#to the point where I actually shouted Out Loud ''NO!!!'' when one of them died . and I FELT it in my HEART it HURT

[ratcandy]

(nobody knows i've been playing with a warrior cats clan generator for a while now and getting attached to silly pixel cats to an unhealthy degree)

[accio-sriracha]

The Water Is Fine

A Jegulus Oneshot

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊���⁺˖⋆

"Come in, the water is fine!" James called to Regulus, his eyes holding a challenge.

Regulus watched him with amusement from the shade of a nearby tree. He didn't swim, this was a fact they all knew well. James, however, didn't seem to care, inviting him for the third time that evening to join them in the lake.

Regulus watched his brother's concerned expression as he swam over to James,

"Mate, you know he doesn't get in the water." He said, "What's the point in trying?"

James brushed him off, his eyes never leaving the boy resting beneath the tree,

"Sure he does." He said it loud enough for Regulus to hear, "He'll get in eventually."

"You're really going to do this right now?" Regulus called back.

He had to admit, he was a little impressed by James' persistence. James shrugged,

"It's as good a time as ever, isn't it?"

Regulus knew the words had double meaning for them, but pretended not to notice as he sighed and stood up, marking his place in his book.

The rest of their groups were there as well. Mary, Lily, Marlene, and Dorcas were having a chicken fight off to the left. Alice, Frank, and Pandora were diving to collect things on the lake's floor. Sirius, James, Peter, and Remus had previosuly been playing catch with a quaffle, before James turned his attention to Regulus instead.

Barty and Evan were... well, we probably should focus too much on them.

They all turned in suprise as Regulus stepped out of his shoes, resignation written on his face, and walked towards the water's edge.

"There he is!" James called grandly, holding his arms out, "The man of the hour! Come join us, the water's nice and warm!"

If they hadn't been shocked before, they definitley were now as Regulus actually stepped into lake.

"Will you shut up already?" Regulus hissed at him, "It's fucking cold, you liar!"

He continued to mutter under his breath as he made his way to James, "Always fucking pissing me off- Never have one good day with my books, can I-"

James waved him off, "Stop whining, you'll get used to it."

"Regulus what are you doing?" Sirius was openly staring at him in shock. Regulus didn't spare him a glance, too focused on where to place his feet,

"Coming over to kill your best friend, that's what I'm doing." He gasped when a place in the water was particularly freezing.

He didn't like the feeling of everyone's eyes on him, since they suddenly decided he was more exciting than whatever it was they were doing before.

He rolled his eyes. He was in the water, so what? Just because none of them had ever seen him step foot in the lake before doesn't mean it was that big of a deal.

"I thought you didn't swim-" Sirius started again, dumbstruck.

"He doesn't." James' smile was bright, the kind of all-consuming smile that made you forget the rest of the world existed.

As Regulus got to waist high waters the familiar trickles of fear started to kick in.

Sirius had a right to be surprised, nothing scared Regulus more than this feeling.

He was toeing the ridge he had been looking for, where safe standing water met the expansive depths underneath. A drop off so sudden he was surprised nobody had died in it yet.

But as he looked up, his heart slowed. He trusted James. James would make sure he was okay.

He watched as James nodded reassuringly, his breathtaking smile easing Regulus' nerves. Regulus nodded back, reminding himself again that James would keep him safe.

So, much to the panic of everyone else, he turned around, leaned back... and fell.

Right off of the ledge and into the drop off. Water splashed up around him. He sunk five- ten feet and falling fast.

Above the waves there were shouts, his friends pushing through the water to save him because, obviously, Regulus couldn't swim.

James, Sirius, Barty, and Mary were the stronger swimmers of the group, the latter three racing against the current to get to him.

But Regulus wasn't waiting for any of them.

In seconds there was a body pressed against his own. Warm hands against smooth skin, the zooming rush of water around them.

Yes, there he was.

James held him against his chest, using magic to propell them quickly through the water. Regulus could never get enough of this feeling, like he was flying.

As they burst up to the surface of the water again he could just barely make out the gasps from their friends.

They flew through the waves, Regulus' hands looked pale against James' tanned back from where he clutched James close.

And they were quite a sight to see, bright smiles and Regulus' shrieks of laughter, James weaved them this way and that, sometimes twirling them up into the air before dropping them back down.

It was a bit of water bending magic James had learned to keep Regulus safe when he was trying to teach him how to swim a few months ago, a deal they'd made in private to save Regulus the embarrassment.

Eventually, when Regulus' fears had proven too great, they'd given up on learning and starting using magic to push them across the waves instead. He and James had come here all the time since then, getting faster and faster at it, James continuing to try out new tricks.

James kept his hands wrapped tightly around Regulus' waist, his own laugh was wild and free.

Regulus leaned happily into James, he could feel James' heart thump rhythmically against his chest.

James rolled them over so Regulus was on his back when he stopped the spell. Regulus gripped James' shoulders tightly, as he always did when James swam them back to the safety of the shore.

This was where James had developed the habit of calling Regulus his starfish, because he held fast onto him when James was swimming; like a starfish to a rock.

Regulus remembered the first time he'd said it, when he'd lectured James for making fun of someone with such a large fear. It turned out to grow on Regulus, and now he could only find the name endearing.

"Show off." Regulus called over the sound of the water, leaning back so he could feel the breeze on his face.

James looked back at him, eyes shining, "Only for you." He smiled.

They made it back to a level Regulus could stand in and James carefully dropped him off, holding him steady until he was sure Regulus was okay.

Sirius stormed over to them, hitting James' arm repeatedly,

"Never. Scare. Me. Like. That. Again." He said, each word punctuated by a punch, "You could have hurt him! What if he'd drowned, Prongs? What then?"

James threw back his head in a laugh, moving to hide behind Regulus,

"I didn't do anything!" He protested. Dodging his next few attempts to attack.

Barty made it to them next, glaring at Regulus,

"I thought you were fucking dying you arsehole!" He shouted, "I had to leave Evan to save you! Do you know how hard that is?"

"Oh the horror. You had to stop making out for three whole seconds." Regulus teased.

"What the hell was that?" Evan demanded as well, looking between James and Regulus as he trudged through the water to the four of them, "I've never seen anything like that before."

James and Regulus shared a look. James cleared his throat,

"We've had some practice." He started slowly, "It's a thing we've been working on-"

"Wait, you've gotten in the water before?" Marlene asked, amazed, as the rest of the group appeared.

"Just a few times." Regulus told them.

"More like every weekend." James snorted, as always beginning to speak before he could think, "You practically begged me last time-"

Regulus cut him off with a threatening look.

Sirius was staring like he was seeing a ghost. Regulus could imagine why, he probably wasn't used to seeing Regulus like this, usually so cut throat and intense, suddenly laughing and beaming and clinging to Sirius' best friend of all people.

"I didn't even know you guys were close." Lily frowned, confused.

Regulus bit back a smile, glancing at James as also he tried and failed to control his expression. The light reflecting off the water made him look even more beautiful.

James wrapped an arm around Regulus' shoulders, "You could say that."

Regulus rolled his eyes again, "Prick." He hissed under his breath. James shot him a flashy grin.

Finally, it seemed to click.

"Holy shit." Barty took a step back, "Evan, they're-"

"I know, B."

"They're-"

"You don't have to say it, B."

"Evan, they're fucking each other!"

Evan sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, "I thought I just told you not to say it?"

"You're together?" Peter called incredolously. James smiled, turning Regulus to face him fully. Regulus knew what was happening even before Jamesx eyes dropped to his lips,

"Jamie, no-" Regulus started, even though he was already melting against his touch.

"Jamie, yes." James replied, all smug smiles and firm hands as he pulled Regulus into a kiss, right there in front of everyone.

Regulus broke, leaning his forehead against his chest when they pulled away.

He'd never felt guilt and relief so simultaniously. It was like a weight lifted off his shoulders just to remind him of all he'd done wrong to get it there.

"You're together?" Sirius repeated quietly, still watching them with that same expression. Remus' hand was placed gently on his back, a motion Regulus often did to James to calm him down. He knew it well, Remus thought Sirius was about to explode.

"We were planning on telling you, it's only been two weeks since we actually got together-" James began nervously.

Regulus swallowed hard, Sirius was the person they'd been most anxious to tell, worried about how he'd react.

"This is fucking amazing." Sirius called, pulling them both into a crushing hug, "Merlin, my brothers! I'm so happy for you both!"

Regulus wasn't sure surprised was quite enough to cover what he was experiencing right now. He needed something more intense, somewhere around the intensity of a nuclear bomb might cover it.

"You're okay with it?" James asked skeptically, his hand intertwining with Regulus' seemingly without thought.

Sirius laughed, "Well it sure as hell beats thinking Regulus was going to drown." He replied, "But, honestly, I'm happy for you guys!"

People took their turns congratulating them, eventually, when the excitement had passed and everyone went back to their own activities again, Regulus turned to James,

"Can we go again?" He asked, giving him the look that he knew made James fold every time.

"Yeah, we can do it again." James laughed, pressing a kiss to his forehead, "I love you."

"I love you too." Regulus smiled, taking a deep breath in as he walked over to the ledge. He nodded to James, who was already muttering the spell under his breath.

And off they went once more, flying through the water in their own peaceful little bubble.

Regulus had never been more happy than he was right then, with James holding him close and all of their friends having fun in the distance. No more secrets. No more lies.

He found Sirius' eyes when James swam them back to the safer water, his smile was filled with approval.

Regulus relaxed against his boyfriend, there was no place on earth he would rather be.

[issela-santina]

Mission: Impossible - Ghost Protocol

aka

oh don't bother me I'm not here for the jazzy prison riot, I'm here to talk to my wife, Simon Pegg, through the surveillance camera

Nicholas Angel looks like he could impersonate Lady Margot Fenring but the mask maker said no and died on him

Jeremy Renner's dream come true: shouting at Tom Cruise

Paula Patton doing the impossible: kicking ass in a mini pencil dress

(this bullet point is specifically dedicated to the brain cell in me who pretends it's a DJ and who decided to play „Sandstorm“ by Darude)

what we need is an explanation about at which point Benji underwent an aesthetic twink death DILF birth between this movie and Rogue Nation

Bogdan and Ethan are actually shippable but so are Ethan and Sidorov. imagine your enemies to lovers

The Impossibles [insert the swelling horns from the scene where Mr. Incredible found out about the deaths of his fellow supes]

EVERYTHING IS BROKEN. THE GADGETS. THAT BITCH WHO KILLED MY COLLEAGUE THAT I KICKED OFF THE TALLEST TOWER IN THE WORLD. KURT HENDRICKS. ME (almost)

Brad Bird seeks revenge on Pixar

Paula Patton looks great in aquamarine actually

“and I catch you” (Branji can I ship?)

Brandt tries to be tough but ends up being a cinnamon roll

Michael Giacchino's punny score saga, I lost count

Pluto is still a planet to me, Benji!!

how to straight flirt with a rich af bigwig who thinks every guy you hang out with is your bf

the sweaty Brandt shot hits different when you survive a heat wave

“oh I thought it was a bigger org but it's just two guys and one of them is a hopeless atomic sadboi”

Benji confesses his love to Ethan and shares his condolences about Julia in the fucking Kremlin. from Russia with love

“next time, I seduce the rich guy” oh Brandt don't you worry ;)

the one true MVP here is the airbag in that BMW Ethan used to nosedive to Hendricks's nuke case

Luther judging Ethan for saying MISSION: ACCOMPLISHED out loud is all of us

Benji truly has autism and it shows. his mouth is his third hand. he's in missions because Ethan likes him back. he sometimes mantra-izes his words into something worth repeating. shaky but focused

omg. Julia. alive. she knows. that her husband's new boyfriend is also a bit protective of her by extension

[leaderpinhead]

Lilia - King Of The Hill

“Bow down before me!” 

Lilia paused with a hum. He had left the other juniors behind on the main street where they were nostalgically looking back on previous Bean Days. Lilia had thought it adorable to watch them laugh and tease each other, their cheeks still reddened from the day’s activities. It would be their last year on the campus, and it was shaping up to be a fine ending in Lilia’s opinion. 

The sun had dipped to the point of twilight though, and Lilia had excused himself to search for his wayward children. Beans Day or not, there were still classes in the morning. Sebek and Silver needed a good night's sleep after such a strenuous day of activity. 

The sounds of shouts and scuffling within the trees quickly detoured him from his path. He tempered his steps until he was practically gliding over the detritus littering the ground, not emitting a sound that would announce his arrival. He followed the excited noises to a small clearing not far into the woods. His perplexed frown stretched into a humorous grin. 

Six little freshmen plus one Ortho bounced around the clearing, and they had somehow all managed to find some type of bean camo gear. Yuu stood on top of a tree stump, a green and purple camo monster jacket slipping off one shoulder and the hood thrown over her head. Ortho hovered beside her, looking like he was having a grand time swinging his monster net to deflect incoming bean attacks from Grim, who frequently paused to adjust the farmer ammo vest devouring his tiny form. 

A boisterous laugh from Epel said he was having the same amount of fun in his monster gear as he clashed with Deuce, the Heartslabyul freshman grinning just as wildly under his farmer beret. Jack, still in his monster camo, stood off against Sebek, now fully decked out in farmer’s gear. He stood at full attention, with his shoulders thrown back and one arm thrust towards Yuu. “I will never bow to the likes of you, human!” 

One of Jack’s ears twitched. “You realize none of this is real, right?” 

“Real or pretend, to bow before anyone other than Malleus is a personal insult!” 

Yuu pointed back at him, the sleeve of her jacket covering her pointing finger. “Then suffer my monster army! Attack!” 

Epel tackled Deuce with renewed gusto, knocking the taller boy off his feet with a startled grunt. Lilia hummed in approval when Epel utilized the maneuvers Lilia had taught him, using his smaller size as an advantage instead of lamenting its weakness. Grim released a loud battle cry and charged at Ortho. Ortho swung his weapon, catching the small monster in its net. Ortho giggled and lifted the net high. “I caught an actual monster!” 

“Little did you know, that was this monster’s plan all along!” Grim popped over the rim of the net and pelted Ortho with a pawful of beans. Ortho cried as he was beaned directly in the face. “Take that! I told you you’d rue the day you underestimated the Great Grim!” 

Ortho carefully placed the net on the ground beside the tree stump before dramatically falling. He reached for Yuu, and his tone took on a warbling tune. “I’ve been beaned! I’m so sorry I failed you, Yuu!” 

