the rose from you, placing it between your skin and the strap of your helmet. Right above your ear. He’d already pulled the thorns off so that they wouldn’t hurt you.

Red is the color of his cheeks when you make the first move, stepping toward him. Reaching very slow as you raise his hood just enough. Right at the bridge of his nose. Pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. He’s the one who deepens it, resting his hands on your waist and pulling you into him to kiss you harder, show you that he wants more. Your lips are flushed and plump from his harsh kiss. Pupils blown out, eyes begging for more of him. He doesn’t know what he’s gotten himself into.

Red is what he sees when a new recruit touches you in a way you don’t like. Resulting in you being upset. He marches right over to the both of you, threatening the man. “If you touch her again, I’ll cut your hands off. Do you understand?” He corners him, your cheeks lighting on fire. He was so protective. How dare he touch you. König was the only man allowed to touch you. Nobody else was supposed to. You were his, only his. He sends the recruit to his room for the night and grasps hold of your wrist, pulling you along. Once he gets you alone. He’s kissing you again. You were his. He was going to make sure of it.

Red is the color of the rose petals he’d decorated your shared house with. Along with candles in the shape of a walkway. You came into your house, shocked by what you see as you set your keys and bag down skeptically. You creep down the hallway, finding him waiting for you in your bedroom. “What is all of this?” You smile. “A surprise. Come here.” He nods. You giggle as he takes your hand, bringing you into him. “I love you, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you.” He mumbles. You smile up at him, but it falters as he lowers himself down onto one knee. Lifting up the little black velvet box. “Willst du mich heiraten?” He smiles. Seeing your eyes fill with tears.

Red is your daughters favorite color. Anytime she gets a hold of a marker or crayon, it’s always red. Her favorite thing to do is show you and König what she has drawn, and even though he’s not a fan, he’ll let her color red marker onto his fingernails. She’s not quite old enough for the real thing, so marker will have to do for now. You laid in bed next to König after a long night, seeing his nails and how there’s still remnants of red marker. You can’t help but smile. Just as you lie in bed, you can hear a little sniffle at your door. König sits up fast, plucking the little metal chain on the lamp next to him. Seeing his little girl with tears streaming down her face. “Baby what’s wrong?” You ask. “I had a bad dream.” She sniffles. You hear König let out a sigh. “It’s alright liebling, daddy’s gotcha.” He breathes. Reaching his hands out for her and lifting her into your bed. “Stay with mum and dad tonight.” He mumbles. Yawning slightly as she nuzzles up between the both of you. She had him wrapped right around her little finger.

[grapesrsogood]

Xanthus vs period cramps

Find masterlist here

I know its supposed to be gender neutral but i just needed this okay

I couldnt find one so im gonna wright one as best i can

Might feature Dontis (i dont plan what i write. ಠ_ಠ )

Anyways ^o^ as always (one time before) reader is referred to a Love, this time with she/her pronouns and she gets really bad cramps

———————————

Xanthus groans again as he sits on the sofa beside Dontis. The pain in his abdomen had been appearing inconsistently throughout the day and Love had stayed hold up in their shared room for the past two days, not even letting him in to feed or for comfort.

“Whats got you in such a mess today hm?” The incubus raises an eyebrow, to Xanthus’s displeasure.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” he pauses a moment, slightly shocked at the venom in his own voice.

“Are you alright? Did something happen?” Dontis pushes, becoming more genuin and concerned for his friend.

“I- im not sure. It could be because i haven’t seen Love much recently but i didnt think it’d have this much of an effect on me,” the waver in his voice holds uncertainty and he huffs in frustration.

“Well, like we know, if one of you is in pain then the other is too, could it be that she isn’t feeling too well? Maybe a stomach bug?” Dontis offers, as he rests his chin on his palm.

“I suppose so but im sure she’d tell me if-,” they both pause for a moment, hearing faint noises from down the hallway, “do you hear that?” Xanthus ask, quietly.

“Yes, it sounds like faint mumbling, or maybe groans?” Dontis mumbles back, in a hushed tone as to keep listening out for the sound.

“I cant take this anymore, im going to see them whether they like it or not,” Xanthus stands and starts making his way towards their room. Dontis doesn’t question him as he sits back and goes back to his business.

Knocking could be heard on the door of their room and she grumbles annoyedly, questioning who was interrupting her ‘try to find a position that doesn’t feel like you’re being stabbed’ time.

Xanthus peeks his head around the door and looks around the room, the smell of metallic blood hitting his nose faintly and he wonders how he don’t notice it sooner. He was by Loves side in an instant, looking over her curled up figure in search of injuries.

“Are you hurt love? Whats wrong, i can feel your pain,” he blurts out, reaching a hand out to hold her face lightly.

She sighs and finally gives up on trying to hide it, “im fine… im just on my period is all…”.

The words hit him like a train. How could he be so stupid. Of course she was on her period! It all made sense, the pains and the avoidance. How could he not have noticed sooner.

He moved quickly, talking just as fast, “do you need anything? Another blanket? A hot water bottle? Food? A dring? Medication?” Worry seeped through his voice as he placed a hand against her forehead.

“Im fine Xan, i promise,” she manages to say, as Xanthus pulls a water bottle out of his suitcase he kept half full in the corner of the room. He put on a dim light and pulled out a fresh blanket from a drawer.

“Xanthus, ive done this before, i can handle it-“ she tried to sit up to speak to him but he placed a hand on her shoulder, setting down the water and pulling the scrunched blanket off of her and laying down the fresh, fluffy blanket.

“You need rest and comfort and thats what im here for, now make some room, Love,” he says softly as he slips under the covers, reaching for her and pulling her into him.

She instinctively wraps her limbs around him and lays her head on his chest. It didnt take long for her cramps to die down, sleep slowly creeping in as she yawns.

“Thank you Xan, love you,” she says, through a sleepy haze.

“Its quite alright my love, now sleep,” he kisses the top of her head and she slowly drifts off as he lays there, silently content in holding her as she lightly snores beside him.

And just for a moment, everything was perfect.

———————————

Its so late and im so tired because i can only write well when its past midnight T^T

I hope you enjoyed reading as much as i enjoyed writing this, i tried my best to really capture the feeling of Xanthus as a person, prepared, caring (towards love and only love :3) and straight forward whilst also adding in some bond + period theories with the mood-swings and cramps because itd be funny to see a 450 year old vampire lose his shit over dropping a plate (ˉεˉ)

Anyways, if u have requests, drop them in the comments and i’ll see u next time baiiii :D

[arlathavellan-acotar]

Phantom Pains | I

Fandom: ACOTAR

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Reader: she/her, (3/4-High Fae, 1/4-Tartera), Y/N used

Genre: Fluff, Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Word Count: 2.5k

Something is... wrong. Time missing, memories missing, thoughts missing. Wondering where things both big and small disappeared to, like the dress you were working on or even the past seventeen hours of your day. Something is very wrong, and the thought seems to slip your mind as soon as it comes. || Azriel has been a part of your life for years now, and has been courting you since the fall of Hybern. Only, things don't seem to be as simple as you'd both assumed they'd be. It seems someone thought you were the weak link-- the easy ticket to infiltrating the inner circle through its spymaster. And maybe you are.

|| Next Part | Masterlist ||

Velaris was always a sight to behold at night. Well, it was always a sight to behold regardless of the time, but something about the blanket of night just suited the city.

Your feet drag slightly as you walk, the fatigue of the day creeping up on you as you make your way home. A large basket weighs your arms down, your fingers barely able to interlock on the other side. The last errand for the night before you can bunker in and sleep until dawn. Well, maybe even a little later than that.

The city is still alive around you; though people are careful to give you room lest they knock your package from your arms. Your eyes barely peeked over the top, even with your chin lifted high, just to be sure you won’t run into anyone who isn’t paying attention. Your routine seemed to be predictably well-known by the residents in the area.

Routine was good, it meant you would know if something was wrong. And, as you come up upon the steps leading to your shop, your favorite part of the night comes. A shadow casts over you from behind, and the familiar sensation of a gentle sentient darkness winds itself up your waist to mingle with your own shadows.

“Allow me,” a gentle voice says.

The weight of the basket is suddenly gone, and you look over your shoulder at your new aide.

“Good evening, Azriel,” you greet, resting your hand in the crook of his offered elbow as he leads you up the stairs.

“Good evening, Y/N.” His smile is soft, not at all like the cold mask he’d wear when you first met.

His wing closest to you curls out slightly, acting as a barrier against the street traffic to make sure no one would bump into you. No one ever did, of course, but you weren’t going to complain about the gesture.

“It’s heavier than last week.”

He tests the weight with a slight bounce as you smile up at him. “Not too much, I hope. I’ve been getting more orders than usual since a certain High Lady was seen wearing one of my dresses on a very casual stroll through the markets.”

The brief puff of his chest doesn’t escape your attention as you reach the top of the stairs. “Our High Lady is certainly a patron of the arts.”

You bump into him lightly, but it does nothing to affect his stride. “Well, thanks to her generosity, I’ve found myself in need of assistance filling orders. I met my new seamstress at lunch today to get to know her; she starts in the morning.”

An utterly soft expression comes over his face, hazel eyes shining as he looks down at you. The walk to your shop was never more lovely than when he was at your side, telling you as much about his day as possible.

When you finally make it to your shop it seems all too soon. Never one to risk overstaying his welcome, Azriel sets the basket down on the front desk before turning to take your hand, placing a kiss on your knuckle.

“Until tomorrow,” he says, breath hot against your skin.

“Until tomorrow.” Your hand follows his for as long as possible as he backs into a dark corner, a sudden coldness replacing his warmth as he leaves for wherever he is needed next.

“One of these days,” you sigh to yourself. “I’ll get you to at least stay for tea before you leave.”

~~

When you first arrived at Velaris, you could only dream of your shop being a staple of the city. Even five years ago you wouldn't have imagined the High Lady of the Night Court wearing one of your gowns just to support you; at the request of the man courting you nonetheless.

You started as a barely-paid aid, working off your family’s debts to the store owner. She was an old, haughty woman who tended to look down her nose at lesser fae like your half-tartera father, and by extension yourself, but even she couldn’t deny a hundred years of your beautiful work.

