#twig mini drabbles

[chilling-seavey]

Winter Warmers: Day 20 — Thigh Riding & Matching Pyjamas

↳ A/N: I got carried away with this one... Also, thank you to this anon who honestly helped inspire part of this idea!!  

↳ Summary: A night of tea and reading only lasts for so long in your house.

↳ Word Count: 1747

↳ Warnings: 18+, thigh riding (duh), minor dirty talk, mentions of spit, ruining clothes...

↳ Winter Warmers Prompt List | The Way It Goes Masterlist

George had never been that much of a reader but in the right moments, in the festively decorated living room, by the light of the fire and the glittering Christmas tree, with a mug of tea in hand and you tucked under his arm, nothing felt better than a good book. You both held a novel of your own in hands despite the way you were cuddled side by side, arms intertwined and balancing books and mugs, reading away. Only the crackling of the fireplace filled the serene night.

You had purchased your little family a matching set of Christmas pyjamas that year now that your son was somewhat old enough at almost two-years-old to fit into any of them. They were a wonderfully soft plaid of red and black, bottoms and a matching button up top, and the three of you looked straight out of a magazine when you wore them all together. The picture perfect family. It was something you had always dreamt of but never thought would be yours. Sometimes, life really did feel straight out of a novel. 

George’s lips pressing against your temple in a warm kiss pulled you out of the pages of your book. You glanced at him from under his arm with a fond, “What was that for?”

He shrugged, lifting his mug of tea to his lips, “Nothing.”

You snuggled closer into his side and his arm instinctively wrapped tighter around you until his forearm was tucked across your chest. His book was closed in his hand, forgotten about. Yours, on the other hand, was still very much open and very much interesting to you, drawing your eyes back to the scene printed on the pages. 

George read over your shoulder for a few moments before his fingers started wandering, caressing the soft material of your pyjama shirt until his thumb eventually found the bud of your nipple and he gave it a little swirl. You shifted to get him to move, your eyes still trained in on your page. 

But you could feel his breath on your neck with how much you were snuggled up beside him and between that and his wandering fingers, he was quite distracting. George leaned in towards you, kissing absentmindedly at the shell of your ear, underneath, down your neck, in feather-soft touches. His lips were extra warm from his tea, almost hot against your skin.

“What’re you doing?” you mumbled, squirming as his ghostly kisses made you shiver. 

“Nothing.” he repeated innocently. 

“Liar.” you announced without tearing your eyes away from your page. 

George gently pinched your nipple through your shirt. You flinched slightly, finally dropping your book so the pages straddled your thigh to keep your place, and you lolled your head back against his shoulder to look up at him with a pointed glare. He then kissed your nose, the apple of your cheek, the corner of your mouth that subsequently turned up at the corners at his affection. 

You puckered out your lips a little, a silent invitation. George licked his own briefly and then pressed a proper kiss to your awaiting lips, sharing one then two then three. 

“If you wanted attention, you could have just asked for it.” you reminded him.

“I didn’t want to interrupt; you looked so content.” protested George, his coy smile ever present on his handsome face. 

You scoffed and leaned forward to set your book and your mug of tea down on the coffee table, “You definitely still interrupted.” 

George’s mug and book joined yours and then you settled back under his arm, your hand falling naturally against the soft material of his plaid pyjama pants, right over his thigh. Your eyes met again, calm smiles, and then his hand reached up to tuck your hair behind your ear before trailing over your jaw. 

“You’re so beautiful.” he whispered adoringly. 

You scoffed bashfully, feeling that familiar flutter in your chest whenever he complimented you, and your fingers gently scratched over his thigh in silent appreciation. With a shared smile, you whispered back to him, “I love you.”

George’s smile only widened, “I love you more.”

Your reply was almost immediate, fingers dipping along the inner seam of his plaid pants as you gazed into his eyes with a playful sparkle, “No, you don’t.”

He laughed lightly, nodding, “Yes, I do.”

“No, you don’t.”

You were snuggled so close on the couch that you could feel his warm breaths falling against your cheek and when you turned to face him a little more, your leg draped over his and tucking between his knees, you could feel the momentary halt of his breath. His arm followed you around your shoulder, his eyes unwavering from your face like you were all he wanted to look at. His hand started to slowly rub up and down your bicep, creating a tingling sensual touch that had your heart flipping in your chest. 

George’s voice was a little lower when he finally replied, deep and velvety right up against your ear, “I guess we'll just have to agree to disagree, Mrs. Russell.”

The use of your married name never failed to turn you into putty in his hands and you broke into a bashful smile and hid your face in his neck. George just chuckled and took his arm from your shoulders to rub his large hand up and down your back lovingly while his other hand tangled in the back of your hair to keep you snuggled close. 

After just a moment, you pulled away from his neck to look him in the eyes again. There was so much to read behind his irises as he gazed at you like that in the warmth of the living room. Your fingers found home in the fabric of his pyjama shirt, right over his heart, rubbing gentle circles as you shared a loving gaze by the firelight. His hand slid from your hair to gently trace your jaw, slender fingers lingering at your chin to keep your face turned upwards towards his as his eyes flitted down to your lips. 

He took your chin between thumb and forefinger with a gentle tug just as he leaned in to meet you halfway, capturing your lips with his in a searing kiss. You inhaled sharply into the kiss, your hand flying from his chest to grab the side of his neck to keep his lips on yours. You met his eager pace with ease, even as his tongue pushed its way into your mouth. 

In the dizziness of his kiss, you could barely acknowledge his hand sliding down your back and over the curve of your ass in those plaid pyjama bottoms. He pulled away just enough to drop his palm down in a lazy smack. Your leg nudged up higher between his, body turning a little more until your crotch was just about pressed against the side of his thigh. 

George pulled away after a moment, greedy hands grabbing your hips to almost pull you onto his lap. You moved with his demands without protest, soon straddling his thigh with your arms strewn around his shoulders, pressed chest to chest, breathing in anticipation into each other’s mouths. His hands groped your ass over your pants that matched his, his voice a dreamy whisper, “Let’s ruin these.”

It was almost a promise, the way he said it, so demanding and needy all in the same. You could only lean down to swallow it up with your lips, tasting his pretty sounds with your tongue as he moaned into your mouth. His hands pulled you closer at the same time, forcing you to rut against his muscular thigh through the layers of fabric between you. The friction was sizzling. 

When you pulled away to breathe, a thin string of spit connected your lips for a brief moment before breaking between you. Your hands pressed down flat against his chest, pushing yourself up to square your shoulders on his lap, giving yourself more of a leverage to start to grind on his thigh a little stronger. George just gaped up at you for a moment, hands on your waist and only barely helped guide you along because you know exactly what you want and he would always be more than willing to let you do just that. 

He could just never get enough of you—you brought out the selfishness in him to an extreme—and so his hands moved to start to unbutton your pyjama top. You didn’t stop the gyrations of your hips, far too into the friction to stop, letting him do as he pleased as he finally pulled open your shirt to reveal your bare chest beneath. His hands went first, groping your breasts in his warm palms as if he were trying to pull you into your motions that way. The tightness of his grip had you gasping faintly, hips jumping against his thigh, fingers grasping onto the front of his shirt. 

“That’s it,” George breathed lowly, his voice rich and addicting with his eyes all over you, “Christ, you have no idea what you do to me, do you?”

And then his mouth was on your chest, taking one of your nipples in his mouth as his strong arms wrapped around you to help move you faster. He moaned against your breast, coating you in spit and kisses over your flushed skin, bodies moving together in a dire need to get off. 

He kept you grinding on his thigh until you were so sensitive that you were nearly crying, his shirt wrinkled and stretched from how you tugged mercilessly at it, wanting more, more, more. A little praise and a little dirty talk from your husband helped to finish you off, speaking to you in a low, rumbling whisper of how beautiful you were, how much you turned him on, how much he wanted to see you come all over his thigh. 

When you collapsed against his chest in tremors of pleasure, he held you close and kissed your temple, telling you how much he loved you into your hair. After all that, you had honestly soaked through your brand new pyjama pants and left a wet spot on his at the same time. But if that wasn’t enough, only minutes later, his shirt was also victim as he came up the front of it by your hand, staining the dark red and black plaid in creamy white.

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[megamindsecretlair]

Can you please write an Aaron Pierre smut fic or love story? 🙏🏽

A/N: Ya'll don't get me started on this man. Just don't. I'm obsessed.

Wild

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. SMUT. PWP, cursing, PIV, fingering (female receiving) teasing, size kink, dirty talk, degradation kink if you squint, rough sex, all consensual. Sorry if I missed some, I'm rushing, just let me know.

Summary: You went on a small camping trip with Terry, who graciously helped to introduce you to hiking. After a critter destroys your tent, you stupidly volunteer to share his. Shouldn’t be too bad, right?

Word Count: 5,859k

AO3 Link

A/N: THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A DRABBLE. Don't ask for him no more! (kidding, kinda) I will never be normal about him. It just kept going. My shoulder has been on fire for the past two weeks so I'm taking a much needed break. Toss a coin to your blogger by leaving a comment, gif, or unhinged ask.

You stepped carefully along the ground. You made sure not a twig nor rock slipped beneath your shoes as you picked your way through the thicket of trees. Terry gave you a head start, closing his eyes and turning around with a smug look on his face.

You’ll show him though. There was no way he could track you this time. The ground was dry, you didn’t step on anything, and you worked with intention. The goal was to get to the river before he could catch up to you.

So far, it had to have been at least fifteen minutes since he started counting. That was a good enough lead, right? 

You were distracted. But something had to keep your mind off of your pursuer. You and Terry had formed an easy friendship, seeing each other around the gym. When he mentioned hiking was a hobby of his, you mentioned that you wanted to get into it but wasn’t sure where to start.

You should have kept your mouth shut. Spending nearly every week up close and personal with him was a new level of personal hell. He was so damn pretty. You didn’t often call men pretty, because…well…but he was!

The most striking eyes ever rimmed in dark eyelashes as if he were wearing eyeliner. Wide nose and even wider lips. An adorable, incredible smile. You stepped behind a tree and paused for a moment, bending over to grab your knees. 

Fuck you were out of shape. And trying to keep up with Terry’s tall ass was a struggle. Beyond a struggle. For every step he took, you had to scurry behind. And he didn’t believe in breaks. Fuckin’ ex military. 

You breathed through your nose though that only made breathing difficult. Didn’t help that you were horny as hell either. You leaned up and pressed your back against the bark of the tree, hoping no critters tried to ride home with you.

You took off your hat and wiped your brow, looking at your surroundings. The woods itself had thick trees, fluffy leaves, and branches that stretched high in the sky. Dots of sunlight slanted, giving you a peek at the bright blue sky. Terry would call it quits soon. You pouted. This was the second mini camping trip you’d been on with him and you hadn’t been able to escape him.

You replaced your hat on your head and risked a glance behind you. No sign of Terry. Good. You grinned and took off again, picking carefully through the woods. The water was close. You could hear the current from where you were. 

Almost there, oop around that rock, and ahhh, almost stepped on a rock. Ha. In his gorgeous face. 

You almost laughed but it would give away your position. You pressed your hand to the nearest tree as you swung around it just as strong arms pushed you into the tree.

You screamed as Terry moved in behind you, pressing his chest against your back. “Found you,” he said. His voice was low and deep, emerging from somewhere deep in his wide chest.

You groaned and slapped the tree. “How the hell did you find me?” You asked.

Terry chuckled and stepped away from you. You missed the heat of his body already. You schooled your features and turned around with a smirk on your face. You folded your arms across your chest so he couldn’t see how hard you were gasping for air. For more than one reason.

“You’re loud as hell,” he said. 

“Was not! I was being quiet! I made sure I was!” 

Terry looped his fingers through his hiking backpack and tilted his head at you. “I’ve been following you for ten minutes,” he said.

You looked away, back the way you came. Shit. What did he hear? What did he see? You may or may not talk to yourself to get yourself through shit. You ran through the past ten minutes, trying to think of what you said or did or if you drew any attention to the horrible crush you had on him.

He had to know his appeal. But you didn’t want to make him feel uncomfortable. You weren’t only friends with him because he was hot. That was loser shit. You genuinely valued his opinions, his outlook. You loved that he had a way of making everyone at ease with just a few quiet words or a playful look. 

But that goddamn body. You looked back towards his face, because if you looked at his shirt, dripping with sweat, you’d combust on the spot. Terry smirked as if he could read your thoughts and pointed the way you came.

“You have to be aware of your surroundings if you do find yourself in a situation like this. It’s not about being quiet. It’s about moving fast, moving smart, and trust nothing,” he said.

You put your hands on your hips and pouted. “One of these days you’re not gonna be able to catch me,” you said.

He chuckled. “I’d still catch you,” he said. He smirked and turned around, heading into the woods, away from the water. 

You’d just have to train when he wasn’t around being a distraction. You sighed, trying to not let the sting of failure drag you into the dumps. You walked behind him, your consolation prize being his nice, gorgeous ass. 

He wore camo pants and a gray t-shirt, hiking boots, and tall thick socks. The pants really showed off his assets. You bit your lip imagining what it’d be like pressed up against all that piece of man. 

“Keep up!” He barked out. You huffed and whined, jogging to catch up to him.

“You do know you’re like, eight feet tall right?” You asked.

He looked at you out of the corner of his eye, giving him an animalistic side eye. His eyes were lethal. Your breathing stuttered and you hoped he didn’t hear it because god. “And you must be part lion? Part tiger? Yo ass ain’t natural,” you said, hoping to diffuse whatever spell he managed to weave whenever he trained those eyes on you. 

Terry chuckled. “You trynna say I’m not human?” 

You didn’t answer right away, only because you were trying not to huff and puff as you talked. You needed your inhaler, but you also left it in your tent. Yes, yes, you knew it was a dumb move. But hell, there was nothing more embarrassing than having to stand there and use it.