Ortho “died” with a loud “Blergh!” that made Lilia giggle. Ortho’s eyes briefly snapped to his hiding spot, but he placed a single finger over his grinning lips and winked. Ortho’s eyes creased with a smile before he squeezed them shut. 

Yuu jumped from her tree stump with a dramatic cry. She hugged Ortho’s limp body. “I shall avenge your death, my one and only adorable sidekick!” Ortho broke character to giggle at Grim’s offended Hey! Yuu pulled a length of rope from the pocket of her camo jacket and swung it towards Grim. “Take that!” 

Grim yelped with honest surprise when the rope twined around him. He waddled a few steps away in the enchanted rope before falling on his side. His back legs kicked in the air. “No fair! We said we weren’t using the enchanted items.” 

“That was before you took the life of my adopted son!” Ortho couldn’t keep up his act thanks to his constant giggling, so he leaned against Yuu’s shoulder. “Think about your actions, Grim.” 

“I’m starting to rethink a lot of things!” 

A cry from Sebek drew Lilia’s eyes back to him and Jack. Jack grunted in his grappling standoff with Sebek. Lilia could see the genuine shock on Jack’s face when Sebek dominated their confrontation. Sebek jostled Jack into the right position and with a mighty roar tossed the other freshman over his shoulder. Jack landed on his back with a startled grunt, an expression of dazed confusion blanketing his face. Sebek laughed above him. “Have I not told you I train daily for the moment I become Lord Malleus’s devoted guard? None of you can comprehend the sheer determination that pushes me—.” 

Lilia was proud of Sebek’s growth. He had trained both Sebek and Silver himself after all, and he didn’t think it a bit egocentric to pat himself on the back for their successes. Unfortunately, he would need to revisit their lessons on keeping an awareness of their surroundings because it didn’t take much effort on Yuu’s part to sling another length of enchanted rope towards Sebek and ensnare him. Sebek fell face down into the dirt beside the still stunned Jack, his passionate protests muffled in the grass. 

Yuu glanced in the direction of Deuce and Epel. Epel now rode Deuce’s shoulders with a sharp-toothed smirk at the steadily escalating rise of Deuce’s voice. Lilia thought the boy would be a force to be reckoned with if Vil ever managed to temper the quick fuse that ignited and stole all forethought from the boy. 

Yuu turned away from them without a single attempt to save either and climbed back onto her stump. She threw her arms above her head and cackled with an impressive amount of wickedness. “I am the king of this hill! Bow before my might!” 

Yuu barely got another cackle out before she was tackled from behind. Lilia tipped his head as the orange and white camo of Ace’s farmer jacket tangled with Yuu's monster jacket. What a turn of events! Lilia had imagined the missing Ace had been his way of showing his lack of enthusiasm for their childish games. Lilia had become laxer during his stay at Night Raven College than he realized. Had he been more thorough with his initial scan of the area, he would have easily spotted Ace hiding out in the bushes at the edge of the clearing. 

The two of them tussled with each other for domination, rolling across the ground and kicking up clods of dirt and grass. At one point, Ace leered down over Yuu and shoved a fist into her face. “Eat beans!” 

Lilia belatedly realized the fist was full of beans when Yuu nipped at Ace’s knuckles. “You shove your own beans down your throat!” 

“Hey! Watch it with the teeth!” 

They both gamely rolled along the ground, tripping Deuce and Epel in their journey. Jack, having regained his bearings, sat up and watched them with a wide grin and wagging tail. Ortho perched himself on the tree stump and kicked out his legs. “For someone who acted so against the idea of playing a game of King of the Hill, Ace sure has changed his tune.” 

Grim huffed and wiggled out of the ropes Ortho had loosened for him. “Yuu’s lost her mind. Who knew slapping monster bean camo on her would make her into such a villain?” 

Jack’s tail wagged harder. “She’s not a villain. She’s just got a competitive spirit.” 

“Release me from my bonds!” 

Lilia snickered when Jack casually pushed Sebek’s face into the grass. Yuu and Ace rolled around for several more minutes, each one taking the advantage before abruptly losing it. Epel and Deuce abandoned their tussle after being steamrolled by the two and watched with the same fascination as the others. Ace had somehow rolled out of his camo jacket, and Lilia could have sworn he saw Yuu’s hairclip go flying through the air. Lilia watched with anticipation to see who would come out victorious. 

In the end, neither won. 

Lilia’s ears caught the familiar sound of a bean rifle. A second later, Ace jerked upright from where he grappled on top of Yuu. His hand slapped the back of his neck where an almost indiscernible bean had pegged him. “What the—!” 

“No one told me we were going another round~.” 

“I assume the rules remain relatively the same?” 

The foliage on the opposite side of the clearing from where Lilia hid parted between the Leech brothers. Floyd grinned as he twirled one of the dual bean launchers by the trigger. Jade smiled, a bean rifle strapped to his shoulder. Lilia was somewhat surprised when the bushes continued to part as Silver, Kalim, and Jamil followed them. Riddle and Azul must have retired to the dorms, neither of them likely interested in exerting more physical fortitude than they had already shown today. 

Lilia smiled as the sophomores joined the game. Kalim laughed when Deuce gave him an extra farmer’s vest to wear. Silver freed Sebek from the ropes, much to Sebek’s stuttering protest. Floyd cackled as he joined Ortho on the stump, listening with undivided attention as Ortho explained the game to him. 

Jade grinned next to Jamil while the latter helped both Ace and Yuu off the ground. Lilia was pleased to see even a small smile on Jamil’s face though he tried to hide it with a stern frown. “If I had known you were asking for my camo jacket to roll around in the dirt like a child, I would have thought twice before lending it to you.”  

Yuu rolled her eyes towards the sky. “And what were you planning on doing with it, huh? Just give it back to Coach Vargas?” 

“Did you have to peg me with a bean like that?” Ace grouched. He still rubbed the spot on the back of his neck while he glowered at Jade. “That thing’s meant for long distance targets.” 

Jade’s grin never faltered. “I’m afraid you have the wrong twin. Floyd was the one who shot you.” 

Ace snorted. “Yeah, right. Did you forget I'm in the Basketball Club with him? If it had been Floyd, he would have run over here bragging about making the shot.” 

Jade covered his smile with the tips of his fingers. “You know my brother quite well.” 

“You’re not even gonna try to deny it now?” 

“I fail to see what it is I'm meant to deny.” 

“Jamil!” Kalim shouted next to Deuce. He waved enthusiastically even after gaining his vice housewarden’s attention. “Can we play a round of King of the Hill? It sounds like fun!” 

Jamil released a long, drawn sigh. “Don’t you think it best to retire back to the dorm like Azul and Riddle did?” 

“But I was so busy making the lunch you prepared for everyone today that I didn’t really get to play!” 

Lilia snickered as the vice housewarden’s plan came back to nip him in the rear. Jamil knew it too if the resignation in his lidded stare said anything. “Fine. But we need to return to the dorm after one round.” 

Kalim’s cheer was muffled by a camo jacket landing on his head. Ortho giggled from his perch on Floyd’s shoulders. Floyd grinned. “I’m playing the monster this time. You better run, li’l farmers. I’m coming for you first, Sealie~.” 

Grim yipped and sprinted over to Deuce and Kalim. Epel grinned with an enthusiastic fist bump. “We’re gonna dominate this hill!” 

“Perhaps I should remind you who was on the losing team today.” Jade slung his rifle off his shoulder to grip it properly. “Floyd is easily distractable.” 

Floyd’s cackle abruptly silenced. “I don’t like how you’re talking right now, Jade.” 

“Case in point.” 

“Silver!” Sebek’s shout drew Lilia’s attention back to them. Silver started out of his apparent doze and blinked at Sebek. “Were you not assigned to guard Malleus?” 

Silver’s eyebrows drew together. “Lilia insisted on the duty after their rivalry today. I believe he and Malleus joined the others in their classes for an afterparty celebration. Perhaps they would enjoy an invitation to this game as well.” 

Lilia grinned at Sebek’s huffing protest of them being too refined to join a child’s game. He directed his grin to his left. “Well? Is it too childish for us to join?” 

Malleus didn’t appear shocked when Lilia addressed him. The prince had tried very hard to sneak up on him, but Lilia had sensed his presence quickly. Malleus may have been stronger in both magic and physical prowess, but Lilia possessed the experience that evenly balanced them out and often pushed Lilia ahead. As he had once more exhibited to Malleus earlier. 

Malleus shook his head, making Lilia emit a slightly disappointed huff. The young prince watched the group of lowerclassmen divide themselves into teams and circle the lone tree stump. “As much as I would enjoy playing with them, I am afraid this is not for my benefit. I was beginning to worry he was not bonding with his fellow classmates.” 

Lilia’s eyes darted to Sebek without needing clarification. Sebek still addressed Silver on the subject of their whereabouts. The moment Yuu declared the game beginning, Sebek dropped the topic and charged Jack. Jack clearly anticipated Sebek’s intentions and ducked away instead of being caught in another grappling match. Floyd was drawn to them like a bug to a bright light, and he cackled the whole time he attempted to bait one of them into tackling him. 

Lilia grinned. “Sebek will be fine! Both of them will be. They’re dedicated little retainers, but I believe it will do them good to have the opportunity to explore themselves in our absence.” Malleus hummed in agreement. “That being said, it wouldn’t be too detrimental for us to join.” 

Malleus simply shook his head. “I would rather not ruin the fun with my presence.” 

Lilia frowned at the offhanded self-derision. He didn’t try to sound like Malleus’s fellow classmate when he said, “Malleus. I thought we both agreed this small group has become—.” 

“My apologies for how that may have sounded.” When Malleus turned to him, it was with a small smirk. “I meant only that my presence would force both Sebek and Silver to focus their efforts on protecting me.” 

Lilia snickered with a sudden wave of understanding. Sebek’s enthusiasm to protect his lord would all but guarantee he’d be pelted with both beans and monster weapons. Silver would be more subtle, but still, what was the fun in participating knowing you were being handicapped by both teammates and enemies. “I see. Well, that changes everything. I suppose we will have to sit out this one game and allow the children to have their fun.” 

Malleus nodded. They turned their attention back to the young ones just in time for Yuu to launch herself onto the top of the stump. Her jacket was a bit more worn at this point and heavily slipping down one side. She didn’t appear at all inhibited by the bulky clothing as she threw her arms into the air. “Bow before me, peasants!” 

Lilia giggled along with her and watched her defend her throne from both farmers and monsters. 

[aubreysheadspace]

Hello! I hope you taking care of yourself and are ok.

may I request a main Omori gang where the reader who was the older sister friend but then turned into the mom friend after Mari died and then just one day they just snap at the gang and then later come back with cookies as a apology while looking like they’ve cried some? (You don’t have to if you don’t want to!)

I am so sorry for the ramble have a great day!

-chaos mushroom

take a break if you need to also

MAIN CAST (MARI) WITH A MOM FRIEND READER WHO SNAPS BUT APOLOGIZES AFTER (WITH COOKIES)! (PLATONIC)

of course!! i love your requests and ideas :] wasn’t sure if this was platonic or romantic, so i chose platonic! hope u enjoy!

SUNNY

SUNNY would be deeply affected by your sudden outburst. he knew MARI use to have a couple of them as well, especially during the incident, so it partially scarred him a bit

he doesn’t like to be yelled at, and so would probably block out most of your shouting and words. it probably makes him frustrated as well in a way

SUNNY will stay in his room for an hour, maybe even a day, to process the entire situation. he knows it’s not healthy, but that doesn’t mean he can just.. suddenly stop

when you finally think it through and apologize to him, SUNNY will think about it. he knows and understands how it feels.. in a way. he’d take some of the cookies you brought him as an apology, though!

AUBREY

AUBREY would definitely be stunned at first, unsure what to do say or do as she tries to process everything. did the group put too much pressure on you?? was it somewhat her fault??

she can’t help but shout a tiny bit as well, she’s a bit hot-tempered and violent so if anyone shouts at her she’ll shout back to "protect herself."

she would feel incredibly fault afterwards though, and would try to avoid you so that she wouldn’t feel the guilt anymore, which causes her to feel even more guilt

when you finally think it through and apologize to her, she’d be hesitant at first. she then also apologizes for absolutely anything even if it wasn’t anything that made you snap. she’d forgive you, and thought that maybe MARI was like this at some point but kept it hidden. and AUBREY will definitely take your apology-cookies.

KEL

KEL would be taken aback by your sudden outburst, and it would genuinely worry him at first. he would say to calm down, but he knows that it isn’t that easy now that he’s more mature

if you needed some space to be alone and think about your words and actions, he’d totally understand, as he would want some time alone to think about what just happened without even realizing it

after thinking about it for a while, KEL would immediately walk over to your house instead of you going over to his to apologize

after talking through it, KEL would immediately forgive you without hesitation! everyone has their bad days, even him! you two decide to hang out at his house while eating the cookies!

HERO

HERO was genuinely surprised that you’d suddenly snap! he’s had his fair share of doing the same, but he didn’t expect you of all people to shout at him!

after a few seconds of silence to process yours words and the entire situation, HERO would give you an empathetic look and ask, "…are you stressed out? do you want to talk about it?"

if you want to be alone for a while to think what just happened, HERO totally understands. he leaves, giving you the time for yourself to collect your thoughts

he’ll actually surprise you with a home cooked meal, but be a bit surprised that you’re giving him cookies as an apology. it reminded him of how MARI used to be bake cookies for everyone. like KEL, you two decide to sit and talk about what’s been going on. HERO definitely understands where you’re coming from, and is willing to give you advice!

BASIL

BASIL doesn’t like loud noises, especially if it’s from shouting. so hearing you shout for the first time makes him panic heavily.

before you could even realize what you did, BASIL would excuse himself to the bathroom and leave you all alone so that he can try and calm himself down

he would stay indoors probably for a day to try and clear his thoughts. he would try to avoid you whenever he’s outside, not because he hates you, but because that you probably hated him even if he didn’t do anything.

with the help of POLLY, you can face BASIL and apologize directly to him. it would take him a while to forgive you but he would forgive in the end. he’ll nervously accept your cookies and thanks you.

[bmodiwrites]

Ever wondered what a Steddie Coyote Ugly AU would look like? Steve is a bouncer at the notorious club while Eddie lights up the bar with his combat boots and easy dance moves. Read to find out why you just can't stop the moonlight.