Even still, you were shocked when the store passed to you upon her death. It was a bit of a struggle, keeping it afloat by yourself during the last decade of Amarantha’s reign of terror. But now, the city was healing after yet another war, and with a little support from the fae who had been courting you, your business had never been better.

The bell above the shop’s door chimes, and you lean back to see your new employee.

“Amaria!” you call, catching her attention.

She smiles as she sees you and makes her way behind the counter to join you.

“Good morning, Y/N. I hope I’m not too late, I don’t have too much experience on this side of town.” The fae woman sits in the chair next to you, her copper braid sliding off her shoulder and falling at her back.

“No worries, I’m just getting an early start on some mending. Care to join me?” You lean across the table to slide a box towards her.

She takes it gracefully, lifting the blouse inside of it to find the damage. A small hole along the seam of the left arm catches her eye, and she picks up the matching spool of thread you’d left in the box.

You find yourself watching her thread a needle from your kit out of the corner of your eye, your own work stopping for a moment. It takes about three pokes for the thread to pass through, and you’re back to your own patching before her eyes turn towards you.

“If you don’t mind me asking; didn’t you mention an influx of dress orders at lunch yesterday? I’m sure those pay better than fixing some shirts.”

A smile pulls across your lips as you tie off your thread. “These customers were here first. I love making my own gowns, but if it weren’t for the people asking me to mend their clothes, the store would have been out of my hands decades ago.”

Amaria hums in response, focusing intently on the garment in her hands. Lithe and elegant, she almost reminds you of a spider weaving a web as she works the needle between long fingers. The two of you work for hours with the occasional work-related conversation until all of the garments sent in for mending are carefully folded on the far end of the table, client tags attached.

You roll your shoulders back, sighing at the accompanying crackle. “What would you say to a lunch break before we get started on those orders?”

A light, airy laugh is your response as Amaria follows your lead in standing from the table. “I had worried you might be the type to work until your body said otherwise.”

You can’t help your smile as you lead her out of the shop. “Oh, I do some days. I just don’t want to scare you off on your first day here.”

She falls in step with you, and you walk a little faster than normal to meet a compromising pace for the both of you. The streets are busy around this time of day, and your shadows dance around your feet when another fae walks too close.

Amaria breaks the silence as the two of you walk to the cafe you’d met her at yesterday. “You mentioned your father was tarteran, correct?”

“And one of the best jewelsmiths in the Court,” you answered. “He made quite a living before my mother fell ill.”

“So why dresses? If you don’t mind me asking.”

You focused on the steady fall of your feet as the two of you walked down the cobbled street. “It started out of convenience. My mother was a seamstress, so I had easy access to training, and could help with her work as her condition got worse. Eventually, I took over for her so she didn’t have to worry about that kind of thing in the few years before she passed.”

A silence fell between you, so you sent her a smile to quell the apprehensive look you noticed on her face. “I don’t mind talking about it. I’ve had my time to grieve, and will gladly take any opportunity to talk someone’s ear off about them. Keeps their memory alive.”

She tries to return your smile, but you can tell it isn’t completely there.

“What of you? Family or profession, whichever you’re comfortable sharing.”

Amaria’s gaze flickers up towards the horizon, and the pause before she speaks has you on the edge of backtracking. “My parents died when I was young; my siblings as well. I was taken in by a family friend who paid for sewing lessons so I could make dresses for myself and his daughter. We were originally in Spring, but tensions during the war had us moving up here with his sister to escape the fighting.”

Her words are tense, almost feeling rehearsed with their near-monotonous tone. An uneasy feeling in your gut has you redirecting the conversation as you approach the cafe.

“Well, as painful as our journeys may have been, I'm glad they led us here. What better place to make your dreams come true than the City of Dreams itself?” You catch another not-quite smile as you lead her inside.

~~

After lunch, you and Amaria fall into a steady rhythm working on an order for Morrigan as the sun begins to set. You’d only met her a few times since Azriel had begun courting you, but she was a frequent patron and always paid more than fair. One of her requests had even led to a collaboration between yourself and Neve to design both gown and jewelry to complement each other. You’d always longed for connections in the Palace of Thread and Jewels, and her shop reminded you of your late father.

“I’ve heard tales of our great Inner Court,” Amaria says, working on the hem of Morrigan’s flowing skirt. “I never thought I’d be making something for them, especially not on my first day.”

You flash a smile as you arrange the fabric for the bodice on the dressform you’d had made for her. “Morrigan and Lady Feyre have been more than generous in their support. They’re actually the reason I needed to hire another pair of hands; everyone wants to see what’s so special about a gown to be worn by the High Lady herself.”

Amaria hums in response, and you’ve gotten the impression it's something she does often.

“And the others?” Her voice has you peeking over your shoulder, but her face is practically buried in the skirt. “The High Lady’s sisters, or the High Lord’s brothers?”

A slight tug at your lips betrays you as you think of your shadowsinger. “I get some repairs from them, but I don’t believe any of them have the taste for my gowns.”

Her laugh is light and airy, and you can hear the spring court in her. A few pins later, and you stepped back to get a better vantage on the pleats of the chest. A quick look over your shoulder showed that Amaria was finishing up the hem.

“Well, I believe this is a good place to call it a night.”

She looks up at you, blinking to clear her eyesight. “I don’t think I’ve sewed for this long in ages.”

You laugh as she stretches and curls her fingers. “If we don’t stop here I might end up working through the night, sleep be damned.”

Sighing with a smile, she stood from her chair and worked the strain out of her back and arms.

“Would you mind if I walked you home?” You asked, closing up your pins. “It’s getting dark out, and I know you mentioned getting turned around this morning. I can drop off some of the repairs we did as well.”

Her expression turns to shock for a moment, but fades to a grateful smile. “It would be much appreciated. I can’t say I’m too familiar with navigating the market squares at night.”

The night is cool and the walk is pleasant. Amaria is easy company, and you find the two of you don’t need to make much conversation. You even get to introduce her to a few customers, and they take to her easily. 

Her apartment is at the back of a c-shaped complex, through a brief alleyway that opens into a shared courtyard.

“It’s beautiful,” you appraise, looking up at the large tree in the center as you pass. The last fading light of sunset filters through its leaves.

“I was fortunate to find this place. The neighbors are kind, and good company on sleepless nights.” Her voice is gentle, like she’s already more at home in the courtyard than she was in the streets of Velaris.

A sentiment you understood all too well.

“Thank you, Y/N. For walking me home.”

You smile at her as she reaches her door, and she returns it brightly. ”I’ll see you in the morning, then?”

Her head dips into a low nod. “Until then.”

The courtyard is silent as her door closes behind her. A night chill settles on your shoulders like a cloak, and you find yourself shivering as you enter the alleyway. It was getting late, which meant your shadowsinger would soon make his appearance. Feeling light and giddy, your pace is enthusiastic as you make your way back to your shop and home.

There weren’t many people out tonight, those that were awake likely seeking something in one of the districts. Your feet slow despite yourself, a sluggish feeling overcoming your body as you come to a stop in the middle of the street

The light behind you is partially blocked, and you feel the hair on the back of your neck prickle as your shadows swirl in a panic at your feet. Every survival sense in your body screams at once as spindly fingers enter your peripheral vision, caging your head. A feeling of claustrophobia overwhelms your senses, and suddenly every inch of you is paralyzed. All you can do is squeeze your eyes shut tight at the sudden pain blooming in your head.

When your senses return, it's to the sound of wings. You inhale like you’ve been stuck underwater, swaying on your feet as the blackness in your vision recedes, showing the streets of Velaris once more.

“There you are!” Azriel calls, landing in front of you and grasping on your shoulders as you sway on your feet.

The heel of your palm digs into your temple as you wince at the volume of his voice.

“Are you alright?” His hands and shadows both brush against you, searching for any obvious injuries.

You blink the fog out of your eyes and steady yourself against him. “I’m… I’m okay. Just got lightheaded for a moment.”

A familiar, comforting feeling of silence surrounds you as arms and wings alike shield you from the world. “I was waiting for you by the bridge, but it was starting to get late. What’re you doing out here?”

You swallow a lump in your throat as you regain your bearings. Recounting your deliveries and how you walked Amaria home, you notice the sky is much darker than it was a moment ago. Azriel’s brows are pinched, his thumb running from your temple to cheek.

“Let me take you home?” Both an offer and plea, one you don’t plan on denying.

----------------------------

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[autisticlancemcclain]

part one

———

Hunk’s not really a natural morning person. No one really is, he doesn’t think, and he already has to get up at stupid-o-clock in the morning for his job, so he likes to sleep in on weekends. He’s no Pidge, of course — if you let her that woman will literally slip into a coma on command — but if he doesn’t have to wake up early, he won’t.

In the city, where there is nothing but buildings and the air pollution is so bad it’s like a constant cloud over the area, that’s not a problem. In Lance’s woodland fairy-ass cabin, the sun shines straight from the window into his eyeballs the second it rises, and he’s up early.

He drags himself out of bed with a groan, glaring at Pidge who is entirely unbothered, because of course she is. He remembers when the three of them went on trips, growing up, and how he and Lance would wake up early for hotel breakfast and find Pidge still dead asleep. (They would proceed to have a competition to see who could stack more random shit on Pidge’s sleeping body before she woke up. She never woke up. A fuckin’ biblically accurate angel could descend upon them with the light of a thousand suns and Pidge would still be dead to the world. It’s honestly kind of hilarious, except right now Hunk is insanely jealous, so it’s not really funny.)

He digs through his duffel, looking for his X Files t-shirt because he is a dickhead and he thinks he’s funny (he is). Once he’s finally dressed for the day, he creeps out of the guest room — Lance’s cheeky warning from last night still ringing in his ears; he does not want another eyeful of alien dick, thanks — but the door to Lance’s (and Keith’s, he supposes) room is ajar, bed made neatly, lights off. They’re awake.

He pads down the hallway, peeking through at doors that are ajar but finding them all empty — washroom, laundry room, office, every single room with the lights off. He finally makes it to the kitchen, the last possible place where they could be, but there’s nothing. Curiously, he glances at the front door, but Lance’s dorky retro sneakers and Keith’s big combat boots are still there. Clearly, they’re both in the house, but where?

Deciding not to worry about it, Hunk starts digging through Lance’s fridge, pulling out eggs and cream and butter to make some breakfast. He’s pretty sure that all is forgiven for their less-than-stellar reactions to meeting a Real Life Alien, whom Lance is apparently boinking (which is much less of a shock than Hunk is pretending it is), but breakfast can’t hurt.