“I mean…” you said, letting the sentence dangle.

Terry gave you that side eye again, his mouth twisted in a frown. You gave him an innocent smile back, batting your eyes all innocent-like. Terry only shook his head, the corners of his mouth drifting down as he tried to hide a smile. 

You walked together in silence, grateful if only because your lungs were burning. When you decided to go on this journey of getting in shape and getting your mind right, you never thought you’d be in the woods. Let alone with someone like Terry. 

He was competent, knowing so much about living off the grid and being prepared. He carried all kinds of tools with him. You had a thirst for knowledge, asking him a million questions. He answered every single one too. If you could clone him and pass him out like candy to your friends, you would. There needed to be more men like him. 

A trail of ripped paper littered the ground like patches of snow in the middle of fall. “No,” you gasped.

You sped up as Terry’s hands shot out to stop you, but you pushed past him, running towards your campground. Your tent was on the far left, torn to pieces and ripped apart. Your journal had been shredded, ripped apart by some kind of animal. Your clothes were thrown about.

You were only out here for a day and night, getting a tiny taste of camping thanks to Terry. You’d never been. Growing up an inner city kid, Black parents didn’t play that shit. The school yard was your jungle. You were threatened with going to stay out in the woods if you didn’t like living under their roof. It wasn’t a regular occurrence for you or your friends growing up. 

The small fire pit had been picked over as well. You made a wailing sound as you tried to gather up the ripped pieces of paper. All those memories gone. All those feelings torn up. Some pieces flew with the breeze and you took off your own backpack, trying hard not to cry.

“You can’t run ahead like that. What if it was dangerous?” Terry scolded you. His voice got deeper, eyes narrow. He bent down to help you pick up the pieces of paper.

“Please, don’t! I got it,” you said. Perhaps a bit harsher than necessary. You weren’t going to cry. It was a minor setback. Things happened. You play stupid games and you won stupid prizes. 

Perhaps your parents were right. You should’ve kept your ass inside. Without all these damn bugs, and twigs, and fucking leaves tangling in your braids. 

Terry busied himself with picking through your tent, analyzing what may have happened. Home. When you got home, you would be able to break down. Not here. Not with Terry right there. His ass didn’t skip a beat.

“Might’ve been a bear. Or something similar looking for food,” he shouted over his shoulder.

You nodded but weren’t sure if he saw you. You only wanted to clean up your mess. You had so many ideas you wanted to jot down when you got back. So many observations, thoughts that raced through your mind on your hike. Now those thoughts would be gone too. Terry’s one rule this morning was no cellphone. 

You could do a day without it. Boy, were you wrong. You made a mental note to keep your journal with you from now on. Or start carrying a smaller notebook for bullet points and then journal at home, like a sane woman.

“You can take my tent. I’ll sleep out here and make sure nothing circles back,” he said.

You stopped from grabbing the last piece of torn paper from a bush nearby and turned to face him. “I won’t make you do that,” you said.

Terry stood up and dusted his hands, unstrapping his back from across his chest. “I didn’t ask,” he said.

You snagged the last piece and carried your pathetic pile to your ruined tent. You liked that tent. You just bought that tent. Did the fucking bear think money grew on trees? You kicked at the black and orange heap and faced Terry.

“I didn’t either,” you said. 

Terry watched you with those deadly eyes as he dropped his bag to the ground. He used the bottom of his shirt to clean his sweaty face. Damn. His words drew your attention back to his face. “I’ve been trained to survive outdoors. You haven’t.” 

You tucked the pile of paper into your ruined tent and then faced him once more. Terry was about to meet a hard rock. “Don’t start with the macho act, okay? We’re adults. I’m not making you stay outside while I’m tucked away all nice and toasty in your tent,” you said.

A smile curved his lips as he stepped closer, using his height to his advantage. You had to look up otherwise you’d just be staring at his chest. You stood your ground and tilted your head. He may have the advantage. He may be just as stubborn as you were. But you did not back down. Ever. Some called it a toxic trait but there were other ways to survive. Everybody had something.

Terry’s eyes were even more dangerous up close. Not quite blue. Not quite brown. Some mix of the two that was hypnotizing in the way he coldly assessed you. You didn’t know what he was thinking. His poker face was lethal. Not a hint or a clue.

“What do you suggest, then?” He asked.

A hotel, a shower, a bed, twenty four hours, and a bottle of lotion. But that was neither here nor there. You licked your lips and blinked at him. “We can share. Or do you not want my cooties in your tent?” You asked.

That surprised a laugh out of Terry. He shook his head. “Fine. But I snuggle in my sleep,” he said. 

His jaw flexed. He looked expectantly at you, lifting an eyebrow like he expected you to back down. You only raised your chin. “Good, I get cold at night,” you said.

He blinked slowly and nodded, rocking back on his heels before stepping away. “I’ll help with your tent then, before we lose the light,” he said.

When he turned around, you sighed quietly. Shaking out your sweaty palms. Oh god. Ohgodohgodohgod. What the hell did you do that for? 

You berated yourself as you and Terry worked as a team, removing your items from inside and rolling up your tent. He secured it with rope from inside his backpack and you had a wayward thought that made you laugh out loud.

Terry had knelt on the ground, one knee up, as he secured your tent. He looked up at your laugh and you waved him off. 

“What is it?” He asked, a small smile on his lips.

“Nothing, it’s stupid,” you said.

“I want to know,” he said.

You pinched your lips, wondering if you should say. Aw hell, you had to get it out now otherwise you’d be giggling in your sleep all night. “You kind of remind me of Dora,” you said.

“The kid’s show?” He asked.

You nodded and tried to hold in the laugh, but your stomach cramped from trying. His expression only made it worse as he stared at you like you were crazy. Maybe you were. Maybe you didn’t need to be in a tent with him all night. 

Terry chuckled and shook his head. “Magic backpack?” He asked.

You nodded and burst into laughter. His eyes narrowed but he smiled at you. “Come on, giggles, we’re not done,” he said.

“Work, work, work, is that all you think about?” You asked.

“No,” he said, his voice low and soft. You tilted your head at him and he gave you a funny look. Assessing you again. He didn’t elaborate further as he moved your sleeping bag inside of his tent.

“I’ll roll mine in a bit. Let’s clean this up some more before we hit the stream,” he said.

You thought about look on his face as you cleaned up around the campfire. There was no food to be found, so whatever creature or critter that did it, just made a whole lot of mess for nothing. 

You threw away your journal pages into the small trash bag Terry had tied high in the tree above your campground. He secured it back in place after getting it down for you, gifting you with a side view of his abs. Good god, the man was built in all the right ways. God took his time with this one.

Nice and clean with only one tent now, Terry let you go to the stream to freshen up first. The woods lacked fresh amenities but it was one of those parks that did have strategically placed rest areas. You handled business and then went down to the small stream a ways down from the campsite.

It was within shouting distance and you used the fresh water to clean the sweat from your body. You returned, feeling much better now that your skin wasn’t so sticky. Terry went next, disappearing from view and already lifting his shirt.

You took a risky glance over your shoulder, admiring the cut of his back as he stalked through the woods. His narrow hips moved with ease, ass in full view. Your mouth watered as your canine caught on your lower lip. You’d eat that man alive if given half the chance.

Terry’s head was on a swivel, looking around just on GP. You hurriedly looked away, grabbing your inhaler from your pocket. You retrieved it during clean up but was too nervous to use it in front of him.

Lot of good it did you now, but you took two deep puffs to clean all this fresh air from your lungs. The one thing you did not have in common with your ancestors was a major love of the outdoors. Fuck the air and nature. Give you a hot bath and TV any day of the week. 

Terry returned and you eased into conversation, talking about your families as the light disappeared. Terry started a fire, stoking it with a stick. You talked about life goals, hobbies, or anything really. Watched as he moved, talked, or the way he laughed. Listening to his voice was soothing. Welcoming. Terry caught fish in the river earlier and cooked it over that fire when it was good and ready. 

You yawned one too many times and Terry chuckled. “Head inside, I’ll do one last check,” he said.

“We didn’t get to tell any scary stories,” you said.

Terry shook his head and smiled. He was already dimming the fire, carefully stamping out hot rocks in the pit he built. Watching that man build a fire shouldn’t have got you that hot and bothered but it did.

“Next time, if you’re up for it.”

“You never stop, huh?” You asked, sleepily. 

Terry shrugged. “Not much to slow down for,” he said. He looked at you over the fire. The light from the flames danced across his skin, making him seem even more otherworldly. An understanding passed between you and you nodded, getting up without issue. 

You patted his shoulder, understanding the note of loss in his voice. You’d been there. You didn’t understand his pain, but you understood loss all the same. You took a deep breath before heading inside his tent.

It smelled like him. Like all, pure male. You whimpered, climbing on top of your sleeping bag. He had a nice tent. Much nicer than yours, even though his was well used. It had been folded and unfolded so many times, the grooves were permanent at this point. 

His sleeping bag was brown and looked more like a blanket compared to yours. Did his big ass even fit inside of a sleeping bag? How did he normally sleep? Did he have a bed big enough to hold him? Did he sleep sideways?

You were only half sure that he was playing when he said he snuggled in his sleep. He never mentioned a girlfriend or a wife. Did he have big pillows to snuggle? You stared at the domed ceiling of the tent, picturing what Terry looked like at rest. 

It only made your pussy flutter picturing his smooth, dark skin. Eyes closed. Mouth slightly parted. Did he snore? You probably should have asked that before volunteering to share a tent with him.

The rustle of Terry entering the tent made you shriek and sit up, like you were caught with your hand in a cookie jar. Terry stopped at the entrance and looked at you. “Just me. Do you want me to stay outside?” 

“No. Um. I was just thinking,” you said. Thinking about sucking that –

“Are you sure?” 

“Yes,” you said, quietly. 

You couldn’t see his face now that the fire was out. He was just a solid wall of black, crab-walking into the tent and then zipping it up behind him. You were acutely aware of every move he made. Every sigh. Every huff of breath.

“Go to sleep,” he said.

“How the hell do you know I’m still awake?” You asked.

“You’re too loud,” he said. 

You could hear the smile in his voice and you rolled your eyes. “Heard that too,” he said.

“Oh, shut it!” You said, rolling over to your side. Terry chuckled as he climbed into his sleeping bag. 

You shut your eyes and focused on your breathing, focused on falling asleep. Terry made it surprisingly easy. His gentle breathing was its own type of sound machine, lulling you to sleep along with the crickets outside. The soft hum of the water nearby. Before you knew it, you were out like a light.

Rustling jerked you awake. It was hard to truly knock out in the middle of nowhere, next to someone like Terry, and not still be keen to every single sound. You were feeling hot as hell, like you woke up in a sauna.

Terry’s arms were wrapped around you and you were snuggled up under his neck, inhaling his deep masculine scent. You cracked an eye open, though you still couldn’t see. Pitch black outside and inside the tent.

Terry hummed as more rustling turned your attention from the fact that he really did snuggle in his sleep. The noise made your heart speed up, clogged up your throat, made it hard to breathe.

Terry tightened his arms around you and drew his face down until his mouth was against your cheek. “Shh,” he said, too quiet. You didn’t think him capable.

He extracted himself from you, moving in a way that didn’t make noise at all. He even managed to unzip the tent without making a sound. He only unzipped it far enough to peek out.

You weren’t a damn damsel in distress. So you rolled over, not as quiet as him, and joined him at the entrance. There was enough light from the moon to cast a low glow over the campsite. There was nothing truly out there, but the rustling continued. The sound increased, and got closer and closer.

Your hand flew to Terry’s exposed knee, gripping on for dear life as an actual deer walked out of bushes and sniffed the air. You sighed, deflating against Terry’s side. Terry sighed as well, unzipping the tent more to get a good look. 

The both of you watched the deer nose around the campsite, likely following the smell of Terry’s good cooking. It’s ears swayed back and forth, picking through nothing as Terry was meticulous about cleaning up after himself.

“You were scared,” he whispered, shaking his head.

“So were you!” You fired back.

“Nah, I was good,” he said.

“You liar,” you said, with a chuckle.

“It’s okay if you were scared, you know,” he said. 

“Ain’t nobody scared of no damn deer. And ain’t nobody need your protection,” you said. You poked him in his chest. When did he find a chance to ditch his shirt? You had been snuggled next to that hunk of meat and he didn’t have a shirt on?!

“No?” Terry leaned over, his lips grazing your ear. “Go out there and say hi.” He tried to push you out of the tent and you fought him, trying not to spook the deer. One wrong move and the deer took off.

You giggled as you wrestled with Terry. He was so big, you didn’t stand a chance. It didn’t take much effort to subdue you, but you bucked and wrestled for control. No dice. Terry laughed as he pinned you beneath him, legs spread wide as he scooted in and leaned down close to your face.

“Give up?” He asked.

“Like hell,” you said. You had siblings. You knew how to scrap. Yet, all you did was rub your body against his growing bulge. 

You stopped wrestling for control. Your breaths were harsh and loud in the stillness of the tent. Terry’s chest rose and fell but he wasn’t as loud as you. You stopped struggling against his hold, letting him pin your wrists to the ground above your head.

“Hmm,” he hummed, a rumbling sound low in his chest. “Ain’t that better?” 

“Terry?” You asked.

“Mhm,” he said, leaning down to rub his stubble across your chin. 

“Kiss me,” you said.

Terry leaned up and kissed you. You moaned into his mouth. His lips were just as juicy, just as lush. Soft to the touch. And he was an expert. Kissing, retreating, licking, retreating, biting, retreating. He drove you wild, not giving an inch. Not giving you any wiggle room.

He completely caged you beneath him. Beneath the heaviness of him. He still had your wrists pinned, so you weren’t able to touch him like you wanted. You weren’t the type to be agreeable for agreeable’s sake.