Steve didn’t really understand the gem of a place he was in until an hour into his shift when the lights went down, the bar’s residual noise vanishing with them.

“Ladies and gentleman,” Joyce said from the far end of the bar, holding a microphone to her lips. “It’s time for my favorite portion of the evening. I know everyone’s here for a good time, so let’s get the party started.”

Steve watched as everyone in the bar clapped loudly, almost on cue. That died down the moment music started to play. It was a tune that Steve didn’t recognize, something kind of country, though dark and eerie, too.

“First up on the bar is Fancy Nancy,” Joyce shouted into the microphone, making everyone cheer.

A spotlight jumped to the bar where a pretty brunette was climbing up to stand atop of it. She was wearing a bright colored dress that flowed like water down around here. As she spun, the wide skirt flared up and moved with her. Nancy pirouetted one more time before landing perfectly in her chunky cowboy boots. She looked up and smiled at the crowd, flicking her hair at everyone playfully.

The light cut back to Joyce who was grinning from ear to ear. “Up next is our long legged bombshell, Robin!”

Unlike Nancy who moved with grace, Robin clambered up onto the bar, slamming her cowboy boots against the surface. She wore jeans that hugged her legs, leaving nothing to the imagination. When Robin moved, her body demanded the eye’s attention. She didn’t need a flowy skirt or loud colors to draw focus. Robin danced with a precision that made it hard to look away.

The next two girls were announced with the same fan fair, though Steve wasn’t nearly as mystified. He was starting to shift his attention back to the crowd to actually do his job when the atmosphere changed completely. The crowd started to stomp their feet in that boom-boom rhythm that Steve recognized from one of Queen’s most famous songs. The clap followed, yanking a happy laugh from Steve’s chest.

Joyce’s voice got serious as she pointed to the large gap on the bar the crowd was anxious for her to fill. “Last but most certainly not least, one of Coyote’s favorites, our dark horse, the devil in black – Eddie!”

Steve’s eyes widened as the most beautiful man he’d ever seen jumped onto the bar. His hips and mile long legs were covered in black leather that clung tighter than Robin’s jeans. Unlike the rest of the crew on the bar, Eddie’s feet were covered in combat boots that moved each time Eddie slammed his foot on the wooden surface. Narrow hips were framed by a leather vest that was barely tied together, showing off Eddie’s stomach and chest. His long curls shifted uncontrollably around him as Eddie spun on his toes, light as air.

Read the rest of Chapter 1 on AO3

[theology101]

So it’s been a few days now and I finally feel comfortable to bring this up in public:

It’s been 17 days since I saw my second drowning and fourth death. This was the first time I could actually do anything about it. And I didn’t.

Me and a few of my old friends from Hogh School went to a common cliff jumping place. We were meeting my friend Keagan, who had been there for 3 hours and had been grilling butger’s and Brat’s all day. I was supposed to buy the alcohol, and because the gas station we planned at stopping at had nothing, we were 20-30 minutes late to showing.

As one of the bigger guys in the group, I carried the 36 pack of beers on a ten minute hike. And when I mean hike, there were several points where I had to either jump or climb, and if I’d been making the trip alone I couldn’t have brought anything with many.

Anyways, we get there, I put down the case, crack open a beer and shotgun it. Then, I grabbed a paper plate and started prepping my butger. Less then five minutes after I arrived, I heard people screaming for help from the Water. By the time I realized something was happening, six people were already on the rescue. As I took another sip watching 2 kids get saved from relatively shallow water, I said “Man, thank god I’m off dury.”

I’m head guard at a pool that gets over 250+ a day.

And when prople were drowning, I made a joke

I thought everything was fine, until the two kids were brought to shore. Then, after one of them vomitted the water in his lungs I heard, loud and clear, “He’s still under water!”

This time, I did react quickly, but it was already too late. As my phone was ringing for 911, I was doing the math in my head. The first shout was 5-15 seconds after they jumped, the scream for help was 10-25, they were out of the water by around a minute. If we had started searching immediately - it would already be borderline.

Instead 911 rang as 8 watched the water surface, and didn’t see anyone break it. By the time I confirmed our location, I knew the kid was already dead. I heard his name from someone else, and when the Sheriff’s department called me, I told him everything I knew. Then, at around 11 at night, the Sheriff sent one of his deputies to finish off my questioning

I’m aware, objectively, that there is vwry little I could’ve done. That we had no idea were the kid was and the fact that I did break rhe bystander effect was important enough as iy is in order to bring his fanily peace. But try making that argument, to yourself, when you’re trained to perform in water rescues and you just didn’t. Objectively, I had no idea knowing the stakes (why would you go cliff jumping if you can’t swim? I had no reason to expect that they were in actual danger) but it doesnt change the base facts.

If I had been able to get in the water, and if I had been able to perform a proper save technique, and if the kid I saved was coherent enough for me to understand him - I might have been able yo start searching at the 20 second mark instead of limply calling the police three minutes afterwards.

Idk, part of this is probably huilt from the other three death’s haunting me because, unlike in the others, I might’ve been able to do something. When Uncle Larry’s leg was torn off, I could do mothing. When I saw that lady struggle and drown in front of her kids while in Nice, France, she was too far out for me to do anything at all, and when my grandfather died I couldn’t force the air into his lungs.

But maybe, MAYBE, if I’d gotten there faster, William QuiQui wouldn’t have died

[silvery-bluish]

How about 8 and possibly 23 if you feel up to it? Any characters

Prompts from here!

Wordcount: 691 + 386

Contents: For 8- Sidestep Era, a bit of a riff off of the post-nanosurge segment of Four funerals and a wake. Post-nanosurge telepathy issues at a funeral, and dodging the press. This is only barely the prompt but I got distracted, whoops.

For 23- It's fluff. It's just flystep fluff. I'm placing my hand gently on canon continuity and saying 'i don't know where this fits don't worry about it' again.

8. shielding the other one with their body 

You don’t know why you decided to go to the funeral. In-costume, everybody’s in costume, you included, Ricardo included, still favoring his arm but he’s trying not to show it because the media is here. Half funeral half pony show. Look, Los Diablos, your heroes are still standing strong, even if some of them are dead gone eaten piranhas chewing at the edges of your mind--

Watched her die in front of me--/Never going to get to make tamales together again--/wasn't even anything left, just clothes in a pile--

A twitch, as you grasp the tattered edges of your shields and pull them tighter. It doesn’t help, and you certainly aren’t taking anything stronger than advil for your pulsing headache when you have to deal with this many people.

Fuck, why had you even agreed to come to this? 

Someone’s giving a speech, but you’re too busy trying to block the chorus of grief/worry/fear from your mind. You’ve never been to a funeral. You’re really regretting being at this one, but it’d felt like you were supposed to come. 

Anathema’s somewhere behind you-- they’re sitting with Sunstream, whose mind is-- screaming, practically, and you’re trying really hard not to listen to the grief/regret/despair. Trying to just fix yourself on the sensation of Anathema’s mind, their shields. Not giving anything away, but a touchstone of outward-calm in this-- storm.

How much longer is this thing? You can’t leave, leaving early leads to questions, so you’re just-- stuck. Sitting here. Head throbbing. Barely standing against the tide of grief all around you.

It feels-- distant. You didn’t know most of these people who died, not really, not more than in passing. But you’re awash in everybody else’s perceptions, and you’ve got a migraine the size of the damned moon.

I didn’t need to know what bone looked like--/Oh god what was the last thing I said to her, I don’t remember--/idiot still owes me twenty bucks--

Time passes at a crawl. Ricardo’s in Marshal Charge mode, all business, solemn-faced. Putting on a good show. Someone's talking-- a friend or family member of one of the people this funeral's actually for. Hard to pick up the words, with your brain so loud like this. You want to crawl out of your skin and be not-you not-here. Feels like you’re wearing a coat that doesn’t fit right, too tight in the shoulders or not long enough in the sleeves. It’s not your clothes, though. It’s just you.

When you can finally leave, finally, you have to leave with everyone else. Through the front door. Where there’s reporters with cameras and questions and busy-knock-knock-poking-prodding minds. Looking for the chink in your armor so they can worm in and pry you open. And you’re masked, of course, they can’t really see you hiding inside the Sidestep costume, but something of how uncomfortable you are must show in your stance, because Ricardo bumps his good arm into you when the two of you stand to leave to get your attention.

“Stick close to me,” Ricardo says, and those words, pointed at you, words actually meant for you, you can parse. “Almost done.”

He steers you to a-- side door, instead of the main one, half-blocked from the public by the building along one side of the pathway, and the other side roped off. Even then, there’s still more people than you thought there would be-- civilians, in with the reporters, shouting questions too. An overwhelming mass of emotions and thoughts and attention, but you’re sticking to Ricardo, whose mind you can’t read and that’s a balm right now, better even than Anathema’s, because there’s no words or emotions or sensations, an island of no-meaning in an ocean of all-meaning. 

If you focus on the static hard enough, you can almost hear yourself think again. 

Ricardo’s keeping himself between you and the crowd. Really playing up Marshal Charge right now, all self-confidence and things will get better, we’ll remember their sacrifice, larger-than-life so you can-- hide in his shadow. The questions don’t get aimed at you.

You’re absurdly grateful for it.

23. carrying the other one in their arms

“Alright, let’s go,” you say, and then you sweep Daniel up, mirror to your usual situation. You might not be able to fly, but you can get a bright laugh out of Danny, and that’s sort of the same thing. 

“Where are we going?” he asks, humor still in his tone. Surprised by the role reversal, but not opposed. He obligingly loops his arms around your shoulders, leaning into you. Lighter than he should be, in your grasp. 

You lower your arms, and Daniel sinks, too, delayed by milliseconds. Like he’s surrounded by water instead of air. “What, you don’t think I can actually carry you? You’re not that heavy.” Tone deadpan enough he’s left looking for other cues, the tilt to the corner of your mouth that means this is a joke. 

“I’m sure you can,” earnest, not a hint of sarcasm in his voice or his mind. “Just-- you don’t have to.”

“C’mon, Flyboy, I’m not gonna break. If I was worried about it, you’d be over my shoulders instead. Fireman’s carry has better leverage than this.”

Objectively. You do not need to be carrying him. He floats just fine, gravity can’t get a grip on him, but you— want to. 

“No princess sweeps for Ricardo?” he asks, teasing, but he eases off the flight powers. Heavier in your arms, more— real, maybe. Not that he’s less real when he’s flying, but the weight makes him feel more concrete. Reassuring pressure.

“No. Past experience says if I have to move him with no help, he’s getting dragged. Mods.” A spark of a thought, and you grin. “I think you should princess sweep him at some point though. That’d be fun.” 

A grin back, and he glances away, before doubling back. “Hey. Are you dodging the question?”

“No.”

“Then where are we going?”

“Kitchen. I want coffee.”

“And why am I coming along?”

You give him your flattest look, and then, “Somebody’s got to work your weird coffee machine.”

“Oh, that’s the story we’re going with?”

“Yep.” Pop the p. Blasé. Never mind that it’s just a little single-cup pod coffee thing. Also never mind that you’d fixed the machine for him last week.

“I see.” He does not believe you and he’s smiling at you anyway. Letting you get away with it. "Okay, sure."

[shivunin]

31. "Don't look at them, look at me" (from this prompt list)

Look At Me

Arianwen hated Orzammar. 

It was all the worst parts of Denerim rolled into one closed society. No way in, no way out. Even their dead were tossed into the deep to become part of the landscape. She’d never been afraid of close spaces before; thrived in them, actually. But down here, even before they’d gone into the Deep Roads, she’d been able to feel the pressure of the whole world above her, watching. 

Waiting. 

And now—if she was lucky—she was to be at her most vulnerable in it. 

“Tabris, you’re going to need to focus a little longer,” Wynne said, her eyes on Wen’s leg where it hung over Alistair’s arm. 

He’d fretted over carrying her on his back, the fool. Said it would make the wound worse. She’d told him stopping constantly so he could adjust her in his arms again would take too long, so he might as well do it. He hadn’t shut up after that, but he’d kept his complaints to a dull roar. It was more than she could say of the drunk, whom she’d fantasized about killing for so long that she was surprised whenever his head bobbed back into view again. 

Or—maybe she was seeing things. 

What a silly thing to say; she was certainly seeing things. Zev was here, too, and she knew for a fact she’d left him behind in Orzammar proper. Shianni walked beside him, and her face was laughing whenever they passed one of those strange lights. Happy; Wen couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen Shianni happy. When they’d been girls, perhaps, playing pretend in their little secret room away from all the adults. 

And also…

“Nelaros,” she whispered, and her lips cracked at the words. He looked over his shoulder, just past Wynne, and smiled at her. 

There was a hole in his eye. 

“Go away,” she said, and Alistair turned to look at her, alarmed, “Go away—you’re dead. You’re dead—you can’t have me.”

Nelaros was holding the ring he’d died with. She’d pawned it in Ostagar for better armor without an ounce of sentimentality over the thing. He’d been forced on her by her father, and he’d tried to help as best he could, and then he’d died. 

It was sad. It was also not her problem. 

“Catch her!” Alistair shouted, just as she unbalanced herself and would have toppled the both of them. The others rushed to help, though she only felt two sets of hands on her back. 

“Do you think we should get someone from Orzammar to—”

“They’ll never come,” the dwarf growled, “Not even for a Grey Warden. Too safe and snug. You get her to the city or she dies.”

“—can’t—up—festering—at once—” Wynne was saying, but Arianwen couldn’t hear her. Nelaros was screaming too loud, and so was Shianni, and—

Pain in her leg, long and unending, stretching on and on. At some point, she opened her eyes at last and found herself in a room that seemed dimly familiar. It was also…very crowded. 

“Mama?” she murmured, and her mother pressed a cool hand to her brow. She was so hot; so hot, she’d never felt the like before. 

But Adaia’s face was wrong, half-rotted and gone, for she was dead. Butchered and dead. Twelve years in the ground or more. 

Arianwen’s eyes skated away over faces old and new, faces dreaded and beloved and long gone. There were her parents, yes, but also Loghain as she’d seen him before that last battle at Ostagar, the Lady of the Forest, serene and untouched, Zathrian with hate in his eyes, the villagers at Redcliffe she’d been unable to save, and on and on, and—

And Nelaros, still smiling even though she could see the far side of the room through his eye. His hand was outstretched, ring gleaming pristine and flat in his palm. 