As he cracks and whisks the eggs, pouring them into the hot frying pan, he begins to hear a steady squeaking noise, like the creaking of a porch swing. He quietly moved the eggs off the burner, inching close to the big window over the sink and peeking out.

Ah. There they are.

Lance sits with his feet tucked up onto the porch swing, curled into Keith’s side. Keith has a big arm over his shoulders, clawed thumb gently brushing his bare arm, as he rocks the swing back and forth. His poofy black hair and fluffy ears brush the low-hanging roof of the porch with every swing.

“Things are gonna be different, now,” Lance murmurs, turning slightly to press a kiss to Keith’s shoulder. Keith is quiet for a while, his only reaction being a slight quirk of his lips, showing the barest hint of crooked incisors and a sharp fang. His smile, coupled with the near reverent way he looks at Lance, makes his whole face look softer.

“Different doesn’t mean bad.”

“No. But it won’t be just you and me.”

Keith shifts, gently guiding Lance upright to sit on his own. Once Lance is no longer leaning on him, Keith ducks his head, pressing an obnoxiously loud kiss to his cheek that startles bright laughter out of Lance.

“It’ll always be you and me, baby,” Keith says, grinning openly now, “only now everyone else gets to see how much I love ya.”

Lance rolls his eyes, trying to seem exasperated, but happiness bleeds off him, so obvious anyone can see.

“Sap.”

Hunk steps away from the window as they start to banter, smiling to himself. He hasn’t seen Lance this happy in a long time.

It’s good to see him smiling like that again.

———

“So,” Pidge says, once they’ve all eaten and are talking a slow walk through the woods since it’s so beautiful out, “there is not a single chance that I will be able to keep this —” she gestures to Keith and Lance as a whole, wiggling her fingers at Keith particularly — “to myself.”

“I mean, you could definitely try,” Lance points out.

“Not gonna happen,” Pidge dismisses. “Aliens are real. I’m tattooing it to my person.”

“I mean, alien is subjective,” Keith mutters, more to himself than anything. “Y’all are the weird ones, out here on your own. Everyone else is pretty chill with each other.”

Lance pats his shoulder.

“Pidge has a bit of a point,” Hunk says, glossing right over that because that’s a lot of information for one weekend. “Your mom calls once a week, dude, and I’m a shitty liar. You know that. Before I could claim plausible deniability, but yesterday I saw more than I ever wanted to see in my life. If Marcela asks me why you’ve been shanked up in your hippy cabin for months I will not be able to choke down the truth.”

“It’s not hippy,” Lance mutters. It’s Keith’s turn to pat him placatingly on the shoulder.

“I mean, we could maybe head back with y’all to the city,” the man — can Hunk call him a man? Is that alien racist? What are the rules here — suggests. “I’ve been wanting to meet your family for a while, so that would work out, right?”

Lance frowns thoughtfully. “I suppose since the cat’s out of the bag…”

Pidge clears her throat, stopping to lean against a tree. “Uh, New York is weird, sure, but not ‘show up with an alien and no one will ask questions’ weird, man.”

Hunk tilts his head. “Actually…”

“Shush, Hunk, I’m trying to make a point.”

“Oh, no, I can just be human for a bit,” Keith assures, as if that’s at all a normal thing to say. “I would have done it for you guys if we knew y’all were coming. I imagine that would have prevented all the screaming.”

Pidge nods thoughtfully. “What the fuck,” she says.

Completely oblivious to — or maybe just uncaring of — her tone, Keith holds up a finger. “Hold on a sec.”

He closes his eyes, and for a moment nothing happens, and then he starts to shimmer, slightly, like the air around him is warping, like light is blurring. It’s hard to conceptualise, so Hunk squints on reflex. When the strangeness starts to settle and Hunk relaxes his face, a regular dude is standing in Keith’s place — significantly shorter than before, although still taller than them all, pale-skinned, with regular human ears and features. His hair is still in its thick black braid, and he still has a scar on his left cheek, but it’s a faint pink instead of purple.

“You’re a regular dude,” Hunk observes. “Damn.”

Lance smirks. “A sexy dude.” He reaches over and squeezes Keith’s ass with the subtlety of a seagull eyeing a young child’s french fry.

“I’m going to go gouge out my eyes with a random stick,” Pidge says pleasantly. Lance snickers at her.

“Make sure it’s poison oak so it hurts more.”

“Make sure you catch these fucking hands, you hippie dweeb.”

“Alright,” Hunk says, clapping his hands before those two can get into it any further. (If they get the chance they’ll argue about nothing for hours, and Hunk would really like to keep his will to live). “Let’s make our way back, okay? Lance can call Marcela and then we’ll head back to the city tomorrow.”

———

The next day, they’re all stuffed into Hunk’s Jeep, speeding down the backroads (safely!) as Mariah Carey plays softly from the speakers, because Hunk has excellent taste. Hunk taps his fingers on the steering wheel, along to Lance’s quiet humming. He catches his best friend’s brown eyes through the rearview mirror and grins. Pidge is turned almost all the way around in the passenger seat, just staring, dead-eyed, unblinking, at Keith.

Keith clears his throat, shifting uncomfortably. Hunk can’t blame him. He’s known Pidge for years and years and years, and sometimes her glares still make him sweat, if she stretches them long enough. And she’s been thoughtfully glowering at Keith ever since she woke up enough to use her brain. (They left the cabin at the crack of dawn so they could make it back to the city in good time. Pidge wasn’t happy about it.) She’s just — looking at him, blankly, as she slowly finishes her third pre-prepared travel mug of the nastiest instant coffee known to man, brewed with Red Bull. Lance, who has been trying and failing to ignore her, looks like he’s debating reaching over and closing her eyes for her. He’s glowering right back.

It’s a little funny.

“Is this a human thing?” Keith asks, finally breaking the silence. “The staring?”

“Ha!” Pidge crows, pumping her fist. “I win!”

Lance protests immediately. “No way! He doesn’t know the rules!“

“Fair’s fair,” Pidge says smugly. “He squirmed. He spoke up first. I win. That’s how it does. What, does he get special treatment? Is nothing sacred anymore?”

“This game is so dumb,” Lance grumps, but doesn’t argue any further.

“Game?” Keith whispers.

Lance pats him on the thigh. “Inside joke. Don’t worry about it, baby. I’ll explain when Pidge can’t eavesdrop and sabotage our strategy.”

Keith nods seriously, as if that is normal. Hunk grins. Keith’s going to fit in just fine.

“So,” Pidge says, tone still haughty. “Now that I have won, I get one question that you must answer truthfully.”

It’s a stupid game they play. When they’re curious about something, they just start — staring. Wordlessly. At whichever one of them is doing the thing they’re curious about. Whoever breaks first has to answer the question, and you’re not allowed to lie. None of them remember who started it. Or even when it started.

But, to Pidge’s earlier point, the game is sacred. Rules are rules.

“Okay,” Keith says slowly, when Lance fails to explain further. “What’s your question?”

“How are you planning to explain to Marcela why you’ve been hogging her darling youngest son’s attention for six months? I mean, you’re not the worst person anyone has brought to Sunday family dinner. Nothing you could do will ever be worse than the time Marco brought home the girl he met when she stole his car and then she stole his car again while everyone was eating. But, you know. Still. I would have a defense attorney present, personally.”

Hunk catches Lance’s eye in the rear view mirror again, and they both look away hastily to avoid bursting into giggles.

Poor Marco. No one is ever going to let that one go.

But then the rest of Pidge’s frankly pot-stirring question hits, and panic descends upon Keith’s face just as pure annoyance descends upon Lance’s.

“Oh my God, your mother is going to kill me,” Keith breathes.

Lance reaches over and pinches Pidge as hard as he can. She screeches. Hunk rolls his eyes.

“Stop freaking out my boyfriend,” Lance orders.

“Hunk, he pinched me!” Pidge whines.

“You deserved it,” Hunk says easily. That makes Pidge whine louder, because apparently she’s regressed about fifteen years. Hunk strains to hear over the sound of Pidge muttering about all the ways she’s going to get Lance back.

“It’s going to be fine,” Lance tries, rubbing a visibly panicking Keith on the back. “My mother is barely even homicidal. She’s very welcoming.”

“I am more afraid of your mother than NASA,” Keith responds, and Hunk has to stop himself from laughing out loud.

Lance smacks Keith — way gentler than he is capable, Hunk would like to note, Lance can pack a lot of violence into that wiry frame — in the back of the head.

“I can’t believe you’re letting that goober get to you. Pidge is messing with you because of who she is as a person. My mother will be ecstatic to meet you.”

“If you say so,” Keith agrees reluctantly, rubbing the back of his head and pouting.

The rest of the ride passes uneventfully. Pidge refrains from actively freaking Keith out, if only barely, and the four of them alternate between chatting and loudly singing along to Hunk’s excellent assortment of road trip music. By the time they finally enter the hellscape that is New York City roadways, they’re all so tired of being in the car that none of them have the energy to even hum, let alone tease each other.

“We’re two minutes away,” Hunk hears Lance murmur as he pulls into the McClain’s neighbourhood. “Take a breath, mi alma. All will be well.”

Keith flashes a smile at Lance, squeezing his hand. It’s tenser than the one Hunk witnessed yesterday morning, but no less loving, no less trusting.

“Okay.”

Hunk doesn’t even fully pull into the driveway before the front door is thrown open, and several people come rushing out, yelling in a mix of Spanish and English and honestly some words that aren’t language at all, just excitement.

“Tio Lance! Auntie Pidge! Uncle Hunk!”

Sylvio and Nadia are the first to make it over, yanking open the car doors and throwing themselves into the vehicle. Pidge barely manages to prevent Nadia from braining herself on the gear shift. Hunk ruffles her hair fondly, quickly exiting the vehicle and accepting the tight hug from Lance’s father, Miguel, and the myriad of other relatives. Veronica socks him hard on the shoulder, because she is a menace, so Hunk grabs her around the waist and throws her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. She yells at him in a way that does not at all hide her fondness.

It’s a ritual.

It’s not until they’re all finally gathered inside, cramped together in couches and armchairs and random places on the floor, that Keith is yanked from the metaphorical shadows.