Terry growled at your attempts to shake his hold. Shake his control. He bit your lip, hard, and you cried out, ending on a moan. He licked the sting away, kissing down your jaw and to your neck.

“Fuck do you do to me?” He asked, more to himself as he kissed and explored your skin. He ground his bulge into your pussy and you whimpered, wrapping your legs around his waist.

Just as he showed you in training, you managed to buck your hips and flip him over. You wailed in triumph, not actually believing that would work. Your breaths were harsh, wild, as you finally got to touch him. Your hands roamed over his broad, warm chest. He took great care of his body.

In a lightning quick move, Terry grabbed your arm and flipped you over to your stomach. He grabbed both of your wrists and pinned them behind your back. You cried out from the force, but it was welcome. Inviting a rush of heat to flow through you, straight to your dripping pussy. You moaned as Terry dropped his weight on top of you.

His dick aligned with your ass and you tucked it higher. He grunted and slapped your ass. “Ow!” You yelled, more from surprise. Though the fucker did hurt. With hands as large as his, he managed to cover a wide area of your ass. Leaving behind a burning sting that only made you wiggle your ass against him.

“Fighting only turns me on, princess,” he said. He leaned down to your ear and growled. He sounded damn near like a lion. “Give up?” He nibbled on your ear.

“Fuck no,” you said and giggled. 

Terry moved your wrists to one hand, then used his free hand to pull your joggers down over your ass. You whimpered as he caressed your booty, intentionally missing the heated core of you. 

You moaned, trying to wiggle your ass where you needed him most. All these months of pining, of wanting, of yearning, were coming to a head. All those times training, working beside him, tangling with him were catching up to you, Making you feel like you were going to burn to a crisp.

“Use them big girl words and tell me what you want,” he said.

You arched your back. Begging, crying whimpers escaping you as his big fingers skirted the outer edge of your pussy. The smell of your arousal permeated the tent. There was no way to deny how turned on you were. If you could just, wiggle, and move a little to the left–

Terry slapped your ass. “What did I say?” He asked.

You groaned. “Fuck me!” Your horniness won this round.

Terry chuckled evilly, plunging his fingers into your dripping wet hole. You both moaned at the contact. He went knuckles deep with no resistance. He wiggled two fingers inside of you, making you moan loudly like a slut. 

“Was that so hard?” He asked, whispering in your ear as he continued to finger fuck you. He fingered you with all the precision he was known for. Immediately making you grind on his fingers. 

“You can do better than that. Get that shit you want so bad,” he said. He mocked you, he teased you. Every cry or whimper that came out of your mouth, he responded with an evil chuckle or a moan of his own in your ear.

It was always followed randomly by a growl in his chest. The intimacy of the dark and the wet sucking of your pussy drove you closer to that climax. Barreled into it. Crashed into it. You screamed, loud, calling his name as that climax slammed into you like a truck.

“There it is. Shit feel good, don’t it?” He asked.

You nodded your head, forgetting for a moment that it was dark and he couldn’t see you. He released your wrists and then grabbed a handful of your braids, yanking your head back. “Don’t it?” He asked.

“Yesss,” you moaned, biting your lip and rubbing your ass against him. “Oh, fuck me, baby. Now.”

Terry chuckled, smacking your ass. “As much as I want to, I don’t have a condom,” he said. 

“I’m clean. On the pill,” you said. Thank god for that. There was no way you’d be able to sleep tonight without the feel of him inside of you. 

“Are you sure?” He asked.

You nodded, feeling your braids pull as it was still trapped in his tight grip. Terry chuckled. There was the sound of sucking. He moaned. “Taste good. Can’t wait to get back home and spread you on my bed. Hmm, maybe my dining table. Eat you like the good fuckin’ meal you are,” he said. 

He moved behind you, lowering his pants. He groaned, rubbing his dick against your folds. Oh shit. He was working with a third leg. “Oh shit, Terry,” you moaned. Your belly ached. Hollowed out. You were so empty. 

“You’ve been driving me crazy wearing those leggings. And that skirt you wore last week?” Terry talked as he rubbed his dick between your legs. You shook. Terrified of taking all that but knew you had to try. Had to relax and let the master work. 

“What took you so fuckin’ long?” You asked. 

Terry chuckled and smacked your ass, pulling your braids back. You moaned, back arching even more. “That little attitude of yours,” he said. 

“Fuck y–”

Terry pushed into your wet heat, cutting off all words. You reached back, trying to grab onto him. He smacked your hand away and pushed in further, gaining more and more inches inside of you.

Your legs shook. You whimpered as he retreated and then slammed back inside. He sunk further in, stretching you, molding you around his dick. “Oh god, oh fuck, oh god,” you moaned. The delicious burn was too much. Not enough.

Terry moaned, grabbing your hip and pulling you further onto his dick. You didn’t think he could fit inside any more. Surely, he bottomed out by now? 

“Not so tough with some dick in you,” Terry mocked. 

To prevent you from saying something smart, Terry moved with earnest. His stroke game was as intense as the man himself. His strokes were brutal. Punishing. He groaned with every slide inside of you, making your thighs tingle with pleasure.

“Slam that shit back,” he said. 

You placed your hands on the ground and threw it back on him, rising up to meet each of his thrusts. Each of his long strokes. Accepting his dick. Accepting everything he gave you.

“Terry! Oh, you fuck me so well,” you said. You sniffled, screaming with every thrust.

Terry chuckled. “I know. Spread your legs wider,” he said.

He stopped stroking so that you could spread your legs more. You moved your feet to the outer edges of his legs. He pushed down on your back, releasing your braids so that you could fall forward. He raised your hips, moving you, manhandling you. 

Fuck, it felt so right. So good. So natural to be on your knees, ass up in the air, while he went to work. Terry grabbed your hips and moved you one last time. Then, he slammed inside in one rough thrust. You leaned forward, but he snatched you right back.

“Naw, naw. Where you going?” He moaned.

You moaned back, throwing it back but quickly losing the fight. This wasn’t some little man you let fuck you. This was a grown ass man. Secure in his businesses.

“Fuck, you feel good. So wet. I can barely stay inside of you,” he said. He cursed as he slammed into you like he truly wanted.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck. Terry! Terry! Sh-shh–oh that’s my spot,” you said. He brushed up against a deep spot inside of you. You thought it was a myth. You thought that shit didn’t exist. Terry found it without even trying.

“That’s your spot?” He asked. His deep voice made everything sound more filthy. More lewd. 

“That’s my spot!” You squealed. 

“That’s my spot now,” he said. No more words were spoken as he hit that spot over and over. 

Incoherent noises and sounds dribbled from your mouth. Perhaps some spit too. Your essence dripped out of you, flooding his dick as he didn’t let up. Didn’t stop. Kept hitting your spot like he was at target practice and he was showing out for the crowd. 

“Oh I’m gonna-I’m-gonna–”

“Cum on this dick. Let me feel it. Let it go,” he cooed to you.

There was a storm gathering inside of you. It almost felt like you had to pee. “Wait-” 

Terry moaned. Your cries turned to pleas. It both felt good and sort of hurt. “Uhngf-” You exploded, wailed to the high heavens as you came and squirted. “OH SHIT!”

Terry was saying something but you couldn’t hear over the sound of your yelling. Your pussy gripped onto him, locked him in, as you came and came. Terry smacked your ass and then thrust one last time before erupting with his own climax. He stuffed you completely.

Hot, thick pulses of cum throbbed inside of you. Your thighs shook. Your body twitched. Your eyes watered. You dissolved into a steaming pile of person as your eyes crossed with intense, whitehot pleasure.

Terry grunted and dropped forward, pushing you onto your sleeping bag. He kissed your damp pajama shirt. Both of you were huffing, out of breath. Thank god for your inhaler. Your lungs would be nonexistent right now. 

Terry softened by degrees, enough for him to pull out. You moaned as his cum leaked out. Like his dick was a plug keeping it all inside. 

“That’s never happened before,” you mumbled. Suddenly feeling shy and embarrassed. You ought to know what that felt like. Yet, it completely caught you off guard.

Terry maneuvered in the dark until he was able to pull you off of your sleeping bag and onto his where it was dry. He rubbed your arms and shoulders. Then, he grabbed your chin and pulled you into a searing kiss.

“I’m honored I drew it out of you,” he said. “Wait till I do it again.”

“Again! Not with that monster!” You yelled and tapped his chest. Terry’s rumbling laugh was everything you needed to hear. 

He pulled you closer, growling playfully and nipping at your skin. You giggled, trying to wiggle out of his grasp. “Again and again and again,” he said, kissing and nibbling at you with every word while you shrieked into the night with laughter.

The end.

Who am I kidding? Of course there will be more! The Secret Terry Richmond Files

Taglist: @planetblaque @chaos-4baby @amethyst09 @ciaqui @we-outsiiiide

@browngirldominion @iv0rysoap @thecookiebratz @harmshake @00aijia00

@judymfmoody @multiversefanfics @tvchi @xo-goldengirl @superhoeva

@avoidthings @lovedlover

[writingfics-passingtime]

Bucky and queen song

Waving Your Banner

This drabble is part of JJ’s Mixtape - a mini series based on my followers’ favourite songs and characters. You can read more of them here!

Song Prompt: We Will Rock You - Queen

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader (flirtatious, no pronouns used)

Word Count: ~1300

CW: swearing, some flirting, suggestive jokes, a bit of tickling

minors dni: this work does not contain smut, but does contain a flirtatious/suggestive interaction between the reader and an adult-aged character. I am not comfortable with engagement from anyone under the age of 18. Thank you for your understanding and respect.

Note: Thanks, anon! My initial note-to-self from when you first sent this was, verbatim, "okay but dodgeball would be fucken hilarious with we will rock you" - so we've gone with an Avengers training game vibe with this one

The woods hummed with tension, broken by the occasional crack of a branch or the muffled thud of boots. The Avengers had turned what should’ve been a simple training game into an all-out war, and your team was desperate to gain the upper hand. Somewhere ahead, in the shadow of the tree-line, stood the final obstacle: Bucky Barnes, silent, brooding, and lethal, guarding his team’s flag, the White Wolf circling his den.

You crouched beside Sam behind a cluster of bushes, your pulse steady but sharp as you surveyed the terrain. Bucky was right where you expected him, leaning casually against a tree just outside the flag's perimeter. He looked calm, detached even, but you knew better. The slightest flicker of movement would set him in motion, and if he was after you, there’d be no escaping. Flag perimeters were a no-fly-zone, so you and Sam would have to take it on foot.

“Alright,” Sam said, breaking the silence. “We need a plan. And by we, I mean you, because I’m not getting anywhere near the Winter Soldier.”

You shot him an incredulous look. “You’re faster than me.”

“He’s a wall. A brick wall with trust issues and superhuman reflexes.”

You sighed, pressing your back against the thick trunk of a tree. “Then we need a distraction. Something that’ll actually make him move.”

Sam raised a brow. “Oh, yeah? What’s your genius plan?”

“You,” you said, giving him a pointed look. “You could bait him. Taunt him. Goad him into leaving his post.”

“And get steamrolled by the murder machine? Hard pass.” He scoffed. "Besides, you’re obviously better bait.”

The heat rushed to your face immediately. “Excuse me?”

“Oh, come on,” Sam teased, his grin widening. “You’ve got that whole… thing going on.”

“What thing?”

He waved a hand vaguely at you. “You know. The whole ‘badass with a secret soft side’ thing. He’ll eat it up. Hell, I think the whole team’s noticed the way he looks at you.”

You glared at him. “You’re out of your damn mind.”

“He does,” Sam interrupted, revelling in your reaction. “Come on, you could probably get him to do whatever you wanted. Just say something like, ‘Oh, Bucky, is that a vibranium arm or are you just happy to see m-”

You shoved him into the bush.

Sam tried to silence his little grunts as he pulled himself out, yanking the twigs from his armour plates. “Fine. You wanna argue about this all day, or should we win?”

You sighed, rolling your eyes. “Just send in Redwing.”

“Whatever you say, boss.”

The plan was simple enough: Redwing would create a distraction in a bush behind Bucky, luring him away from the flag, giving you and Sam time to move in and grab it. You moved carefully, keeping low as you crept through the underbrush. The tension in the air was electric, every rustle of leaves amplified by your own awareness of how close Bucky was.

But, true to form, Sam couldn’t resist screwing with you.

As you crept closer to the clearing, Redwing darted toward you and made a ruckus in the bush partially shielding you from view. It was more than enough to give you away, and before you could even curse Sam’s name, you heard it - the unmistakable sound of boots crunching leaves, closing in fast.

Your head whipped around just in time to see Bucky moving toward you with the kind of speed that made your heart stutter. His expression was sharp, predatory, and - gods help you - just a little amused.

“Shit,” you muttered, bolting from your hiding spot.

“Running won’t help you,” Bucky called after you, his voice dark and smooth, laced with amusement.

You didn’t bother responding, too focused on dodging tree trunks and low-hanging branches. But it didn’t matter how fast you ran; he was faster. In seconds, a strong arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you clean off your feet.

“Gotcha,” he murmured, his voice low in your ear.

“Not yet, you don’t,” you growled, twisting sharply in his grip.

You elbowed him in the side, breaking free for a split second, but he was faster. He blocked your next move, his vibranium hand catching your wrist and spinning you around. You didn’t go down without a fight, aiming a kick at his shin and struggling against his hold, refusing to make it easy for him.

“Feisty,” he muttered, almost admiringly, his grip tightening as you wrestled.

You managed to get one arm free, landing a half-decent shove against his chest. He staggered back slightly but recovered in less than an instant, his smirk returning, sharper than before.

“Alright,” he said, his voice edged with amusement, “you wanna play rough? Let’s play rough.”