“Go away,” she shrieked, and it seemed to her that some of them did—or backed up, at least. 

“Go away, Nelaros; you’re dead. You’re dead. I don’t want you—you can’t make me—”

“Look at me,” an accented voice said, and even panting and panicked she knew it. Arianwen turned, eyes wild, and Zevran was there all at once, standing where her mother had stood. 

“Don’t let him have me,” she begged, the words dragging out longer than they should, “Don’t let him—I won’t go—”

She couldn’t help it; she could feel him there, at the end of the bed, waiting. Waiting. 

“Look at me,” Zevran said, and her eyes snapped back to him, “Do not look at them. Look at me. Do you see me?”

“Y-yes,” she said, and her back arched on the bed when something poker-hot slid into her leg. 

“Hold her,” a strange voice said, and Zevran was there, too, hands planted on her shoulders. Something else settled over her stomach, but she could not see it past her lover. 

“Mi vida,” he said, when her eyes wandered to her mother's face over his shoulder, “See me. Look at me. I am here; they are ghosts. They could not possibly be more interesting than I, no?”

His eyes were warm, if tight at the corners, and even in her fever the sight of him steadied her. Yes; that was the right hair, the right eyes, the correct tattoo arching over his cheek. She knew the hands at her shoulders even past the haze of pain that radiated from her calf. 

“I see you,” she said, and gasped when the heat cut close to the bone, “I see you. I see you.”

Wen went on saying it until the darkness reached for her and took her away. Even then, she might’ve sworn she could still see him there, like a glimmer of gold at the bottom of a long, deep river, waiting only for her to find him again.

[crmsnmth]

September Sky Chapter Two, Part 5

"Yeah, he got here, like, an hour ago?" That was Amber's only flaw. The word like. Yeah, I get she was young and that seems to be one of those things with every generation, but it always drove me nuts then. It drives me nuts now. Anybody else does that, I'm liable to just walk away. And then people think I'm rude, not knowing walking away is better than letting out my inner asshole. I don't like letting that out. I like it too much. And that scares me.

"Oh cool. This been it since you've been in?" I motioned around the room.

"Pretty much. And they were done eating when I got in. So about a half hour of making whiskey cokes." Amber liked her job. When she got to be what she thought a bartender was. She should've been working at seem theme bar, where the bartenders have stupid games and stupid little dances. Not making the same five drinks for the same five type of people that came here.

The five types? First dates; we're affordable for the type of food we put out. Be fancy without actually being fancy. Show off without destroying any chance to do anything for the rest of your night.

Celebration tables: some kid just aced his dissertation, so the friends and family wanted to celebrate. At least once every couple of weeks we have a table of at least ten people. And a lot of those times, these people don't understand how to make a reservation.

Quick business meetings: even on the edges of Riverwest and the Eastside, there sat the people who wore three-piece suits to work and made deals with five digits at the least. They ate fast, efficient and never left a mess. Or a good tip.

The tourist; this person has no idea how they got here. They wandered in somehow, and just said fuck it. They'll stick with the flow. They'll love the place for the night, and usually their waitress got a pretty bad ass tip from them. Tourists, are honestly the best to work for. I love them. No matter what, they will love the food. They care about nothing but the experience.

And finally, the middle-aged date night; these are depressing to watch. Two people who at one point loved each other and got married. Now they've gotten old, and busy, and life isn't this bright and full of opportunities. The spark died, and they don't want to admit it. So they try every trick in the book. And one of those, and it never worked, was weekly date nights. And every so often, they would show up here.

Those were the main five types. I mean there were other sorts that came in. But those were the five. The table right now, drinking? Business meeting that apparently went very well.

We clacked our shot glasses together and downed them. Amber made a gross face. She never was a fan of whiskey, and I was not a fan of vodka, which was usually her choice. I, on the other hand, enjoyed the smooth shot. Good whiskey is good whiskey.

I hopped off the stool. "I'll talk to you later. I should go see what Skeletor is doing." I said, grabbing my jacket and heading for the swinging door that separated the kitchen from the rest of the building.

"See you later," Amber said, going back to marrying bottles and wiping a spotless bar down even more than she needed.

"Skeletor!" I shouted as I came into the kitchen. I was officially and fully in the work part of my personality. The loudness, the living. The things you have to be to be a good manager.

"'Sup!" He shouted back from the line. He was there, a black t-shirt and blue jeans covered with a black apron. An apron that stopped above his knees. We only had one apron that fit him and it had gotten covered by a spilt pot of tomato sauce. Our laundry was done on Thursday nights, so he'd always have it on the weekend. Maybe you don't think of how your kitchen looks, but we do, and we do have the uniform. Burns and cuts lining the forearms. Pen or pencil in the ear. A sauce covered apron covering our clothes,

"How we standing?" I asked, walking into the back office, where the three desks stood. One was mine, the most covered in paper and it looked very messy to the untrained eye. But I knew where everything actually was so don't fucking touch it. Angela's desk was spot less and clean. Not a paper clip out of place. Just like her. We didn't get along all that well. And then Amber's desk. It was covered in little nick-nacks that she'd brought in. Even her laptop had a dorky sticker on it. I threw my jacket on the desk, grabbed an apron and headed back to where Justin was chopping up an onion.

[higgs-the-god]

Ah fuck it. Uploading this here. Part of puppies survive au that I Mightttt not actually ever write. Barney’s attempt

Charlie’s gone and buried, Jack is gone, and Barney can only hope he had a swift end. There was too much blood at the scene, too much for an adult, even.

He can’t take it anymore.

Gordon is no help, the fucking bastard. Would it ass him so much to care a little? To think of anyone else but himself?

He loads his gun by paw.

It’s weird, Barney thinks. He’s almost eerily calm in the moment. He’d been so fretful lately, always worrying, always sad. But now his mind is empty and his paws aren’t even shaking. Barney breathes steady and deep. He’s going to do it.

He doesn’t have anything left in this world. God knows Gordon seemingly can’t care enough, and his pups are gone.

Who knows, maybe he’ll see them again.

Enough dilly-dallying, the longer he waits, the higher the chance someone finds him before he can shoot.

He lifts the gun up to his head.

And pulls the trigger.

–

Gordon walks swiftly, with intent.

He thinks it’s about time to talk to Barney. Every conversation with him has been… tough, to say the least, but he still sees hope for them both. Still sees a reason to want to call him his friend.

He just… thinks he’s made incredibly stupid decisions lately.

His thoughts are interrupted when a loud BANG rings out in the air.

It came from Barney’s kids’ room.

Gordon books it the remaining distance, running urgently and barging into the room.

Barney’s a lump on the floor, mostly face down. Blood splattered around him, on him. Gordon rushes over, immediately turning him to his side. He’s a limp doll in his grip.

The side of his face is charred, hair burnt at the tips and bleeding where the skin was burnt away, his face twisted in pain. The gun he used had fallen to the ground, smoking softly and Gordon can smell the gunpowder in the air, on Barney. His paw isn’t any better, just as charred and bleeding. His blood is tacky, deep red.

Barney blinks his eyes open.

Barney mutters something, slurred and incoherent. Gordon doesn’t know what to do.

He lifts himself up to run for help, stops. Can he leave Barney here? He can’t yell for help but what if Barney dies while he’s gone?

Barney reaches for him, slathering blood over the front of his shirt, the fur of his neck. Barney, what did you do?

He decides to run off.

–

Alyx is the first one he runs into. She’s outside playing with D0g, who gets her attention when Gordon skids to a halt. He knows he’s signing too fast for her to read but he doesn’t know what time they have. She gets the attention of a doctor on the way back, and she’s gotta be so confused, never having seen Gordon with so much urgency before.

Barney’s much the same when they finally arrive. He’s laid on the floor in an unnatural position. He almost looks like he’s sleeping peacefully, eyes closed and body relaxed. Gordon can only stand in place as the other two go to help him. He can’t move.

–

“He’s stable.” The doctor says some time later. “Physically, anyway.”

Gordon nods.

“He needs an eye to be kept on him. We… I…” She finishes packing up her things, sits there. “I never expected him to…”

Gordon nods. Shakes his head.

She looks at him, a softness in her eyes. “He’s lucky the gun jammed. His paw will be fine, but it’ll take time and care to heal.”

Gordon sits there.

Eventually, she leaves.

Barney had been awake the entire time.

He’d come to lucidity at some point, while being taken care of. Pushed Alyx and the doctor away, shouted and complained. Gordon had to hold him down while they took vitals. It only got him a litany of choice words thrown his way.

Gordon doesn’t ask why he does it.

They sit there for a long moment. Gordon staring at Barney, Barney looking off to the side, resolutely not at him. Birds chirp outside, leaves rustle. Time passes.

“I wanted to see them again.”

Gordon blinks, doesn’t move otherwise. He’s entranced in the small, micro expressions Barney has. Barney’s eye, now shut from the bandage covering his cheek and jaw, closes, screws up.

“God knows the other one I thought I could trust wasn’t there for me.”

Gordon looks at him.

Lifts his paws to sign, “excuse me?” even if Barney isn’t even looking at him.

“You heard me.” His voice is level but it has this undercurrent of.. Something. Something seething. “Fucks sake, they probably wouldn’t even be dead if you fucking cared about them at all!” He finally looks at him. It’s hard to take his anger into account when he looks so miserable. Pathetic. Half his face bandaged up, hair messy and partially charred. He can’t even bare his teeth right, surely the muscles necessary for half of it are burnt, hurting.

Gordon’s paws don’t tremble when he says, “Your choices are your own actions.”

Barney’s eye widens. He suddenly begins to stand.

Gordon uses his voice, “What are you–”

“Going to find me another fucking gun.”

Gordon topples him in seconds, bodily running into him to knock him back onto the mattress on the floor. Barney thrashes indignantly, kicking at him. “Get– get off!!”

No. He won’t let him so blatantly waste his life like this, not after everything. Not after everything.

He keeps him pinned down expertly, using his lack of brain fog and injuries to keep atop him, biting him by the scruff of his neck when he gets too far. Barney cries out behind clenched teeth, scrabbling when he gets his paws under him. Gordon flips him over. And then straddles him.

That gets Barney’s attention. He’s huffing, panting as he lays there, glaring up at him. His lip twists up in a growl with every exhale.

“Get. Off.”

Gordon lifts his paw up from Barney’s chest, “No.”

Barney doesn’t try to move. The bandage on his face had fallen off, showing burnt away fur and charred skin. It’s beginning to scab over, still bleeding slightly. Frankly, it’ll probably heal over just fine. Gordon had seen worse burn injuries heal like nothing.

Barney’s face suddenly twists up.

“Why… Why! You’re never there for me, never been there for- for them! I tried, you know, to make their lives good in this fucked world, and you won’t even talk to them!”

“You,” he puts emphasis on the sign, “raped me.”

Barney rolls his eyes. “Is that what this is about? You don’t even fucking care!”

Gordon sighs, slowly out through his nose. “It’s not that it’s me, it’s that it could be someone else.”

Gordon lets Barney buck him off this time, trusting he won’t run off for a gun again. “It is that it’s you, okay? I don’t– I don’t fucking like puppies. It’s because it was you, okay? I don’t know what came over me, but you–” He makes this frustrated noise, clawing at the ratty mattress. “The reason I kept going in those twenty fucking years, was because you gave me hope. And now I have nothing.”

He’s back to not looking at Gordon again. Gordon sits beside him, watching him.

He really does care about him still, after everything.

Gordon finds himself wanting to ask why. He’s never gotten attraction, didn’t see the point in ever personally being in a relationship. Yet, as he spent time with Barney back in Black Mesa, he never complained about being around him. Actively sought it out. Found it interesting how Barney would act around him compared to others.

Why hadn’t it waned while he was in stasis? For all Barney knew he could’ve been dead. And to think he cared so deeply for their children, even after how they were conceived… Gordon doesn’t get it.

“I want to be with you.” Gordon finally says.

Barney scoffs, rolls his eyes.

Gordon continues when Barney, sensing more, begrudgingly looks back. “I want to be with you, but your infatuation makes it hard for me to trust you.”

Barney’s lip twists, “You saying I love too much?” There’s less anger in his voice, but it’s still there. “You’re all I had, for the longest time, okay? I didn’t think it’d ever… come to fruition. Didn’t expect it to. Back then… I was just some dirty fag no one wanted to be around and you… you and Kleiner and Eli didn’t care, no matter the rumors.” He touches the scar on his other cheek. “I could keep it hidden… I could be the rock for everyone to stand on. But then you came back and- and we got close again. And closer… and I wanted more, like never before.”

His jaw shivers, his eyes shine.

“I can’t take anything back, but I don’t have anything anymore.”

Gordon sits for a long moment, mind churning.

Without another word, he stands up, shuffles close to him. And lays down next to him.

He lays his head down over him while Barney sobs.

[allbark-no-bite]

Meet Me In the Middle || Elvis Presley x reader

summary: it is all too easy to give and take when the lines of platonic love become blurred. or in which you’ll alway be Elvis’ little girl

warnings: 18+, sexual content, mentions of blood, loss of virginity, the usual swearing

word count: 5k

author’s note: low key I’m really proud of this one. thank you all for the love and support i received on my last fic <33 i literally have so many elvis ideas but not enough time to write them. would y’all want some shorter fics too?

—

Summer was sharing sweet orange slices from the farmers market and the sticky juice that trailed down our arms. Summer was playing tag in the front yard, tousling like rabbits in the the green grass. Summer was late nights spent listening to records together on my full sized bed.

Summer was Elvis. Until it wasn't.

One late night in 1957, summer became the three month notice of a court ordered draft. Summer became the worst three months of my entire life.

—

"You're not actually gonna go though, right, El?" I'm standing at the bottom of the stair case, feet cemented to the last step as I wait for his reply.

Elvis and his mama and daddy all look up at me from where they're gathered in the living room. He drops the hand holding the paper to his side, as if hiding it from my sight would erase it from my mind. Uncomfortably, he clears his throat.

I swivel my head, looking from his mama and then back to Elvis. No one moves to speak, and I break the building tension again as I realize what their silence means. "Elvis!"

He sighs, lifting his hand to rub his brow. "I've got to go, darlin’. I can't—"

I stomp my foot against the wooden staircase and it makes a loud thud that echos through the house. "Tell them you can't! You can't go—you can't leave us!"