“Who’s that?” Sylvio asks, pointing at Keith with absolutely zero subtlety. He smirks, looking tauntingly to Lance. “Tu nooooooviooooo?”

Lance looks back haughtily. “He is, actually. So there.”

“Damn. Can’t believe someone that hot managed to put up with you for so long,” Rachel teases immediately. She reaches out a hand to high five the twins. They slap her hand gleefully.

“All of you are horrible,” Marcela admonishes, placing a gentle hand on Lance’s head. Lance looks at her gratefully, then sticks his tongue out at his sister and niblings. “I’m sure Lance worked very hard wearing this poor man down,” she continues with a wry grin, making Lance squawk in betrayal and everyone else laugh. “Don’t discredit his work!”

“Nobody in this house loves me!” he laments, putting a dramatic hand on his forehead.

“I do,” Keith says quietly. Easily.

Hunk has known Lance, and by extension his family, since he was an infant. He’s been near these people as long as he can remember, attending Sunday dinners and birthdays and Christmasses.

Never in his life has he seen them get so quiet so quickly.

Keith is completely oblivious to the silence that has dawned around him. Around them — he has eyes only for Lance, and Lance only for him, like the entire rest of the world is empty except for the two of them. “I love you,” he repeats. Like the words are truer than anything. As true as the sun rising, as the stars twinkling. He says ‘I love you’ like it is objective fact, like there is no possible universe in which Keith does not love Lance.

“Ho-ly shit,” Veronica mutters.

“Holy shit indeed,” Hunk whispers back.

Marcela claps her hands sharply, startling everyone. “Dinner will be ready in a moment,” she says, transparently changing the subject. “All of you, come help set the table.”

———

“So,” says Miguel, once everyone has settled at the table and taken a few moments to stuff their faces — nobody can cook like the McClains. And Sunday family dinners are a serious affair, especially with Lance back for the first time in months. “We got a little caught up, when you all first got here. I don’t believe we were all acquainted?” He looks pointedly at Keith, then at Lance, who hurriedly swallows his bite of food before straightening up.

“This is my boyfriend, Keith,” he says to the table at large. “And Keith, this is my family.” He points to each of them in turn, naming them and giving them a second to wave hello before moving on. “And of course you already know Hunk and Pidge.”

“Believe me, we’re well acquainted,” Pidge mutters, then says “Ow!” when Lance very obviously stomps on her foot under the table. “I’m just kidding, you bully.”

“Hi, everyone,” Keith says awkwardly. He shifts his arms, like he’s not sure if he should wave or what.

Lance takes pity on him, patting him on the arm and speaking up on both of their behalf. “Sorry for not bringing him around sooner. He’s a newcomer, so we’ve been trying to get him situated. He’s a little…out of this world. Culture shock, and all.”

Hunk’s jaw drops. He looks at Lance incredulously — that may have genuinely been the worst pun he has ever heard in his life — and Lance’s mouth is twitching, like he’s fighting off a smirk.

What a shit.

“Oh?” Miguel asks, interest piqued. “Whereabouts are you from, Keith?”

Keith cuts a semi-panicked look at Lance, who just shrugs. “Pick somewhere,” he mutters, too quiet for anyone else to hear.

“My, um, my father’s from Texas,” Keith finally manages.

“Hey, cool, I have an ex girlfriend from there,” Veronica says.

“You have an ex girlfriend from everywhere, Lou Vega,” Marco says immediately.

Veronica doesn’t even blink at him. “None of my girlfriends have ever stolen my car twice, though.”

Marco shuts up immediately.

Poor Marco.

Everyone starts dogpiling on Marco immediately, because they always do. (In everyone’s, including Hunk’s, defense, it’s the kind of situation you never come back from). Keith looks relieved at the distraction, happy the conversation has moved from him as everyone chats about everything.

“Hey, Lance, can you pass me the pepper?” Hunk asks, as the rest of the family chatters on.

“Sure.” Lance sets down his fufu, wiping his hands on a napkin and grabbing the pepper shaker. He reaches across Keith to hand it to Hunk.

The next few seconds happen in what feels like slow motion.

Lance’s hands, greasy from handling his food, slip on the smooth glass of the shaker as he tries to hand it off to Hunk. The shaker drops on Keith’s plate, shattering on impact and releasing a cloud of pepper straight into Keith’s face. Keith, obviously, inhales a lungful of it. In his body’s effort to expel the pepper from his lungs, he lets out a great sneeze, so powerful it shakes the table.

So powerful it knocks the human form right out of him, making him huge and purple and fluffy again.

For the second time in his life, Hunk watches the entire McClain clan go completely silent, staring at Keith in total shock.

“Well,” Lance says weakly, making a face that Hunk can only describe as defeated. “I told you he was out of this world.”

[awardenandacrow]

NAIMERYN’S RELATIONSHIPS

*this has been expanded and added on to since the last time I posted it*

*Super* big sister protective of Bellara. She’s just a cute wittle cinnamon roll with a heart of gold who tries to carry the whole damn world on her back by herself, and she must be protected at all costs. Will support her to the death whatever she decides about Cyrian (I’m not done with my first playthrough yet so I have no idea how any of this shit ends). Can’t wait to read her story.

Can’t put her finger on it, but Irelin bugs her. When she found out she and Bellara used to date, she accidentally started to hold a grudge about her not making Bellara happy, even though she doesn’t actually have any idea why they broke up or what the relationship was like. When Taash mentioned Bellara told them Irelin didn’t like how much she was into ancient Elven stuff, Naimeryn unconsciously decided Irelin Just Doesn’t Get It, and Bellara deserves better anyway. Strife is okay, but intimidating. Anyone too serious, Naimeryn expects to start yelling at her at any moment. Strife fits the bill. Softens towards him a bit when he and Emmrich hit it off.

Morrigan was friends with Saimaeria. That’s literally all she needs to know. The rest? Just makes her cooler. Or scarier. Maybe both.

She admires Emmrich because he’s so sure of himself even amidst a group of people who grew up *very* differently than he did. She adores Manfred and would use her staff as a baseball bat against anyone who tried to hurt him, and makes a point of playing RPS with him as often as she can. She usually loses. Emmrich knew she was all right when, upon meeting her and asking her to help in the Necropolis, she approached a wisp, held out her hand to it, and gently said, “hi, little friend. Can you help us?” He is, however, immensely disappointed that as someone who faces the possibility of death so often, she hasn’t thought about what she wants done with her body afterwards (she has. She lied. She didn’t want to upset him with talk of the Calling, and how her body will either be lost in the Deep Roads, or she’ll survive the Darkspawn long enough to turn into a ghoul). She’s not sure about this whole lich thing, but if that’s what’s going to make him happy, she’ll support it. Luckily for him, she tends to be a good judge of what a person needs, even if they can’t see it, and may just help him avoid doing (no not doing) something he’d end up regretting for literal eternity…

Vorgoth creeps her out. She never knows where to look when speaking to him. What *is* he? Doesn’t want to be rude but also… would rather talk to Myrna. Although Myrna is intimidating. So direct. So unbothered. So ethereal. She wants to be friends with Emmrich’s friends. She really does. He’s just… so much more personable than they are.

Upon meeting Lucanis: Neve: “huh. A non-mage abomination.” Naimeryn, internally: “oh no. No one told me he’s HAWT.” They are the quintessential, she fell first, he fell harder couple. He fought it as long as he could. She was doomed the moment he said “as you wish” upon being asked to ask Spite to pull them a path out of the fade the first time in that damned Antivan accent. Started wearing lavender perfume after Lucanis described first kiss coffee as honey and lavender cream. Spite says she smells like Blight and Lavender. She initially treated Spite with cautious courtesy because she didn’t want him to hurt Lucanis anymore. Lucanis describing him as a petulant child, and Emmrich telling her that “some spirits are dangerous, but many would be surprised how that can change with just an attempt at understanding or an offer of help” caused her to change her attitude. Although he is a demon, and as a mage (especially with her upbringing) she should hate him, she treats Spite with the same respect and humor she does everyone. Spite likes her. Spite also picks at Lucanis’s feelings for Rook like a scab because he thinks Rook is his ticket out, which causes Lucanis to fight them more… until Spite drags her into his head and basically says “bitch look at her showing up for you. For us. Knock it off. You’re being dumb” (although his resolve was crumbling before this). If this were an AU where their story took place in our universe, Naimeryn’s song for Lucanis would be “Miracle” by Paramore. If nothing else, she absolutely does not know when to give up.

Something about Illario felt off to Naimeryn from the moment she met him, but she thought his personality just rubbed her the wrong way, or that her old fear of being used was brought up by his flirtation. His every attempt to flirt with her in front of Lucanis was therefore met with a swift diversion of attention back to Lucanis. When the truth came out, her rage was true and pure. If Lucanis left it up to her, she might kill him herself, lack of mage knife training be damned. She also, however, understands that Illario is important to Lucanis, and will not encourage that course of action unless she’s 100,000,000 percent sure that’s what Lucanis wants to do. Hence he’s not dead. Or locked up. (Fuck him. It was what was best for *Lucanis.*)

She loves Teia. She’s so cool. So sweet. So feisty. Teia *immediately* clocks both of their feelings and is captain of the ship. Teia gifts Naimy crow armor and if anyone questions her about it she just points her dagger at them and glares in “I dare you to continue this line of questioning.” Naimeryn thought Viago was surprisingly calm about Caterina’s “death,” and briefly suspected he might know more than he was telling, and may never forgive herself for having such poor judgement. In all fairness, Viago will admit to not trusting her much at first, either… though seeing her dedication to Lucanis and her drive to help the people of Treviso brought him around. Caterina is important to Lucanis, and therefore important to her, but *damn* that woman is scary. Another one she thinks is going to just start yelling at her.

Always checks in with Jacobus. She knows he has plenty of people looking out for him, but she can’t help it. She worries. She knows what it’s like to be the only one left, surrounded by people who care but… don’t get it.

Is cautiously optimistic about Solas. “The enemy of my enemy is my friend,” and his advice has been sound this far, but she has not forgotten how this all started in the first place. She doesn’t blame him, necessarily — she believes she is at least partially to blame; as a mage, she should have known that interrupting a ritual that big could, and probably would, have unforeseen and big consequences. But also, she doesn’t *not* blame him — after all, he *says* there’s nothing worse than being wrong, and being afraid to change when it’s pointed out, and it seems like people have been trying to point it out to him for… a while. So like. What gives, dude?