Before you could react, he was on you, trapping you between his body and the wide trunk of a tree. His fingers darted to your ribs, pressing against your sides with infuriating precision.

You jolted, a startled laugh bursting out before you could stop it. “What the fu- hey! No, that’s cheating!”

“Cheating?” he echoed, his grin widening as he tickled you again, this time catching your waist. “You’re the one trying to fight dirty.”

You squirmed, trying to slap his hands away, but the tickling was relentless, and your traitorous laughter left you weak, your arms useless.

“No! I- dammit, Barnes!”

Seizing the moment, he stepped back, grabbed both your wrists and yanked you against him, hauling you effortlessly over his shoulder. You kicked your legs in protest, but his grip was unyielding, his hand steady against the backs of your thighs.

“Put me down!” you demanded, pounding your fists against his unfairly muscled back.

“Not until you’re in jail,” he said, his voice low and smooth, the vibration of it sending a shiver through you.

“This is cruel and unusual punishment,” you grumbled, your cheeks burning as you felt his arm tighten around your thighs.

He chuckled, the sound warm and agonising. “Unusual, maybe. But I’d say you’re enjoying it.”

“Barnes!” you snapped, squirming harder.

His laughter deepened, and he carried you with an ease that was both infuriating and maddeningly attractive. When he finally stopped, he set you down just outside the jail, his hands lingering at your waist.

“Let me go,” you said, though the bite in your tone had softened.

He stepped closer, his body a looming presence as his eyes bore into yours. “Say please.”

You scowled, refusing to give him the satisfaction.

“Didn’t think so,” he said, his smirk widening as he stepped forward, forcing you to step back - straight into the jail’s boundary.

You glared at him, your chest heaving as he stood just inches away, his gaze dark and intent. “Happy now?”

“Not yet,” he murmured, his voice a low rasp, “but close.”

Before you could fire back, Sam’s triumphant whoop echoed through the trees. You turned just in time to see him flying above your team's base with Bucky's team's flag, waving it over his head like a trophy.

Bucky groaned, his head falling back briefly before he levelled a sharp glare at you. “Distraction,” he muttered under his breath with a shake of his head, the word practically dripping with accusation.

Your lips curved into a coy smile despite yourself.

“You’re too damn good at it,” he said, his tone darker now, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary before he turned and stalked off.

Flushed, you called after him. "This isn't over, Barnes!"

He chuckled, the sound sending a shiver down your spine, turning to face you as he walked backwards towards his next mission. "Not by a long shot."

[galaxofmuses]

Drabble: A Visit

It was a normal day in the forest,The morning dew still glistening in the sunlight as the Flickies chirped and greeted each other, but then a snap of the twig interrupted the two and flew off. A pair of worn hiking boots appeared out of the wood and revealed a sky blue hedgehog; it was not a youthful sound, but rather an elderly groan. “Ah, these old bones are not what they used to be…” Looking up ahead to see the cottage. With a sigh of relief the mobian approaches the home and passes by the porch to see a rather cute red door and looking over to see the mail overflowing a bit. That made him raise a brow with concern and then look back at the front door, to gather up the courage and knock on the door.  

Within a few seconds, the door opens. The two hedgehogs made eye contact with each other. The youthful mobian looks rather confused as to why they came by in such a frail looking hedgehog and wearing a bomber jacket, a sling leather pack, hiking gloves and thick leather hiking boots. The one thing Sky notices is that the elderly hedgehog’s hands were shaking out of nervousness. 

“Uhh….Can I help you sir?”

The old man couldn’t help, but to look up and try to smile. Oh he was about to hug him, but he hesitated in fear of making things awkward.

“Ah! Sorry Sonny-boy…It…It has been too long…..Skyler.” 

Sky is taken aback from this stranger knowing his real name, only his friends know about his true name. Now things are getting curiouser and suspicious. “How do you know my name?” He quickly looked around and well there was no one else in sight, it was only him. “Well…come on in. I don’t want to talk outside.” With that Skyler lets him inside the cozy cottege. 

With a nod of thanks as he goes to take off the worn off boots on the mini shoe shelves that are on the side of the door out of respect. The last thing he wants to do is to leave a trail of nature and dirt all over the wooden floors. Skyler closes the door and has the nagging feeling that something is up with this unexpected guest. He hasn’t been feeling too great since the Starfall Islands and it has been a few months to recover and struggling to even sleep or eat. 

As Charles eventually sits down on a nearby plush chair and looks around at the living room which has a coffee table, a series of photos of different zones and selfies of Sonic and his friends. The huge soft rug surrounding the sitting area overall was just the cherry on top for this room. In addition to the kitchen right across the room, Sonic did go in there to take out the bottles of green tea from the mini fridge and close it. Walking back into the living room and offering the drink to Charles, the elderly hedgehog thanks Skyler and takes the bottle. Skyler goes to hop on the sofa which is next to him. As the two sip their tea and Sky breaks the ice.

“So…..How did you manage to find this place?....and….You didn’t call me by my alias and know my real name.”

Charles chuckled softly and looked back at Skyler with a mix of emotions, as if there was something across his mind. “Sonny boy…Skyler. I have been looking for you and I need to talk to you about something.” He takes a worn out photo from his pack that he set aside and hands it to Sky. 

The young hedgehog raises a brow in suspicion at first and then takes a sharp breath to take the photo to look. His eyes widened and jaw dropped. The photo contains two adult hedgehogs and a younger looking Charles. What hits Skyler the most is that the female mobian is carrying a child. 

It was him.

 A whirlwind of memories burst through his mind. The words, the voices, the encouragement to survive. Yet even if those moments we’re only for a minute or even mere seconds. Those memories are absolutely precious for the hedgehog. As he shakes off the shock and tries to put his feelings together. Speechless on what to say, yet Charles is a patient mobian and understanding that he dropped such a reveal for this young boy. Skyler slowly looks at the other for a moment and then looks back at the photo to finally notice the baby blue blanket. With that Sky gets up to rush to his room and open the closet that is full of junk. He begins to dig out the mess, but eventually finds the blanket still in one piece, but it might need a bit of care. Running back to the living room as the other was not phased from Skyler’s super speed. He recognized that ability all too well. 

Skyler is trying to keep it together and feels his hands shaking as he hands over the blanket to Charles. As the elder’s eyes widened with shock and seeing the rather well not exactly clean blanket, but yet on the corner that was etched in with Skyler’s name is clear as day. The silence is still filling up the room and while the breeze and Flickies are still chipping happily. Charles eventually gives the blanket back to him.

“....Skyler…..I can’t believe you kept the blanket all this time…I thought…..I thought you would have hated what we have done to you.”

Sky takes a pause to answer why he even made this decision and then looks back at his found relative. Looking at the returned blanket he is holding in thought and looks up to finally reply.  “I….I used to when I was young, but….it was the only identity I have, but I kept calling myself Sonic. It didn’t felt right for me hiding my real name forever so….I-I started to embrace it.” He chuckled lightly at Charles and looked back at the family photo. “Even if I have no idea who my parents are….but….T-Tell me who you are.” 

“Well…My name is Charles Luxhart,so please just call me Uncle Chuck, no need to be formal about saying my whole name.”

The familiar family terminology was familiar for Skyler, but that term was used for another one that he cares about. Refocusing from this reunion and now he is pondering with so many questions and so many concerns. Then his communicator made a beeping sound, it was his friends, then it dawned on him that the messages reminded him. 

“Ah Snaps! I forgot! I gotta do something today! A-Ah sorry Cha-U-Uncle Chuck!”

Charles cracked a smile at the familiar emotions that are quite familiar like his brother. And shakes his head. “It’s okay Skyler, I figured I dropped by at a bad time..well I did come here uninvited after all and dropped so much on ya.” He takes out a card and hands it over to him. 

“Just give me a call anytime when you are ready Sonny-boy and I’ll come looking for you. Oh and thank you for the drink.” 

As Sky takes the card and looks at the very dainty and neat handwriting with his name and phone number. Almost forgetting about the photo and returning it back to them. Charles takes the photo back with a nod of thanks and well silently  finishes the bottled tea and sets it on the coffee table. Skyler nods and tries to cover up with a smile as he always does. “Yeah. Hey, I'll open the door for you.” As the two reach the front door and Sky turns the knob to open the entrance once more. “So…How did you even travel here? It might have taken a bit of a trip from the train station to here.” There wasn’t really a proper transportation to the dense woods so there was no way that Charles would have even walked miles away to get to this cottage home. 

The elderly mobian grinned. It was quite a familiar sight for the younger one. “Heh…I actually used my plane to get here. Don’t worry about me, I’ve explored through denser woods than these. Also your neighbors are quite nice as well.” On cue as some Flickies passed by on the blue skies. That made Sky chuckle and after a few more random small talk, they both said their goodbyes. Charles did not want to start the affectionate gesture yet, it was still rather too soon for that moment. With a beat, the hedgehog walks away as Sonic watches him go into the pathway and deep into the woods. 

 As his smile fades out and now he has got a lot of mind that he actually met someone who knows him. A family member who painstakingly found his home and just to drop the news about his parents. His mind is going through so many thoughts and questions, then a ping from his watch plays. Which made him jump a bit. Looking at the message and then his concerns turns into a panicked state. He needed to prepare and change into his usual outfit. Today was the day when his friends were going to start their journeys. 

Meanwhile....

The three we’re waiting for Sonic which is quite…strange for him. Knuckles jokes that he probably overslept or something. While the other two both disagree even if the throught is amusing. Then with amazing timing and speed, Skyler finally shows up and of course the echidna had to say something first. “Well looks like you’re the one who’s too slo-” He stopped once he saw the glaring green eyes of Amara’s fury. That made the treasure hunter change the subject rather quickly. “A-Anyways! So uhhh I ain’t got any emotional words to say. What about you two?”

Wren and Amara looked at each other and it seems like the two were prepared for something, yet they both know that they don’t want to drag the goodbyes for too long either. The young fox piped up first. 

“Well It’s not a forever goodbye, but…I’ll make sure to call or send some photos when I can! Oh and uhh I am gonna drop off Knuckles to his destination.” 

Knuckles silently nods with a smirk across his face and that made Sky grin back in return. Oh how much he is going to miss that echidna’s big brotherly vibes and Tails’ bickering about his commissions and Eggman thwarting the planet again. Amara takes a deep breath and looks at the two and then Skyler.

“Well…I did finally revise my menu and also I am finally having my own food truck. Ah! It took so long, but I think it is going to fit well for my business. But! All three of you need to be careful and especially you Skyler!”

Sky couldn’t help, but to chuckle nervously and adjust his quills which are still tipped with the strange black corruption.

“H-Hey! I’ll be fine! I’m more worried about you three!”

They all burst into laughter and the four had a bit of more small talk and what other plans they are going to do. Eventually Wren and Knuckles left with the Tornado as the two hedgehogs watched them fly away. As Skyler and Amara continues to watch the boys go into the distant skies. As the two finally departed on their separate ways. Now Skyler is pondering about the Uncle Chuck and now the curiosity starts to pick up of what happen to his parents.

WIth a nod of determination he speeds off back home and with the image of the family photo in mind.

'I gotta know what happened to them....I know we're gonna talk again Uncle Chuck.'

[the-wayside]

Writing for Instinct is not going well, perfectionism/dumb brain/might actually be shit, but my friend (sadist if you ask me) challenged me to do a short fire drabble, 300 words, then post, no arguments. The prompt was picnic.

I overshot at 480 and they technically don't go on a picnic but I like a mini introspect as much as the next self involved twig.

***

It’s a sunny Tuesday when Kinn catches Porsche in the halls of the compound, big hand on his waist turning him back around and a big smile that only Porsche gets to see lighting up his face.

Porsche runs a cursory glance over Kinn, humming and eyes narrow. He’s still on shift for another two hours and they can’t have another quickie in one of the cleaner’s closets again because Ken almost caught them last time when Porsche’s foot slipped from where it was perched against one of the industrial mops, pants around his right leg, looking entirely unprofessional.

And Kinn isn’t giving off lusty workplace procrastination.

“Come with me,” He offers Porsche the hand he slips off his waist and Porsche takes it without even thinking, trailing behind Kinn who is clearly on a mission, but not one he deigns to share with Porsche.

The compound has so many twists and turns that it’s easy to find a new place you’ve never been to on every floor. Kinn shuffles him into the elevator, still smiling, softer, with a tinge of pride and satisfaction that Porsche can’t help but be infected with.

He laughs because he can’t stop it from bubbling up.

“Kinn.” His voice comes out breathless and kind of giddy because that’s how being with Kinn makes him feel. Just his presence can send a gentle warmth through his stomach and up into every nook and cranny of him, finally settling in his heart

“Where are we going?” Porsche tries again.

Kinn kisses his cheek, ducking quickly and smiling when Porsche slaps his hand against his own cheek, faux scandalized.

“We’re going on a picnic.”

He looks so proud and Porsche feels love swell up inside him like a balloon that pushes at all of his sharp jagged edges and makes him soft in a way that only being with Kinn can make him.

“In the compound?”

Kinn hums, “Mmm, there’s a garden you haven’t seen.”

It’s so sweet Porsche doesn’t know what to do, “Yeah?”

Kinn nods, not realizing the waves of feelings he’s unleashed in Porsche. For the longest time, Porsche always felt like he was somebody’s and nobody’s. He was fun for a night but never for a weekend. Never meeting the parents, never standing by anyone’s side long enough to do things like have spontaneous picnics. Never good enough to date.

And here was the heir to a mafia conglomerate excitedly dragging him for snacks in the middle of the workday. It’s absurd and…perfect.

God…I love him.

Porsche tugs on Kinn’s hand and tips his face up like he does when he wants a kiss. Kinn obliges him with a soft press of his lips against Porsche’s as the elevator dings open.