Obviously becoming frustrated, Elvis takes a few steps towards the stairwell, waving his draft notice at me. "I've got no choice, alright? It's that or they fucking arrest me!"

"UGH!" I screech, turning on my heels and stomping up the stairs. It's childish of me but had I stayed planted there any longer, the tears burning in the back of my eyes would have made their appearance, and I don’t want him to see me cry.

Elvis shouts after me. "C'mon, really, [y/n]? You're gonna cry? Get back down here!"

I stomp louder, ignoring him, and storm into my room. I slam the door once I'm inside. Elvis hated it when I slammed doors. Once I reach my bed, I rip the sheets off of it and then clamp them shut around me. Only then do I allow the burning tears to start down my face.

Germany. He was going to Germany. Out of the millions of people in the world, what were the odds that they pulled his name. Apparently pretty damn good. What was he thinking? Elvis couldn't fight in a war. Surely the Colonel would have something to say about this. As much as I hated my stepdad, I was certain this was something we could agree on.

My mama had married young. It was a fairytale story in which she'd fallen madly in love with my daddy her senior year of high school and dropped out to marry him then and there. My daddy had been dealt a good set of cards by his own father and was a very successful lawyer down in New Orleans. He died of a heart attack when I was five, leaving my momma his entire inheritance. A few years later, she married a Mr. Colonel Tom Parker. My momma was beautiful, but he had married her for the money. He proved my point by divorcing her two years later, leaving me stuck between two homes.

I loathed the summers that I would be sent to spend with my stepdad. He'd never done ill to me, but again I had little reason to like him either. He tolerated me for three months of the year as his form of child support, and I spent weeks dreading following him and his little circus act around for the sake of 'show business'. That was until I met his up and coming act Elvis Presley.

Once Elvis blew up, the Colonel finally set aside his circus life and moved us to Graceland to focus on the young star full time. Suddenly, I found myself looking forward to leaving behind my mother's beautiful Louisiana estate and spending more and more time in Memphis, Tennessee.

But if I had ever learned anything about my stepfather, it was that he would do anything for the sake of business. Which is why instead of shutting down Elvis' ridiculous notion that he was going to enlist in the army, he encouraged it, hoping to make him some sort of all American hero or whatever he called it.

We throw Elvis a going away party the night before he ships off for Germany. I refuse to attend, spending the evening moping in my bedroom. The happy chatter and music coming from downstairs only serve to worsen my mood.

I wish everyone would just go home so I could sulk in peace.

I kick off the shoes I had worn for the evening and sit with my legs crossed a top my bed. A tattered flannel dog sits where I had left it on my pillow last night, and I pick it up, realizing I had forgotten to put it away.

Elvis had given me the plush dog at the end of the first summer I spent at Graceland. Something to remember him by back home, he had said. For a long time, I never went anywhere without it. But I'd eventually forgotten about the dog and didn't touch it for years. I'd started carrying it around again now that he was leaving.

Knuckles rap softly at my door, but before I can even stand up to answer it, Elvis is pushing the door open and stepping hesitantly into my bedroom.

I glare at him, dropping the flannel stuffed animal to the ground. "I didn't say you could come in."

He ignores my harsh rebuke and crouches down to retrieve the stuffed dog. Methodically, as if lost in a memory, he turns the plush toy over in his hands. I watch as his fingers muse with the soft flannel of the dog's ear. Standing up, he slowly walks towards the bed. "I don't wanna fight tonight."

I turn my head. Between his freshly cut hair and crisp uniform, it's all too much.

The bed dips underneath me, and Elvis places the toy in my lap. "I haven't seen this thing in a while," he comments, prompting me in a futile attempt to get me to talk.

I just shrug, still not looking directly at him. Because I can't tell him that I haven't slept without the stupid plush dog in months now. Can't tell him that because I don't want him to think I'm just some dumb little kid.

"C'mon," Elvis persists, a playful tone to his voice as he nudges his elbow into my side. "Don't go tellin' me you're too grown for that kinda stuff now, lil’ girl."

I set the dog off of my lap, as if wanting to remove it from view and out of the conversation.

"I'll be too grown by the time you're comin' home. Turnin' eighteen next year," I point out bitterly, reminding him that he's missing my birthday.

Elvis is quiet for a moment. "Eighteen don't mean all that much," he finally says. "You'll still be my lil’ girl."

His little girl. His dumb kid sister. It's all just the same, I think. That is all he will ever think of me.

I'd been counting down the days until I turned eighteen, waiting for that growth spurt, waiting for puberty to hit, waiting for the day that I could shake him awake and say, Look. Look at how much I've changed. I'm not your kid sister anymore. I don't want to be your kid sister anymore.

I'd always been his 'lil’ girl'. And for a long time that had been okay. I was fourteen when I permanently moved into Graceland. We were practically raised together. We were best friends and fought like brother and sister. But now that I was older, it was hard to see him like that anymore. He was still my best friend in the entire world, but I'd grown, and I understood a lot more than I did when I was fourteen. I noticed the sharpness of his face now, the childlike roundness gone. I noticed the new fullness of his body and how it balanced out his once lanky frame.

He'd become a man without me realizing it, and I desperately didn't want to be his little sister anymore. But now that he was leaving, none of it mattered. I'd grow up without him there to see it, and he'd move on, find some nice girl in Germany.

Elvis tilts his head, trying to smile at me, his soft pink lips pressed together. "I'll throw you a big party when I get back, yeah? Mama'll make you a cake, and we'll sing 'happy birthday' even if it's the middle of June."

I bite my lip and laugh, thinking about how ridiculous it would be because I know that he's being serious.

God, I'm gonna miss him.

"Two years isn't so long," my voice cracks, and I laugh through the sob as I finally turn towards him. "Right?"

Elvis smiles. "I'll be back before you know it."

—

The day Elvis came back was a cold day in Memphis, Tennessee. The warm weather of budding summer had yet to come, leaving us all bundled up in heavy coats as we waited amongst crowds and crowds of people at the train station. But then again, summers had never been quite the same since Elvis left two years ago.

Gladys held onto my elbow beside me, and I would point out in the direction of each new train that appeared. To my left was my boyfriend of six months. We had met due to some mutual friends and hit it off pretty quickly. He was no Elvis, and so I had been hesitant at first, but he was persistent in asking me out for weeks. I had finally relented, and he surprised me. He was good to me.

"Oh look!" Gladys exclaimed, patting my hand and drawing my attention back to the tracks. "That's him!"

A black train engine approached us, slowing down as it neared and stopped at the station in a whoosh of steam. After a bustle of excitement at the side of the loading dock, I caught a glimpse of his dark black hair. With the help of the conductor and a couple police officers, Elvis began to push his way through the crowd.

He greeted him mama first, hugged her tightly and unabashedly let her kiss his cheeks as he stooped to reach her. He'd grown a lot in two years. Next was his daddy, who's hand he shook firmly and then leaned in, clapping him on the back.

When he got to me, he hugged me like a big brother would do, slinging a heavy arm around my shoulders and drawing me into his side to place a smooched kiss to the top of my head. And then when he pulled away and caught sight of my boyfriend standing at my side, he hardened his blue eyes and squared his shoulders in that same big brotherly fashion, stiffly holding his hand out to shake. If he was angry with me—as he should have been—he didn't show it. I hadn't told him about my boyfriend, but I assumed Gladys had let him on about it.

Moving on after an awkwardly stiff handshake, Elvis greeted the Colonel as well as Sonny and Jerry, and then gathered his things. We went home and life went back normal, exactly as it was before Elvis had left. Everything went back to how it was. We laughed and joked and quarreled as we did before he left, and pretended to ignore the problem the presence of my boyfriend proposed.

For most, Elvis and I’d closeness would have likely torn apart any romantic relationships. We were too comfortable with each other to just be friends, and yet that’s what we where. That’s what we had to be. We took what we could get.

—

What I would have done had I not stumbled into the wall, likely waking up the entire house and causing Elvis to stick his head out of his bedroom door, I honestly don't know. I wouldn't have called him, I think to myself, because brothers aren't supposed to know that their little sister's in bed with a boy. But he's not my brother, and I don't have a choice because before the words leave my mouth, he's pulling me into his bedroom, shielding me from everything except for the view of his wide shoulders that are wedged between the doorframe.

My legs are shaking. My entire body is shaking. I'm lightheaded from crying and my chest burns from all the hyperventilating I was doing moments before. The insides of my legs tingle, and I realize it's because liquid is dripping down them. I don't want to know what color it is. Neither is good, I think.

Out in the hall, I can hear footsteps muffled against the carpeted floor. "[y/n] run off in there?"

Elvis steps further out of the door, still using his body to block me from view. "She got a reason to be runnin'?" His voice is dangerously monotone.

I hear the other voice scoff. He must be standing out in the hall, a safe distance from Elvis. "Look, I didn't do nothin' she didn't ask for."

Elvis looks back at me from over his shoulder, taking in my current state under his gaze. My face burns with shame and humiliation.

His eyeliner black eyes are steely, almost murderously calm. It's the look of someone who's about to kill a man. I know that he notices my lack of shorts and half unbuttoned night shirt because it's his. Stolen from Elvis long ago, it's just long enough to cover the curve of my ass and enough to hide the fact that I'm not even wearing panties. And maybe that is why he doesn't kill the boy on the other side of the door then and there.

"Get out of my goddamn house."

"I didn't—"

"Get out before I break your fucking face in," he snarls.

The noise is enough to stir Jerry, who pokes his head up the stairwell. Ever the peacekeeper, I hear his mellow voice float down the hall. "EP? Everything okay?"

Never breaking eye contact with the boy, Elvis' voice has returned to the chillingly quiet tone. "Get to stepping, pal," he growls. I can picture his face, white teeth bared into a menacing snarl like one of those dogs who's yard the postman stays away from.

There is a heavy pause in the conversation and then I hear loud footsteps descending the stairs. The front door slams shut.

The moment he retreats from the door, I'm clinging to him, grabbing at his soft satin shirt and hiccuping into his chest. His palm cradles the back of my head, hugging me into his body. His presence is comforting enough to stop my trembling, but when he pulls me away from his chest, another sob escapes my mouth.

"Please, you can't tell the Colonel, El." I reach for him again, just wanting to be held.

He holds my shoulder at arms length, worried blue eyes taking me in. "What happened, lil’ girl?"

Another sob rakes through my chest, tearing at my raw lungs and choking up my throat. My hand grabs at his shirt, desperate to hold on to him. "I thought I was ready. I really did." I'm swallowing spit as I talk, still trying to breathe and cry at the same time. "And then I couldn't— He wouldn't—"

Elvis' jaw hardens and he lets me push myself into his chest again, hushing my cries. "Okay, okay. It's okay, darlin'."

I hiccup into his shirt, pressing my cheek to his chest. The heavy thrum of his heart pounds against my ear. He's still breathing hard, holding me securely against him. "El, You can't—"

"I ain't gonna tell no one, lil’ girl, alright?" Elvis states firmly, as if to put my worries to an end once and for all.

"Hey." Elvis takes half a step backwards, doing his best to detach me from his body. I let out another halfhearted sob again, my eyes blurry and red from crying. "Hey—now, enough of that. Let's clean you up." His tone is firmer than I would have expected, but it works enough to sober me up.

I nod, emitting one last hiccup and dragging the backs of my hands over my eyes.

Walking into his bathroom, Elvis sits me down on the closed toilet seat and after running a wash rag under the warm sink water, crouches in front of me. Suddenly I'm in grade school again, waiting for him to clean my scraped knee because I never did know what was good for me.

"Gonna clean you up, 'kay, darlin'?" His tender blue eyes hold mine.

The wet clothe drips onto the ground and his finger tips ghost up my thigh, brushing aside the shirt bundled at my waist. I see his hands tremble, and he swallows as his eyes take in my bareness. He's realizing I'm not wearing panties. Elvis sniffs and squeezes my knee with one hand. Wordlessly, he brings the wash clothe softly between my thighs.

I twitch slightly at the sensation, wanting to mewl and push his hand away, but I remain still as he works. He won't look up at me as he tenderly drags the clothe between my legs, focused on ridding me of every memory of tonight.

It's a terribly strange experience, having someone who is so close to you care for you in such a compromising position. And yet there's a mutual understanding there that says, 'this is okay with me so long as it's okay with you'.

Finally, the feel of the clothe disappears, but Elvis remains crouched, his head between my knees. He's so close that I feel his breath on me.

I imagine his nose brushing my bare cunt.

The problem was that I was exactly the kind of pretty that he picked out in girls every weekend and sought out after shows, and we both knew it.

The problem was that I was his little girl who's boyfriends he ran off and runny nose he wiped.

He sighs and kisses the inside of each of my knees. "C'mon. Let's get you in the shower, lil’ girl." He sits back on his heels and stands up, tossing the red stained rag into the bin.

I watch from the toilet seat as he turns on the water for the shower that he doesn't even like. Elvis had a preference for baths and I knew because he alway requested a room with one wherever he stayed. The only reason he had a shower at Graceland was because it was easier to have sex in.

I knew this because I'd asked him one day as I laid sprawled across his mattress, flipping through a magazine. He was in the shower at the time, the door half ajar as he had left it, the steam of the shower spilling through the crack. His girlfriend had just left and he'd run upstairs, tossing his shirt on me as he went. He'd nearly had his jeans off before he even slipped through the bathroom door, and I'd caught a glimpse of his blue boxers.

A while after, as I listened to the spray of the water against the tiles, I'd asked him then and there, why he'd taken the room with the shower and given the other to Jerry.

"What?" he had asked distractedly, his voice raised so that I could hear him.

"How come you got a shower when you don't even like 'em?"

The spray of the shower head cut off and I could hear him moving around in the bathroom. Through the crack of the door, I could see his reflection in the mirror as he preened at his wet ebony hair.

"Just easier I recon. When you have a girl over, I mean."

Elvis was nearing the cusp of twenty himself and so the topic of sex was not new nor uncomfortable to him. Besides, I was just his kid sister.

I was sixteen at the time and had no real concept of what it meant to me when he brought girls over. I guess I knew that he never grew especially attached to any specific one, and they went out of his life just as quickly as they had come.

"Oh," was all that I had said afterwards, watching him as he walked out of the bathroom, his face flushed red, towel bunched in his hand. Instead of using it to dry off his hair, he tossed it into the laundry bin and grabbed a fresh one.