Caretaker is baby. Threaten Caretaker at your own risk.

Every time Naimeryn falls out a window or into water or off a ledge or down an unexpected slidey slope Lucanis PANICS and throws himself after her like “MIERDA Rook wtf” and Davrin nonchalantly rolls his eyes and walks down the stairs/slides down the ladder/makes the jump and is just like “yep that’s my clumsy dumbass sister I have no idea how she convinced them to let her be a warden.” They are siblings in every way except literally. He teases her relentlessly. She takes none of his shit. Even though they were both reeling after Weisshaupt, she pulled him back from the survivor’s guilt edge. He never questioned her again after that. They’re surprisingly huggy. Lucanis is 0% threatened, as he and Davrin also have a weird sibling rivalry thing going on. Davrin finds their relationship amusing, and is not shy about teasing them both, at any opportunity. Assan is her baby as much as Davrin’s, and she’ll never let him forget it. He trusts her advice about the young griffon.

The First Warden and she never got along. When he was a recruit and she was a teenager running around Weisshaupt, he thought she got special treatment because she’d been brought there by the Hero of Ferelden herself. When he was named First Warden and she completed her Joining, he called her a charity case, and said she didn’t deserve to be a Warden. When she didn’t wait for reinforcements, he claimed she didn’t have the discipline to be a proper Warden. When he learned she’d let “new Blight” into the world, he was ready to throw her in jail until her Calling came — until Dorian intervened. Knocking him out was a pleasure. Letting him kill the archdemon so Davrin didn’t have to die? An obvious choice. She’s not usually one to hold a grudge, at least not on her own behalf, but the man made her life hell for fifteen years. She doesn’t think he deserved what he ended up getting, though.

Has always loved Evka and Antoine, from the moment they met (literally on their way to the battle that would completely change her life). She knew of them previously, but they got more field work than she ever did, and she had always envied their relationship from afar. Never thought she’d be lucky enough to find someone to love and be loved by like that.

She and Harding were fast friends. Has been massively supportive of Harding’s magic, because she remembers how it felt being forced to hide and suppress her own for so many years. Harding affectionately thinks she’s nuts for having a thing for demon boy, but has softened towards Lucanis because of it. Was the first one to tease her about it — first semi-maliciously in an attempt to get her to come to her senses, and then with good-natured resignation and support when she realized unless Lucanis did something about it, nothing was going to happen anyway. Naimeryn’s encouraged her to embrace her pain and anger — it’s a part of her now, and it’s not something to reject or fear. Knowing is a heavy thing. Emmrich wondered why Naimeryn didn’t accompany them to Ferelden or camping, since she’s also from there. Harding knew better than to invite her.

Had read all of Varric’s books before she ever met him (she worked in the library, remember?). At first was Bellara-to-Neve levels of in awe of him, and grew to respect him immensely. She relies heavily on his advice. She wonders frequently if she should have tried to talk him out of talking Solas down, and if she had, if he wouldn’t have gotten hurt. Whenever she visits the infirmary to see him, she gets a feeling of dread in the pit of her stomach, but tries to hide it. If the dagger affected Harding so profoundly, what damage has it done to him? All Harding did was touch it. It was IN him. She checks in on him frequently, afraid that he’s in worse shape than he’s letting on. (YALL WHO HAVE FINISHED THE GAME: I know something is going on here but I don’t know WHAT and I don’t want to know until I find out for myself. I got a vague spoiler that there’s SOMETHING. I don’t want an actual spoiler. Thanks in advance.)

When it comes to Neve, Naimeryn feels like she never does anything right. She admires the other mage and wants desperately to be close friends with her, but then she started their relationship getting her hurt. Then, when she’d almost healed from the repercussions of that call, she’d abandoned her when Neve needed her most. When Neve was understanding about her making “an impossible call,” Naimeryn only beat herself up about it more. When Neve pushed her away, she felt like she deserved it. She went to Dock Town without Neve often, trying to clean up the mess she’d made, but asked the others not to tell Neve. She forgot that she’d asked no such silence of Rana, or the remaining Shadow Dragons. When Neve started to let her back in, Naimeryn jumped at the chance to make her top priority, and hopefully regain her trust. They’re not out of the woods yet, but Neve appreciates the effort she’s making. Also, Neve approves of Rookanis. Teia’s first mate on the ship.

Feels responsible for the Viper, and knows Tarquin also holds her responsible. Has not seen him since she was too late to save Minrathos from the dragon. Blames herself for not being able to find Lorelei, and not getting to Hector in time, and for every Shadow Dragon hanging in the streets. At first, she would cut them down and fight the venatori that tried to stop her, but there would always be more the next time, and Neve had to step in and put a stop to it. It was the only time they fought about Naimeryn choosing Treviso — and the only time Naimeryn has ever seen Neve cry. Suspects Rana may have a thing for Neve — and why not? She’s Neve Gallus, dammit.

Was at first intimidated by Taash. Taash at first thought she was cute, then saw her with Lucanis and went “ooooh, no. *THAT’S* cute.” Naimeryn supported Taash to find themself, and to embrace the Rivaini part of themself if that was what made them happy. She defers to Taash completely on dragon missions, and when anyone tries to imply they’re more knowledgeable than Taash about dragons. She tries to smooth interactions with Taash’s mother, though she worries she always makes it worse. Taash, on the other hand, is very appreciative, and respects Naimeryn a great deal. They also have a protective streak over Naimeryn even though they know she’s competent in battle. They’ve first hand witnessed her drunk, however, and just shake their head, grab her, and end the night (which is frustrating. Dammit. *They* we’re having a good time!).

Isabela is stunning, and flirty, and powerful, and WOW. Naimeryn’s is in awe of her. Isabela, like Taash, thinks she’s adorable. Also, damn, don’t bet against that blue haired elf, you’ll lose all your hard earned gold!

[theboywithburninghands]

Well here’s that Funnybunny sequel I was talking about. It came out kind of weird but I’m glad I did it. It’s a sequel to my last one about about salmon, in which Pomni has an anxiety attack and she and Jax beat each other up. It’s a comedy.

You Look Funny

*it’s been about an hour since Pomni had dinner. She’s tried settling down for bed, but like most other nights, she can’t sleep. She… kissed Jax. Jax. Probably the absolute worst person she could have kissed! Why… Why did she do it…*

*He… had been nice to her, sure. But did that account for all the times he had been horrible to her? Not just her, everyone… Ragatha, Zooble, Gangle… especially poor Gangle. What made her do it…?! Did he WANT her to do it..? He had seemed just as surprised as her when she did it, so-“

Pomni: Mnnnnngh…

*Pomni feels the anxiety in her belly tighten like a spring. Same as always… the what-ifs of the situation made everything worse. She won’t be able to sleep at all tonight without actually talking to Jax. As much as she doesn’t want to give the smug jerk the satisfaction of knowing she was currently thinking about him… something in the back of her mind tells her that he might be feeling the exact same way at the moment. He was a little younger than her after all, but not much…*

*No. She shouldn’t lay here and worry. If she’s gonna be stuck here, she’s gonna make herself as comfortable as possible. And if that means talking to Jax… so be it.*

*Pomni hops out of bed and gently opens the door to the hallway. Jax’s room is right across from hers. She takes a deep breath and walks over to his door. She’s near instantly hyper-aware of how disgustingly short she is as she has to reach her hand up to the doorknob. There’s a dull roar of panic in her belly and she takes her hand away. She vaguely remembers a breathing mantra to counter anxiety and tries it out. Deep in… deep out…. Deep in-

**WHAM**

*Jax opens his door and nails Pomni square in the teeth, the jester yelping and covering her face in some pain but mostly embarrassment*

Jax: Pomni. You… uh… okay? Usually you want to stand a little bit back from a door, in case somebody, you know, opens it.

Pomni: I know that you moron! I was… ugh, my f#%!@g face…

Jax: I’d apologize, but it was sorta your fault. What are you doing out here, anyway?

Pomni: Why do you think I’m here..? Let me in for a second.

*Pomni attempts to move past Jax, but he holds out a hand to stop her, putting it on her forehead*

Jax: Woah woah wooooah, Pompom! Who said you could come inside without my say so?

Pomni: I did. Move.

Jax: Yeah I don’t think-HURF!

*Pomni lands a pretty nasty elbow right on Jax’s diaphragm, knocking out all the breath he had ready for whatever snark he was about to deliver. Pomni marches inside his room and tugs in the wheezing rabbit after her, slamming the door shut behind her*

Pomni: I wouldn’t have had to do that if you had just let me inside!

Jax: *cough* Ohfffff… man that hurt…

Pomni: We’ll call it even after you brained me with the door. Now listen-

Jax: That was an accident, Pompom…!

*Pomni grabs him by the straps of his overalls and yanks him down to her level*

Pomni: You listen to me you smug creep! I am having the worst anxiety attack of my LIFE right now because I kissed your stupid @$$! I don’t know if I should scream or puke or both, but I don’t know what the $&@# I’m feeling for you right now and it’s making me feel like the world is collapsing around me! Now are you gonna stand there and make lame-brain excuses OR ARE WE GONNA TALK ABOUT THIS?!

*Pomni lets him go and takes deep, exaggerated breaths to calm herself down. Jax brushes off his overalls and puts his hands on his hips*

Jax: You know… I think I would have been fine with just the thank you and kiss.

Pomni: I’m sorry… I just… I don’t know why.

Jax: You don’t know why… what?

Pomni: Why I… *glp* why I kissed you.

Jax: *smirks* Could be my rakish charm. Or the fact that I went outta my way to learn and get you your favorite food. And you elbow me in the gut and yell at me. See if I ever do something nice for you again.

Pomni: I said I was sor- *pause. Pomni glares* You’re smiling. You’re… you’re not taking any of this seriously, are you?!

Jax: What do you want me to do? You kissed me. Big deal.

Pomni: It is a big deal.

Jax: It’s really not. We do reckless stuff around here, Pompom. It’s how we cope.