“You better make it quick,” Porsche tells him, “I’ve only got 30 minutes for lunch.”

Kinn laughs, “I’ll talk to the boss.”

[drgon-wings]

Smaugust Day 12 - Glow

Another day of Smaugust, prompt list by none other than @pencilcat! Hope you enjoy the short story!

Warnings: a bit of a panic attack but nothing severe.

Summary: Kelp is wandering through the dark rainforest trying to find Blueberry when he hatches a brilliant plan.

Kelp walked through the rainforest, tripping on tree roots along the way. Blueberry told him to meet at a clearing, but where was that? The canopy blocked out the last of the sun’s rays.

I shouldn’t have come so late!

Earlier, he was adding to his collection when he lost track of time. Before he knew it, he was sprinting down the hallway, almost running headfirst into the queen herself!

As he ventured forward, he suddenly heard a twig snap. He turned.

"H-hello?"

No reply.

Perhaps I’ve just imagined it.

It was nearly impossible to see where he was going. Strange calls echoed eerily, along with more twig snapping.

Maybe I should head back. She’s probably asleep anyways.

As he turned around, he tripped on something. Was it a tree root or a leg? A leg that intended him to fall so he could easily be killed? Suddenly, it felt as if a million eyes glared at him. He cocooned himself with his wings, holding his head in his talons.

Oh no, what if a crocodile attacks? Or a jaguar? Or even a bear? Or a… Or a—

A sudden thought crossed his mind. A brilliant idea

As he got up, he focused. He felt his body grow warm as his scales lit. They were like mini suns, almost blinding him. But the path was clear and illuminated, and he moved on.

He flashed his scales a few times, hoping to attract attention. Several more and—

Rustle.

What was that? He tensed. A jaguar?

A dark figure darted from the treetops, and Kelp practically screamed.

“Hush, hush! You’ll wake up the others!”

“Oh, phew.” He exclaimed. “It’s just you.”

“Yeah,” replied Blueberry. “I didn’t see you at the clearing, so I tried to look for you. I almost gave up when I saw your flashing!” 

“What’d you need me for anyway?”

“Well,” she started. “I wanted to take you for a surprise night flight, but since we’re here, why don’t we do it now?”

“Yeah.” Kelp replied. “Yeah, let’s go.”

Two silhouettes reigned the starry night. 

P.S.: I originally wanted to make this a drabble (100 words in length), but I ended up writing a lot and it didn't feel like throwing out much of the plot just to make it fit 100 words. Also, I originally wanted to make a short comic for this but never found the time. I might draw something for the story in the future but that's just a maybe. But yeah, first short story on my blog!

[cullxtheherd]

Hey! Here’s a random mini fic or drabble request; something I’ve been thinking about a lot. How about teenaged Jacob Seed. What was he like? How did he interact with his baby brothers? Feelings?? Anyway that’s vague asf I know but it makes me angsty to think about.

hi! uhoh okay skdjksfkdff this is uhh sfdjnfkfdg- good luck! if you are sensitive to depictions of (mostly) graphic physical/domestic abuse etc/more please: avoid this piece, thank you!

The dust is hot and thick, midsummer sun beating harshly on the back of his lily-white neck. Jacob angles, forehead pocketing into his shoulder to wipe away a layer of sweaty accumulation. “Oh,” He mumbles, sneakers kicking up dirt while he hums out a rhythm, “I wanna’ dance with somebody.” Hands slipping up on the straps to his backpack he readjusts, grip higher near the loose across-the-chest buckle, “I wanna feel the heat with somebody.”

It is almost shameful, the tune that he sings, lips formed in a wavering line; he’d be beaten if his father found out. Not only was he a deeply racist and hateful man, but the song's message wasn’t exactly Sunday School approved, either. Sniffling he resigns to humming as he cuts through the woods surrounding their home. 

With no real, pressing reason to hurry home today he takes his time- by his calculations his father should still be on the road, peddling the last case of Bibles. Crunching down on a particularly well mouldered log he nearly loses his balance, arms spreading out wide to counteract his momentum. Feeling well proud of himself he hikes along, over a large group of rocks that aren’t even in his path.

Jacob, normally a young man that is inundated with responsibility and duty to his brothers and, consequently his mother, takes occasion to swordfight bugs with branches and tramp in the stream in his well beaten and leaky sneakers. He imagines his shadow coming to life and chasing him- fends it off with a stick too. 

Here, during these private, simple moments he is the champion, the victor. He saves his brothers, his friend - a crush at school - all of them: even by penalty of himself. 

Sliding down the mossy backside of a partially downed tree trunk he stills, posed precariously and listening: crunching, hard footsteps. Running. 

“Jacob!”

In a split second he is down, on his feet and moving as quickly as he can, “Joseph!” He can hear the footfalls turn, redirecting and before he has time to truly panic, he has eyes on his middle sibling, “Joe!” Two large and lanky hands grasp at narrow, bony shoulders, “What’s wrong- are you okay?”

“I’m-” The scant thirteen year old croaks between rushed and weeping breaths.

“Where’s the baby?” 

Unable to jump-start himself, Joseph hyperventilates, entire body stuttering with rushing, unhindered emotion.

Jacob shakes him, jostling him to attention, “Where’s John?!”

“Home, but,” Making progress is difficult but he musters, lower lip sucking into his mouth for a moment before he can continue, “Daddy’s got Momma and-” His brother turns but Joseph reaches out, gripping to stop him. Under the worried, frantic gaze of his brother his voice nearly goes silent under an oncoming sob, “It’s real bad Jake- never seen it this bad before...”

Jacob isn’t sure of the last time he’d run through the briars so quickly and they scrape against his cheeks, scoring deep, bloody lines. Adrenaline running high he barely notices after the first three or four and when he bursts through the line of overgrown brush, on to the dirt-and-gravel drive his mind is one too many steps ahead to even think about the thorns. 

The porch and rusted out station wagon go by in a blur, a flash of ginger down the hall as he approaches the back room. Suddenly and all at once he can hear again: the shouting, cursing, bloody mess of it all is in high definition at last. 

The bedroom door to the nursery is half off its hinges. A shoe lay abandoned on the threshold. John cries from somewhere within. Between the ear rattling screams of flesh on welted flesh the dial tone of a phone drones on, uninterrupted and he, long and lanky and disproportionate as he is at sixteen, enters quietly. 

“Isaac,” His mother is more than a sight, mouth blossoming and voice heavy with blood, “Please!” Though she is clearly exhausted from her ordeal, sluggish and dizzy, she blocks him from her infant son.

Jacob no longer cemented in his semi-adolescent fear hammers across the room, a wrench across his fathers back. Years ago Isaac would have tossed his son aside easily but, lately, Jacob has been very nearly victorious. 

And, so, they struggle: huffing and beating and hollering out- grunting and spitting at each other as they can. By the time he manages to land a successful enough string of punches he is bleeding heavily from his eyebrow, nose and mouth. 

Jacob wrestles an arm under Isaacs chin from behind on a blind counter move, flexing with the help of his other arm. “Give it-” He nearly eats the side of his fathers hand, “Give up old man!”

Vaguely he registers Joseph tending to his mother and youngest sibling while he struggles on the ground amongst the rubble. John squeals his little lungs out somewhere behind him and, despite barely having any energy left, he finds himself incensed. Grip tightening he manages a bitter unhumorous laugh, “I’ve won and you know it!”

The fight between them unfortunately lasts until Jacob can feel Isaac slacken under the newfound enormity of his grip and he keels over on his back, catching his breath. “J-jhh-” His lungs wheeze for a few beats, “Joe?” HIs legs are pinned by the dead weight of his unconscious father, “Joey?!” 

In return the absolute void of sound that he receives is more soothing than worrying and he heaves a sigh of relief. This deafening, ear splitting variety of silence means that his younger sibling had followed their well practiced evacuation plan. Slightly renewed on the fact and stored reserves of teenage resilience he gets himself up, carelessly pushing Isaac out of the way. 

Moving through the woods around the house is easy, miniature Maglite poised carefully as he navigates. “Joe?” He calls quietly within earshot of their little safe haven. “You here?” Flashing his light in the agreed upon pattern he is met with a repetition of signaling light coming from the brush.

“Jacob- Jake!” His brother is excited, voice wavering under rushing endorphins, “We did it!”

Jacob knows that this will be a much longer, drawn out process than this tiny, one-note victory. In fact he is already placing personal bets on how long after the high of escape wears off it takes his mother to return, cowering- like a dog. “Yeah,” Not willing to burst Joseph’s bubble he smiles through broken and cracked teeth on his left side. “We did.” Ducking into their fairly well hidden fort he takes visual inspection of John and then Rebecca, his mother. Gritting his teeth is painful but he does it out of habit, wincing around his deeply Southern accent, “Y’awl right, Momma?” 

She opens her mouth, jittery and bruised, “Don’t know what I ever did to deserve such good, perfect, blessed boys such as you three, hmm?” 

John squeals in her arms, startled by the confusion of it all and he reaches unabashedly for Jacob.

Reaching for the baby he’s never felt like more of a piece of shit. Sure. He’s saved the proverbial day, but it’s only for now- just this time. She’ll be back before the dawn and, without question, she will drag them sniveling along with her. And, now, more than ever before Jacob knows: he will have no choice but to break them up. 

And, so? For now they huddle in the pre dawn hours, just a few, scant days after John’s first birthday, in the shelter of twigs and mud and unregulated, Georgian wildlife. A few tins of beans to spare between the four of them and not a pot to piss in- the certainty of their fate is clear to him now: John will need noticeable bruises for Bible school. Their teachers will have to get involved- won’t have any choice once there’s sufficient evidence. And? 

Jacob must let them go to see them thrive.

[sooibian]

Paragons of Virtue

image from pinterest

🚸 pairing: sehun x fem!reader

🚸 description: “the dog ate my homework!”

🚸 themes: innocence, friendship, fluff

🚸 au: childhood au

🚸 word count: + 1.7k

🚸 a/n: the EXOs are 12 year olds! no, really. in this universe they are! this one-shot kicks off the ‘Back To School With EXO’ series of drabbles/one-shots for all individual members. hope you enjoy!!! @is-that-baekhyuns-shirt​ you have the craziest elementary school stories! thank you so much for sharing

_______________________________________________

Your parents never ‘mistakenly shred your homework to bits just to show you how a paper shredder worked'. Neither did your homework ever ‘blow away in the wind while you were walking to school’. Because a: you hardly ever walked to school - your mother drove you everyday and b: your worksheets were always neatly stacked and sealed in shiny new folders (you’d even devised a foolproof method of avoiding unsightly smudges of fingerprints on the transparent ones). If academic learning was your one true love, simple but highly functional stationery was a close second - colour coded writing equipment, neutral notebooks (the ones with animated characters were a guilty pleasure), even your year old geometry tools were as good as new. 

A stringent schedule did now allow for any embarrassing dents, cracks, or cavities wherein lived the perennial ‘I did not have the time for homework’ excuse. Come hell or high water, you were always at the top of your game.

Additionally, your greyhound was a well-behaved, not-so-little fella, so the dog never ‘ate your homework’ 

….until he did. His choice of breakfast this morning was your Geography worksheet. Ravenous, he obliterated your hours of work in a matter of seconds. You fought tooth and nail to salvage it but his grasp on the paper was ridiculously strong. 

So just like that, all of your hard work was reduced to shreds of chewed-on paper. 

If there was one thing worse than ditching school, it was turning up without having the homework done. So you clutched your stomach with clasped hands and cried wolf, “Mom, my tummy hurts! I don’t think I can go to school today!”  Just then the corner of your mouth twitched ever so slightly and her keen eyes didn’t miss the movement. 

This awfully weird sudden convulsion happened every time you told a lie. 

Stupid twitchy mouth was a dead giveaway. 

The car ride to school, although a short one, felt like an eternity. Mother told you a story about a gardener boy who became king only because he told the truth. But you were no gardener boy! And you didn’t even want to be a king --- queen! All you wanted to do was to lie low and maintain your grades (and a spotlessly bright impression in the staff room - like a shiny new pencil holder, or a stainless steel writing pad). 

The wall clock loomed over the green chalkboard, ticking away frighteningly. If you told your mother about your tummy ache now, your mouth wouldn’t twitch.

The bell rang. Your heart sank.

It was time for the short ten minute break.

Feeling helpless, you put your head down on the desk only to be startled by a sudden tap on your shoulder. A lanky boy stood blinking at you, his eyes covered with unruly bangs and lips stretched into a rationed grin. 

It was the science teacher’s son - Oh Sehun. 

Vacantly, you blinked back - hands still folded upon the desk, posture crouched  somewhere in between sitting up straight and spiralling back into the comforting state of denial.  

You wonder how he manages to read at all with a vision obstructed by a cloud of black frizz. 

You’ve never bothered about Oh Sehun before (or anyone else for that matter), except for the one scarring thing you’d once witnessed him doing - truth be told it had left you a little concerned. It was really stormy one day after school and the grounds were empty. You’d stayed back to complete an assignment and he was  probably waiting for his mother to wrap up her teacherly duties. 

The wind motioned in circles, swirling dry leaves and whatever else it could muster in its rotations. Oh Sehun stood in the middle of this ‘mini-typhoon’. Hands outstretched, mouth open, eyes shut, eyebrows raised, head thrown back toward the dark skies, he pronounced, “I am the God of Wind! Bow before me you lesser mortals!”, to absolutely...no one.

He’s blissfully unaware that you’ve been witness to his indignity and you’d like to keep it that way. For one, he’s always stood second in class and never vied for your top spot (his consistency, you think, is commendable) and secondly - and most importantly - he is the son of an authority figure.

The boy's still hovering. Shifting his mingy weight from one foot to the other. Despite your inner turmoil, you plaster a polite smile onto your face and ask, “Can I help you with something?”