"Water's probably hot enough—," Elvis says, drawing me from my thoughts.

I tug at the rumpled collar of my—his—night shirt. "Will you..." I swallow away the knot in my throat. "Will you get in with me? I don't wanna..."

No. He's supposed to say no because someone's got to draw the line somewhere. We aren't kids anymore, no matter how desperately we both cling to the idea.

He pauses. "Yeah, sure, sweet thing."

I pull off the silky night shirt without a second thought. It was just Elvis and he'd probably seen me nearly naked a thousand times before. I can see him in the reflection of the mirror behind me, sliding off his own clothes and trying to avoid looking over in my direction. His is cock hard against his stomach.

"Go on," he says, ushering me into the shower, as though intent on pretending his body wasn't responding acutely to the situation. Elvis follows me in, his large frame taking up the bulk of the space.

Tangles of my wet hair falls in cascades down my shoulder. I let the stream pelt into my face, opening my mouth only to breathe and spitting out the water that enters. Rust tinged water swirls down the drain after running down my legs. A hiccup shakes my shoulders and more water flows into my mouth. I hadn't realized I was still crying.

Elvis' arms pull me into his chest, resting just under my breasts, and one hand slides up my throat, tipping my chin up so that I can breathe. "Hey." His bare skin feels foreign against my back. Forbidden in a sense. "Enough of that. Breathe, lil’ girl."

My head falls back limply against his shoulder, and I allow my eyes to close. The steady weight of Elvis' chin comes to rest in the joint of my neck and shoulder as he holds me close. One of his thumbs strokes the swell of my breast, just barley ghosting the bud of my nipple. Even in the hot shower, the action makes me shiver.

"I should have run him off after dinner. Shouldn't have boys around the house this late," he whispers softly.

"I'm grown now, Elvis," I remind him weakly. "I can do what I what."

"And you wanted him?"

I can feel the girth of his arousal against my back. He emits a small huff each time I move. Elvis runs a hand down my body, not stopping until his large fingers are splayed across the expanse of my stomach. His other hand still tweaks at my nipple, cupping the fullness of my breast in his palm.

It feels good enough to make my body feel like putty in his hands. I'd let those hands do anything to me.

"You know, you were the first boy to break my heart?" I say instead.

Elvis sighs heavily against my body, his fingers dig into the soft flesh of my belly. "You were too little, and I was grown," he says in his own way of answering me.

"And now?"

His hand slips from my stomach to slide around the curve of my ass, and he tips his head up to press his nose into my wet hair. "God, I hate the thought that his hands were on you. That he touched you."

I feel his puffy pink lips hover above the tender skin of my neck, his breath hot against my skin. His nose skims the shell of my ear, and he kisses the joint between my neck and shoulder. Elvis's hand travels back around my body, sinking lower lower, until his forefingers just barely ghost my bareness. I whimper as my sensitive cunt clenches around emptiness.

Elvis' mouth is hot against my ear. "Do you trust me?"

There are still faint smudges of dark mascara under my eyes, and I've only just stopped all the ragged, unsteady breathing. I’m still aching and tender. I think about how I didn't think twice about running into his arms, even if I was too ashamed to call for him myself. I'd trust him with my life.

I nod.

"Words. I need words."

I swallow, pressing my nose to the column of his throat. "I've always trusted you."

There's no tension between us as he rubs his fingers against my cunt, tenderly exploring the heat of me. There's no hurry as his fingers prod at my opening, feeling the tightness and resistance of my body. I reflexively push my hips into his hand when his thumb passes over my clit, sending jolts up my spine. The hand holding my body against him tightens, pulling me back into his chest, and he draws his hand away. His fingers spread and my arousal, tinged with red, clings between them. The spray of water slowly washes the color away.

I can feel his silent anger in every breath, how it stalls and then releases. It's evident in the way his body moves around me. "He didn't do nothin' wrong," I whisper timidly. "Just—it was too late by the time I realized I didn't want it to be him."

Elvis stills behind me, and his hand comes up to crane my chin around to look at him. His hooded blue eyes are questioning. "He didn't—"

I sniff embarrassedly, a broken huff of a laugh coming out of my mouth. "Pop my cherry? Not necessarily."

As if soaking in my words, Elvis observes my face, thumbing my bottom lip thoughtfully. Then he dips his head down, capturing my lips with his. His mouth is hot and he licks into my mouth. For a moment, I'm painfully conscious of my youth and the years of experience that he has on me. It's obvious that he's done this before, kissed a lot of girls before me. However, I could get drunk on his taste alone, and I go with it, building confidence as he groans into my mouth.

"Want you to do it, El." His large hands feel up and down my body, and he groans again.

"Yeah?" he asks breathily.

"Yeah."

I nearly stumble as he moves us together as one unit, and my back hits the cold wall of the shower. His body is on mine immediately, and I chase his lips, desperate to taste him again. Our mouths connect, consuming each other, savoring the taste.

A gasp escapes my mouth at the sensation of his fingers prodding at my entrance, but he swallows it, pushing in one finger and then adding another. It's uncomfortable at first, and I squirm at the stretch, but then he's curling his fingers and petting at my velvet walls and my vision swims. My eyes must literally roll into the back of my head because he laughs at me.

"That feel good, lil’ girl?" Elvis hums.

It does but it's not what I want.

My attention goes back to his cock, which still sprung alertly against his abdomen, except now it's a flushed red. The head engorged and swollen, begs to be touched, and when I do, it's Elvis' turn for his eyes to roll into the back of his head. I don't know what I'm doing, and he must realize that because he slides his fingers out of me and cradles my jaw, his other hand wrapping around my fist. With his large hand over mine, Elvis drags my hand rhythmically over his cock. I take a guess and drag my thumb over the tip. His hips buck into my fist.

"So good, sweet girl," he rasps in that throaty southern drawl. After stroking himself a while longer, Elvis pulls my hand away from his cock and instead interlocks our fingers above my head.

His eyes find mine, panting heavily in the sliver of space between us.  "I'll be gentle," he promises, and then he's pushing in, the head of his cock pressing deep inside me.

With the slick of my arousal, the stretch is bearable, and quickly turns in to pleasure when he rocks his hips slowly into me. I can feel him hot and full within me. His second thrust is more fluid than the last one, pulling out and then sliding back in one motion. Above my head, my hand squeezes his and he reciprocates the gesture. I keen into his shoulder, biting down each time he drags deliciously in and out of me.

"Doin' so good for me," Elvis praises, kissing my cheeks and neck and lips over and over again. His next thrust has my stomach coiling, bubbling with hot pleasure. When he leans in to kiss me once more, he capture my bottom lip between his teeth and then releases it, leaning in again to kiss the swollen flesh.

"El—" I can hardly utter a coherent sentence. "I'm—" I can feel myself slipping, my mind fogging up.

"It's okay, I've got you. Let go, lil' girl. You can let go."

It feels like a rubber band pops in my stomach, and I moan, clenching around him as I come. Soon Elvis is releasing inside of me as well, claiming my walls with his seed. When he pulls out, I whine at the feeling of emptiness.

Elvis is still pressed into me, as if our bodies have become one entity. His release runs down my legs and pools on the tiles of the shower. Exhausted, I collapse into him. We’re both spent, chests heaving, legs shaking.

He laughs, pecking my swollen lips. "Looks like you need another shower."

[fezrus]

Someone to blame (part one)

Summary : after Rue almost died from her overdose, you’re looking for someone to blame & end up fighting real bad with Fezco. You meet again a few weeks later, and well, the reunion is... interesting. 

Warnings : mentions of alcohol, drugs, lots of bad words, bit of fighting, bit of teasing 😇, reader being a bitch, fezco (my boy deserves a warning)

Pairing : FezxFem!Reader

Word count : 3k

Side Note : english is not my first language, feel free to tell me if you find mistakes or just weird sentences lol

You had been friends with Rue for years, at this point you were practically siblings. And this implied the good sides and the bad ones. You shared the same kind of humor – a great mix of sarcasm and self-depreciation – and knew you could trust each other with your lives. But there were also more complicated moments, Rue overdosing on pills being the latest. Speaking of drugs, she actually introduced you to Fez a few months before it happened.

The guy wasn't the most talkative or expressive, but he had always been courteous in his own way. You had wondered many times how someone so gentle and calm in appearance could lead such a life, punctuated by violence and despair.

You were never that close but talked a bit and had a laugh at every party you both went to, and you hung out a few times with Rue. He was chill, and you got along pretty well, even found him cute at times. That is, until you saw your dearest friend laying unconscious in a hospital bed because of the shit he sold her.

Back then, you really thought she was going to die. Seeing her in that bed had awakened a rage and a disgust in you that you had not thought you'd ever be able to feel before that day. You showed up at Fezco's place the next morning and things went pretty far. You basically called him a murderer, screaming and calling him names, which led him to shout back and things were said and never forgotten on both sides.

He was an irresponsible and disgusting brainless criminal, you were a spoiled and fucking ignorant kid who knew nothing about life. From this day on, you hadn't spoken a word to each other, despite crossing paths a few times during the last few weeks.

Had you known he’d be there tonight, you probably wouldn’t have come.

────────────────────────────

It looked like a scene from a movie, the place was full of people, the music was too loud and the lights were blinding. There were people smoking on the roof, others making out on the hoods of cars, and you chose not to see what was going on in the pool. Jules, with whom you had come, was jumping enthusiastically next to you. “This is gonna be so fun,” she smiled, her big bright eyes looking right at you as you were entering the house. “Come on you need a drink! And then we'll break the dancefloor.”

“Alright,” you laughed a bit, her excitement being contagious, “I’ll get us some drinks, you go and try to find Rue.” The both of them had a relationship that was quite difficult to qualify, even if they hadn’t known each other for a very long time. Rue's obsession with Jules made you a little suspicious at first, you were maybe a little afraid that she would replace you for a moment, but you soon realized that their relationship had nothing to do with yours. Even though deep down you knew that this co-dependency between your two friends was not healthy, you couldn't help but be happy for them, and Rue was doing better. 

You manage to make your way to the kitchen, where you quickly find a bottle that suits you on the table. You were about to pour yourself a drink when a small brown-haired sparkly tornado hit you head-on. She smelled a little like alcohol and could barely stand up, smiling from ear to ear as she wrapped her arms around you.

“What the hell Maddy ?” You ask, managing to find your balance back.

“I’m so happy you’re here bitch,” she simply answers, making you laugh. “I need your help with something,” she adds while giving you the puppy-eyes look.

Between a few incomprehensible words due to the alcohol in her body, you understand that she’s asking you to find her something to smoke, a favor she had done you at the previous party. You groan as you fill the glass you grabbed, taking a shot to give you the strength to get to work. You clearly have other things to do but you know Maddy well, and if you don't do it back for her as you promised you would, you know she won't stop complaining and she won't leave you alone. “Fine just wait here until I get back, and try not to drink more, right ?” And with that, you go in search of the holy grail, or in this case, the holy weed.

Now there are multiple ways you can find what you're looking for, you could just use your charms and get if from some random dude, but you don't feel like flirting tonight. And the easiest way to buy drugs is standing a few feet from you, outside by the bay window. “Fuck me.” You huff, cursing yourself for only taking one shot. Your heels click on the ground as you approach until you plant yourself in front of the redhead, whose fresh cut displays his scar even more.

He stares at you with suspicion, and then looks quickly around him as to make sure it is really him you want to speak to. 

“What's up Y/N ?” he simply questions, his blunt still between his lips.

His usual nonchalance surprises you nonetheless, given your last somewhat hectic exchange. However, you decide to get it over with as quickly as possible and get straight to the point. 

"I need some weed," you sigh, knowing full well that this request would make you lose the credibility you had when you yelled at him about the drugs, even if it is 'just' weed in that case. He looks a bit surprised, one eyebrow raised. "It’s for Maddy,” you add.

“You sure? I ain't want you to come and knock on my door tomorrow calling me names cause I gave you the stuff you asked for.” His blue eyes are locked in yours, and you don't know if he's teasing you or if he really wants to know if you're sure of yourself. 

You cross your arms over your chest, already annoyed and eager to find your friends, drink and forget this conversation and the previous one. “Don't worry about that,” you respond, “I don't want to have anything to do with you, so please just stick to doing your job right now, right?” 

“Am not here to make friends either, now just pay for the damn thing or imma find someone else to buy it.” He doesn't want to be around you either, that's for sure, but he’s still pretty polite as usual. You know you kinda hurt him, but he did too, plus you're too annoyed by his attitude right now to feel bad. His words just have a way of bringing out that side of you that tends to piss people off pretty well : the sarcastic little shit. 

“Don't act all indifferent now Fez, we both know you'd love to be my friend.” You provoke him, a fake smile on your face and you tilt your head, placing your hand on his bicep, while his arms are still crossed.

He can't help but sigh, moving away from the wall he was leaning against and leaning toward you instead. You stand straight, defying him. “Look, imma be honest with you. Being a bitter depressive kid giving lessons on shit you know nothing about don't sound like a real interesting occupation to me y'know?” 

“Yeah cause selling drugs to those depressive kids is such a respectable one.” You immediately spit back, making him look down for a second. Touché. 

“I really don't wanna fuck with you right now Y/N." You must have come a little closer with every shot fired because now you can feel his annoyed and warm breath on your face, your eyes still locked. He takes the last hit of his joint before throwing it to the ground, stepping back as if to prevent the situation from going any further. He grabs a little bag from his back pocket, and holds hit between his fingers. “Just pay for the damn thing and go back to your shit, I'll go back to mine.”

His tone is more tired than threatening, but it still makes you shiver. Fez wasn't usually one to get mad, to threaten with his hands, he always spoke slowly in a way that still let you know he wasn't messing around.The tension is palpable, your fists and his jaw clenched to the point where it could have snapped. Your contempt disguised as sarcasm did not please him, obviously, but the more he responded to it, the more he made you want to infuriate him for real. 

You hand him the money before taking the bag from his hands. "Alright, I wouldn't want to stop you from handing out overdoses for a few bills," you conclude before starting to leave. 

Rubbing his temples, he finally speaks again, loud enough so that you can hear him behind you. 

“Damn Y/N, why d’you have to be like this ? Why you giving me all the blame and shit ?” You stop walking, your back still facing him. “Am not sayin what she did was completely her fault, I know I’m part of this too. I felt like shit, like real bad, you know she’s family. But now you been treatin me like I did it on purpose when you know damn well I didn't.”