Pomni: Don’t call me Pompom. And this wasn’t reckless…

*Pomni looks at Jax. He raises an eyebrow.*

Pomni: Okay it was. But… URGH I JUST DON’T KNOW! Look at us! We’re… cartoons! Dumb little cartoons! I’m not supposed… to LIKE people! I’m supposed to- to hit people with mallets! Or maybe I AM supposed to like people, but I’m stuck in this stupid body! I’m a- a- a-

Jax: Jester.

Pomni: YEAH! If I tried to actually DATE someone I’d just look funny! Actually, no matter what I do I look funny! *beat* WHY ARE YOU SMILING?!

Jax: You look funny.

*Pomni balls her fists and prepares to yell again… but it doesn’t happen. Her face scrunches up and she crumples to the floor, covering her face. Her shoulders hitch and her breathing becomes shallow*

Jax: *the smile slips off his face and he sits on his bed. Crying helped. She’ll feel better after getting all the poison out. But… he feels a sharp sting in his gut. Oh… no… no no no NO, he did NOT feel guilty!*

Pomni: *between sobs* I’m sorry… I just… I-

Jax: N-No it’s…

*Internally, Jax screams at himself. What the hell was going on?! He didn’t feel a thing when he pushed around Gangle or Ragatha. Sure, he might make it up to them at SOME point, NOT put a bug in their room… But he didn’t want Pomni to cry.*

Pomni: I’m so… I’m so pathetic… I’m just… look at me… I’m a clown! *She laughs joylessly and throws her hands out* I’m just a sad little clown!

*Jax stands up and offers his hand.*

Jax: Get up.

Pomni: *wipes her eyes and her lack of a nose* I know you’ve got a joy buzzer on or something.

Jax: I don’t. *shows his palm. It’s empty* Get up off the floor. There’s a bed to sit on if you’re gonna cry.

Pomni: I… I… ……… #%&& it. *she takes his hand, and Jax pulls her to her feet*

Jax: You feel any better?

Pomni: No.

Jax: Sounds about right. …Listen, I didn’t mean to say you looked silly. Well… I kinda did. But… *sigh* C’mere. *he sits on his bed and pats beside him*

Pomni: …

Jax: *rolls his eyes and pulls up the blanket* There’s so Whoopee Cushion this time, okay?

Pomni: I uh… I’m okay here.

Jax: Baloney. It’s the end of the day and I bet your feet hurt. I don’t bite. C’mon.

*Pomni takes a deep breath and shuffles over to his bed, taking a seat*

Jax: I didn’t mean to make you cry. I’m sorry.

Pomni: I don’t know why that did it… it just did. I look so stupid.

Jax: You’re talking to a big purple bunny rabbit. Least you’re not Zooble.

*He smiles, but it fades quickly*

Jax: *sigh* Look. I know you don’t remember squat about your old life. Or how you used to look like. But what if it sucked? What if you were alone, or in a relationship that wasn’t working out? Or at some dead-end job with a horrible boss that didn’t care about you? Havin’ to get up everyday to face that isn’t all that different from what goes on around here. We just have brighter colors here.

Pomni: Mnn…

Jax: Look, newbie. I don’t really know how I feel about you either, okay? You seem… fine, I guess. If you want to kiss now and then… sure. I can do that.

Pomni: Don’t kiss me because you feel bad for me.

Jax: Why not? You gonna stop me?

Pomni: Yeah- Yeah I wi-

*Jax smooches her on the lips*

Jax: Looks like you didn’t this time.

Pomni: I- *her face steadily turns fiery red* Jax-!

Jax: *nods to the door* Get outta my room, Pompom. Get some sleep.

Pomni: But you can’t just-!

Jax: Sure I can. *he lays down on his bed, putting his hands behind his head and closing his eyes* I’ll see you in the morning, Pompom.

*Pomni stares at him for a minute before getting up and shuffling towards the door*

Jax: Hey, Pomni?

*Pomni turns to look at him.*

Jax: When I kissed you? *Jax gives her finger guns without getting out of bed* You looked pretty funny.

[specialinterestshows]

This latest chapter of my Rhea Ripley x lady!reader fic, Absolute Smokeshow, could have started with a dream sequence and I think I showed a lot of restraint in not doing that. Everyone should be proud of me.

Warnings for this section: Pain, anxiety, dirty talk, sex mention, voyeurism/exhibitionism, group sex mention

-

Absolute Smokeshow (Part 60 of ?): Working Out Your Kinks

Soft kisses against your neck and up to your cheek are the first sensations to wake you from a dreamless sleep, closely followed by the too-bright light of the morning.

Raising your hand to shield your eyes, you flinch, dropping your hand immediately when it starts to feel like your shoulder blade is trying to separate itself from your back. The small groan you let out doesn’t escape your girlfriend’s notice, and she pulls away to look at you, concerned.

“What is it, love?” Rhea asks.

“Think I slept weird,” you mumble, blearily trying to come up with another possible explanation, “Back hurts.”

“I’m sorry, baby,” her voice was sweet as she shifted next to you, “Mami will have to remember to give you more breaks next time.”

Of course: that must have been it. How had you forgotten being on your hands and knees for so long last night? Perhaps it had something to do with how amazing you had felt in the heat of the moment.

“Get on your stomach,” she instructs you, sitting up, “Let’s see if I can help.”

Unsure what she meant, you nevertheless obeyed. Pressing your face against the pillow, you let it muffle the small yelp you release as your body shifts unpleasantly.

“Poor baby,” she muttered, and you inhale sharply as you feel her fingers slowly press against your aching muscles before hearing, “Relax for me if you can, beautiful.”

Fighting against your instinct to keep yourself tense, you take a deep breath, relaxing your muscles on the exhale.

“Good girl,” Rhea whispered as she continued to massage you.

The usual context of those two words made a thrill course through your body. Rhea must have noticed your hips twitch - you weren’t sure what else would make her giggle that way as she kissed your neck gently before continuing the massage.

After working out the biggest knot in your back, your girlfriend paused, sounding almost shy when she spoke.

“I have a match at next week’s show,” Rhea mentioned carefully as you sat up and stretched, “The venue is only a couple hours drive from here-“

“Maybe I can meet you after?” you suggest gently, anxiety creeping in when you realize where this was going and recalling what happened last time you went to see her wrestle.

“Alright then,” she said after a moment, clearly remembering the worst parts of that same night and shaking off her shame, “You pick me up after the show and we can have a hotel room to ourselves that night and the next morning.”

The stress you felt receded when you saw that she really was trying to make sure you felt safe.

Rhea leaned in close as she continued her train of thought, the passion fiery in her voice, “We can also have Dom join us, if you’re feeling like being watched… or used from both ends.”

The room was suddenly too warm as you imagined the possibilities. Getting off on camera was one thing, but having someone in the same room, watching the two of you?

You usually weren’t attracted to men, but you felt comfortable enough with Dominik that the thought of having both him and Rhea pleasuring you was tempting. Perhaps you might even get to watch the two of them together.

When you saw the smirk on your girlfriend’s face, you immediately turned away, realizing you hadn’t even responded to her last two suggestions.

“Aww,” Rhea smirked, gently but firmly grabbing your chin to make you look at her again, “You’re so cute when you’re flustered. Tell Mami what you were thinking, pretty girl.”

“… Would I get to watch you and Dom too?” you ask after a few seconds, feeling even warmer when you hear how small and shy your own voice sounds.

“Dirty girl,” Rhea chuckled as she let you go, “You can watch if you’re a good little fucktoy for me and Dom-Dom. How does that sound?”

“Perfect,” you breathed, unable to stop yourself.

“Oh you’re filthy,” Rhea all but purred as she brought her hand back up to your face, “I can’t wait to use the two of you all night.”

[end part sixty of ?]

Part 61: https://www.tumblr.com/specialinterestshows/740272776638840832/absolute-smokeshow-part-61-of-sending-a

-

Tag List (thank you!)

@littlemiss-fanficlover , @babybatlover , @girlofpink , @kagome2909 , @domripley , @wiccanpriestess , @falloutboy-lover , @aut0luminescence

[1800classiccherries]

Heyy wanted to ask if you could write a story where miles nd the reader had a huge fight nd he later finds out that she is his Canon event

How the story ends is up to you 🤷🏾‍♀️

Inevitable ༄ ‧₊˚

⚘ 1610!Miles Morales x black!fem!reader

⚘ angst! arguing, sad ending, death

⚘ wc: 1.3k

⚘ Thank you for the request! I rarely ever write angst so this took me a long while TT, but I don't hate how it turned out, hope you enjoy!

Canon events were considered inevitable. Something that has to happen to shape who you are. It’s hard to avoid, even when you try to push everyone away, but it has to happen.

You and Miles met at the spider society and hit it off right away, inseparable. There was nothing you didn’t tell each other and nothing you didn’t do without the other, no secrets. You two had promised each other that not long after you’d started dating, no secrets.

“I gotta get back to my earth, dinner plans,” You announce to the group, standing from your seat.

Everyone waves and Miles grabs your hand, “I’ll see you later, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nod giving him a hug, and he places a kiss to your temple.

Walking down the hall to go home, you hear faint voices. Normally you wouldn’t eavesdrop but you had this gnawing feeling it had to do with you.

You creep behind a wall and listen. You hear Jess’s voice, “You have to tell them, Miguel. You know you do. If not the both of them, at least tell Y/n.”

“What difference would it make? You know if they knew they would try to fix it. There’s already a huge spike in anomalies we can’t afford to make more.” He rests his hands on his hips looking at the floor as he thinks.

What did anomalies have to do with you? What needed fixing? You knew it’d be best to go now but you had to know who they were talking about. Unfortunately, while you were thinking and not paying attention the pair had turned the corner spotting you.

“Did you hear what we were discussing?” Miguel asks, hoping you’d say no. Hoping he didn’t have to tell you something out of your control.

“Yeah… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.” You say looking down a bit.

“It’s fine, sweetie. But there’s something you should know.” Jessica says before looking at Miguel.

“We’re not sure when, but you…” he sighs unsure how to phrase it, “Miles is going to have his canon event, soon.”

“His dad?”

“No… you.”

You feel your heart drop and your breath quicken, “what?”

“You’re his canon event, Y/n.”

“Are you saying that- that I’m…”

“Yes.” Jess knew what you were going to ask, and she hated that she was the one to confirm it.

You walk away, there was nothing more to say. As far as you knew it was set in stone. You didn’t want to break a promise but you don’t think you could bring yourself to tell Miles. This one could be broken.