“No, but I think I can?” grin still rationed, eyes still clouded, uninvited he takes the empty seat to your left.  

“You can what..?” Your eyes follow his frame as he parks his bony bottom on the worn out wooden bench.

“Help you with something? There’s obviously something wrong with you today.” He rests his chin in his flattened palm and purses his lips. Blinking.

Am I that obvious? You have an indescribable urge to shake his hair out of his eyes - to get an idea of what he’s thinking exactly.

“What makes you think there’s something wrong with me?”

Moon Taeil, the class rep, is dusting the chalkboard clean for Geography but you know his ears are on your conversation.

“Your hand didn’t shoot up once during any of the lessons today...are you okay? Do you need to go to the nurse’s room?”

Your face flushes out of embarrassment and this is….an invasion of privacy. This scrawny boy is making you uncomfortable. But you know that you could use a friend right now. Is this what friends do? Share embarrassing secrets?

“I didn’t do my Geography homework”, you start and beneath the mop of hair you notice his eyebrows skyrocket to his hairline so you hurriedly explain, “I mean, I did the homework but...”

Blink. Blink.

“My dog ate it”, your hand slides down the pocket of your skirt and you pull out shreds of paper.

You fully expect Sehun to laugh, but he doesn’t. Instead he raises his twig-like index finger and says, “Wait.”

He dashes out and returns with his backpack dangling down one shoulder and slumps back into the seat to your left. He takes out a spotless transparent folder and hands it to you.

It’s his Geography worksheet.

“There’s no way I’m copying this! I, obviously, can’t now...Madam Park will be here in like, five minutes.” You’re mortified at your desperation.

“I want you to have it. Also, Madam Park is on leave today onwards since she’s going to have a baby and all that... A new teacher is coming in who, obviously, won’t know what your handwriting is like. You can submit my worksheet instead.”

“A new teacher?” Your mouth goes dry, completely aware of how important first impressions are.

He nods.

“But why?” You notice he’s left the space given for personal details blank.

“Loyalty.”

Eyes narrowed, you shrug, utterly bewildered.

“Toward my classmates. We’re all friends first. And if this is so important to you, you can have my worksheet.”

He can’t be serious (or not serious)! 

“Are you some sort of a “Homework Peddler”? Won’t people take advantage of your -” generosity, you wanted to say, “of--of you?”

“I’m not stupid, A+...I have a system.” He relaxes into the chair and you can practically see the ‘bow-before-me-you-lesser-mortals’ aura around him. 

Students are trickling back in and you’ve consciously kept the cruel clock out of your sight. Sehun doesn’t go back to his seat, instead he settles besides you.

I don’t want to be queen.

“What’s that?” He quips.

With the corner of your mouth twitching again, your gaze drops. You take the sheet from his hands and gently put it down between your outstretched arms on the desk, “Nothing...thank you.”

His lips curl upward. Faintly.

The after-break cacophony dies down as the new teacher introduces herself as Madam Jung.

In exchange for her introduction, she wants all of yours. So to submit worksheets, she individually invites every student before the class to introduce, and to say one good thing about themselves. 

She starts from the row to your right and your stomach clenches.

One good thing? I am incapable of making friends. I am careless about my homework. There’s nothing good about me! 

Your eyes flit between Sehun (who is annoyingly unperturbed) and the worksheet which boasts of his loyalty and illegible chicken scratch.

When you realise it’s your turn next, you glance over at Sehun one last time (who is now twirling a pen between his fingers). He feels your eyes on him and catches your worried gaze and nods as if to say that it’s okay.

Feeling yet another telltale convulsion rise, you quickly scribble into the personal details space as Moon Taeil drones on about his fourth “good quality” and Madam Jung seems mighty impressed.

Before stepping in front of the class, you shove the worksheet back into Sehun’s hands. He first gapes at it which has his own name written on it and then at you - your surprisingly confident stance. Chin up, shoulders back, although your breathing is a little heavy.

Madam Jung encourages you with a motherly smile and you return it.

After introducing yourself you say, “I don’t think I have any impressive qualities, dear friends”, from the corner of your eye, you catch Sehun intently studying your face, “unlike some of you here who are complete embodiments of friendship and loyalty...”, you nod in Sehun’s direction. His wide grin makes his eyes crinkle. He sticks his tongue out and sinks into his seat, making himself tinier. 

“...but I’d like to think of myself as an honest person and, Madam Jung, I hope you’ll believe me when I say that my dog...” a now wide-eyed Sehun is shaking his head furiously, “ate my homework.”

You produce scraps - a week’s worth of toil - and lay them on Madam Jung’s desk, and the class erupts in laughter. Pursing your lips, your eyes catch Sehun’s who wordlessly encourages you to laugh along. 

Shoulders relaxed, you look at your classmates with an inexplicable sense of achievement. The kind Madam Jung chuckles, shaking her head and patting your back and your new friend (you dearly hope you can call him that now) - Oh Sehun - stands up amidst the cheerful ruckus, applauding you.

[offhirdiad]

Okay, so basically I blame Vetra for this. But we were talking about how endgame for Blue Lions route was kind of missing some things that we would’ve liked to see. So while thinking about it I kind of realized that Dimitri could’ve, especially in writing, had a great parallel when he finds out about the Flame Emperor versus the final boss in the last chapter. Thus, this mini drabble from Dimitri’s mind was born! It’s not great and I would’ve added more, but I didn’t want it to be word-for-word canon and I wanted to expand on his thoughts a bit. Either way I’m still proud of how this turned out!

          Though it were only a memory, Dimitri could remember the incident as if it was mere seconds ago. The mask falling to the ground revealing the familiar face of his step-sister and the sickening crunch of the ceramic under his boot was still fresh. It had allowed misty red to drape itself across his vision, and without thought he was tearing through the Adrestian soldiers as if they were nothing more than small twigs blocking his path.

          Her head. That’s all he wanted. To avenge the fallen, the lost, and those that did not deserve to go through such a tragedy. All of their voices screamed in his head at once to take her down. To kill. It drove him forward like an animal making the final move on their prey. But instead of teeth sinking into flesh it would be his lance.

          All of the pent up emotions since that unfortunate day at Duscur had led up to this. Every word he could muster to insult the emperor made its way to his tongue as he worked to get to her, but in the end it had done nothing for him. Just as every other time she had left in a puff of smoke with her remaining soldiers. The last time he had shook this hard was after witnessing the massacre. His young form then couldn’t hold back the sobs from despair and pain, but here all he could do was tremble in his blind fury.

          She was gone. But he swore that he would find her and that he would end her himself.

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

          On this day in particular though, things are different. That rage that once devoured his entire being only sits like embers in his chest. Dimmed down enough to keep true to himself, but fueled enough to keep him pushing forward. Their final battle was approaching as the Kingdom Army made their way through the masses of mages and beasts in their advance to the throne room.

          Victory was in sight and he was finally going to make up for all of these tragedies that had befallen them. He would finally take down Edelgard.

          Continuing their push, there’s no doubt something is off. It’s not unusual for a mage to cast spells further than someone wielding an axe, but the dark ominous cluster that he just barely dodges isn’t like anything he has seen before. For while he may not be a mage he wasn’t ignorant to their tomes. But soon enough he finds out his answer.

          It comes with great effort of making the final stretch to the throne. The ornate room gives way at the other end to a set of stairs leading up to a monster that wears Edelgard’s face. For a moment, it has the king stepping back in shock.

          Edelgard, always immaculate and pristine, was now overtaken by this hideous creature. The distended limbs and the peeling flesh of her once flawless face was enough to make his entire body recoil, but he holds himself fast as the rest of his army files in behind him.

          “What have you done?!” His voice is one of exasperation that is only enhanced by the gasps of those that echo around him. “Tell me you really haven’t done this.”

          That flame of anger threatens to rise as it burns a bit brighter in his chest. The sight of this demonic creature, the fact that she was so willing to give her body up for this cause she believed in, was beyond him. While he may not agree with her ideals, fighting as she is now was nothing compared to what he could only identify as selling her body and soul for this war. What he once tried to understand he found he couldn’t any longer. This had gone on far enough, and eventually that flame turns into a constant flicker to steel his resolve.

          “These wrongs that you claim to correct can no longer be if this is your idea of forging a better world.” He steps forward now with his lance aimed directly at the creature. “Your values are dead, and all I can do is pity what you have fallen to. I will not let you destroy more lives, and if that means going to hell with you then so be it!”

          All it takes is one intake of air to reassure himself that he’s still in control. There is no hazy mist threatening to cloud his vision or his judgement. The person who he knew and wanted to try negotiating with was gone. Instead, it was only a husk with a mask of Edelgard’s face. This time he surges at her without the goal of taking her head, but instead taking back what was lost.

[chilling-seavey]

Winter Warmers: Day 21 — Winter Storm

↳ Summary: A winter storm rocks England and wakes your children.

↳ Word Count: 606

↳ Winter Warmers Prompt List | The Way It Goes Masterlist

England was hit with a huge snow storm that year. Double digits of centimeters worth of snow fell overnight in what was compared to the blizzard of a decade. In the evening, when the snow had started, it was calm and exciting and the kids huddled together at the back door to watch the snowflakes fall gracefully to blanket the backyard in white. But, as the evening progressed and the kids were tucked into bed and you and George were going about your nighttime routines, the storm grew.

The winter winds whistled past the house, shrieking through the sealed tight windows and making your well kept home creak on its foundation. George was getting some end-of-season email-type work completed in the office while you struggled to hear your TV show over the howling winds. You paused the show and got up to glance out the front window, peering out at the tree-lined driveway as the boughs flailed unnervingly and the once-fluffy snowflakes now fell in angry almost ice-like sheets against the glass. 

With another strong gust of wind, the television and the lights flicked off for just a moment before turning back on. You let the curtain fall closed again and you stepped away from the window with a sigh. 

George appeared in the doorway to the living room with an unimpressed sigh, “The storm just knocked out the wifi and scrapped the email I was trying to send.”

“It’s insane out there.” you replied, returning to the couch and you tucked up a leg underneath you. 

George took your place at the front window and used his index finger to pull open a crack in the curtains to look through, “I’m surprised the house is still standing.”

He then let the curtains fall closed and walked over to join you on the couch, pulling a blanket from the lounge chair in the corner on his way. He barely got himself settled on the couch beside you before your daughter’s little frightened voice came calling down from upstairs, 

“Daddy!” 

You and George exchanged glances, both having silently expected at least one of your kids to be woken up by the raging storm. Your toddler daughter’s sweet voice sounded like she had been crying, obviously distressed from the storm and wanting comfort. He got up from the couch again and you followed, leaving the blanket behind to go check on her. 

The two of you had barely made it out of the living room when the toddler called again, her voice more urgent, louder, “Daddy!” 

George picked up the pace a little, taking the stairs two at a time gracefully to reach the second floor. Just down the hall was your daughter’s room, but the door was already partially open when he arrived. George pushed it open a little more to find both of your children snuggled up in her single bed. Behind the pink curtains, a tree branch rapped eerily on the window in the whistling wind.

Your daughter was slightly calmer, comforted by the embrace of her big brother, still sniffling but now quieter. Your son whispered to her softly, all six years of him already so emphatic and loving, having gotten out of bed to make sure she was okay. George lingered in the doorway for a moment and you joined him there, discovering the scene he looked over so fondly. You shared a proud smile with him, his arm going around your waist to pull you close to his side, watching your young children find comfort in each other. 

“We did well with them, I think.” George whispered to you.

You leaned into his side with a warm, “That we did.”

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[petri808]

Mystery Solved

Naluween week 10-28/29 day 4/5 cemetery/spell short Drabble

“Are you sure this is the right cemetery Gray, it’s a pretty… creepy old place.”

“Exactly.  Did you think the guy would hold it at one closer to the city?”

“Well no….”

“Let’s just find a place to hide, I was told he comes around 1 am.”

Lucy hunkers down next to Natsu for the air is growing chilly and the jacket she had brought with her wasn’t keeping her very warm.  It had been a couple of hours and if her watch was correct, it would soon be time for the black wizard to show.  She sighs, leaning her head on Natsu and closing her eyes.  Well they could just wake her up when he did.

Another hour passes, and out of the blue, they hear some crunching sounds in the distance like twigs breaking.  Gray stands up, whispering, “you two stay here, I’m gonna check it out.”

“Why you?”

“Because you don’t understand stealth,” he grits his teeth at Natsu, “just stay with Lucy.”

“Tch!”  Natsu crosses his arms and sits back down next to his teammate.  He didn’t want to admit to anyone, but the cemetery was starting to creep him the fuck out.  Too many weirdly shaped shadows shifting around in the half moonlight, and the sounds of critters scurrying, crawling, echoing off the headstones into his sensitive hearing, it was making him shudder.

“Are you cold?” Lucy asked the questions before remembering, wait, Natsu doesn’t get cold in a snow storm so why would this bother him?  She snickers, “or are you getting scared?”

“I’m not scared!”

Another loud cracking sound opposite of the direction Gray had headed in.  Natsu stiffens.  A whirling sound funnels through the cemetery, akin to the ghostly lamenting that children are often warned of, its icy winds chilling Natsu to the bone.  He sinks down closer to Lucy, grabbing for her hand.  “S-stay cl-close to me, j-just in case s-something attacks.”

She rolls her eyes, “Sure.” ‘yeah attacks…’

Bright white orbs appear amongst the trees, whizzing through the rows of headstones, as sounds of disembodied chanting fills the air.  Was the black wizard here?  Lucy scans the area as far as she could, but cannot see anything concrete, no other persons, not even a sign of where their friend might be, just more icy winds and dancing orbs. Even she was starting to get scared.