You don't know if it's the booze starting to kick in or just the emotions you bottled up these past few weeks, but at this moment you feel particularly exhausted by the situation. Yes, you resent him for spending his time distributing drugs to people you love. You did blame Rue for a while too, you screamed, cried, and you also blamed yourself - you still do - for not having seen how bad she was doing. But Fez, the lovely guy you got to know a little, who said he was like her brother, and who gave her the drug that landed her in the hospital? He was right, you knew deep down it wasn’t really his fault, but you couldn't help but be overly mad at him.

“You can act all nice as much as you want Fez.” You shrug, turning around to face him. "But you can't do what you do and pretend you care about those people.”

You see him nod silently. Seconds pass before he finally says something back.

"Sounds like you're just tryin to find someone to punish now." He's staring at you, his hands in his pockets "It's alright, make me the bad guy. But don't say I don't fucking care about her ever again, right?"

As you process what he's saying, you can only realise he's stating facts. You're not angry at him for giving the damn pills to your friend, you're looking for a culprit and he's easy to blame. But it's just something about him, about the way he responds to the shots you fire at him, it's physical, you can't help but keep fighting and fighting and wanting for more. Are you actually being a dramatic judgemental little bitch? Absolutely. Will you ever admit that he's kinda right and you know it, and that he's hot as hell when you piss him off like that ? Absolutely not. Is it a good enough reason to keep acting that way? Certainly.

“Yes sir.” You roll your eyes before turning on your heels, leaving the redhead and heading for the kitchen.

────────────────────────────

I's three in the morning and you're a complete mess. After giving Maddy her weed, you've done nothing but drink, dance, and drink again. You don’t even know how many shots you've had, but your lack of balance indicates that the amount must be important. 

Your body moves to the rhythm of the music, your hips undulating in a sensual choreography. Masculine hands move around your waist, which you quickly brush away to join Cassie dancing on the table. Putting on a show is not exactly an habit of yours, but at the moment, you just feel like having a good time and not caring about nothing else.The little blonde moves against you, laughing and flipping her hair as the crowd around you whistles and admires the show you’re offering. Among the people, in the corner of the room, you notice a familiar figure already watching you. He's still smoking, shaking his head in amusement or in disapproval -you’re not sure-, to which you respond with a middle finger and a provocative wink.

When the song comes to an end, you get off the table to some applause and head to the nearest exit to the garden, feeling the need for fresh air. Your steps are uncertain but you manage to get outside, sitting on a deckchair by the pool.

“It doesn’t really suit you, y’know,” you hear Fezco say as he sits on the other side of the chair, a small smirk on his face. He looks a little high, more relaxed.

“What ?” You frown, turning to sit directly across from him. 

“The whole ‘look I smoke weed and I’m wild’ kinda shit.” He shrugs, giving you a side look.

“I never asked you to look,” you argue, alcohol probably making you a little more touchy than usual.

His body is still not facing you, but he turns his head so his eyes meet yours. “You’re kinda hard to miss when you’re behavin’ like that,” he remarks, his gaze now on the little dress Jules had chosen for you. “Was a very pleasant sight, I gotta admit.” 

You feel your cheeks starting to burn and quickly look away, rolling your eyes. The effect this guy had on you with just a few words, damnit. He’s a dick, you try to convince yourself, don’t smile like an idiot. You want to come up with something witty or sarcastic to say but really you’re just dumbfounded. And he likes it. “Thanks, I guess.” You whisper without thinking too much, still a bit confused. It's been rare for you to be quiet and likeable since the latest events, so he takes the opportunity to speak again, his voice strangely pleasant.

“Why you always acting stupid like earlier? When deep down you're really just cute and shit,” he sighs, his blue eyes on you as you’re looking down to avoid them. “It's like you enjoy being a fucking brat to me, pissing me off. You like that, don't ya?”

You look up to meet his gaze, intense and curious. Somehow, hearing him call you a brat and talk to you that way feels really good. Is this motherfucker really turning you on and calling you out at the same time without even trying? You don’t know if he’s intentionnaly playing with you right now, but he seems to enjoy the effect he has on you, as you struggle to hide it. You quickly get up to try and regain some composure, there's no way you're going to let him have that power, all of this wouldn't even happen if it weren't for all the drinks you've had.

“You wish, loverboy.” You retort, a playful smile on your lips. “I'm gonna start thinking you fancy me now Fez, thought I was a spoiled ignorant idiot,” you quote.

You hear him laugh a little, and he stands up too to stand right in front of you. “You are.” He grins, getting closer. “You're fucking infuriating,” he adds, his body so close to yours now, “exasperating,” he whispers in your ear, without ever touching you. You close your eyes shut and feel the shivers sliding down your spine, a sigh of contentment slipping from your parted lips while his mouth brushes the skin of your neck. “naughty, even” he finally adds as you feel his wet and rough lips so close to your jaw. You’re a mess, the heat on your cheeks is nothing compared to what you’re feeling down your stomach, between your thighs. Not so innocent and nice now is he ? You take a deep breath and manage to raise your hand, placing your finger under his chin, lifting it up a little so he looks you straight in the eye, your noses almost touching. You need to end this right now, before it goes too far, before you can’t resist the urge to angry fuck the shit out of him here and now. He’s a dick, you can’t let him win. You have to be the one in control.

“You're not fucking me tonight Fez.” You breathe, your tongue clicking in your mouth. ”I ain't got five minutes to waste for you.”

You turn around to leave but you haven’t even taken the first step when he grabs your arm, gently but firmly, and you feel his body pressing against your back.

“You can insult me all you want but don’t ya underestimate me,” he whispers in your ear, his warm breath crashing against the skin of your neck. "If I were to fuck you, I'd do it properly." The words his hoarse voice whispers make you gasp, you suddenly feel completely naked, at his mercy. You can feel the warmth more and more down your stomach, as his hand brushes your arm, then your shoulder, before moving down to your hip, his fingertips playing with the fabric of your dress with such a slight touch that you don’t know if it’s even real. “I’d take my time, give you what you deserve.”

He doesn't give you the time to process what he just said and steps back, then walks past you to head inside, a winning smile on his lips.

“You enjoy the rest of the night Y/N.” 

And before you know it, he’s left you standing here, flustered and desperate for more.

What the fuck just happened?

[pokegalla]

New idea from @theneurodivergentdummy

It was a very fluffy idea. I just HAD to write it. Enjoy chaotic fluff!!!

Family Comes First

“Tamaaaaaaaa! I’m booooooored”

Saitama glanced back from his manga, “Hi bored. I’m Saitama.”

(Y/n) glared at him and went to the fridge, with ill intent. She knew Saitama was abnormal in his strength and reflects, but he always lets his guard around her. She grabbed a slice of cheese and yeeted it across the room. It landed on Saitama’s head….with a loud slap.

“(Y/N)!!!!” He shouted.

“Oh alas! The caped baldy has been defeated! But eh….,” (Y/n) made a shit eating grin, “I like yah cut G-“ She ran as Saitama chased her around the small apartment. He managed to nab her but Genos suddenly broke into the wall.

“Master! I have heard screams. Are you in danger?!” He shouted. He looked to see Saitama about to throw her over the couch.

Genos sweat dropped, “Oh….false alarm then.”

“Gigi!!!” (Y/n) shouted excitingly. Saitama threw her but towards Genos to which he caught her.

“What have I told you about messing with my master, Ms.(Y/n)?” Genos asked sternly. He sighed when she pouted, “Please act your age. You are around my age. You must act accordingly.”

“Hmmmm….no~,” (Y/n) said. She got down from his arms and grabbed her belongings, “I’m off Tama! There’s a sale on ice cream today!”

“Atta girl! Get those sales!” Saitama said proudly, “Just be careful, k?”

(Y/n) smiled, “Ok~!”

She happily trotted away as they watched, “….Master? I have been meaning to ask you. What is your relations to this girl? How come she has been staying here?”

Saitama stretched, “Oh yeah mmm forgot to tell yah….she’s my niece. She’s going to be staying here from now on. Her folks just died recently from a threat level demon.”

Genos looked shocked, “Really? I-Is she alright?”

Saitama smiled, “She’s a tough one Genos. She won’t let it bother her.”

“Oh….it is still very unfortunate. But that is very nice of you to take her under your wing Master,” Genos added.

Saitama looked slightly embarrassed, “Well yeah she’s family so….I mean she and I were close when we were younger. Wanted to be heros too. But we never got powers. I trained but she’s just living life without a care, enjoying it to the fullest. Kinda envious of her really….” He noticed Genos wasn’t paying attention, “OH COME ON!!! I’m having a heart to heart talk you jackass! At least enjoy it while it lasts!!!”

Genos simply points at the tv, “M-Master….look”

Saitama looked in an annoyed huff only to freeze up. On the tv was a young girl sizing up a monster, waving a gun around and flipping it off. Oh no….

“That’s her isn’t it?” Saitama asked.

Geno nodded, “She’s….not going to actually engage in combat is she?”

“Yup. She would,” Saitama said, popping the p. They looked at each other then RUSHED to get over there. “Dammit kid-!!!”

The sun was already going down. Genos was injured again but not too badly this time. Saitama had him hold himself up with his shoulders to help him walk while (Y/n) was being carried in one arm. They rushed to save her….and they were surprised to see she managed to take down the ringleader with the gun. Unfortunately the minions weren’t too happy about that….luckily Saitama took them out in seconds.

“Mind telling me where you got a GUN from,” Saitama asked.

“Oh right! Guess this is kinda random huh? My dad made this for me in case I’m in trouble since I don’t have powers,” (Y/n) smiled sweetly, “Pretty nifty huh? My old man was a smart guy. It’s very special to me….”

Saitama stared at her thoughtfully before sighing, “Jeez next time warn me about stuff like that. Can’t have you running around with a gun like that. Do you even have a license for that?”

(Y/n) gulped, “Oh….right. That’s a thing.”

“Oh great. First you get ballsy and try to face a whole monster group by yourself, but you also RUN AROUND THE CITY WITH AN UNLICENSED GUN. What you want to get arrested?!” Saitama shouted.

“I BEAT HIM DIDN’T I?!” (Y/n) shouted back, “And I lost my ice cream cause of you! Can’t you be a LITTLE more careful where you punch?!” They kept going back and forth until Genos waved a few dollar bills in front of our faces.

“Do not worry. We can buy ice cream in the nearest grocer at 0.5 miles. We can get there in 2 minutes and 45 seconds with my turbo boosters or at approximately 25 seconds with Master’s speed,” Genos explained. Saitama and (Y/n) exchanged glances.

Saitama shrugged, “Sure. I’ll run. Just take it easy Genos.”

“Thank you Gigi,” (Y/n) said happily.

And they went to buy their ice cream. People gave them odd looks but they couldn’t care less as they happily munched on ice cream and headed home.

[spikybanana]

@wolfstarmicrofic - prompt: nourished - Persephone/HoTS (yesterday's microfic) part 2 because it's entirely too easy to get me to do something. under the cut because it's sorta long. (and now cheekily on ao3)

“She was the goddess of spring, her spirits nourished the earth.” Peter, duly and begrudgingly cast as narrator #4, droned from centre stage. And as he read flatly from the script, Sirius wandered the side of the stage in a flowing dress and with a flower basket in his hands. “The flowers bloomed for her, the birds sang for her, and as it came to be, the winter winds wailed for her.”

Then, suddenly, Sirius paused in his steps, and turned to look, as though with love-struck wonder, straight at where Remus stood in the shadows. Sirius smiled, and for a moment, Remus’ heartbeat died in his chest before he remembered. It’s the damned script. Fucking hell, he thought, get a hold of yourself.

Peter had continued in the background. “And he— was the King of the shadows. The demure, silent creature who emerged only in the moonlight—”

When Remus’ side of the stage stayed empty, Peter sighed long-sufferingly, before repeating, dragging his words, “he was— the King— of the shadows—”

Oh shit. Only then did Remus remember to run on stage, very much un-demure and un-silent.

Sirius sniggered, and Mary poked her head out of the orchestral pit, halfway through a screaming match with Regulus about the overture arrangement, and shouted, “Remus Lupin! You missed your cue! Again!”

“Alright alright I’m sorry!” Remus said frustratedly, “I was distracted!”

Peter whipped the script down, spun to him, “oh really. Were you now?”

Remus was saved from answering by a loud crash that sounded from above them. Their moon had fallen off its hinges again, and was now hanging entirely by the safety wires from the bars on the ceiling.

“Sorry!” Frank called, running up the ladder, “I’m on it!”

Remus vaguely wondered, for the dozenth time this rehearsal, why in the underworld were they allowed to do any of this; while Mary groaned. “All of you are making me regret my entire life.”

-

Remus knew it was coming, at some point, but he was surprised nonetheless.

“Act one, scene five, line three hundred and ten…” Mary dropped the script and looked with narrowed eyes between Sirius and Remus, “Now you kiss.”

“What?”

“You heard me, Remus! Haven’t you read the script?”

“Well, I—”

Everyone was watching. Scattered around the stage and lounging in the empty front rows. James, leaning against the cardboard stump of a prop-tree, looked at him with a funny little smile.

Sirius was grinning at him too, and Remus numbly stepped forward towards Sirius’ outstretched hand.

“Oh, come here, sweetheart.” Sirius pulled him in, cradled his face, placed a thumb at the corner of his mouth, before pressing his lips over it.

As quickly as it started, Sirius dropped his hands and stepped back, still grinning, though a little shakily. “Is this okay?”

For long, long seconds, Remus couldn’t chase away the lingering pressure of a soft thumb, soft lips barely on his cheek. “Okay.” he barely voiced, still too stunned. Dammit, it hadn’t even been a real kiss! “Yeah. This is okay. This works.”

Behind Sirius, James had let out a noise halfway between a groan and a laugh, “Come on, Remus, boss—” which he’d taken to call Remus ever since he got dragged in to play Hermes (because Mary had shot down the idea of him playing Sirius’ on-stage mother), “why do you look so scared! At least try to look like you’re into it! You’d think it’s Persephone abducting Hades!”

Remus shot him a scathing look, and deigned not mention how at least James wasn’t playing Zeus. He would have grown five toes in the face of Goddess Lily Evans.

“Actually, you know what?” Mary said, still perched on the stool considering them, “Keep it like this. It’s cute.”