The day after, everything felt like a daze. Each time Miles touched your hand or kissed your cheek you knew that it could be the last time. The thought of that made you sick, and every time it crosses your mind your eyes glossed over.

Deep down you knew there was nothing you could do but that doesn’t mean you couldn’t try. Though, the only way you knew how, was to distance yourself. If you were never with him, maybe I’d hurt less. Maybe it wouldn’t happen at all. 

Miles wanted to know what was going on. Why every time he said your name or cradled your face that day you’d blink back tears and look the other way. Why you were keeping a secret. Why you were breaking a promise. Why you were now completely avoiding him altogether.

“Hey, Y/n, where you going?” Miles asked softly. He felt like he was walking on eggshells, one wrong move and you’d walk away again.

“Anomaly,” you say curtly continuing towards the portal. You knew Miles and you knew he was blaming himself for this. You wanted to hold him close and tell him that you were sorry and it’s not his fault and it never could be. But you didn’t.

“Let me come with you,” he suggests with pleading eyes. 

You look away, “It’s fine. I can handle it.”

“Why are you doing this?”

“I’m not doing anything, Miles,” you say firmly.

“Y/n, I can see you’re avoiding me. You’ve *been* avoiding me. And I don’t know why!” he throws his arms out, “did I do something?”

“No, you didn’t…” you almost whisper, eyes glued to the floor as they begin to water, “You didn’t do anything.” you finally repeat louder.

You were torn because if you were going to tell him now was the time. However, if you weren’t, well then, you’ll probably just end up hurting him further.

“Then, why are you avoiding me?” He asks again.

“I’m not avoiding you! I’ve just been... busy. I’ve been busy.” Lies, and he knew that.

“Y/n…” he sighs defeated. He steps forward, and you take a step back in response. 

“I need to take of this anomaly.” you wiped away an escaping tear and walk through the portal.

Fighting while emotional is never a good idea. Your mind was in a different place and now here you are fighting a stronger anomaly than you anticipated. And you were losing, bad. At first, you had it under control but then your mind started to wander to Miles and at that moment you should’ve called for backup, but you were too stubborn for that. You could barely think before getting tossed and hit again, taking more hits than you could handle.

Feeling the wind get knocked out of you as you hit a pile of rubble on the ground. “Can I get some backup, please?” you gasp into your watch. You had too much adrenaline to feel any pain but in the back of your mind, you knew that probably did a lot of damage.

Catching your breath again you sling a web to the nearest object to help you stand. Before you can fully gain your balance back, you see a portal open with a few spider people and Miles appears.

An alert appears on your watch. You already knew what it was going to say, but you look down nonetheless.

Canon event incoming.

You swing into the nearest alley. Maybe if you left and didn’t participate in the fight the canon event wouldn’t happen. Every bone in your body slowly began to ache, and you sat down leaning your head back onto the red brick walk. Yanking your mask off you catch your breath. It even hurt to breathe

You glance at your watch expecting to see the canon even was disrupted, but there was nothing. Huh? You didn’t understand, you weren’t fighting anymore.

You didn’t have time to figure out what was going on before you hear the villain go down and Miles start to look for you. You wanted to call out and say you were in the alley but you suddenly couldn’t find the strength. Your body ached and your eyelids felt heavy.

Miles swung into the alley finally finding you and pulls you close to him. “Y/n! Y/n, are you okay?!”

“Y-yeah.” You choked out. The adrenaline must’ve been wearing off, your body hurts more and more. Searing pain shot through your body. You could hardly breathe and were too scared to look down, at your stomach. Where you could feel warm liquid spread through your suit.

“I thought I stopped it…” pointless. All you did in hopes of a better outcome was pointless.

“Stopped what?” Your vision blurred but you could still feel Miles’s tears drop onto your face, mixing with yours. When did you start crying?

“The canon event… I thought I…” You really didn’t know what else you expected. No matter how much false hope you filled yourself with, that Miles wouldn’t have to witness this or that you wouldn’t even have to die at all. You knew there was nothing you could do. 

“Y/n, please,” he cries, “don’t do this.”

“I’m sorry for everything, Miles. I really am. For avoiding and lying to you, for even keeping this a secret in the first place.” you could feel yourself using the last of your strength the get these words out. Your breathing was shallow and labored and you felt tired, really tired. “I love you… and keep fighting for good, okay?”

All he could do was nod, sobs making it out before words could. He watched your eyes close and chest rise but never go back down. 

Thanks for reading!

[darealkatastrophe]

WARNING: This is an NSFW post, please don’t read if you’re underage or don’t like this content. May have possessive, derogatory terms, and inappropriate behavior to some. These thoughts are completely random, probably not grammatically correct, and are chaotic! Please and Thank you!

Ffxv random NSFW thoughts!

If there was a kingdom of sass, Noctis would obviously be the king. Noctis being smug, and being slick with his words, makes me feel some type of way. His voice is literally my favorite! That chuckle after he gets knocked down and is in danger, is literally the best at making me super excited. For sure Noctis is a tease, and he will make his partner squirm for him until they go to the hotel or camp (He’s a freak in bed for sure). I have a HC that Noctis may not be a good flirt but since he’s a prince he’s used to saying what he wants directly, as if he said nothing at all. For instance, “So face down, ass up when we get to the hotel? JK, unless,” he purrs while pretending to put a hair behind his ear, giving you one of his famous smug smirks. Noctis would whisper the dirtiest line ever said, then blink as if he didn’t say such a thing.

However Noctis gets jealous easily, especially since his childhood was heavily guarded, even though he went to public school because King Regis wanted him to have a normal life before Noctis had to heed the prophecy’s call. Noctis watching his s/o like a hawk, not because he doesn’t trust his s/o, it’s because some men not all, tend to give unwarranted attention towards his s/o. Noctis wants to protect his s/o from creeps. When he does get jealous, his mood changes from his normal dorky behavior to a more sensual possessive manner. Noctis grabs his s/o by their arm and pull them away whoever is making him jealous. Then Noctis will do something that may think that is out of his character, just to find out that it’s not. He takes his s/o to a dead end alleyway or a closed off area where people don’t really have access to. He will asks s/o if they have feelings for the person who was “flirting” with s/o. Noctis doesn’t want to lose you, since his whole childhood was full of near experiences of death or seeing others death. Noctis deeply growls in his husky voice “ They can flirt with you all they want, but we both know you belong to me, and you love belonging to me,” as he kisses your forehead down to your neck, slowly sucking after every kiss and peck. He whispers sweet and dirty nothings as he does so. “Nobody is going to see how my good girl is such a good slut for me,” Noctis chuckles darkly in a seductive tone. “Look how my kitten mewls go well for me when I pet her here,” he smugly states, “Look how wet she is, slowly trickling down her slick to her ass and thighs,” he growls “No one could make you feel like this only me!” No matter what he is considerate with his darling, helping clean, dress and walk home from the spicy events that occurred not long before. He apologizes if he was too rough or if he hurt his s/o feelings, and will comfort them if needed be.

[bluenet13]

A vision softly creeping (a The Rookie post 5x18 fic)

Dim's death haunts Lucy in ways she just can't shake. Fortunately, Tim is there to remind her that they're still in a beautiful place.

AO3

Lucy Chen opens her eyes, and all she sees is darkness. She raises a hand, but it only hits solid oak. She pushes, but the wood won't give. Taking in her surroundings in the dim light, she knows at once that she's inside a casket. The soft padding under and around her is an easy giveaway, along with the ornate wood that functions as a lid, and the rectangular shape of her prison. She can't remember what happened or how she got here, but the erratic beating of her heart tells her that this must be a terrible mistake because she's very much still alive.

The air around her feels stifling, lacking in oxygen. Breathing hurts, and she's beginning to feel dizzy. Absent-mindedly, she wonders if she's dying inside a barrel again, slowly running out of air, and her organs starting to shut down. The thought stops her growing panic and replaces it with a new sense of dread, and suddenly she's no longer inside the casket, but looking down at it. It's not a casket anymore; but a dumpster, and she's gazing down at Tim's lifeless body. His face is bruised and bloodied, his skin uncharacteristically pale, his features etched with fear and pain, and her panic comes back tenfold as she takes in the gunshot wound that took his life.

Lucy wakes up with a start, gasping for air. Her heart is pounding in her chest, her body covered in sweat, and she instantly knows she's had the dream again. She looks around the room, her eyes adjusting to the darkness as she tries to steady her breathing and stop her spiraling thoughts like she does every night. But it's no use this time. Nightmares had plagued her for weeks now, ever since the documentary and Jake's death, but this one had been too vivid, too real.

She closes her eyes and shakes her head, trying to shake off the remnants of the dream. But she can still see Tim's lifeless body lying in a dumpster, just like they had found Jake's, even though she can feel the strong arms of the real Tim wrapped around her and his soft breathing against the back of her neck.

"It isn't real," she whispers to herself.

"Tim is alive and well," she reminds her heart.

"We both made it out," she tells her brain. And for good measure, she pinches herself before turning around slowly to see Tim's face.

His eyes are closed, and he's smiling softly in his sleep. His chest rises up and down, and she knows he's alive - she's seeing it in front of her. But the image of Tim's body, or what she thought was his body, lingers in her mind. She tries to push it away and live in the moment, but ever since Aaron's fatal radio call, she's been tormented by the terrifying possibility of losing Tim. Her fears manifest in her mind almost every night, leaving her restless and haunted by the ghost of what could have been and could still be.

Eventually, she gets out of bed, carefully lifting Tim's arm off her body and extricating herself from his embrace. She turns back around before leaving the room and leans down, ghosting her lips over his forehead but not actually kissing him, so as to not wake him up.

Lucy stands in the kitchen, quietly making some tea to calm her nerves. She hopes the aroma and taste of her favorite peppermint and lavender will be enough to shake off the residual fear that still has her on edge. As she waits for the water to boil, she rubs her eyes, feeling the familiar exhaustion set in, and a heavy sigh escapes her lips.

Lost in her thoughts, Lucy doesn't hear Tim walking up to her, and nearly jumps out of her skin when his strong arms wrap around her.

"Hey, you scared me," she breathes out, surprised to see him there even though she should have expected it.

"Sorry." Tim's groggy and concerned voice comes from behind her. He presses a kiss on top of her head and settles his chin on her shoulder. "Just wanted to make sure you were okay."