Ancient words that they could not understand flow through the darkness, was it the spells Gray talked about?  Oh Mavis, was that wizard going to raise the dead here, because Natsu wasn’t keen on the idea of fighting some half rotting, skeletons.  A deep, guttural sound reverberates throughout the air.  “What the fuck was that!”  

Lucy tries to pull her hand free from Natsu’s, “let go, you’re crushing my hand!”

Another growl followed by a shrill bellow, and they both freeze, that was close.

“I’ve got him!” Gray’s voice cuts through from a distance, “I’ve got the wizard.”

“Oh good!” Lucy let’s out an exhale, “we can go home now.”

But something is still wrong, the weird chanting hasn’t stopped nor the other phenomena cavorting around the old cemetery…  In fact… They’re getting closer!  The balls of light streak past Natsu’s head, circle, and wink out, only to pop up in a new location.  Leaves stir into mini whirlwinds, whipping around but never touching them, just, taunting the poor couple.  

Lucy is not faring much better but Natsu is damn near panicked at this point.  Give him any monster, an evil wizard, a fucking dragon, not something he can’t even see!  The slayer clings to Lucy and is too afraid to move.  “Make it stop!”  He buries his face in her chest, “make it stop!”

For several more agonizing minutes this onslaught continues, and just as they thought they couldn’t take it anymore, the winds still and the lights blink away a final time, dying away along with the strange incantations.  

Natsu peeks out, “Is…  Is it over?”

“Seems like it…”

She looks down as he looks up from his hiding place, his cheeks pinking when he realized where his face had been crushed against.  “S-sorry,” Natsu chokes out.  

“Tis, okay,” she blushes. Under the circumstances, she couldn’t fault him too harshly.  “We should just go home since it sounds like Gray already took care of the evil guy.”

“Yeah...  But c-could I stay at your apartment tonight?  I don’t think I wanna be alone.”

“Um, okay, but you’re sleeping on the couch.”

He pouts but nods his head, helping Lucy to her feet…

As they watch their friends leave the area, from behind a few trees, Gray, Gajeel, and Levy snicker to themselves.

“We make an awesome team when it comes to a scary scene.”

“Cold winds, dancing lights, a deep voice…” Levy chuckles, “we should do a haunted house for Halloween.”

“Gehe, think those two will ever figure out they just got pranked?”

“Doubt it, but pyro missed a damn good opportunity to get closer to Lucy, just didn’t realize he’d get the most freaked out!”

The trio laugh, “yeah, never figured Salamander was so easy to spook!”

But unbeknownst to the trio Natsu could hear them perfectly clear, ‘tch, fools,’ he snickers in his head, of course he was just acting scared, it got him up close with Lucy’s boobs didn’t it?  ;)-

[notafuckingissue]

Tony Stark Loves Pirates

When Tony was born, Howard wasn't exactly confused. No, he was a genius. Geniuses didn't get confused. He was more… annoyed? Looking down at his son, he turned to the doctor and just asked it directly. Maria was horrified.

“Well, where's the rest of him?”

He wasn't talking about the fact the baby was small, a little smaller than expected.

No, he was talking about how he only had half of a left leg.

“What, did you leave the rest of the leg inside or something?”

It didn't take much to figure out what was really going on. A birth defect, one they somehow hadn't caught before his birth.

Howard's son had a birth defect.

His son was defective.

Naturally, he couldn't have that. So he fixed him. Not to make things easier for Tony, as Maria might have thought. But to save himself the shame of having an incomplete son. And so Tony was outfitted with the best prosthetic that money and mind could create.

It didn't stop Howard from looking down on him, or Tony from feeling insufficient, incomplete,

Defective.

When he was 6 years old, a beacon of light appeared.

That was when he discovered pirates.

Pirates who sailed on great big beautiful ships, and fought valiantly.

Pirates with fake legs, because theirs were missing too.

Suddenly, Tony felt a little less defective.

He fully embraced his new love of pirates, cutting out an eyepatch from the fabric of the black dining room curtains.

His mother was none too happy about that.

When Jarvis found him crying Tony explained everything to him, the pirates and their eye patches and peg legs.

The next day Jarvis brought Tony a toy sword and proper eyepatch. He was overjoyed to see Tony finally feel like he belonged.

Howard took away the eyepatch, said it would ruin Tony's eyesight (he was already imperfect enough, he didn't need to screw it up more) but Tony kept the sword hidden.

He would play with the sword out in the garden while Jarvis watched him, his parents away for some fancy event or another. Swinging it towards the low hanging branch of a tree, he broke a twig clean off of it and immediately brought it to Jarvis. His eyes glimmered with pride and joy as he explained what had happened. He was slowly proving to himself that just because he was imperfect, didn't mean he couldn't still accomplish things.

Jarvis could tell the kid would grow up to be one hell of a fighter.

As Tony grew up, and Howard continued to be disappointed by him, he sought solace in the novels depicting those adventures on the high seas he loved so much. Books were the one thing Howard had yet to take away from him.

After his parents passing, he finally ventured into Howard's office. The memories of times he had entered before without permission weren't fond. He opened the various drawers, searching through the contents until he stopped at one drawer in particular.

The drawer contained many toys Howard had taken from him during his younger years.

A barbie doll, one of the ones that bent at the knees, with the bottom of it's right leg missing. He had been playing with the daughter of another family his father was doing business with, and she had given it to him. She didn't like to play with it anymore because it was broken, but in Tony's eyes it was perfect. He had made a little prosthetic leg for it to match his own.

A toy magic wand, from the goodie bag of a birthday party he had attended, taken away simply because it was pink and heaven forbid Howard's son play with some girly toy. He couldn't afford to mess up any more.

And at the bottom of the drawer, the eyepatch Jarvis had gotten him.

Tony gently dug it out of the drawer, and held it to his chest as he cried.

Because he finally understood why.

Howard had taken these things away, not to try and prevent him from becoming less perfect.

But to try and stop Tony from thinking that what he was was okay.

And now Tony was determined to prove him wrong.

Just because he had a defect, did not make him defective.

He had upgraded his prosthetic many times over the years, being the mechanic he was. There was one iteration that had included a mini cooler the size of a soda can, just because he could. Rhodey’s reaction was amusing.

They took his prosthetic away while he was in captivity, and he hadn't felt that powerless in a long time. Not to mention the car battery attached to his chest.

Another part of him made of something else.

When he became Iron Man, that sparked a whole new field of ideas. He made a prosthetic that housed an extra power source, in case he needed a boost. Started making them red and gold to match the suit rather than trying to keep them muted colors.

He even started wearing shorts again, for the first time since he was a child. He didn't need to hide himself anymore.

Then one day, a child walked up to him. He felt a tug on his jacket and looked down to see a young girl, empty jacket sleeve hanging from her shoulder.

“I just wanted to say… you're my hero.” Suddenly Tony found himself in a one-armed hug. But it wasn't just the action itself that made tears being to well up in his eyes.

It was the fact that the girl was hugging his left leg.

Part of it was just because of her height, but the girl knew from personal experience how much it meant to Tony that she was showing him love for what so many had called “his only imperfection.” Nobody had ever done that before.

A few weeks later the little arm was finished, complete with the signature Iron Man red and gold. And a hand carved inscription.

You're stronger than iron. -TS

Soon there were people of all ages with official Iron Man prosthetics, courtesy of Stark industries. And one for Bucky too. As well as some slightly unrelated Iron Man hearing aids for Clint.

Stark Health Technologies became its own entire branch of the company, overseen personally by Tony. It didn't take long for the workload to become more than he could do by himself, but he still made sure to make at least some of them personally, and made sure people got upgrades and resizing when needed.

And if he sometimes wore an eyepatch underneath the helmet of his Iron Man suit? His sensors more than made up for it.

Author's note:

(If I accidentally said something offensive or insensitive somewhere in this please tell me cuz idk what I'm talking about)

So not to take away the focus from my boi Bucky but I got the idea of ProstheticLeg!tony stuck in my head and had to write it down. I might try to draw something with this later but I'm still trying to figure out how tf to draw.

1.2k words if you're curious.

If you enjoyed this kinda half-assed drabble I wrote at midnight like it or some shit I'm a hoe for validation.

(Oh and I don't own Tony Stark or anything else Marvel owns lmao)

(And idk why you'd steal this but like don't)

notafuckingissue

[iwillbeinmynest]

Brave: (Verb.) - Bucky x Reader

Authors Notes: Another quote I saw and wanted to write out….This was supposed to be a drabble…

Notes/Warnings: Violence, physical assault, use of guns, mentions of blood and death, self doubt.

Quote: “Scared is what you’re feeling. Brave is what you’re doing.”

Word count: around 1.5K

Your hands trembled and you clenched them into fists. You wanted nothing more that to turn around and run, to escape the chaos unfolding before you, but you can’t, they need you.

 You watched as an RPG rocketed towards the Quinjet and your breath caught in your throat. “Tony!” You shouted, knowing your earpiece would relay your voice to him. “RPG headed for the jet, east side!”

 Tony, who wasn’t too far away ,whirled around and fired off mini-rockets to intercept the explosive. His tactic worked and the RPG exploded a few yards off the jet. Without any acknowledgement to you, Tony turned right back around to fighting off some ground thugs with grenade launchers.

 You sat, still shaking on your ledge, and watched the battle below you. Your job as look out had you positioned a mile from the fighting. you sat in the tree line and checked on the rest of the team. Steve and Wanda were tag teaming a group of eight Hydra agents on the street. You could see Sam and Nat clearing an abandoned building of thugs, men flying out windows left and right. Vision and Thor were dealing with a small cluster with flame throwers. And Bucky…

 You lost sight of Bucky. Your heart sped up to a dangerous rate as you scanned the field below you. You couldn’t see him. He was supposed to be with Clint but he wasn’t there.

 “Clint,” You spoke desperately. “Where’s Barnes?”

 Clint fired off and arrow from his spot on top of a nearby building. “Don’t know. He took off with out a word.”

 You cursed internally and kept scanning for him. “Barnes, I need your location. I can’t watch you if I can’t see you!”

 A twig snapped behind you and you whipped around just in time to see a branch flying towards your head. You ducked out of the way and the branch collided with the rock you had been leaning on.

 It was then that you saw the masked Hydra agent go for the pistol on his hip. Out of sheer instinct, you charged him and rammed your shoulder into his stomach, shoving him to the ground. You jumped on top of him and ripped his mask off. The man’s face was distorted and scarred and you paused.

 He took the opportunity to punch you in the side and you screamed. You landed a hit to his face after managing to stay on top of him, despite the impact of his hit to your ribs. You punched him again and again and with each hit your vision clouded with tears.

 You cried because your hand was bleeding from the crack of each hit to his jaw or cheekbone. You cried because each breath you heaved confirmed that he had broken at least three of your ribs. And you cried because this wasn’t supposed to happen.

 You were the eyes of all the missions. You were supposed to stay outta sight and away from the fighting. You weren’t nearly confident enough in hand to hand combat as you should have been and no matter how many training sessions you had with Bucky or Nat you just didn’t have the ability to fight like an Avenger.

 You wore yourself out pretty quick. You were tired and your hits became softer because, frankly, you were convinced that at this point, punching your attacker was doing more harm to you than to him.

 The scarred man under your knees punched you in the ribs again and you screamed out even louder as you rolled to the ground beside him. He climbed on top of you and squeezed your ribs with his knees, causing you maximum pain. He raised his fist up to strike and you closed your eyes.

 Your body jerked and you shouted but there was no strike to your face. You heard a pair of grunts and realized the man’s weight was no longer on your pelvis. You opened your eyes. Your attacker was rolling around trying to fight someone else off. Someone big.

 A flash of metal and you knew. Bucky. He wailed on the Hydra agent until the man quit moving. That man never stood a chance against Bucky, he should have just surrendered. When he knew the threat had been eliminated, and the man was thoroughly knocked out, Bucky rushed over to you and cradled your head in his hands. You winced and tears rolled down the sides of your head to the dirt below you.

 “I’m so sorry.” His eyes were wide. “I saw him from the building and thought I could get here in time. I’m so sorry.” Bucky looked you over and frowned. You sniffed and tried to stop crying. “Your ribs are broken, at least four of them and possibly your hand.” He informed.

 You looked up at Bucky and your heart stopped when you saw your attacker standing over Bucky with a gun aimed for the back of his head. With out thinking you reached up and grabbed Bucky’s collar with one hand while reaching over his back and grabbing the sub-machine gun that was always strapped there.

 You squeezed the trigger and held down as bullets were completely emptied from the magazine.

 When the gun stopped firing you could hear Bucky shouting your name and you opened your eyes- you hadn’t realized you’d closed them.

 “Hey!” Bucky’s eyes were wide and desperate. “Let go of the gun, Y/N.” He implored. “It’s okay, you can let go, now.”

 Your body shook and you winced to pry your bloodied hand from the grip and trigger. The instant you let go, Bucky rounded on the Hydra thug and blocked your view of the body. He was dead. There was no denying that, now.

 “Close your eyes.” Bucky instructed.

 “What?” You stared at his back.

 He gave you a sharp look over his shoulder. “Close your eyes.”

 You closed them and cradled your hand to your chest. You listened as Bucky huffed and started dragging something heavy. Was he dragging the body? Did you kill that guy?! Of course you killed him, you emptied the mag. Somehow you hadn’t really thought it through. You just knew Bucky was going to die and you couldn’t let that happen. You started crying again.

 You weren’t cut out for this.

 You jumped when Bucky touched your arm and your eyes flew open.

 “Easy,” He cooed. “Just me.” And you relaxed, letting out a shaky breath. The man was gone, at least you didn’t have to see the damage you’d done.

 Bucky helped you sit up just in time for you to see another RPG headed for Wilson. You pressed your hand to your ear and winced. Broken hand, right.

 “Stark, Wilson’s got a bogie on his six!” You exclaimed and grunted from the pain breathing caused you.