“I mean it’s not like we can’t change it—” Remus began protesting.

“No, no, no. Remus. Listen, we’re going to make sure you act as little as possible, okay? It’s going to be fine.” Mary said, as though convincing herself.

-

Turns out, it was going to be all fine, but it also wasn’t. Miraculously, the play came together, with its MDF trees and the LED-on-MDF moon, and MDF-on-wheels scene changes. But as for Remus, every scene remained laced with a throbbing kind of yearning, and guilt churned in his chest with every line that was supposedly said to Persephone but really said to Sirius.

Eventually, he just couldn’t keep it all in. On the night of the first show, a mere half hour before the lights were due to go down, Remus felt the air shrink and shrink in the tiny dressing room he shared with Sirius until it popped the secret right out of him. The words spilled out of him in a rush, even as horror was rising in him at the sight of Sirius wordlessly staring at him.

But then, Sirius was stepping swiftly forward, drawing him into an embrace. And Remus had another half second of panicking thinking this has gone horribly wrong, before he felt Sirius’ breathy laughs on his neck, “Me too, Remus. I am ‘stupidly, horrendously infatuated with you’, too.”

Remus’ stomach did something indescribable like it was both soaring and dropping underground. He drew a sharp breath in. Sirius smelt like the perfumed fake flowers he carried in his basket but even that was wonderful. “Really?”

“Yes, really.” Sirius laughed softly, drawing back. “since forever, before you ask.”

“But I thought— there was no way you would— me?”

“Well you were the one who always looked so calm and nonchalant about everything, about all of this…”

“Me? Calm? Are you sure? You were the one who acts all chill, twirling around with a basket of wheat—”

“I thought I’ve been so obvious! I thought everyone could see it— I thought you did!”

“I— I just thought you were just such a good actor!”

“I thought you were such a good actor.”

“Okay. So we’re both shit actors.” Remus thought the dressing room definitely needed paddings on the walls, “But it’s fine. It’s working out.”

“Yeah. It is.” Sirius smirked, and leaned in to kiss him right on the mouth.

Just then, Marlene pounded on the door. “Got your mics!” She barged right in, giving the two of them no time at all to spring apart. Marlene took one look at them, blinked, dropped the mics on the table, and dug out her walkie-talkie. “Reporting code Wolfstar, guys. Everyone can calm the fuck down now.”

And from the the other end immediately came James’ very muffled, very excited shouts, “Oh thank the holy underworld fucking finally I mean I would say I told you so but even I was worried they’d not manage it—”

“What is going on?” Sirius with more amusement than confusion. Which Remus deeply admired.

Marlene simply shrugged. “Mics?”

And after that, they hadn’t managed to have a moment by themselves before the curtains rose. But Remus could tell it was different now, when every single glance shared with Sirius was a promise carefully held. The show went on splendidly. All through the first act, Frank’s ambitious lighting plan worked without a hitch. Only once did a microphone die, and only twice did someone forget their lines. But all of them were in their top form. No one stepped on the pomegranate, Remus hadn’t missed a single cue, and even the narrators didn’t sound bored. Remus felt electric, soaring off the crest of the waves of Regulus’ brilliant orchestration with Sirius in tow. At act one’s climax, when they were just about to reach towards each other for the kiss, time froze for a moment and Sirius’ smile curled just the bit differently, painted with a silent dare. Remus’ eyes widened.

And for the first time, instead of waiting for his summon, Remus strode forward in two long steps, held Sirius in his arms, and leaned in. Still clutching a pinch of doubt, he’d placed the kiss at the corner of Sirius’ mouth. But then, Sirius shifted and they were sharing a full-on kiss, fingers-in-hair and everything. The audience went wild, they were soon smiling too much, but their lips lingered on each other’s long after the curtains came down. They had about fifteen minutes before they were due on stage for act two, when Persephone had to be angry and homesick and Hades had to be depressed. But for now, they were SiriusandRemus and they had fifteen minutes.

Mary was on them, with crossed arms and the full MacDonald glare, when they were barely even off the stage. “Don’t you dare do anything during intermission.”

“Yeah okay we promise!” Remus said sheepishly, even as Sirius was already dragging him away.

“Pandora will personally kill you for ruining any of the costumes and I’m telling you,” Mary continued yelling after their retreating backs, “she might not look like much but she can be explosive and I swear to god Remus I’m expecting a letter of thanks and one of apology for psychological damage in the last month!”

Frank came to pat comfortingly on her shoulder. “Actors, am I right?”

Mary huffed. “They never figure out anything. Those idiots.”

“All’s well that ends well, no?”

“Oh, we’ll have to see.”

[lilxberry]

Hardly Burglar Material - Bilbo Baggins

Requested by: @donniethescienceguy​

Helloooooooo! Can I have a Bilbo x hobbit wife reader where after Thorin insults him (in the beginning when he arrives) she defends him and Thorins like: are you sure it’s the male Baggins we want?

I mean, I still did as what was requested but man, did I not know where tf this was going lmao

I followed quite a bit of the manuscript of the film, the only alteration is when reader confronts Thorin

Warnings: Nothing really. Asshole Thorin. Terrible writing lmao. 

Words: 1,796

Pairings: Bilbo Baggins x Reader (female reader) (wife!reader)

_______________

You hadn’t expected your quiet evening meal with your husband to be interrupted but when a dwarf, a big, burly, tattooed, balding, towering one at that knocks your door, there certainly isn’t much you can do.

After the dwarf, who introduced himself as Dwalin, had entered your home and devoured your husbands fish dinner, to which you offered Bilbo your own meal, more and more knocks sounded at the door, each one miffing your husband further and further until he had finally had enough.

“There’s nobody home!” he shouted as another sound came from the front door, arms holding up the abundance of weapons the two brothers’, Fíli and Kíli, loaded on to him.

You felt terrible, watching as your husband becomes frustrated, not knowing what to do other than spectate in concern.

He tossed the items down out of his arms as he stormed towards the door, shouting at whoever was on the other side. “Go away and bother somebody else! There are far too many dwarves in my dining room as it is.”

Bilbo closes in on the door. “I-I-If this is some plotheads idea of a joke,” he laughed in disbelief before grasping the door handle in his hand. “I can only say, it is in very poor taste.”

With that, he pulled the door open and in comes tumbling through the doorway a cluster of dwarves, all grumbling and whining at the other to get off of them. Bilbo and yourself, who stood a few steps behind, looked down at the mess of moving bodies on the floor before his feet, dumbfounded expressions on both of your faces.

Movement behind the pile up caught both yours and Bilbos’ attention, and once the tall figure bent down ever so slightly to reveal himself, your face twisted into that of utter confusion as your husband sighs in exasperation.

“Gandalf.”

_______________

Although you were concerned for your husband, you couldn’t help but find the whole situation quite amusing. You found some of the dwarven folk that had invaded your shared home to be quite a fun, entertaining bunch.

Of course, you were concerned about the possessions within your home, hoping that the dwarves leave your home relatively untouched and that your husband wouldn’t have some sort of mental breakdown.

Your uninvited guests had pillaged the pantry of its food. The race of dwarves certainly did have quite an appetite. Even Gandalf had nibbled on quite a bit of food.

The rowdiness of the dwarves had calmed slightly, if only for moment when they downed whatever drink they had. Even the ridiculous and frankly disgusting belching afterwards was calmer than their initial arrival.

Yet that was quickly replaced with plates, platers, knives, forks, and spoons were tossed from one dwarf to another as they sang a merry tune. Bilbo was quick with demanding caution and for things to be put down. Even you were slightly worried for your kitchen utensils.

The dwarves released hearty laughter when you and Bilbo peered into the kitchen and had seen that everything was clean and stacked, Gandalf chuckling along with them as both you and Bilbo simultaneously release sighs of relief.

Then, the atmosphere became tense as three, loud knocks sound at your front door for a final time that night.

The laughter died out instantly and Gandalf spoke quite ominously. “He’s here.”

_______________

You couldn’t really pinpoint what exactly was unsettled you so much when it came to the dark-haired dwarf who sat at the head of the table. Maybe his stature. Possibly his stoic expression.

Most likely the look behind his eyes.

Well, you certainly didn’t like him all that much whenever he addressed your husband.

Most of the conversation between the dwarves and Gandalf became muffled when reaching your ears, certainly seeing no point in listening in on their talk. The second your husbands voice rang out through the room though had piqued your interest and your attention was brought to the conversation.

They spoke of The Lonely Mountain, the dragon Smaug, how they were on a quest to reclaim their home. Gandalf had produced not only a map of some forts but a key, a key the dwarves seemed to become quite excited about.

You also happened to admire the young dwarfs’ courage. Ori.

Then, the topic of a burglar arrived.

“That’s why we need a burglar,” Ori spoke.

“Hmm, and a good one too. An expert I’d imagine.” Bilbo moves back from peering down at the map, holding on to his suspenders.

“And are you?”

Bilbo glances around to behind him before looking towards the dwarves once more. “Am I what?”

“He said he’s an expert!” Oin spoke cheerily. Of course, the dwarf with the horn to aid his hearing would say as such.

“Me? No, no, no, no, no,” your husband started, eyes darting to each dwarf, hoping his point would get across. “I’m not a burglar. I’ve never stolen a thing in my life.”

You nodded your head in agreement. As much as you love your husband, he is quite the stickler for following rules.

“I’m afraid I have to agree with Mister Baggins,” Balin was next to speak. “He’s hardly burglar material.”

You supressed a chuckle as Bilbo, although relieved that someone agreed, looked the tiniest bit offended.

The group of dwarves began to chatter and raise in volume, no words could actually be comprehended by yourself, it all a jumble of noises. Then Gandalf raised out of the seat slightly, his voice booming over the racket the dwarves created.

“ENOUGH! IF I SAY BILBO BAGGINS IS A BURGLAR,” he lowered his voice with each following word. “Then a burglar he is.” Bilbo looked as if he wanted to protest but no words left his mouth.

“Hobbits are remarkably light on their feet,” he continued. “In fact, they can pass by unseen by most if they chose. And while the dragon is accustomed to the smell of dwarf, the scent of a Hobbit is all but unknown to them which gives us an distinct advantage.”

The whole discussion about your husband was unnerving for you. You disliked how your husband was talked of like a ploy in some silly game.

“This quest is no place for gentlefolk.” Thorins’ tone was as if the words left a vile taste in his mouth, clearly showing his disgust for your husband. “He probably wouldn’t last 5 miles away from his precious little home. Look at him, Gandalf! He isn’t made for such things, it’s as clear as day. His big feet and rounded belly would slow us down. Your little Hobbit would cry out for home within a day.”

Your blood boiled with each word he spoke, an anger rising in you which you desperately tried to keep down. Your nails dug into the palms of your hands and your jaw was clenched tightly shut, but enough was enough.

“HOW DARE YOU SPEAK OF MY HUSBAND LIKE THAT?! NO LESS WHILST YOU ARE IN HIS HOME AND IN HIS PRESENCE!”

Your outburst caught the attention of every soul in the dining room around the table. Their eyes settled on your figure that stepped closer and closer to them up to the point where you stood glaring down at Thorin right beside his seat. Even Bilbos’ eyes were wide and looked almost ready to pop right out of their sockets.

“My husband may not be a fighter like you…you BRASS DWARVES! But he deserves no less respect. I will not stand for someone speaking down on my Bilbo in such a manner, even if they are some king,” you all but spat out.

Some of the dwarves looked offended that you spoke to their leader in such a way, others looked thoroughly shocked, surprised that a small thing as yourself had such a fire in you. Gandalf smirked as Bilbo looked like he genuinely feared for your safety. He had witnessed outbursts from you that scared him before, which were quite rare, you barely losing your temper, but for once, he was terrified of the consequences seeing as it wasn’t at him nor a fellow Hobbit.

But it was Thorins’ reaction that had you confused. He seemed…impressed?

Thorin turned towards Gandalf, a smirk of his own forming on his face. “Are you sure it was Mister Baggins you had wanted to join our quest?”

Gandalf chuckled and looked towards you and your husband, you now joined your side, who was silently scolding you with his eyes but nonetheless remaining the concerned, dotting husband. “I was certain on Mister Baggins being the 14th member of your company, but I would highly recommend you take a 15th as I believe Misses Baggins certainly has something of her own to bring to the quest.”

“They both have a great deal more to offer than any of you know, including themselves. You must trust me on this,” Gandalf finished.

Thorin looked at Gandalf and Gandalf at he for a moment, Thorin evidently mulling it over within his head before finally, he spoke. “Very well. We’ll do it your way. Give them the contract.”

Both yourself and Bilbo began to protest as Balin produced the document. He handed it over to Bilbo who unravelled the parchment and began to scan over the words, your eyes peering over his shoulder to read it for yourself.

As Bilbo and you busied yourselves with reading over the document, Thorin had leant over towards Gandalf to whisper within his ear. “I cannot guarantee their safety.”

“Understood,” Gandalf hummed in acknowledgement.

“You’ll be left responsible for their fate.”

“Agreed.”

Bilbo began to read aloud the text, brow furrowed out of concentration, your own face screwed up slightly, straining to peer at the words.

“Terms; cash on delivery up to but not exceeding 1 14th for total profit, if any. Seems fair, uhh-“

“Shouldn’t it be changed to 1 15th if I were to join?” you questioned aimlessly.

Bilbo nodded his head in agreement before continuing. “Present company shall not be liable for injuries inflicted by or sustained as a government, thereof including but not limited to; lacerations. Evisceration?” He unfolds a piece further, reading before looking towards the group with a look of disbelief. “Incineration?!”

“Oh, aye. It’d melt the flesh off your bones in the blink of an eye,” Bofur quipped with ease.

Many more ‘encouraging and reassuring’ words were spoken by Bofur, unnerving both yourself and Bilbo, though you hid it extremely well. The moment your husband passed out, was when Bofur seemed to finally relent.

“Oh dear.” You looked towards your husband laying on the floor unconscious with concern before turning towards the others with a worried expression.

Valar forbid you allow him to go with those dwarves and that conniving wizard alone.

_______________

.

.

.

.

.

I mean, I don’t really have anything to say sooooo

If you want to be added to a taglist lemme know

Anywho, I hope you enjoy

As always, constructive criticism and requests are welcomed and greatly appreciated :D

_______________

LOTR / The Hobbit taglist:

@iwazoomingouttahere​