Lucy leans back against Tim's body and meets his knowing smile with apprehension instead of relief. "I'm sorry I woke you," she says, hoping to avoid his probing questions. "I tried to be quiet."

"It's fine." Tim waves his hand, brushing off her concern, but Lucy can hear the worry in his tone. "But you didn't answer my question."

"I'm fine. Just tired," Lucy says automatically, hoping Tim will let it go. But of course, he doesn't.

Tim nods, and his smile falters slightly and he frowns, sensing her reluctance to open up. "Yeah, it's been a long week. But that's not what's going on here," he prods lightly.

Lucy smiles weakly, but a chill runs down her spine. She's not at all surprised that Tim can read her so well, but she wishes they didn't have to talk about it. She wishes even more that this wasn't affecting her so much.

They stand in silence for a moment, lost in their own thoughts, until Tim speaks up again. "Another nightmare?" he asks kindly, understanding written in his voice.

Lucy blows out a breath and nods, her eyes downcast as she fumbles with the tea bag. "You knew?"

"Of course, I know," Tim says simply, wrapping his arms around her tighter, holding her as close as humanly possible. "I wanted to give you space, to let you work it out on your own until you were ready to share. But I'm worried about you. This is the third nightmare this week."

Lucy nods again, unable to speak. Her voice is trapped in her throat, and the only thing that comes out is a choked sob. She turns around in Tim's arms and buries her face in his chest, holding onto him like a lifeline.

Tim rubs her back soothingly, his touch gentle and warm, and lets her cry. He stays quiet, but for the words he whispers in her ear, "Shh, it's okay. I'm sorry, Luce. I'm so sorry."

Lucy knows she's been holding everything inside for far too long, and in the comfort and safety of Tim's arms, she finally allows herself to release it all. The anguish and fear that have been building inside of her for weeks pour out in broken sobs, as she lets herself grieve the many versions of Tim she keeps losing in her dreams.

Eventually, Lucy's breathing evens out and she pulls away from Tim. She looks up at him, eyes puffy and bloodshot, her tears still carving a path down her cheeks, and Tim's heart breaks for her. His silhouette is visible against the faint light filtering through the window, and even in near darkness, Lucy can see the worry etched on his face, and she knows he deserves an explanation.

"I keep seeing the dumpster and hearing Aaron's call, but it's never Jake's body. It's y-yours," Lucy's voice trembles as she struggles to explain. "I hear gunshots, and bagpipes. And sometimes I feel like I'm losing my mind. I know rationally it's not you, it's Jake. But with you and him looking so alike, and with you impersonating him during the undercover operations, it only makes everything worse, because it could have been you. It could still be you."

Tim's expression softens, and he reaches out to take her hand, his fingers lacing through hers, warm and reassuring. "I know, Luce. It could. But we have known that ever since we met. Our futures have never been certain. Nothing has changed, just that we're in a better place now. A beautiful place. So, why let the fear win? The what ifs don't matter. What matters is that I'm here. Dim is gone but I'm not. We're both here and we're okay."

"I know." She wants to say that everything has changed, that she loves him now, but she's not ready yet. Instead, she squeezes his hand, her grip tight and desperate, and clings to him for dear life. But she still looks haunted, her lower lip caught between her teeth as if she's holding back more.

"I'm here, Lucy. I'm not going anywhere. You don't have to worry about that," Tim murmurs, his voice a gentle hum, low and calming in the quiet of the apartment. "If you ever have another nightmare, just wake me up, okay? I want to be there for you, to chase away those fears and remind you that I'm here." He pulls her close, his embrace enveloping her in a sense of safety and home. As he tenderly strokes her hair, Lucy leans into his chest, feeling his heart beat against her cheek.

Tim waits patiently, knowing she'll talk again when she's ready, and fills the comfortable silence with a gentle reminder, "And if you ever have a bad thought and need to talk about anything, no matter how big or small, you can always call or message me if I'm not already with you," he adds, his lips brushing against her hair. "I'm here for you, always."

"Thank you." Lucy sighs in contentment and breathes in the scent of his cologne, a mix of sandalwood and citrus, and lets herself sink into the moment. "I know all that when I'm awake. But then, sometimes, when I close my eyes, I see you lying there, and I can hear Aaron's call over the radio. It's like my mind can't let go of that day," she eventually says, matching her breathing with the steady beat of his heart.

"I'm going to kill Aaron," Tim jokes, and the soft rumble of his laughter helps to ease the tension in Lucy's shoulders, making it easier for her to breathe.

Lucy chuckles and shakes her head as she speaks up, her tone lighter and teasing. "I still don't know what he was thinking when he made that call. You two did look alike, but Jake was covered in tattoos and his hair was so... greasy. Did Aaron even stop to really look at the body before making that call?"

He gives her a small smile and kisses her temple. "I have no idea. I'm actually a bit offended that he not only got us confused, but that his voice sounded so uninterested and emotionless after supposedly finding my body. I know I dumped the guy when I moved from Patrol Sergeant to Metro, but I didn't think Thorsen was the type to hold a grudge."

Tim's feigned indignation accomplishes its purpose, and Lucy dissolves into a fit of giggles, barely able to muffle them against his shirt. "Thank you," she says, raising on her toes and pulling back to give him a chaste kiss.

Tim smiles against the kiss, and whispers softly against Lucy's lips, "You don't have to thank me. I'm always here for you, no matter what." He pauses, waiting a beat, and offers, "And you don't have to go back to sleep right now. We can talk, watch tv, or just sit here in the dark. Whatever you need."

"Yeah, I'd like that," Lucy agrees, grateful for Tim's understanding. She really doesn't want to be alone with her thoughts, so she takes Tim's hand and leads him to the living room.

They sit on the edge of the couch, the quiet of the apartment wrapping them like a cozy blanket. Tim scoots against the backrest and encircles his arm around her shoulder, letting her settle against his side. Lucy leans her head against his chest and seeks the steady beat of his heart once more. Letting the certainty of his heartbeat and the warmth of his embrace chase away the remnants of her nightmare, hopefully for good.

They stay silent after that, basking in the peace and stillness of the world past midnight, and relishing each other's company until Tim reaches for the remote and cues up an episode of Ted Lasso. Though soccer isn't their favorite sport, the show never fails to make them laugh.

As they watch, Lucy feels a weight lifting off her shoulders, and she drifts off to sleep before the first episode is even over. Tim smiles at her sleeping form and kisses her forehead, resting his head softly against hers as he follows her into a peaceful slumber.

[aajjks]

mommy issues!JK

you bite your lip; your uncertainty is showing. it’s funny how you find yourself being so expressive around jungkook when you promised not to let anyone in. in the beginning, you were such a mystery. a code everyone wanted to crack but after being hurt so many times, your belief in love dwindled. you found yourself coasting along the shores of betrayal, hurt, and grief. you weren’t sure there was anyone that loved you nor wanted you yet here’s jungkook standing amongst the ruble of yours and his heart with hopes that you both could repair what’s been broken together.

he’s firm on his words: it’s him that deserves a chance with you no one else because if there’s anyone that understands you or gets you or sees you, it’s him and no one else.

not your parents. not your sister. not avery. not ji-cheol. not chaeyoung.

just him.

you’re hoping, praying that he doesn’t hurt you because if he does, you aren’t you’ll be able to piece yourself back together again.

“okay, jungkook. just one chance but that’s it” you say. you take it upon yourself to wrap your arms around jungkook’s neck before saying “and i’m sorry for stringing you along. i was confused and i was wrong for doing that to you but i’m going to be better. i promise”

“guess the professionalism is really out the window, huh?” you chuckle. “well i should head back. we should head back” you turn around and head back to your group of students with jungkook following close behind and eunwoo can tell everything went perfectly after seeing his brother’s grinning face.

“okay everyone!! it’s time for lunch!!” you announce and the employee guides yours and chaeyoung’s class to their cafeteria for you all to eat lunch before finishing the rest of the tour.

“you’re in a good mood” says chaeyoung as she takes a seat next to you.

“what do you mean? i’m always in a good mood—,”

“saw you talking to mr. jeon on the side. thought you moved on from him?”

“i never said that. it was a pothole, that’s all”

“a pothole? i didn’t know spewing shit like that was just a ‘pothole.’ i better get that same forgiveness if i say something like that to you”

“chae” you warn.

“i’m just saying, babe. think about it, if he’s able to call you selfish and all this other stuff who’s to say he won’t do it again? i guarantee you he will and you’ll be right back in that so-called pothole. i’m only telling you this because i care about you alright? you know i’d never lie to you, babe”

“sure”

consider your appetite gone. you excuse yourself from the table and leave chaeyoung to deal with the parents and children for the lunch period and while your abrupt exit doesn’t go unnoticed by jungkook, eunwoo thinks this is an golden opportunity for his friend to ‘seal the deal.’

“she just left and she doesn’t look too happy” says eunwoo as he opens areum’s fruit container.

“go get your woman, lover-boy i got the kids. also, i bet $100 that you won’t kiss y/n before the end of this field trip”

~🫧

“Haha you’re gonna go broke.” Jungkook winks before kissing Seol on his cheeks as he quickly excuses himself so he can go to you.

Honestly, the hundred dollars aren’t even something he’s concerned about right now. All he cares about is getting to kiss you again because your kisses are quite addictive and it’s hard for him to resist you.

You are irresistible- and you’ve got him wrapped around your fingers. “Yn?”

He calls out to you before you can go to the ladies bathroom, you’re gonna think he’s a creep, but you can’t blame him. He’s so in love with you.

And you are looking really pissed

But you’re not pissed at him right because he made things right with you and he’s gonna make them even more right as he takes your hand and guides you to the empty area around the aquarium.

He has to kiss you.

“Yn…” he brings his hand up and caresses your cheek, looking deeply into your eyes with his Bambi ones. He’s pretty sure that you can see the desire and longing in his eyes.

“Are you OK?”

He asks you, his thumb swiping on your cheek. He doesn’t break eye contact with you, looking deeply into your eyes when he asks you the question.

“Can I please kiss you?” He asks, borderline begs before you can actually reply as soon as you nod your head- jungkook makes sure to look around before he presses his lips to yours and his kiss immediately deepens.

As he begins to kiss you, Jungkook pulls your body close to his he feels like he can finally breathe again.