 You and Bucky watched as Stark, once again, diverted the blast away from his teammate. You sighed when you saw Sam fly out of the smoke, unscathed.

 “You okay?” Bucky asked when you slumped over.

 You sobbed and tried to keep it together. You shook your head. “I can’t do this.” Bucky stayed quiet and let you continue. “I’m not a fighter, I’m not a marksman, I just have good eye sight. And even then I couldn’t find you. I don’t belong here.”

 There was a pause before Bucky spoke. “You’re wrong.”

 You looked up at his and tears rolled down your cheek. “I’m too scared to do this.”

 “Scared is what you’re feeling. Brave is what you’re doing. You just got attacked, held your own until I got here, then saved my skin and used what was available to eliminate the threat. And on top of it all you just saved Sam’s life, too. You can do this because you just did.”

 “Alright team,” Steve spoke over the coms. “Mission accomplished. Meet back at the drop site asap. Lets go home.”

 You swallowed hard and your lip quivered.

 Bucky looked at you gently, with a sincerity you only saw when he thought no one was looking. “I can’t make you come back with us. I can’t make you stay but, Y/N, we do need you and you can do this.” He stood up and offered you a hand.

You tried to take a deep breath but sharp pains had you wincing again. Bucky helped you up lifted you into his arms. “I can take you to the jet or I can take you somewhere else. Your call.”

 You rested your head on his shoulder and swallowed more tears.

 “I wanna go home.” You said as steadily as possible.

 You felt Bucky’s shoulders slump but he didn’t argue. “How do we get there?”

 “We go to the jet.” You answered as you closed your eyes, finally able to relax.

 Bucky straightened and headed for the rest of the team. “Good call.” You could hear the smile in his voice. “Proud of you.”

 “Well, the way I see it.” You smiled at the start of your own joke. “I’ve saved your life today, you owe me. I’m not gonna bail before you’ve made it up to me.”

 Bucky’s chest rumbled with an internal chuckle. “Sam owes you, too. You should milk that for all it’s worth.”

 “Oh, don’t worry. I will.”

Forever Tags:

@heismyhunter @sgtbxckybxrnes @pickledmoon @whimsicalrebirth @marvel-lucy @thisisthelilith @james-bionic-barnes @thedreamingowl @poemwriter98@kimistry27 @annie-lujan @buckyandsebsinbin @lilasiannerd @gypsy-storm-15 @cassiopeiassky @earinafae @the-stuttering-kiwi @obsessedwithatwell @shortiiqt16 @shifutheshihtzu @elaacreditava @nikkitia7 @theonewithallthemilkshakes @gallifreyansass @storytellingwanderer @palaiasaurus64 @iamwarrenspeace @engineeringgirlcve @magnolia-wanders @carameldaemoncakes @canumoveyourseatup-no @melconnor2007 @movingonto-betterthings @bxckytrxsh @fantasticmiraclehologram @kapolisradomthoughts @iamwarrenspeace @melconnor2007 @yesiamdeliciouslycaffeinated @mcu-avengerrs

[pokemonreaderinserts]

Can I request that includes a male braixen

Since I’m unsure what you’re requesting, I’ll give you some headcanons, and a little drabble, okay? Enjoy~–Admin RyHeadcanons- He is adamant and usually refuses the shelter of his PokéBall- He enjoys when you brush his fur, even though he’d never let you know- He’s curious in nature, and will sniff out everything – and this always leads to detours on your adventures- I mean, everything, you can’t even count the amount of times he’s come to you with the empty shells of evolved Methods- He has playful tendencies, and loves to pull pranks using Psychic, or any other telekinetic moves- He’s protective of you, and usually is the first to spot a trainer battle- Even then he’s sizing up the opponent to see if they’re even worth battling- With a haphazard, makeshift tent, he spends every night with you as you cook, recount the day’s events, and sleeping by your side.

Mini drabble under the cut~

“Augh!” You fumble with the metal rods, and Braixen gives you something between a sigh and a huff. “I always wait too late to set up the tent. It’s almost dark, and we haven’t even set up the campfire yet!” Braixen looks pointedly at you, deadpanning at your attempt to split the blame.“Okay, I haven’t even set up the campfire. But you know, Kay, you can help at any time!” You had received your partner when you were very young, and had named him Kaxion, as it seemed to roll off the tongue. Giving up, you tie the poles together, and drape the tarp over it, calling it your ‘tent’.Braixen makes a clicking noise, and begins collecting rocks from around the area, trying to create some semblance of a fire pit. You smile at him, and his help, and move to retrieve your bag. Braixen takes the opportunity to light the fire, pulling his twig from his tail, and allowing the friction to spark, igniting the flame. It wasn’t dangerous, per se, but knowing you, he expected you’d find a way to hurt yourself.After the fire is lit, you sit beside him, and pull you bag up. You take out your berry pouch, and some of the canned food you have. Though it’s not fresh, you decide it would be enough until tomorrow. You’ve even run out of Pokémon food for Braixen, but he enjoyed the canned fish all the same. You cut into the shells of some berries, and take out a couple of cans of preserved fish.Both of you decide upon dinner, and grab a spit, sticking a couple berries on it. You prop the spit against the fire, and you proceed to open the can, Braxien watching intently. “I can’t believe it.. I hadn’t heard of any Munchlax sitings around here, but I guess there are some.. around..” you complain as you open the can gently. “All that food – gone! And I just bought it all yesterday…” Braixen tries to console you, as he feels that sorrow as well. Hearing a soft pop, you pick up the spit, turning it over the fire a little and inspecting the berries. You blow on it before holding it out to Braixen. “I know you’re not a hundred percent from that battle earlier, so you should eat these and gain your strength back.” Braixen blinks looking from the spit, to you. You smile, and offer it to him once more. “C’mon, don’t make me feed you.” You joke, but you’re already pulling one of the berries off. Braixen huffs and looks away from you, taking the spit out of your hands. You chuckle – he’s always been this hard-headed, even as a Fennekin. He begins munching on the berries, though he’s not really into sweet tastes. As he eats the berries, you’re preparing some crackers to go along with the tuna.The Munchlax aside, you talk about the day the two of you experienced. The wild Pokémon you tried to catch. The distance you’ve come since obtaining your third gym badge. How Braixen brought you another one of his finds, this time a scale from a Vivillon. You talk and eat until the fire dims, and you decide it’s time to go to sleep.You repack your bag, and stomp out the fire before stretching. The moonlight gives a faint glow over the both of you, and you smile at Braixen. You know better than to send him back into his PokéBall, so instead you offer him to come back with you. “Let’s go, it’s time for sleep.”He hums, following behind you, an unimpressed noise comes from him as he sees your poorly made tent. You hush him, and roll out the sleeping pad that sticks out of the tent. You lay down, and Braixen immediately follows, cuddling up to you. “Brr..” He purrs gently, so gently that it comes out a soft whistle. You smile, and stroke through his fur. He’s so warm that you barely need a blanket, even in the winter time. “Good night, Braixen. Tomorrow’s another day.”

[chilling-seavey]

𝕎𝕚𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕞𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟜

No better to get into the cozy winter spirit than participating in a winter prompt festival! This is my first time doing one of these but when I saw the Winter Warmers Spicy and Fluffy Prompt List, I knew I couldn't pass up this writing challenge. Thank you to the creators for inspiring me!!

All blurbs will be a part of my 'The Way it Goes' Husband!Dad!George Universe. Read more here 🩵

Dec 1: Lingerie & Coffee on a Cold Morning

Dec 2: Coming Untouched & Evening Fire

Dec 3: Dildo & Holding Hands

Dec 4: Frottage & Cuddling For Warmth

Dec 5: Praise & Tree Lighting

Dec 6: Playing in The Snow

Dec 7: Blanket Fort

Dec 8: Holiday Decorating/Baking

Dec 9: Work Holiday Party

Dec 10: Sweat & Holiday Travel

Dec 11: Ugly Sweaters

Dec 12: Daddy/Mommy & Mistletoe Kisses

Dec 13: Cold Hands/Feet

Dec 14: Holiday Shopping

Dec 15: Ice Skating

Dec 16: Secret Santa

Dec 17: Public Sex & Hot Cocoa

Dec 18: Orgasm Denial & Christmas Market

Dec 19: Holiday Magic

Dec 20: Thigh Riding & Matching Pyjamas

Dec 21: Winter Storm

Dec 22: Presents

Dec 23: Vibrator & Stocking*

Dec 24: Crying & New Traditions

Dec 25: Holiday Alone Time

Dec 26: Cock Warming & Snowed In

Dec 27: Wrapped Up Warm Walk

Dec 28: Lactation & Cozy Hobbies

Dec 29: Seeing Friends*

Dec 30: Bondage & Lights*

Dec 31: Overstimulation & NYE Countdown

*edited the prompt from the original post to be my own for this day; original did not fit this universe/apply

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[chilling-seavey]

I feel like something that goes for TWIG is you and George dating and have not told anyone besides your families and someone from the grid unexpectedly comes over, like Alex or Charles, and they see feminine products around the apartment. Like your shoes, handbag, and/or maybe your bra (for some spice) and gets really curious.

(Anon, the way you concept here relates to the way I portrayed their early days relationship in the Winter Warmers blurb I wrote last night is a little scary...are we the same person?? But I love this SO MUCH (I actually wrote this as soon as it came in while actively in the office) thank you for submitting!)

Basically, yes, the overarching concept of wanting to be 100% private with the relationship to keep it out of the limelight and unwelcome social pressures of the Formula 1 world is so TWIG. George is a little nervous to have your relationship be so publicized and scrutinized because he doesn't want that to come between you...he's seen his friends' relationships crumble because of that and it terrifies him, honestly. But it feels normal without anyone knowing except yourselves and your close families...like he's a normal person in a normal relationship.

You'd come to some races that first year but with a regular paddock pass/'sponsored' by Mercedes, coming in on your own and away from him so as to not be associated together by the press, feeling like a whole secret spy and honestly it's kind of thrilling. Even most if not all of the team doesn't know: hardly even seeing you and George in the same room in Mercedes hospitality...you're never in the garage...you're honestly impressively good at flying under the radar.

Yeah, out of everyone it drives George a little crazy that he hasn't told Alex yet but he selfishly just wants to stay in this safe bubble of normal for a little longer. Even if that means virtually lying to his best friend.

You and George didn't live in the same city so for the first while of your relationship you were bouncing back and forth between each other's apartments (and halfway around the world on some race weekends...). It was not long at all really before there was a steady stock of your things at George's just to make traveling easier for you; face wash and shampoo and conditioner and some standard makeup and maybe an outfit or two. Honestly it came to a point where your things just felt so natural to him that they just blend into the background of his apartment like they were just meant to be there.

So when Alex showed up one random weekday, George almost didn't bat an eye. Almost. Until Alex was kicking off his shoes in the foyer and eyeing the second pair of sneakers by the door.

"Your feet shrink or something, George?"

The fib was out of George's mouth before he could think, "They're my sister's. She left them here."

With Alex pacified, George kept him in the living room, busying him with snacks and conversation like he wasn't silently freaking out that his lie would come out.

When Alex excused himself to the bathroom, George panic texted you from the couch. His knee bounced annoyingly with him stuck staring at your laughing emojis you replied with to his lengthy nervous ramble. Not helpful.

"Since when do you stock up on feminine hygiene products?" Alex asked the moment he emerged from the bathroom, rubbing his hands together like he was still washing them.

"I, uh...carry them in case anyone that needs them comes over. Like Lily." George stumbled out a mention of Alex's long-term girlfriend who, in reality, did come over sometimes. He then immediately deflected with a quick, "Since when do you go snooping under my sink?"

"I needed hand lotion and I know you have the good, expensive stuff that smells like a forest." Alex flexed his fingers out as he flopped back down on the couch, his skin shimmering just a bit in the sunlight through the living room window. But Alex was a little too trusting of his best friend and so he didn't feel too bothered by George's response. He was a nice enough guy, maybe he did keep stock for Lily or his sister or someone.

Third time was the charm when they had decided to watch a movie and George got up to make some popcorn. Alex got himself comfortable on the couch, rearranging the cushions and finding that sweet spot in the upholstery. But the sudden laugh that came from the living room had George stopping in the kitchen.

"George!" Alex called in that pitchy voice he got when he was far too excited and teasing him.

George appeared in the doorway to the living room to find Alex waving one of your bras around in the air. The look on his face must have been priceless because Alex nearly cackled, "You keeping a bra around for Lily when she stays over too or is this also your sister's?"

George took three quick strides over and snatched it from him, "It's not my fucking sister's."

"If you have a girlfriend, you can just tell me." Alex said, slightly calmer now but still housing that shit-eating grin on his face. "I don't know why you'd not tell me."

George sighed, feeling a little ridiculous standing there with your bra in his hand in front of his best friend who was set on getting the truth out of him. He shrugged, relenting, "We just...wanted to keep it out of the spotlight for a bit."

"I'm not the spotlight." Alex reminded him.

"Yeah, but you have a big mouth, Alex." George laughed lightly, teasingly, before fading out with a shake of his head, trying to explain, "It was nice just feeling normal. I know once the whole grid knows or the team it'll, like, start to blend...these two halves of my life...and I know how that can end up."

"You can't be scared of that, George." Alex said gently, "Not everyone crashes and burns. Lily and I are fine."

"Lily also is in a public career of her own so she knows how it goes." George replied softly, tentatively.

"This girl of yours isn't?"

George shook his head.

"Not a model? Social media? Athlete?"

George shook his head after each one.

Alex's eyebrows raised, "Don't tell me she's normal."

"Remember the girl who checked you into that hotel back in May?"

"That really narrows it down, George, thank you."

George huffed, "The one you were on me for staring at for far too long."

"Her? Oh my God, you actually got her to agree to go out with you?! But you're so boring!"

"Alex—"

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